I don’t know why I tell her about things like this dinner with Alex’s boss. I only end up annoyed by her reactions. But then I pause with my thumbs on the keypad of my phone, shaking my head.
Actually, I do know why I tell her. Because this is the one part of my life that will get her attention. For years, I tried cakes and pastries. She might walk right past me in the kitchen, but who wouldn’t stop for a five-layer strawberry coconut cake with mascarpone filling? That backfired on me, though, when my desire to turn baking into a career became an even bigger disappointment than my abysmal high school grades. But once Alex came into the picture, I started getting more phone calls from her than I had since I moved away from home.
It’s hard to understand why my well-educated and hardworking mother is more interested in talking to me about my boyfriend than my career. But my parents see Alex’s job as investment banker as respectable, while they’ve never viewed baking as anything more than a hobby. I wonder what they’d think if I announced I planned to give it all up to become a Wall Street wife.
Our car turns south on the ramp to the FDR, and out the window, the lights of the city sparkle on the East River. Rain begins to fall, the sound drowning out Alex’s voice reassuring the client he’ll send over a spreadsheet as soon as he gets back to his apartment.
I swipe at my mom’s message to delete the whole damn thing from my phone, but I can’t delete the reality that my parents will never take me seriously. It echoes in my head, mingling with Melinda’s warning that my career will always take a back seat to Alex’s.
I glance down at my dress, and those maddening shoes, and my unease spreads like overcrowded cookie dough in a pan. Would Alex really expect me to give up baking, or view his career as more important than mine?
I shake my head. Melinda was speaking from her own experience, but that doesn’t mean my relationship will be the same. I open my purse to shove my phone in, but that teeny-tiny clutch will barely hold a Band-Aid. Instead, I turn it off and spend the rest of the ride home staring out the window at the rain hitting the sidewalk.
Chapter 17
July
The yelling reverberates all the way down the block. I stop in my tracks, thinking I’ve stumbled into the middle of a robbery, or at least two angry cats fighting over a subway rat. But as I inch my way down the alley, approaching the back door of Xavier’s restaurant, I can begin to decipher words among the jumbled garble of grunts and curses.
Sigh.
It’s just Xavier throwing another tantrum. To be honest, I’d prefer a robbery. Or a rat.
I tiptoe in the back door where I find the staff standing in a circle, staring at a large baking pan on top of a prep table. Whatever is on that pan is pink, jiggly, and Spam-like. At the sight of it, that déjà vu feeling washes over me.
Kasumi catches my eye from across the table and shakes her head. I slowly make my way around until I’m standing next to her. “What’s going on?” I ask under my breath.
“Somebody took that pan out of the refrigerator last night, and they forgot to put it back,” she whispers. “It’s hours of work and expensive ingredients, ruined.”
I peer over her shoulder at the prep table. Xavier and I were two of the last people in the kitchen yesterday. Xavier was taking an inventory of produce he wanted to pick up at the farmers market this morning while I finished the piping on a citrus chiffon cake. I’d stayed in my corner by the sink, hoping not to draw attention to myself, because he was in another one of his moods, frustrated because he couldn’t find the leeks. He’d even…
Oh no.
He’d even unloaded half the refrigerator onto the prep tables to look for them. I’d left soon after, but I’m willing to bet he forgot to put that tray back when he was done.
“It was Xavier,” I blurt out, before I can stop myself. Luckily, Xavier is still ranting, so he doesn’t hear me.
Kasumi does, though. She turns to me with eyes wide. “What?”
I lower my voice. “I saw Xavier take that pan out last night. I bet he left it there by mistake.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Because I realize why this is all so familiar. I’ve seen that pink slop before. I’ve had this conversation before.
“You’ve got to say something,” Kasumi whispers.
I back away slowly. “Oh, hell no.” I’ve managed to keep my head down for all these months. Not only have I kept my job, but I’m a contender for that executive pastry chef position. Xavier has complimented my desserts multiple times, implying the job could be mine. And I want it.
The prestige something like that could bring when I start my own bakery would be huge. And the significant raise would mean I could save a lot more money. Not to mention that it would feel really good to tell my parents I’d earned a promotion like that. I’ve made it this far. I’ve put up with all this shit. I deserve that promotion, and I’m not about to blow it.
I turn to hide in the staff break room until Xavier runs out of steam, but Kasumi grabs my arm. “He’s blaming Samantha for this. You have to speak up.”
Xavier’s wrath is directed at a brand-new line cook straight out of culinary school. She’s holding back tears as he hurls insults in her direction, with words like useless and incompetent playing on repeat. Even if that poor girl had left the tray on the counter, nobody deserves to be treated that way. In another year, in another life, I’d let Xavier know exactly what I think of his behavior.
But I can’t.
I can’t because this is the p?té incident. This is the day I was fired during my Very Bad Year. I lost my job, my apartment, everything, over a pile of pink slop. I shake my head. Absolutely not. I am not doing it again.
“Sadie,” Kasumi hisses. “He’s going to fire Samantha over a mistake he made. We have to say something.”
Kasumi’s right. But if I speak up, I’ll be right back where I was last time around. Out of a job, and then soon I’ll be homeless. I can’t go back there. Can’t handle the depression, the hopelessness, the feeling that life was carrying on for everyone but me. And where would I live? Jacob just got Olivia Rodrigo out of his life, why would he allow her back in?
“If we stick together, I bet he’ll back down,” Kasumi murmurs to me. And before I can stop her, she stands up straight and calls out, “Excuse me, sir!” across the kitchen. “Sadie and I have something to tell you.”
Xavier levels an angry glare in our direction. “What.”
Kasumi takes a deep breath. “We don’t think it was Samantha who left that p?té on the counter.”
“Well, then, who did it?”
My chest squeezes painfully. I press a hand there. Why is it suddenly so hard to suck air in my lungs? If I don’t sit down, I think I might pass out. Or throw up. Or both. I pull my arm from Kasumi’s grasp. “I’m not even sure that’s what I saw,” I whisper in her ear. “Can we just let it go?”