“Oh, Jill, I just got the call and...” She sobbed for a moment, then tried again. “I got in. I was on the wait list and they just called. I got accepted into the program at Chanoise Culinary Institute in New York.”
“But...hasn’t the quarter already started?”
“Yes, but they had two people drop out already. So they called and said if I could get there by tomorrow, I’m in.”
“Trini! That’s wonderful! You deserve a space in the class. I always knew that.”
But did it have to be today? She couldn’t help but wish the timing had been different. Still, this was wonderful for Trini.
“What can I do to help you?”
Trini shook her head. “You’ve already done enough. You wrote the recommendation that got me in.” She sighed happily, and then she frowned with worry. “The only bad part is I have to leave right away. My flight leaves at noon. The Jamison engagement party...”
“Don’t you think twice, Trini. You just get out of here and go pack and prepare for the best experience of your life. Okay?”
Trini threw her arms around Jill’s neck and Jill hugged her tightly. “I’m so excited,” Trini cried. “Oh, Jill, I’ll keep you posted on everything we do. And when I come back...”
“You’ll teach me a thing or two, I’m sure.” She smiled at her assistant, forcing back any hint of the panic she was feeling. “Now off with you. You need to get ready for the rest of your life.”
“I will. Wish me luck!”
“I’ll definitely wish you luck. You just supply the hard work!”
Trini laughed and dashed out the door. Jill reached out to put her hand on the back of a chair to keep herself from collapsing. She could hardly breathe. She saw Connor standing in the entryway. She didn’t know why he’d come back and right now, she couldn’t really think about it or talk to him. She was in full-scale devastation meltdown mode.
What was she going to do? What on earth was she going to do? She couldn’t think a coherent thought. Her mind was a jumble. She knew she was standing on the edge of the cliff and if she lost her balance, she was going over. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to get herself together.
But what was the use? She’d fought back so often. So much kept going wrong and she kept trying to fix things. They just wouldn’t stay fixed. She was so tired. Today, right now, she wanted to quit. There had to be a way to give up, to surrender to reality. She just couldn’t do this anymore.
Looking at her reflection in the hall mirror, she muttered sadly, “Okay. I get it. I’m not meant to do this. I should quit banging my head against the wall. I should quit, period. Isn’t that what a sane, rational person would do?”
She stared at herself, feeling cold and hollow. She knew Connor was still watching her, that he’d heard what she said, but she hardly cared. She was in such deep trouble, what did it matter if he saw her anguish? But a part of her was grateful for his presence—and that he was keeping back, not trying to comfort her right now. She didn’t need that since there was no comfort, was no real hope.
She stared at herself for a long moment, teetering between the devil and the deep blue sea. That was how it felt. No matter what she did, disaster seemed inevitable.
Then, gradually, from somewhere deep inside, she began to put her strength back together and pull her nerve back into place. She took a giant breath and slowly let it out. She wouldn’t surrender. She would go down fighting, no matter what it cost her. Let them try to stop her! She had glaze to prepare. She had cakes to bake. She would try her best to get this done and on time. She could only do what she could do—but she would do the best she could.
She looked at herself in the mirror again and gave herself a small, encouraging smile. She needed a joke right now, something to help her put things into perspective. She was a baking woman—hear her roar! They would have to pry her baking mitts off her cold, dead hands.
Revived and reinvigorated, she turned to face Connor. “There,” she said. “I’m better now.”
He still appeared a bit worried, but he’d watched her mini-breakdown and the instant rebuild in awe.
“Wow,” he said. “Jill, you are something else.”
She sighed. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I’m glad I did. I’ve got more faith in you than ever.”
She laughed. “I’ve got to get back to work.” She frowned. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m not going to go while you still need me.”
“What makes you think I need you?” Turning, she headed into the kitchen.
“So,” he said tentatively, following her. “Now your number one assistant has bailed on you. And your sister has bailed on you.” He shrugged. “Who you gonna call? You need someone else. Who can come to your rescue?”
She met his gaze. “There’s nobody. Really. I’ve tried to find backup before. There’s really nobody. This island is too small. There aren’t enough people to draw on.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He picked up an apron someone had thrown on the chair and began to tie it on himself. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
His face was so earnest, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He really meant it.
“How can I help you, Jill? What can I do?”
This was so sweet of him, but it couldn’t work. He didn’t have the skills, the background. And anyway, he wasn’t here for her. He was here for Brad. There was no denying it.
“Just stay out of the way.” She shrugged helplessly. He shouldn’t be here at all. Why was he? “Go back to your hotel. You don’t belong here.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Connor!”
He shook his head again. “You’re like a fish flopping around on the pier, gasping for breath. You need help, lady. And I’m going to give it to you.”
She shook her own head in disbelief. “You can’t cook.”
“The hell I can’t.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t believe it.”
He stepped closer, towering over her and staring down with cool deliberation. “There are a whole lot of things about me you just don’t have a clue about, Miss Know-it-all.”
She shook her head, still wary. “Look, just because you can fry up a mean omelet after midnight for your Saturday night date doesn’t mean you can cook. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can bake.”
“I’m not proposing to be your baker. You’ve got that slot nailed. I’m signing on as an assistant. I’m ready to assist you in any way I can.”
He meant it. She could see the resolve in his eyes. But how could he possibly be a help rather than a hindrance? There was no way he could get up to speed in time. Still, she was in an awful bind here.
“So you can cook?” she asked him skeptically.
“Yes.”
“There’s a difference between cooking and baking.”
“I know that.” He shook his head impatiently. “Jill, you’re the baker. But you need a support staff and I’m going to be it.”
“But...what are you planning to do?”
“Prep