Robin barked a laugh. “I don’t see how, when you’re across an ocean.”
“Moral support then.” Elise smiled.
“Any way you can make several thousand dollars magically appear in my bank account?”
“That’s a little beyond me, I’m afraid. Let’s think about this logically. How long do you have before the plumber needs to be paid?”
“He said I could split his bill into three payments, and I could pay over the next couple of months.”
“Okay, well that’s more doable then.” Elise hummed out a thinking noise. “You just have to figure out how to increase your sales by several hundred a month.”
“Oh, is that all?” Robin propped the phone up on the countertop and wound her hair into a messy bun. She secured it with the hair tie she always wore on her wrist. “I’m sorry for the sarcasm. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“Can you open an extra day of the week?”
“I could, but then I’d have to pay someone to work it, and I don’t know how quickly the town would catch on that we added a day.”
“Advertise?”
“Sure, but that takes money too.”
“Some moral support I am.”
Robin had to laugh at Elise’s self-deprecating tone. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ll come up with something.”
“I’ll be praying for you. I know you’ll figure something out. Although, I was hoping the slower pace over there in Deep Haven would be a good thing for you. You know, give you a chance to practice some of your rusty cake-decorating skills.”
Except for the occasional special order and the recent Castle in the Sky project, there hadn’t been much opportunity to hone those skills in Victor’s bakery. He’d mostly kept her busy making other pastries. Sometimes she wondered what he’d seen in her back in California. When he’d recruited her, he’d talked about her talents but hadn’t elaborated.
She’d thought he meant with cake, but maybe he’d just meant she had a talent for being duped.
“Yeah, I don’t really see that happening. If I’m going to make more money, I’ll have to work harder, not less.”
“Speaking of Victor…” Her friend trailed off.
“Were we speaking of him?”
“Never mind.”
Now she wasn’t going to let it go. “No, what were you going to say?”
“It’s just, I don’t know if I should say anything, but you should checkLa Patisserie’s online edition.”
The French baking magazine was a big kahuna in the baking world. Robin had once harbored a hope of being featured in its pages.
“Hold on. I’m taking you off video.” She minimized the phone app and pulled up an internet browser. She already had the magazine open on one of her tabs, so she hit the button to refresh the feed. “What am I looking at here?”
Her friend made a small noise. “Robin, this is a bad idea. Forget I said anything.”
“Not. A. Chance. What am I supposed to see? Or not see?”
“Scroll down to the up-and-coming section.”
Robin scrolled down the page and stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. A photo of Victor filled the phone’s screen. He was dressed in his chef’s whites and holding a cake. Asymmetrical stacked layers held flowers cascading down the sides.
And on top? Sparklers.
Her cake.
