Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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My first job had been a summer job, working at my grandparents' restaurant on the French Riviera when I was fourteen. Mum and Dad insisted that we all learned what it meant to 'work' and 'earn' so that we never took anything for granted. We never had an allowance so if there was anything we wanted, we had to work hard in order to pay for those things. Sophie chose to follow in our mother's footsteps and enter the fashion world, as did Emma eventually, but I was always drawn to the hospitality side of our family's enterprises.
Those summers I spent in Cannes, waiting tables, washing dishes, learning to cook, were some of the best days of my life and instilled in me a work ethic that I hadn't lost, even after I opened my own business. That's why I never shunned from hard work- if Joanne, Lauren or Aimee- or even Nate- called in sick, I put on my staff shirt, tied an apron around my waist and stepped up to fill the void in my workforce.
That's what happened today. Lauren had phoned early this morning to let me know that she wouldn't be in; her two-year-old son, Tristan, had been up all night with a fever and whenever Lauren tried to leave the house, he screamed the place down. Apparently, he didn't want to go to his dad's place and the option of spending all day with Nana was also a no-no for little Tristan. I told Lauren that I understood and that she would still get paid for the shift before I determinedly went to the staff room to find a spare shirt. I quickly regretted wearing a pair of McQueen slim-leg ankle grazers today, as well as four-inch Gianvito Rossi pumps. Nevertheless, I tied my hair up, grabbed a black apron and descended into the shop to greet my staff.
Naturally, they all frowned at my appearance, taking note of the La Petite Pâtisserie emblem on the dark shirt. After quickly explaining the situation, it was determined that Aimee would man the coffee machines while Joanne kept on eye on the pâtisserie side of the shop. With Nate and Arnaud in the kitchen, that left me to be the waitress and collect the dishes and wipe down the tables. If I was going to spend the day in heels, I'd rather keep busy so that I didn't notice the pain emanating from the balls of my feet.
"So, what's wrong with Tristan?" Nate tried to casually ask as he ushered me into the kitchen to taste a new recipe that he and Arnaud had been working on. We all knew about Nate's little crush on Lauren and you could see the concern on his face as he thought about her son. Sometimes, if Lauren wanted to go out with friends but was stuck for a babysitter, Nate would step in and he absolutely loved spending time with The Dude, as he called Tristan. "Do you think some treats would cheer him up? I could stop by Lauren's place on the way home."
I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Don't you live thirty minutes in the opposite direction to her?" I asked. When Nate blushed, I turned to the dessert that was sat in the middle of the stainless steel table. It was an old recipe that the younger of the two pâtisserie chefs was trying to master and I have to say, I've seen worse looking Croquembouche. Yes, it was leaning somewhat, but you could still tell what it was. "Impressive, Nate. It's even better than any of my attempts."
