Page 10 of Spicy or Sweet (Wintermore #2)

SHAY

When Noelle said I’d be working in a basement kitchen, I expected something dark and dingy. I should’ve known better. This is bigger and better than the kitchen in my apartment.

There are a few small windows and a door as promised, but it’s still a basement.

I’m not entirely comfortable, but I’ve been worse.

The sheer size of the room helps. There are two large islands, tons of storage, four ovens, and a giant fridge/freezer.

Everything is brand-new, after Noelle had it renovated over the summer.

And that’s just the kitchen—there’s a walk-in storage room I haven’t braved.

She mentioned something about the door getting stuck, and I’m not ready to risk that.

I asked her why she hasn’t used the kitchen yet, and she looked like she wanted to bite my head off as she told me she’s planning to hire more staff and use this kitchen over the holiday period, but hasn’t had time.

I forced down my instinct to offer help because, though Noelle has been less frosty with me lately, I can tell she’s not happy about it.

She moves between hot and cold at lightning speed.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying trying to figure her out. There’s something about Noelle that makes me want to peel away her layers and unwrap the mystery of her.

The polished granite is cool beneath my fingers as I run my hands over the countertop. It’s all so perfect, it’s hard to know where to start. I understand Noelle’s concerns, but for me, taking on a new project, in a new space, with a new person, is exciting. Though right now, it’s a little quiet.

I started working in my first kitchen when I was fifteen.

It was a cramped little diner with no A/C and a half-dozen people too many, at any given time.

I worked on pancakes, waffles, and pies every Sunday morning through the post-church rush, and I fell in love with the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

Over the years, I’ve worked in more bakeries, restaurants, and patisseries than I can count, but épices et Sucré is the first place I’ve ever worked alone.

I’m used to absorbing the energy of those around me, and I love watching people work and learning from their skills.

Working alone is… well, lonely. And quiet.

I set up my spare phone to film B-roll, take a deep breath that’s too loud in the too quiet basement, and pull my tablet toward me.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly lonely in my kitchen, I put on the Food Network, or one of the bakers I like on YouTube, so it feels like I’m working alongside someone.

Today, I turn on one of Noelle’s old lives. She’s making dark chocolate cherry brownies with a salted pretzel base, but I’m more interested in watching her bake than I am in what she’s baking. It’s good to know who I’ll be working with.

Everything she does seems to be almost instinctive. She weighs her ingredients, but all of her estimates are perfect. Her hands move smoothly over her workspace, cleaning up spills before they settle, returning to whatever she was working on a second before. It all just seems so natural.

It would be easy to assume it was an act for the camera, but something tells me otherwise.

It’s clear she loves her craft. The comments all mirror my thoughts, noting how easy she makes it look.

She has a recipe in the video description, and a lot of the commenters have tried and loved it.

Some even mention looking forward to visiting the bakery.

Noelle is a light that draws people in, like moths to a flame.

And maybe that part is a lucky hand—luck for her parents choosing to move her, luck for being beautiful and personable—but even if they come for Noelle, they stay for her baking.

I haven’t disliked a single thing I’ve tried from The Enchanted Bakery, and while I know she’s not making everything herself, she’s pretty open online about all of her recipes being her own, and it’s clear she holds her team to a high standard.

If I take the stress of the movie and my tentative excitement to be working with someone for a change out of the equation, mostly I’m just excited to get to see her bake in person.

I don’t even realize I’ve been doing nothing but staring at my screen for an hour until she’s saying goodbye, and my tablet auto-plays the next video.

If I don’t cut myself off, I’m going to get nothing done.

Leaning over my notebook, I write out a plan of attack for the day.

I’m a pen and paper person. I need to feel my plans flowing from a pen so they sink into my head, and I always sketch out my designs before I start working on them.

On today’s to-do list, I have three of my extra-large macaron cakes, a passion fruit pavlova, and a pear tarte tatin, and I need to start prepping some of the smaller things for my afternoon teas.

Since épices et Sucré is closed, I’ve opened up orders for at-home afternoon teas for this coming weekend, and they’ve been pretty popular.

The studio requested I leave everything I could in my kitchen, which wasn’t too difficult considering Noelle has this place stocked, but I brought a few of the things I can’t live without: my favorite spatulas, my emotional support mixing bowl, and my tiny step stool.

Noelle has to be a good five or six inches taller than me, and I know she stores things up high.

Unlike the kitchen and café upstairs, the basement is surprisingly not Christmas themed. Maybe she just hasn’t gotten around to sprinkling her festive magic down here.

I have about three hours before Noelle is due to come down here to work on our list for the movie, and a lot to squeeze in. I switch from the video to music and lose myself in sugar and flour.