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We exit the car, a light flurry of snow dusting our heads.
Gates’ Cakes have a decent-sized kitchen at the back of their shop from where they make everything on site. Their location just off a ski run allows the opportunity for a pit stop. Planning on retiring soon, it’s a shame they never had the chance to expand and profit from their skill. From what I can see, they have quite a devout following, myself included.
Outside, the ten tables are full of skiers who’ve stopped for coffee and gateaux. For me, that’s the perfect way to finish off a session on the slopes. When I was working at WM, I was here every Saturday. Right now, my weekends are too busy.
We step through the front door and walk towards the counter where there’s a short line. We wait our turn, but I point out all my favorites to Brecken, visible through the glass-covered cabinets.
“How can I help?” Tricia Gates asks, shock on her face as she realizes it’s me. “Oh, Winter is that really you?!”
“Hi, Tricia. So good to see you again! I can’t wait to work my way through some of these.”
She waves her husband over. “Louis, look! Winter’s back!”
How did she know I’d left? I was so ashamed at being fired I didn’t stop by and tell them about my relocation. Maybe she’s just noticed that I’ve not been buying from here lately. Whatever the answer, I cover my surprise by saying hello to Louis and introducing Brecken. “This is Brecken. We’d like to order two of everything please, to take away.”
There are at least twelve gateaux and tortes to choose from. But if Balthazar won’t eat them, I will.
“Of course,” Tricia replies, opening up two large square boxes. “Having a party?”
“No, I’ve moved hotels,” I say, catching Brecken’s eye. “I’m hoping to convince my new boss to consider buying your business.”
Tricia pauses, the slim cake tongs held aloft. “Oh? Aren’t you still at Wardorff-Messen?”
“No. I’m at Chateau B now.”
Her face pales as she looks across at her husband. I get a really bad feeling in my stomach, and it’s nothing to do with period cramps. Louis sends his wife a cautious look before turning to me. “We’ve already signed a contract with WM, Winter.”
My entire body sags. “No, really? But they weren’t interested,” I return, angry and frustrated. I remember how disappointed I was that my then boss wouldn’t even entertain a two-minute discussion on it. And now look what’s happened. What changed? What piqued their interest to do a complete about-face?
“I’m sorry,” Louis says, as I turn to Brecken, hoping he knows of a way to correct this fuck up.
He places a hand on my shoulder, directing his question to Louis. “When did you sign?”
“A couple weeks ago. We close on May first.”
Disappointment replaces any excitement I had about coming here. At showing Balthazar what he was missing. I realize there are still options available to us if we want to have a cake restaurant in our hotels, but WM has stolen the wind from our sails. It would look like we’re copying them.
And to think I’ve lost out by such a slim margin. Two weeks.
“We were told you’d moved to the west coast, Winter. We’ve been speaking to a woman called Janelle.”
“Janelle Stiller?”
God, anyone but her. She steals my job and then she steals my good ideas. “Yeah, I know her,” I grind out. She has a habit of cropping up and ruining things for me. “We’ll still take two of everything,” I decide, knowing I want to eat my feelings right now.
Tricia murmurs apologies as she carefully fills the cake boxes. Louis and Brecken are discussing emails. When Brecken hands over a business card, I perk up, hoping there’s something to be done.
Not wanting to hold up the line, we pay up and take our cake boxes, Louis promising to be in touch. After a brief hug goodbye and a promise to be in touch, we head out.
Outside, the cold air only intensifies my black mood. “Assuming Balthazar is inclined to proceed once sampling the cakes and reviewing the feasibility plan, is there a way around that contract?”
“They’re sending it over,” Brecken informs me as we trudge carefully back to the car. “Louis told me that he wrote to them, saying he wanted to work with you, not Janelle. But they said you were unavailable, working elsewhere.” His beanie-hatted head turns to me. “They lied. We might be able to use that.IfDad wants to buy them out.”
“I know. I’m not getting my hopes up,” I lie. “Though in theory, I was unavailable, working elsewhere.”
“Yeah, true,” he agrees. “Failing that, there might be a break clause we can exploit. It would mean financial penalties, but I’ll know more soon.”
We reach the car, Brecken popping the trunk. We’ve already secured some boxes in here, hoping to mitigate any cake disasters as we drive back to the hotel. “This just felt like a great opportunity,” I gripe, tidying my cake box into the bigger box and stuffing a bunch of my scarves and hats around the edges.
