the fastest way to ease Miss Frankie’s mind about the staff. “What about Ox? Does he hang out there, too?”
Burt looked up from his work and ran a glance over me, this one more curious than flirtatious. “Yeah. Like I said, we all do. Why?”
“Just wondering if he might be there now.”
Burt didn’t answer. I had a dozen more questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to push too hard, so I changed the subject. “So how do you feel about Miss Frankie’s decision? Are you going to hate working for me as much as Ox said he would?”
Burt laughed, and those two sharp dimples dipped into his cheeks again. He began rolling the fondant into a large rectangle, a job that made the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex nicely. Not that I was looking. “I’m a pretty easygoing guy. I’m willing to give you a chance. See what you’re made of.”
My own lips curved in response, and I filed his name in the “Pro Rita” column in my head. I just hoped I was made of sturdy enough stuff to get the job done. “What about the rest of the staff? What can I expect?”
“Isabeau’s a team player. She’ll be fine. Estelle thinks the world of Miss Frankie. If Miss F wants you here, Estelle will fall in line.”
“And Sparkle? How’s she going to take the changes?”
Burt laughed softly and stole a glance at his goth coworker. “Sparkle will give you a hard time, but don’t take it personally. She hates everybody. Once you get to know her, she’s okay. And you know the other guys, right? Edie, Abe, and Dwight? So the only wild card is me.”
“As wild cards go, you seem okay.” Just then, my cell phone let out a chirp. Burt picked up a couple of trays and carried them toward the industrial-sized refrigerators across the room, making it clear the conversation was over.
I checked the caller ID, saw Uncle Nestor’s name on my screen, and immediately felt guilty. I should have called him last night, but by the time Sullivan had followed Quinn out the door, I’d been too exhausted. Today, between the meeting with Thaddeus and Ox’s decision to quit, the day had totally gotten away from me. But this wasn’t the time or the place for the conversation I needed to have with Uncle Nestor, so I sent him straight to voice mail. Then I put my phone on silent and slipped it back into my pocket.
I’ll call later , I promised him silently. When I had time to explain that I wasn’t coming back to Albuquerque right away. But even with eleven hundred miles between us, that was yet another conversation I wasn’t looking forward to.
Eleven
I finished my getting-to-know-you tour of Zydeco in the front office, where I found Edie sitting at her desk, scowling at a manila file folder. She glanced up as I came into the room, closed the folder, and turned toward her computer. There was nothing unusual about that, but the way her face closed down and the furtive way she slid the folder into a stack of paperwork sparked my curiosity.
What was she trying to hide? I didn’t want her to be the saboteur, but Edie did have access to every part of the business. Nobody had a better chance to take the bakery down. But what possible motive could she have? She’d always been intensely loyal to Philippe. I couldn’t imagine her doing anything to purposely hurt him.
I crossed to her desk and reached for the folder, mostly to see how she would react. If she did nothing, I’d tell myself that I’d only imagined all that furtive file stashing. My fingers brushed the folder and Edie whipped around in her chair so fast, I jerked backward instinctively.
She snatched the folder away from my hand and stuffed it into a drawer. “Do you mind?”
Okay, so not my imagination. “What’s in the folder?”
“Nothing.” Edie stared at me without blinking, but the sudden flush of color in her cheeks told another story.
Aunt Yolanda’s voice whispered in my head, Begin as you mean to go on . It was just one of a hundred pieces of advice
Burt looked up from his work and ran a glance over me, this one more curious than flirtatious. “Yeah. Like I said, we all do. Why?”
“Just wondering if he might be there now.”
Burt didn’t answer. I had a dozen more questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to push too hard, so I changed the subject. “So how do you feel about Miss Frankie’s decision? Are you going to hate working for me as much as Ox said he would?”
Burt laughed, and those two sharp dimples dipped into his cheeks again. He began rolling the fondant into a large rectangle, a job that made the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex nicely. Not that I was looking. “I’m a pretty easygoing guy. I’m willing to give you a chance. See what you’re made of.”
My own lips curved in response, and I filed his name in the “Pro Rita” column in my head. I just hoped I was made of sturdy enough stuff to get the job done. “What about the rest of the staff? What can I expect?”
“Isabeau’s a team player. She’ll be fine. Estelle thinks the world of Miss Frankie. If Miss F wants you here, Estelle will fall in line.”
“And Sparkle? How’s she going to take the changes?”
Burt laughed softly and stole a glance at his goth coworker. “Sparkle will give you a hard time, but don’t take it personally. She hates everybody. Once you get to know her, she’s okay. And you know the other guys, right? Edie, Abe, and Dwight? So the only wild card is me.”
“As wild cards go, you seem okay.” Just then, my cell phone let out a chirp. Burt picked up a couple of trays and carried them toward the industrial-sized refrigerators across the room, making it clear the conversation was over.
I checked the caller ID, saw Uncle Nestor’s name on my screen, and immediately felt guilty. I should have called him last night, but by the time Sullivan had followed Quinn out the door, I’d been too exhausted. Today, between the meeting with Thaddeus and Ox’s decision to quit, the day had totally gotten away from me. But this wasn’t the time or the place for the conversation I needed to have with Uncle Nestor, so I sent him straight to voice mail. Then I put my phone on silent and slipped it back into my pocket.
I’ll call later , I promised him silently. When I had time to explain that I wasn’t coming back to Albuquerque right away. But even with eleven hundred miles between us, that was yet another conversation I wasn’t looking forward to.
Eleven
I finished my getting-to-know-you tour of Zydeco in the front office, where I found Edie sitting at her desk, scowling at a manila file folder. She glanced up as I came into the room, closed the folder, and turned toward her computer. There was nothing unusual about that, but the way her face closed down and the furtive way she slid the folder into a stack of paperwork sparked my curiosity.
What was she trying to hide? I didn’t want her to be the saboteur, but Edie did have access to every part of the business. Nobody had a better chance to take the bakery down. But what possible motive could she have? She’d always been intensely loyal to Philippe. I couldn’t imagine her doing anything to purposely hurt him.
I crossed to her desk and reached for the folder, mostly to see how she would react. If she did nothing, I’d tell myself that I’d only imagined all that furtive file stashing. My fingers brushed the folder and Edie whipped around in her chair so fast, I jerked backward instinctively.
She snatched the folder away from my hand and stuffed it into a drawer. “Do you mind?”
Okay, so not my imagination. “What’s in the folder?”
“Nothing.” Edie stared at me without blinking, but the sudden flush of color in her cheeks told another story.
Aunt Yolanda’s voice whispered in my head, Begin as you mean to go on . It was just one of a hundred pieces of advice
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