Page 30 of Cakes for the Grump
As long as one ignores any kind of accumulationeffect, which I will, because it is Luke Abbot and Rita Singh. We wouldn’t have anything to connect us, even if we started talking about our real lives and feelings.
On one hand, he’s a prominent CEO with an obsessive work ethic, plotting some sort of secret business maneuver with a white whale at some conference later this year, trying to win over my friendship as his side project.
On the other hand, I’m a meal prep chef, lost and squandered, stuck at a job to make sure my dad keeps getting help, whose only hope of ever becoming a professional non-smoothie making chef is currently pinned on a contest aptly named CUM.
He has plans. I have desperations.
We don’t have anything in common.
That’s a guarantee.
TEN
The next day,something is wrong. His puzzle is a cross-hatch of mistakes when there never has been one, and he’s on his second cup of tea. For a man of rigid routine, I extrapolate that a major crisis has hit. And not that I require confirmation, but proof enough is his conversation starter.
“What do you think isgood, Rita?”
Not feeling entirely awake, my brain flits about. “Brownie edges…napping…sunshine, but not when it’s strong enough to make you sweaty…and…”
“That’s not what I meant. What makes a goodleader,do you think?” asks Luke.
“I’m not sure I’m equipped to answer, considering I’ve led a cricket teamoncewhen I was in primary school, and immediately got ousted after Seeta brought almond kulfis for everyone.”
His mouth flattens.
“I’m guessinggoodsnacksis not the answer you are looking for?”
“No, but I can tell you what I think,” he says, sounding disheveled despite looking as impeccably dressed as ever, which if my brain wasn’t occupied by this break in behavior, I might connect his suits with a metaphor about them being worn as shields of tailored armor.
“Power, peace, and goodness,” says Luke. “When you add in profit, there doesn’t seem to be a platform where all those can meet.If you add goodness to power, public attention turns to the source of power and how it was obtained in the first place. And in a world like ours, power isn’t often achieved in a harmless way.”
Is this a confession? Why does it sound like one?
He frowns. “Especially when it’s an institution too old, too big and too fucking lawyered to fall. Things getdifficult.”
“How so?”
“Because a leader can’t see everything. Be everything. You have to trust the people you’ve hired to do the right thing…and then they don’t. Do you know how often that happens?”
I shake my head.
“Right. Never mind. That’s not—important. Sorry.”
“Okay,” I say, still not understanding what is going on, and also not missing the fact that my employer has actually apologized to me, bizarrely enough. “Whatisimportant?”
“Everything. It’s all on your shoulders, and as a leader you can’t pull it all apart, otherwise things explode. People explode. But I’m going to handle it. All of it.” Luke stares, steel-gray eyes willing me to understand if not his words, then the strength of his frustration.
“Is there something I can do?” I offer, trying my best at beinggenerallysupportive despite having no real information. “Should I make more cakes for board members or business associates?”
Luke says nothing, but looks disturbed that I’m offering to help.
He stands. “I have to go. I shouldn’t have stayed back—I don’t know why I felt I had to—” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m late. I need to go.”
Well, that was cryptic, I think, watching him leave.
Not knowing what else to make of it, I get back to work. Under the rhythm of my routine, his behavior leaves my mind until it comes back again stronger as I scroll through my phone later that night.
A brash headline makes noise in the news.
