Page 1 of Hers to Hold
Chapter 1
“You couldn’t have come at a better time.”
Kadynce Martin squeezed her shoulders up as people on either side of her reached across the counter to pick up their orders. The cashier called out a change to someone’s coffee order while a customer from across the shop loudly echoed the announcement of their order number. All sorts of fruit, grains, and unrecognizable aromas floated beneath Kady’s nose, shocking her olfactory system in the most sweetly, insulin-crushing way.Is it always like this?
“I can see,” Kady said as she surveyed the bakery.
Katrina Kaye’s bakery—Kaye’s Kakes—was legitimately the place to be on an early Monday morning. The modest-sized shop in the heart of Springfield’s downtown shopping district was packed from wall to wall with people either eating, waiting for orders, or trying to place an order. Kady heard the one-time pastry chef had elevated herself to national cooking-show stardom in a matter of minutes, with fame lasting longer than twenty.Looks like she’s the real deal.Kady considered ordering a cupcake to be in the know.
But she wasn’t here to eat the products; she was here to sell them.
“I have an appointment for nine,” she shouted over the crying baby squirming in its mother’s arm beside her. “To interview for the counter position.”
“Yes! Yes, I know,” the lady behind the counter said. She passed the mother a box. “Here’s your order, ma’am. We apologize for the wait. A dozen special order cupcakes. We’ve included an extra cupcake for you, free. The newest flavor. We hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh! I’m sure I will. See you on Saturday!” And the woman sliced through the crowd, her box of cupcakes as a sword.
“Whew! One down, about a hundred more to go.”
Kady read the woman’s nametag.Olivia.She looked about the same age as Kady, late twenties, even with her baker’s hat on and a streak of flour running across her cheek.Shouldn’t she be in the back baking? Maybe that’s why they’re hiring.
“I thought I was meeting with Ms. Kaye,” Kady said. She hadn’t spotted the owner, but she was about fifteen minutes early. Kady strained her neck to get a better look at the people at the far end of the shop, where it was the most crowded. None of the women looked like the picture Kady had seen on Katrina’s website.
“Right. Kat apologizes for not being here, but she had a last minute taping of her show and won’t be able to make it. I’m Olivia. I’ll be conducting the interview.” She quickly typed on the tablet as a customer rattled off her order of cupcakes and assorted pastries. Olivia swiped the woman’s card, handed her a receipt and hurried disappeared through two swinging double doors that Kady guessed led to the kitchen.
No Katrina Kaye.
Kady had also read Katrina—who was called Kat by her friends and family—also hosted a hugely popular local cooking show broadcasted nationally and on YouTube. She frequently had world-renowned French chef, LeBleu, as a guest. He was credited as having discovered Kat’s talent for uniquely blending ingredients to create explosive flavors that had her shop filled to fire-hazard capacity with people clawing to receive her goods.
A fairytale story if Kady ever read one.
Kat married her long-time best friend and war hero, Drew Callaghan after he returned from war, engaged to Kat’s best friend. Kady had laughed as she read the bio. It was as sickening sweet as the smell in her bakery and just as unbelievable. No one had happy endings like that. Maybe on some countdown to whatever holiday on a television channel producing sweet and wholesome shows, but in the real world? In the real world, people lied, cheated, and shirked responsibility. If it wasn’t for personal gain or protection, then it wasn’t important.
Like me.
Kady shoved the invading thought to the back of her mind and concentrated on the mission. She was here to get the job. Not screw it up with personal problems diverting her attention and focus. Olivia expected her to prove herself.
And that’s exactly what Kady was going to do.
Olivia reappeared with an open box that had a couple of cupcakes in it, which she passed to another helper.
“Can I help?” Kady shouted over the ever-increasing volume of noise from the patrons. “I’m free all day.”
Olivia’s shoulders slouched. “Bless you! Yes, a trial by fire is probably the best test of your skills.” She motioned Kady to follow her to the other end of the counter where she opened one of the waist-level wooden doors, allowing Kady to separate herself from the guests. “I know you’re interviewing for the register position, but as you can see”—she spread a hand out wide for Kady to look around—“we’ll need you to do a little more than punch in orders. All of us help out in every position.”
Kady swallowed, her eyes going to the kitchen doors. “You mean you’ll want me to bake?” She couldn’t cook a thing. Boil water, sure, but pity the eggs she put in the pot. Her mother hated cooking and had refused to teach her daughter anything about it.
“You don’t need to cook now. Men want stripper bodies and for you to have your own money. Who needs to learn to cook when you can order take out?”
Olivia laughed heartily. “Not today, no. But if you want, Kat would be thrilled to give you a few lessons and have you help in the kitchen. She usually hosts employee-only master classes to test new recipes. That way, we can cover for anyone who has an emergency or gets swamped, like right now. We have plenty baked to handle this crowd, so I help out front.”
Kady nodded. Olivia took her satchel and handed her an apron. After thoroughly washing her hands, securing a bonnet over her thick, curly hair she had snatched back into a ponytail, and slipping on serving gloves, Kady listened intently as Olivia quickly went through the process for pickup orders.
“If you can handle checking numbers and handing out orders, then you’re well on your way.” Olivia smiled brightly.
Kady thought she read something sinister behind the smile, like Olivia was expecting her to fail grandly. A trained monkey could hand stuff back and forth.It’s just you. Focus on getting the job. You need this.
After successfully passing out five orders, Kady’s nerves settled, taut mostly due to the noise and size of the crowd. This she could handle. The more she blocked the clamor, the less distracted she was, allowing her to easily function behind the counter.
