Page 8 of Merry Fake Bride

“From time to time. A lot of baking is done by hand, but we have these machines to help with the larger batches when it comes to dough for pastries, jams and icing, that sort of thing.”

“Wow.” Faith stands on her tiptoes and peers into one of the gigantic silver bowls. “This place is so small, I can’t imagine your needing all the cakes this could make.”

“What’s sold in the front is small, yes, but we also run a catering business out of here. A lot of the events or parties we’re asked to bake for feed hundreds of guests, so this is where the magic happens.”

“That’s so exciting! Have you ever baked for anyone famous?”

Her eyes glint at me in the low light, eager for any exciting tidbit of information I can give her.

“Maybe once you sign the NDA, I’ll tell you.”

She stops next to the rows of cooling racks and gapes at me. “I’d have to sign an NDA? But it’s just cakes!”

Keeping my offense to a minimum, I smile gently at her and show her the walk-in fridges, spending ten minutes demonstrating the safety locks to ensure she never gets trapped inside.

Each time Faith steps close to me, I have to step back before my skeleton jumps out of my skin.

“Has anyone ever been stuck in here?” Faith asks after the tour.

“No one here, but it’s common enough that there are security measures built in, so you have to be careful.”

“Wow. What a way to go.”

“Indeed.” The thought of being locked up in the freezer is enough to make my throat close, so I step away and direct her attention toward the decorating station. “This is where you’d be spending your time. Between here and the front of the store.”

“You know, you could ask some of those celebrities you bake for to make sure those Silver Canopy people don’t close this place.”

I pause, my fingers hovering over the design catalogue. “Silver Canopy isn’t closing us down.”

“Really?” Her brow pinches together as she leans against the table beside me. “My dad said they’ve bought up everyone else in this block.”

“They have.”

“So you guys are next, right?”

“Faith, do you think I’d be hiring help if I thought we were going to be shut down any time soon?”

Faith purses her lips and drums her fingers against her elbow. “I suppose not. It’s just that my dad says Silver Canopy offers so much money that no one ever wants to turn them down, and then this entire block will be demolished and turned into luxury apartments. It would suck to lose my first job so fast.”

She snorts while she laughs but trails off when I don’t laugh with her.

“You don’t have the job yet,” I say firmly, although given the lazy, weed-soaked guy I interviewed a few days ago, she’s the best candidate. “And you don’t need to worry. We have no intention of ever selling this place. Like you said, we’re award-winning and we’ve been here for so long that we’re part of the block.”

“Yeah, of course!” Faith agrees heartily. “No one wants to see this place go. Where would I get my cherry strudels! Speaking of, can you show me how to make those?”

“Maybe. I just need a few more details from you first.”

The interview delves into Faith’s past experiences, but aside from school and a few summer clubs, she lacks any major work experience, which means it’ll be up to me to train her in etiquette.

As the interview draws to an end, we return to the front of the store just as my mother, Lindsey, arrives.

She’s laden down by paper bags, so I dart forward to catch some as she stumbles inside.

“Devon?” She peers around one of the bags. “Oh, there you are, dear. I noticed the placard wasn’t outside and I was worried.”

“I was just interviewing Faith,” I explain while setting the bags down on the counter. “Faith, this is my mother, Lindsey. She’s the one who carries the legacy of all these awards.”

“Really?” Faith gapes at my mother and takes one of the paper bags from her. “That’s amazing!”