Justin reached up to adjust his stocking hat. “I told the hotel I can’t be called in for any emergencies for a while.” After hiring on as a prep cook at Tremont, Patty had, for some reason, made his work her priority, and he’d come to depend on her—which allowed him to take extra work at the lake and make more specialty cakes than he’d been able to before.
“That’s the sanest thing you’ve said in months,” Eden muttered. She placed the calendar on the counter between them. “You’re working the parties on Tuesday night and Wednesday night, right?”
“Right. And that business brunch at the lake tomorrow.” After that, he was holing up for the evening.
“Okay.” She laid the list on his stainless-steel counter. “Here’s the desserts we’ll need for the bookings this week and next....” Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him with a slight frown. “I am having the hardest time visualizing you and Layla fighting in the parking lot.”
“Don’t forget the boyfriend. He was there, too.”
“Strange.” She gave her head a slight shake, then pointed back at the list. “Seven dozen cherry bomb mini cupcakes for the tea on Thursday—”
The phone in Justin’s pocket vibrated, making him jump. It was the Tremont cell, not his own, that he was carrying. “Tremont Catering. Justin here.”
“Uh, hi.” The voice was hoarse, feminine and distinct.
“Layla?” Justin said, rather enjoying the way Eden’s head snapped up.
“Would you mind checking your car to see if my wallet fell out in there? Because if it didn’t, then I have another headache to deal with.”
She was probably dealing with a whopper already.
“Sure thing. Stay on the line and I’ll check right now.” He walked past Eden and out the back door without saying a word into the phone, because he really couldn’t think of anything to say. He opened the passenger door, dug around under the seat, then shoved his hand deep into the crack between the seats and struck gold.
“Got it,” he said, pulling out a slim eel-skin wallet. “You must have lost it when you dumped your purse out.”
“I dumped my…never mind. Thank you for finding it.”
“I’m pretty swamped today, but I can drop it by your house on my way home.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll pick the wallet up tomorrow on my way to work.”
“It’ll be here waiting for you.” And Justin wouldn’t be. “I’m going to the lake tomorrow for a catering event. I, uh, could pick up your overnight bag there if you want.”
“Oh.” It was obvious she hadn’t even thought about that. And that she wanted to say no, but wasn’t going to. “Thank you. I would very much appreciate it.”
He smiled at her stiff tone. Likely she was torn between gratitude and a desire to keep him out of her life. “You know me, Layla—always there to lend a hand.”
There was a slight choking sound and then the phone went dead.
SAM, WHO©COULDN’T©MAKE©IT up to the lake in her little car to rescue Layla, did make it across town just fine to see her sister on her way to the small shop she ran a few blocks from Layla’s house. But in Sam’s defense, the snow that had pelted the mountains was a slushy sleet in Reno.
“Oh. My.” Sam stopped dead in the doorway and stared at her sister for a long moment, oblivious to the wet snow blowing into the house. Layla grabbed her by the sleeve and tugged her inside.
“I haven’t had time to shower.”
“Well, at least wipe the mascara from under your eyes.”
Layla nodded. But she didn’t move.
Sam’s eyes grew wide. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a worse day than yesterday.”
“Considering some of the stuff the twins did to you, that’s saying a lot.”
Layla nodded again, then sat on the upholstered window seat. She hadn’t changed out of her dress, hadn’t managed to do much of anything except to lie quivering on her bed, fighting the mother of all hangovers. She did feel slightly better now that the Pepto Bismol and aspirin had taken effect. Physically, anyway.
“Tell me about it,” Sam said, sitting beside her.
Layla turned to her sister, who was so very different from her, and took in the short red hair, the fuchsia lipstick painted into an exaggerated Cupid’s bow, the clothes that appeared more costumelike than conventional. Yes, they were from different planets, but if anyone was going to understand… She took a deep breath and the story poured out. One solid hit to her ego and self-dignity after another.
“I knew something was…off,” Layla said, talking to her clasped hands. “For weeks.
“He took you to the lake to tell you he was sleeping with someone else.”
Layla looked up at her sister. “No. I asked him why we hadn’t—” she gestured “—you know…slept together much lately. And then I jokingly asked if he was wearing himself out with someone else.” She bit her lip as she recalled the way the color had drained from his face. “He was. Is.” She shook her hair back. “Melinda. From school.”
“Melinda!”
“They met at the school faculty Christmas party.”
“That bitch!”
“I introduced them.” She’d rather smugly wanted Melinda, who was always jockeying for top position at the school, to see what kind of a great guy she, Layla, had landed. Joke was on her.
“That has to sting.” Sam put an arm around her shoulders and Layla gave up the fight, slumping against her. She didn’t let herself depend on people often. She’d been disappointed so many times in the past by her well-meaning but easily distracted family. But right now, for this moment, she was going to lean on her sister. Literally and figuratively.
The closeness lasted almost two seconds before Sam said, “I have to get down to the store and unpack a shipment. Want to come?”
“Is it regular gifts or…?”
“It’s or,” Sam said with a half smile. “Some funky new stuff. And lingerie. It’ll take your mind off…” Her voice trailed away as she apparently realized sexy lingerie was not going to take Layla’s mind off Robert sleeping with someone else. “Or not,” she added weakly.
Layla smiled. Kind of. “Any other time, yes, but right now I just want to wallow in misery for a while. Nurse my head.”
“I understand. Do you want me to make you some tea and Pop-Tarts before I go? I have strawberry in my bag.” Sam lifted her giant tote, which probably had a couple boxes of toaster pastries in it. Her sister lived on them.
Layla’s stomach flip-flopped. “No, thanks. I’m still feeling a bit queasy.”
“I wish I’d been able to get you last night, but there was no way the Escort could have made it up the pass.”
“I know.”
“And Justin was there.”
“Oh, that he was.” And he was here in the morning, too. “It all worked out as well as it could have.” Except maybe for Justin, who had a black eye. Normally she might have enjoyed that, but not under these circumstances. Besides, she was too old to get delight out of Justin being on the receiving end of some well-deserved retribution.
Well,