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I make batch after batch of macarons, focusing on our February specials.
Ideas for different flavor combinations swirl in my head, and after the main batches are prepared, I play around with different ingredients to see what to add to the next month’s menu.
Rose and black tea? I’ll have April try it; if she spits it out, it’s a no.
We can’t have another repeat of spicy black licorice.
Three hours later, my apron is coated in almond flour and my fingers are stained with food coloring.
I’m not the tidiest baker, but the cookies always come out delicious.
By the time the café opens, I’m in the back, fixing my hair and switching out my apron. Devyn and Anna are already here, but April isn’t.
That’s weird. April is punctual to a fault.
“Hey. Have you heard from April?” I ask Devyn as she hurries to the back for a bag of ground coffee beans.
“No. But we’re getting busy,” she says.
I frown. I can’t remember the last time April was late, but I push the thought to the side as I tie my apron tight and head back to the front.
I groan. The line is already out the door, and with one head short, this isn’t going to be fun.
By the second hour, we’re sold out of macarons for the day. Usually, April and I would celebrate the successful sales day, but she still isn’t here.
What the hell.
When the crowd dies down, I call her, and I’m sent straight to voicemail.
Devyn sees my face as I place my phone back in my pocket. “What’s up?” she asks. “Is April alright?”
I shake my head, frowning. “Got her voicemail.”
But before I can focus on that, another round of people comes in, and I’m serving up cappuccinos and drip coffees with a fake smile on my face.
Am I overreacting?
Maybe her phone died, or she slept in.
But April doesn’t sleep in.
A nasty feeling churns in my gut, and I text and call her three more times throughout the day.
April was supposed to close today, along with Luke and Jamie.
I sure as hell won’t leave them to close the store alone, especially with Valentine’s Day around the corner.
“I can stay longer, too,” Devyn pipes up as I anxiously gulp my iced coffee in the back room. “You can go check on her and see if she’s alright.”
My hand shakes as I grip the plastic cup tightly. “If you do that, you’ll need to take an extra lunch break,” I remind her. “I don’t want to have you stay that long.”
“I don’t mind!” Devyn says, her blue eyes wide as saucers. “I’m worried about her, too, Skye. Go see if she’s alright, please.”
I hesitate. There’s always supposed to be a manager here, whether it’s me, April, or even her mother, on occasion.
“Okay. But call me if anything happens,” I order, “and I’ll come back here.”
She stands on her tiptoes and salutes me, and I chuckle for the first time all day. “Got it, boss,” she says.
