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“Forgive me. Fiancée? Girlfriend? I’m afraid I’m not up on the latest lingo for what the youth call each other these days.”

  “We’re not actually the couple getting married,” I clarified, hoping he wouldn’t react the same way as the other vendors. “Her cousin is marrying my best friend. They’re both out of the country for an urgent work matter.”

  “Well, this is different. I’ve had many people come in with the couple, but never an appointment without the couple. Are you certain you know their tastes? I’d hate to disappointment them on their big day.”

  He hadn’t said that he’d hate to lose the fee if they didn’t like it, but he’d hate to disappoint them. I would have chosen him based on that statement alone. “I know my friend’s tastes, and Ainsley won’t steer us wrong on cake types. We’ll be ordering both a wedding cake and a groom’s cake.”

  “You take your time tasting and let me know if you have any questions. I’m going to go check on that scone batch I put in.”

  “You baked fresh just for us?” Ainsley turned away from her beloved cake to look at him in surprise.

  “You sound like you’d appreciate a scone more so than my usual clients. Scottish, dear?”

  Ainsley beamed. “Glaswegian.”

  “Beautiful city.”

  “Aye.”

  He headed back into the kitchen as Ainsley made her way through all the options on the table. I tasted each after she’d had her go. It was a marvel to see her eat. I’d been on too many dates over the last few years where the woman would pick at a salad then complain how hungry she was for the rest of the night. Ainsley was thinner than the average woman, but not like the size twos I’d been seeing of late. Not that I looked for size twos. They were the only ones I’d meet at network parties or political gatherings. They never seemed to mind that I was a size four, especially when they learned I was in management at the network.

  “One has to be chocolate, don’t you agree?” Ainsley looked up from the options only for a second.

  “Dallas loves chocolate.”

  “So does Colin. Taste this chocolate one with salted caramel buttercream. It’s delicious.”

  I took a small bite and agreed. “You think for the tiered cake or the groom’s?”

  “Perhaps the groom’s. I like the lemon with the raspberry filling for the tiered.”

  “If that’s what you think. Dallas likes everything except red velvet. So I’m glad you didn’t like that one.”

  She grinned. “Oh, I did, but I like the others better.”

  “And Colin?”

  “Chocolate, but he’ll eat anything.”

  “Are you ready for your scone, dear?” the baker asked.

  “Please.” Her eyes widened as a traditional looking scone was set in front of her.

  “And your tea.” He produced a filled cup and saucer. “Same for you, dear?” he asked me.

  “I’ll leave it to the expert here.”

  Ainsley touched the scone with reverence, lifting a piece to her nose for a sniff first before chewing and swallowing. “Outside of Scotland, that is the best I’ve tasted.”

  “Thank you. We’ll have to send you away with a batch.”

  “Could we,” she paused and looked at me.

  I knew what she wanted. “Order some for the wedding? Seeing as half the attendees are an import, yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Could that be arranged?” I asked the baker.

  “Certainly,” the baker said.

  “We’re all sorted then.” Ainsley took another bite of the scone. I would have reached across for a taste had I not been certain her fork would have pinned my hand to the table.

  “Let me grab my niece to talk about the design. I do the baking but turn it over to her for the beauty.”

  “There’s a lot of beauty in baking, fine sir,” Ainsley told him. They shared a chummy smile. She used that accent to great effect.

  His niece joined us from the kitchen. She had more piercings than I’d seen on a face, but I liked the purple streak in her died black hair. Her blue eyes swept over the photo of the cake Dallas kept in her wedding scrapbook. Yes, Dallas had been keeping a wedding scrapbook for years. I honestly don’t know how we’re best friends. “Sure, yeah, I’ve seen that one. Some magazine, not a food one, not a bridal magazine. A celebrity’s wedding, I think. You want the same?”

  “She wants something like this, but singular,” I clarified.

  “I can do that. What are the colors?” She listened to Ainsley list them and took a physical step back. “Five colors? That’s, yeah, five colors.”

  “If you can do a tartan for the groom’s cake, let’s have Dallas’s colors for the tiered cake,” Ainsley said and I tried not to whip my head around at the unprompted compromise.

  “Do you have a picture of the tartan?”

  Ainsley thumbed her mobile on and displayed her screen. Typical that she’d have her tartan as the background photo. Scottish to the core.

  “Dark, yeah, I like that,” the decorator said. “Shoot that photo to me and I’ll draw something up for you. Day after tomorrow okay?”

  We looked at each other, amazed that someone could get something done almost immediately when it came to a wedding. It seemed that as soon as you uttered the wedding word, the prices tripled and the times doubled. Thankfully, Gary had enough pull that the timing would work out fine for everything, but the fees were pretty exorbitant to expedite.

  “Yes, thanks.” I glanced over at Ainsley as she finished the last of her tea. “And we’ll take a dozen scones to go if you have them.”

  Ainsley’s eyes went wide and happy again. I could get used to that look.

  Fifteen

  My lunch break got pushed back a half hour because the financial news hour was having issues with one of it hosts for what she was calling food poisoning, what everyone else on set was calling a hangover. Fifth time this year. Her EP was ready to sack her. Her associate producer wanted to clock her. Her co-anchor wanted to shiv her on screen.

  My arrival on set made them all sit up straighter. Hangover host was at her spot acting like nothing was wrong other than the fact that she was probably still tipsy, despite being forty something and way too old to stay out drinking till closing. She glanced at me, her eyes widening a touch.

  “Eva’s here,” the EP said in an exasperated voice when he spotted me. “Didn’t someone call you?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed, but I wasn’t in the mood for this anymore. I didn’t know if it was the frayed nerves from planning Dallas’s wedding, but I’d had it with the crap these anchors thought they could get away with.

  “What are you going to do?” The EP shifted his eyes nervously between me and his “star” financial host.

  Her counterpart, a much too gorgeous woman to pull off the stock nerd thing seriously, looked up from her script and watched me approach the sleek, see-through so as to see her legs, desk. She seemed to brighten considerably as I got closer. She probably knew I was there to scold her idiot cohost.

  “Eva, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.” It was more of an order than a request.

  “We’re forty seconds away from broadcast, Skye.” Her voice was rough and not ready for the television yet.

  My eyes shot to the countdown clock. “You’re two minutes twelve seconds away from broadcast. In your office, please.”

  “I need to prepare.” She didn’t want to give up her seat for a scolding. She thought that if she pulled off the lunch hour stock report without any problems, she’d get away with the hangover.

  “You don’t.” I looked to the wings and found Patty, former financial advisor turned newscaster. She knew stocks and exchanges better than anyone on any of the financial shows but wasn’t the striking beauty of Eva or Candace. “Patty, would you mind sitting in on this segment with Candace?”

  Her eyes bulged and she stumbled her first few steps to the stage. The exec producer grunted in surprise next to me. His hand reached out and caught my arm. He didn’t like
that I was shaking up his show. I agreed, but this couldn’t continue without some resolution. The associate producer raced up to Patty and began getting a microphone pack on her.

  Eva spluttered, her face growing red as the action unfolded in front of her desk. “What’s this about, Skye?”

  “Come with me now, Eva, or we’ll have the discussion on camera.”

  She huffed, pushing up from her seat and glaring at Patty. “You better be ready to get out of my seat as soon as we’re done.”

  Patty’s brown eyes shot to mine at the menacing tone. She wasn’t afraid. She was looking to see how I would react. When I said nothing, I was pretty sure she knew exactly how the rest of the show would go. Candace watched the scene play out in front of her as if she were holding popcorn and enjoying the show. She didn’t care which screen monkey sat at the desk with her so long as she could read and didn’t run over her lines.

  We turned and walked off to the wings, Eva staying two steps ahead of me. “You’re making a huge mistake, Skye. I’m getting my agent on the line.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I murmured.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She whirled on me. She was trying to use her six foot height in heels to intimidate me.

  “Inside.” I indicated the open door.

  She walked ahead of me and stopped when she saw our head of human resources and the medic we kept on staff for injuries waiting for us. “What’s going on?” Her tone didn’t sound as smug anymore.

  “Have a seat,” the human resources director told her, indicating the lavish settee Eva had insisted be added to her contract rider.

  “What’s going on?” she repeated. “I’m getting my agent on the phone.”

  “Go ahead, but we’re administering a breathalyzer test right now.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “We are,” I told her. “We can videoconference with your agent if you like, but the test happens now.”

  Her face grew red as she crossed her arms and glared at us. “Get him on video. You’re treating me like I’m a criminal. I haven’t done anything wrong, and he should see this for our next contract negotiation.”

  I used her laptop to ping her agent. He came on the screen at once because Eva was his biggest client. I introduced the HR head and medic and told him our suspicions about Eva’s inebriated state. The medic produced the device and asked Eva to blow into it. Eva reluctantly gave in when her agent didn’t protest. A few seconds later, the medic showed the .11 reading on the screen to us. The agent’s eyes widened.

  “Eva,” I spoke in a neutral tone. “You are hereby terminated as a result of being intoxicated while at work.”

  She flew off the settee and started screeching at me. Her heels this time worked against her as she struggled to keep her balance.

  I turned to the screen and spoke calmly to her agent. “Eva is in breach of contract. A severance letter will be messengered to your office this afternoon. We’ll need signatures before a severance amount will be issued for deposit.”

  “This is highly unorthodox, Skye,” the agent argued. “She’s been having a hard time at home. How do you think this is going to play out in the press?”

  “How do you think the truth will play out in the press?” I felt like a heel making that threat, but we’d learned from experience. “Sign the statement and release, then we’ll pay the severance.”

  “I’m getting you a cab, Eva. Come straight to my office.”

  “This is fu—” Eva began but stopped as soon as two security guards stopped in the open doorway of the office. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

  “Damn,” the medic mumbled as she packed away her device with shaky hands. She probably hadn’t seen anything unpleasant happen at this network, but a medical person needed to administer the breathalyzer or Eva’s attorney could argue that someone ill-equipped to utilize the device misread the readout.

  “That was unfortunate,” the HR director said. “You’re certain we’re covered here?”

  “We’ve already fired two others for being high at work. On-air talent aren’t excluded.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just she was a favorite of the old man,” she said of the network president.

  “Too bad,” I said but knew she was right. I’d be getting a call later today. “I’ll take the heat for this one.”

  Back on set, the show progressed as usual without the usual cohosts. Patty was doing a nice job, but she wasn’t anchor material. She liked talking stocks and exchanges and what traders were thinking. She wasn’t as comfortable talking about CEO backgrounds, rumors, or opinions, which was what a lot of the show covered. Maybe Weekend Janie would be interested.

  When the show ended, the EP turned to me. “Where’s Eva?”

  “She was intoxicated at work. I let her go.”

  “Dammit!” He started pacing. “How am I supposed to run the show now? You think it was easy to find someone like Eva?”

  “You almost missed a live broadcast because she wasn’t sober enough to be in the building five minutes before air. We’ll find you someone good and less costly.” It would be more work for me, but I could worry about that later. I had a delayed lunch to get to.

  The flower shop was busy when I walked in. Morgan was helping a customer decide on which color roses to get his date for the evening. She convinced him that pink was the way to go when he wasn’t certain how the woman felt about him. This was the kind of issue I wouldn’t mind dealing with.

  “Grab a square vase for me, will you, Skye?” She pointed toward the back room. I went through the swinging door and wound my way through the full stockroom to get the vase.

  “Thanks.” She snipped the stems of two dozen pink roses and plopped them into the vase, sprinkling two layers of glass pebbles into the base and some water. She placed two leafy greens to each side. The arrangement was done in less than thirty seconds. Her shop eighty-five dollars richer. “Two more and we can go.”

  I snagged another vase from the back and a bunch of yellow tulips to complete the last two orders for the customers in the store. We didn’t go out to lunch often because she had to close the shop, but after the morning I’d had I really appreciated being able to have a break with a friend.

  “Major crisis kept you late, huh?” she asked as we took a seat in a café around the corner.

  “You’ll hear about it later, but someone had to be fired.”

  “Really? I can’t wait to read about it tomorrow.”

  My face twisted into a sneer. “You know it drives me crazy to have a friend who reads her news when I work at a cable news network, don’t you?”

  “It’s why I do it.” She grinned. “Did you tell Dallas I’m doing her flowers?”

  I searched her eyes, spotting a touch of insecurity. She was a great florist, but wedding flowers were a whole different ballgame. “She’s happy about it. It means a lot to her.”

  “Can we still get into the location in a couple of days? I have lots of ideas, but I need to see the venue first.” She waited for my nod. “Who’s going to help transport and set up?”

  “The planner has some people he can use, but I’m going to ask Tori to supervise the whole thing.”

  “Because you’ll be too busy keeping the bride from going bridezilla, huh?”

  I was starting to wonder if Dallas would be that kind of bride. I thought I knew her really well, but stress and nerves coupled with not being in on every aspect of planning might take a toll. “Let’s hope not.”

  “Seems like Ainsley could help you out.”

  “She’ll be keeping her cousin in the building.”

  “Oh, God, wouldn’t that be funny if he did a runner?” Her face turned serious as soon as it left her mouth. “Not really, though. I forgot I know the bride. She’d be devastated.”

  “Wouldn’t anyone?”

  “I would say, but again, I don’t do weddings for a reason.” She shrugged and might be thinking how her life would be different
if she hadn’t gone through with her wedding.

  “How’s my munchkin?” I asked of her daughter so we could focus on much better things in life.

  Morgan’s face broke into a wide smile. “She’s great. You’ll have to stop by for another visit soon. She’s about to go into Skye withdrawals.”

  “I’d like to see how that presents itself.”

  “A tantrum. Only the promise of ice cream will calm her.”

  I chuckled. I’d never seen Poppy throw a tantrum. “And how’s business?”

  “Good,” she dragged the word out and studied me for a moment. “Everything else okay for you?”

  I could share my recent thoughts about getting away from the headache that came with my new job. I liked seventy percent of it, but the thirty percent I didn’t made me want to quit every day. I was perfectly happy being an executive producer and should have stayed in that position, but I didn’t make rash decisions. Never had. She was like me. She’d saved for years to get her own flower shop. The idea of throwing it away for no other reason than whim would be pretty alien to her. She might even get a little disappointed with me.

  “Sure. Stressful with the planning.”

  “It’ll give you good practice for when you get married.”

  “Ha!” I exclaimed then realized I’d spared her the full force of my aversion to marriage. Most people think someone who doesn’t believe in marriage is bitter about love. That wasn’t me. “I’m not much for marriage.”

  “Really? Too bad. You’d make a good partner. You’re always considerate of others and doing or saying things that make people feel special.”

  “I am?” I tried to think back to all the time we’d spent together and couldn’t recall one single instance where that would apply.

  “You give flowers to everyone on your staff for many reasons. Or are you doing that just to keep me in business?” One eyebrow quirked. “If so, that’s yet another considerate thing. You just told our waitress that you liked her name. That could be true, but saying something like that makes someone feel good. Last week, you spent a half hour going through all of your admin’s great qualities when she was having a lousy day. Your wedding planner called and said for the first time in his job, he finally feels like he can be his real self because you let him be.”