“She was impressive! I simply want to be the first in line to offer her a job should she…”
“Not make it.”
“Precisely.”
“Then why do you need to talk to me?” Gaetan asked.
“You’ve no doubt had countless interviews. People can present themselves like beautifully decorated cakes on the outside. It isn’t until you cut them open that you find the truth.”
Gaetan whistled low. “An intense hiring process.”
“I am nothing if not thorough in knowing who I’m working with.”
“And what do you think of her so far?”
Frustrating. Exceedingly tedious. A tantalizing puzzle.
“Talented with her art,” he decided to say, “though she struggles under public pressure. Rough around the edges, but she could be polished with time.”
The man let out a great howling bark of laughter.
“Say that to my wall out there!”
“She did that?”
Gaetan blanched, as if he’d made a mistake. “No real harm done. She’s just a bit… eager.”
“Would you say she’s unreliable in that regard?”
“No.” His expression softened as he glanced upward. “She’s young, and life hasn’t been particularly easy for her. That stubbornness and pride comes from a place of wanting to do great things, to uphold a legacy that died a long time ago.”
Nik understood that longing.
“El… ouise is afraid to break cycles,” Gaetan added.
“Is that why she presented clafoutis? It’s an old recipe.”
Gaetan’s lips pressed tight.
A knock sounded at the door, and another baker poked their head in. “The baguettes are losing their shape, and the customers are about to riot.”
Gaetan stood with a bolstering grunt. “Duty calls.” He turned when he reached the door. “If she loses, hire her. Get her as far away from the Restes as possible and don’t ever let her turn back. She deserves as much.”
He clapped Nik on the shoulder with a tight squeeze before disappearing down the hall.
Nik stared after him, more lost than before.
Gaetan knew her, that much was true. Whatever connection they had was powerful enough for him to support the lie of her name change, enough to cover up whatever she was running from.
It was a secret worth hiding.
And Nik would find out what it was.
When the sound of pans and oven doors resumed, Nik started picking through the shelves Gaetan hadn’t been able to look away from. He flipped through recipe books, dug through boxes, and held his breath as he peeled through the piles of stale clothes. Somethinghadto be here.
His fingers flipped over a thick piece of paper.
A photograph.
