Company Ink Page 3

  “Hey,” a baker called out. “Vi, where are you?”

  Violet looked down at the mutilated treat in her hands. Damn.

  “Just checking consistency,” she muttered dismissively, a horrible attempt at a save as she held it up toward him. “Good job, Mike. Make another half round.”

  Before the baker could say more, she dumped the scone on a nearby paper plate and balanced it on her clipboard. With a dessert allowance of one treat a day, this violated confection would have to be it for her. She grabbed her coffee and decided to gather her thoughts in the office, knowing in the back of her mind that was exactly where Ben would be.

  Her feet carried her down the back stairs and through the prep area. Past the dry and cold storages and a few feet from the employee bathrooms lay the back office, where she and the other managers sat to either handle administrative duties, have lunch, or take phone orders. It was a large space, wide open except for the five workstations that lined three of the four walls. Lining the fourth wall, alongside the door, were cabinets and counters that held their copier, retail merchandise, extra polo shirts emblazoned with the bakery logo, and other office supplies. With her eyes on Ben, she attempted to step in quietly, only to trip on the corner of a counter. She let out a tiny squeak as she narrowly avoided dropping everything. She cursed herself silently as Ben turned and looked at her. He looked tired.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Hey, Violet,” he muttered, his voice lacking spirit but somehow still sounding just as cozy as a down blanket. “Aren’t you the lark?”

  Violet grinned, taking a seat and carefully setting her coffee and scone down in front of her. “I take it you’re not a morning person.”

  “Not lately,” he replied, his voice transparently bitter.

  His response made her stop short, surprised at how easily two words could be so off-putting. She stared at him briefly, nonplussed, trying to decide whether or not she should be offended, as he went back to counting the register drawer in front of him. A painfully awkward moment of silence passed between them; finally, Ben let out a deep sigh.

  “Look, before you think I’m some kind of jerk, I just want to apologize. I had a really rough”—he paused, seeming to check himself before continuing—“commute this morning. It was just a nightmare, and I’m kind of trying to get past it so I can get through the rest of the day.”

  “Oh.” If anyone understood the commute through Midtown, it was Violet. “No worries. The city’s rough, I know.”

  At that moment, the office door opened. Jay, the company’s operations manager, stepped in with a smile. A twenty-something Puerto Rican from Queens, he often looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine despite being dressed for the bakery in a tee shirt and jeans. He normally worked in Wynne’s corporate office near Central Park South but would be sticking around The Rock, at Wynne’s insistence, to help Ben with the finer points of operating the bakery. Placing his messenger bag at the assistant manager’s station, he flashed a grin at Violet before looking to Ben. A wide, friendly grin stretched across Ben’s face as he met Jay in the middle of the office. They shook hands, and the Ben she’d first met completely emerged. Night and day, she couldn’t help but think.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late.” Jay beamed, far more of a morning person than she and Ben combined. “How are you, Vi?”

  She gladly returned Jay’s friendly welcome. “Peachy keen, jelly bean! Training Ben today?”

  Jay nodded. “I’ll be working with him until about noon. After that, he’s all yours. Wynne wants him learning to do production by the end of the week.”

  “You might have your work cut out for you, Violet. I’m used to a smaller menu with way fewer variations.” Ben grinned.

  She raised an eyebrow. Oh, now we’re running for office? “You’ll get it in no time, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll check in with you when Jay’s done with me.”

  “Sounds good,” she replied. “I’ll make sure my morning orders are done so we can focus on training.”

  Turning back to her scone, she listened halfheartedly to Ben’s spirited conversation with Jay. His mood had flipped 180 degrees in a matter of seconds, and she couldn’t help but feel like her head was spinning. She supposed she shouldn’t hold his ability to schmooze against him; then again, she couldn’t help but wonder what had caused him to yank up such an emotional wall. Why was she even interested?

  Do you wanna save him, Vi?

  She let out an amused snort that she hadn’t meant to release.

  Jay and Ben fell silent, abruptly stopping their conversation to stare at Violet. A slightly embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked around.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled coyly, putting her coffee cup to her lips.

  Ben smiled at her, a genuine expression that made her heart race. She could’ve sworn it actually lit up the room. She watched him for longer than she meant to; her cheeks felt white-hot, and she straightened her back in response to the schoolgirl giggle deep inside her that threatened to emerge. He playfully winked at her and turned away. Violet was beyond happy that he was the first to look away, because her insides had already turned to magma. Her knees went weak, and she peered up at the ceiling, quietly thanking God for the existence of office chairs.

  She thought she might have felt Ben’s eyes on her after she turned back to face her computer screen, but she couldn’t tell whether the laser-beam heat on her back was real or if she was just losing her mind. She sipped her coffee slowly as she confirmed a couple of online orders. Only when she heard Jay’s voice and was certain Ben had been effectively distracted did she trust herself to stand. She’d almost made it out of the office when Jay spoke.

  “We’ll be up in a few minutes to do the opening huddle,” he said. “Do me a favor and pass the word to Jess?”

  “Sure thing.” Damn it, did my voice just crack?

  “See ya up there, Vi.” There was a teasing edge in Ben’s voice.

  She turned and stared him in the eye, impulsively taking his tone of voice as a challenge. “It’s Violet. And I’ll see you later.”

  Ben looked a little taken aback. And as Violet made her way upstairs, she couldn’t help but feel like things were probably going to get a lot more uncomfortable before they got better. Still, tiny fireworks set off in her stomach again as she thought of the deep-set, crystal-blue eyes that threatened to see right through her; this guy was already more trouble than he was worth. It was with a feeling of both excitement and apprehension that she welcomed whatever was coming between her and Ben.

  • • •

  Violet was heavily focused on icing a red velvet cake, surrounded by tourists pressed against the glass that separated her from the crowd of people in the store as well as outside of it. She juggled creating perfect rosettes with answering questions from the curious customers who hoped to learn decorating secrets without the benefit of too much hard work. I should be charging a consultation fee. But the truth was, she loved chatting with the customers while she worked her magic. She was mid-conversation with a traveling photographer when her name was called.

  “Hey, Vi!”

  She looked over the crowd of customers and spotted Jay. She gave an exuberant wave and smiled while the photographer tried to snap a secret photo of her work.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” he called. “Ben will be up to you in about half an hour.”

  Violet nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

  Focusing her attention back on the photographer, she spun her cake turntable. The now fully gussied-up cake slowly showed itself off. “You have to contact corporate if you plan on using that photo anywhere.”

  “Caught me, huh?”

  Violet grinned. “It’s not a big deal; they’re pretty cool about photos. Just handle it properly, okay?”

  The photographer nodded. “You got it, doll. Thanks for the chat!”

  The pretty blond about Violet’s age moved on to the cupcak
e counter while a curious family of tourists stepped up to engage Violet. She’d already gotten so used to chatting while she decorated that, as the family questioned Violet about her favorite desserts, she managed to ice a six-inch carrot cake with sweet cream-cheese icing and inscribe it before the line moved forward and the family said their goodbyes. She had just eased the cake onto a stainless steel display stand and covered it with a clear plastic lid when she heard her name called.

  Violet placed the cake in the refrigerated display case and turned in the direction of the voice. Ben was headed directly for her, weaving his way through the counter staff as they darted around each other on their quests to get customers through the line and out the door. He looked overwhelmed and rightfully so—it wasn’t easy on the floor, where an employee could see hundreds of customers in the span of an hour on any given day and potentially box ten times the amount of cupcakes, cookies, or bars. She folded her arms and leaned against the marble counter at her station, waiting for his approach.

  The look on his face said he might have still been feeling sunny; she chewed her bottom lip as her body tensed in anticipation of his arrival. He gave her a charming grin, and Violet melted only a little as one corner of his mouth turned up just a bit higher than the other.

  “You’re early,” she said, turning away and reaching for the red bucket beneath her station.

  “I know. I figured we can talk a little bit about whatever it is you’re supposed to be helping me with. Thanks for doing that, by the way.”

  She pulled the scrub brush from the red bucket filled with cleaning solution and began to clean her countertop. “I’m glad to help. How are you doing with memorizing the menu?”

  Ben grabbed a roll of paper towels. “There’s literally twice as many items as there are on a restaurant menu. I can tell you how I’m doing, but I think you already know.”

  Violet’s breath caught in her throat as his long, muscular arm reached around from behind her to offer her the paper towels. There was the scent she hadn’t smelled since she first met him but somehow already knew as “him.” She took the roll, maybe a little more aggressively than she meant to, and stepped around him to stand in front of the cooling rack.

  “Well, that’s exactly what I’m here to help you with,” she said. “The job is a lot more than the office, and there aren’t sets of organized little tables to check on or turn over. It’s a different beast.”

  “I hear you loud and clear. That’s why I came up early. Where should we start?”

  Violet laid a hand on the cooling rack. “I’ve gotta ice some Devil’s food cupcakes with the rest of the cream-cheese icing. Wanna give it a shot?”

  • • •

  Twenty minutes later, Violet had hand-iced sixty Devil’s food cupcakes, each with a Wynne’s signature swirl of cream cheese icing. Ben had destroyed a total of six cupcakes attempting to create a swirl similar to Violet’s work and still hadn’t managed to ice one. He did, however, manage to get tiny globs of icing all over his hands and wrists. With every cupcake he wasted, Violet’s tolerance for his clumsiness wore thin; letting out a small grunt under her breath, she looked away as she boxed her finished cupcakes, telling herself that the swirl wasn’t easy for everybody. So what if it had only taken her three days to perfect? Patience, girl, patience.

  When she finally looked up, she noticed he’d gotten a glob of icing on his cheek. “Oh God, Ben—how?”

  With a perplexed expression, he asked, “What?”

  “You have icing on your face.”

  Ben grinned shamefacedly, putting down the icing wand and a maimed cupcake. “Whoops. That’s not cute, is it?”

  “Not after your first birthday,” Violet answered. “You know, you’re pretty bad at this, Ben.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, this is going to take a while. What’s the point of this, anyway? I’m the general manager; why do I need to know how to ice?”

  “The more available hands we have to ice, the better. That way, if there’s a cupcake emergency, we’ll be able to—”

  “A cupcake emergency? You can’t be serious.”

  Violet frowned, taking offense at Ben’s lighthearted laugh. She didn’t enjoy feeling like her passion was being mocked. “I realize it sounds funny, but it’s a legit issue. I mean, what happens if one of your white-linen paradises runs out of an item?”

  Ben continued wiping icing off his hands and wrists. “We eighty-six the item, period.”

  “We see more people at this bakery in a day than any of your fine dining establishments see in a week. Eighty-sixing an item isn’t an option here. We’re ready for anything.”

  Violet stared at him pointedly, trying to convey the irritation that consumed her. Their eyes finally met, and a strained moment of silence extended between them. All around them customers and counter staff buzzed with life; to Violet, it felt like a tension-filled bubble had just expanded around them and cut them off from the rest of the bakery. She thought it might go on forever, but Ben stepped back.

  “You know what, there’s a couple of things I have to take care of downstairs. I’ll come back up in a little bit.”

  Violet nodded wordlessly and watched as he made his way past the beverage counter, then the cupcake counter, finally disappearing down the small hallway that led to the steps into the basement. She turned back to the counter with a groan—that didn’t go well. She grabbed a trio of chocolate cake layers and vanilla buttercream to ice her next order.

  Once she’d completed the orders on her list and it was time to set up the production schedules for the night and overnight bakers and icers, she was completely aware that Ben hadn’t returned. In her mind, he must have planned it that way—the situation got intense and he took off instead of dealing with it. She knew it was because she’d made sure he knew she was offended, and she wouldn’t apologize for that. Well, Ben ol’ boy, now you have no choice but to face me.

  She quickly straightened up her station and headed downstairs to the office. Ben was at his seat, facing the door. The receiver of his desk phone was pressed to his ear, and he looked one part mortified, two parts furious. The mix of intense emotion stopped Violet in her tracks. The door shut behind her with a click, and he finally noticed her presence.

  Violet caught the brunt of his infuriated gaze and, for one moment, she had no idea whether or not it was meant for her.

  “I’m gonna have to call you back.” His voice was dark, oddly matching his eyes as they had gone from clear blue to almost stormy.

  Ben blindly placed the receiver back onto its cradle while he continued to watch her, waiting for a reaction.

  “Is everything all right?” Violet’s brow furrowed in concern.

  His tense, rigid frame softened slightly. But the emotional wall he was holding up remained. He steadied himself as he prepared to answer, broadening his shoulders in a transparent attempt to get it together. The effect bordered on frightening; Violet’s lips parted as her breath silently hitched. Should she walk away?

  “I’m fine.” His voice remained dark as he turned toward his desk to reach for the apron beside his keyboard.

  Violet thought better of pushing the issue, opting simply to say, “Um, okay. I just came down to check in with you. I was hoping to be able to do production and—”

  “Okay, look,” he said. “It’s my second day, and I’ve got a lot to learn in terms of administration and operations alone. Do you think you could just handle production and let me do my job before throwing the entire store at me?”

  Violet blinked, stunned at the tone he’d taken. “I … I can, but production is just as important as the—”

  “It’s dessert, Violet. When all is said and done, it’s just cake. I’m sure the world won’t end if you press on without me.”

  She stared at him for a long moment while he very disrespectfully turned his back and threw the apron back on his desk. Dumbfounded, she swallowed a large lump of pride that had begun to swell in her throat. If she disliked anything
, it was being spoken down to. But her job was worth much more than the satisfaction of hurling the insults currently threatening to escape her mouth, and she knew it.

  “Right.” Her face was stony. “Some other time. I’ll just go do this upstairs.”

  “Violet, wait … ”

  But she didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. She let the door slam behind her; if it took her an extra hour to do production on the floor, so be it. Violet refused to spend another second of her shift around Ben Preston.

  • • •

  I. Am. Such a jerk.

  The words swam in Ben’s mind as he crossed West End Avenue and began the walk toward his condo at 160 Riverside Boulevard. He had been impressed with Violet’s skills from day one, despite the fact that her knowledge of the bakery made him feel oddly inadequate and unnecessary. By the end of his first day, he wondered why they’d hired him at all, and he mentioned as much to Wynne.

  “I’m molding Violet,” Wynne had explained. “There’s something special in her that could be destroyed if I throw her headfirst into management. She shows a passion for baking that none of my team ever has. I’ve got a management spot for her in mind, and it’s hers when she’s ready and I’m ready for her.”

  “Does she know that?” he asked.

  Wynne didn’t exactly answer. “She knows how much I value her.”

  Before Wynne could elaborate, however, she was pulled away to assist with an overcrowded store and a line that wasn’t moving. Ben had followed her as she dashed up the stairs from the office and was shocked to find the customer area packed so heavily that members of staff had closed the doors and started a line outside. Jessica, the floor supervisor, was now directing customers out of the side door as they finished paying for their purchases. Violet was helping out at the icing station, cranking out trays of cupcakes faster than anything Ben had ever seen. There were two people stationed at the cupcake counter, and one of them was stuck filling a large order that was rapidly depleting their classic cupcake stores. Ben could only watch from the sidelines as Wynne stepped in and began filling orders at the cupcake counter. He’d never seen this kind of bedlam before.