A Town Called Valentine: A Valentine Valley Novel by Cane Emma

Author:Cane, Emma [Cane, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.
Published: 2012-01-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Early the next morning, Emily removed the last of the damaged trim and baseboards, then showered and dressed for her first day’s training. She was at Monica’s Flowers and Gifts by ten for her first official tour and description of her duties—taking care of customers, placing orders, preparing simple flower arrangements, making bows, and, of course, dealing with the local craftspeople about their consignment items.

And through it all, Emily watched Monica at work, the way she knew so many of her customers and their tastes, or if they were tourists, the way she sensed how they wanted to be approached and made them feel at ease. Young lovers out for a stroll popped in for an impromptu rose. Expensively dressed older couples from Aspen, looking to spend a simple day together, toured all the little Main Street shops, intrigued by the crafts on display.

While Monica dealt with a bride’s mother about flower arrangements for a wedding shower, Emily washed the little china plates, with their tulip-and-daffodil pattern, on which Monica served the day’s pastry treat. The coffee cake was delicious, of course, but Emily frowned as she considered it, knowing that Monica ordered her desserts from the pastry chef at the Sweetheart Inn.

When the door jingled with the customer’s departure, Monica sat down on the little wrought-iron chair by the dessert table. “Whew! Mothers of the bride can be so picky.”

“Isn’t she your cousin?” Emily said, glancing toward the door.

“And that’s why I feel free to comment. It will be a lovely wedding if Angela calms down. Hard to believe my cousin has a daughter old enough to marry.” She shuddered.

Emily grinned, then gestured to the coffee cake. “Sweetheart Inn?”

“Yep, and delicious.”

“Of course. But can I make a suggestion? I love to bake. Why don’t you let me whip something up for you? Why should you pay those exorbitant prices from the inn?”

“I pay it because it’s the only game in town. But I must say, those tarts of yours were scrumptious.”

Emily grinned and sat down opposite Monica. “I’ve been working on my high-altitude baking since I arrived.”

“So now my customers will be test subjects?”

“Hell, no, you will. If you don’t like it, I take it back. I just . . . I just really miss cooking for people. Almost makes me want to move back to the boardinghouse. Those ladies were very appreciative.”

“Wow, okay, okay, we wouldn’t want you to give up your freedom just to keep baking. I’ll pay you, of course.”

Emily shrugged. “Just the ingredients. I’m not a professional although I did bake desserts for a friend’s catering business in San Francisco. Nothing full-time, just when she was swamped.” She cut a slice of cake. “But regardless, this shouldn’t go to waste.”

“Dessert before lunch—my idea of being a grown-up.”

While they dug into the cinnamony goodness, Emily studied her friend, who’d seemed . . . not quite herself this morning, shadows beneath her eyes, her smile a bit strained.

“Monica,” Emily said hesitantly, “is something wrong?”

Monica shot a surprised glance at her, then gave a distracted smile.

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