I reached the patisserie so quickly I was almost disappointed. It was a large shop with glass counters running around two sides, with a dozen tables and chairs for people who wanted to enjoy their pastry on-site. I scanned the customers but didn’t see anyone with a brown envelope or who looked like a lawyer.
Hayden had told me that his contact would find me, so I focused on the rows of desserts, so many that I couldn’t imagine how many customers the shop got each day. There were big cakes and individual cakes. Some had fruit, lots had cream and all varied in color and shape. I should remember this place for my next charter—it would be a good place to send guests who’d never been to France before. Hell, it would be a good place to bring August and Skylar after this charter finished. We could eat cake for breakfast and move on to the bar for lunch.
“Bonjour,” one of the servers behind the counter said. “Can I help you?”
I was always slightly depressed when I was in a foreign country and they realized I wasn’t a native. I guess with my polo shirt and khaki skirt, it was clear I was a yacht worker. “I’d like a Gâteau St. Honoré,” I replied. I’d only had one once, but it had been beyond the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. “Do you have them?”
“Bien sûr. Large or small?”
“Two large, please.”
I followed the assistant along the counter as she made her way toward the section with the large cakes.
She pulled the tray toward her and chose two towers of profiteroles, caramel and cream. It might just be the best thing I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. I should order ten.
“Ms. Walker?” a quiet voice asked from behind me. I snapped my head around to find a petite girl with mousy brown hair clutching a brown envelope.
“Yes.”
“This is for you,” she said, lifting her chin at the brown envelope in her arms.
I glanced back at the assistant, who was busying herself making up a box for the cream concoctions I’d just ordered. I unhooked one of the handles of my tote off my arm. “Thanks,” I said.
She glanced around and then slipped the thick envelope into my bag and scurried out the door. Jesus, the girl looked as guilty as hell.
Loaded with cake and more questions, I headed back to the tender.
“You got it?” Eric asked as I handed him the two boxes before climbing back aboard.
“Sure did. And a treat for us as well.”
He smiled. “It’s weird that documents are the first thing this guy requests. I mean, usually it’s the wine with this type of guest.”
“He’s a workaholic.” I shrugged, then took a seat at the back of the boat.
“I’ve offered to get out the toys a couple of times, but he’s always said no. I guess it’s weird going down the water slide on your own.” He untied the line and cast off.
“I think he just wants to kick back, relax and work uninterrupted. I’m sure you’ve had worse guests. I know I have.” This charter was unusual but it wasn’t difficult.
“I guess. I just wish he wasn’t here for eight weeks. If nothing else, I’m going to get a little bored, especially without my computer.”
It was true; there was a lot less to do when we only had one guest who didn’t seem to do anything but work all night and sleep or work all day. “Let’s finish off the schedules. That way, we can keep the rest of the crew motivated if they’re working toward time off.”
“Good plan.” Eric started the engine and we headed back to the Athena.
We’d been gone nearly an hour and a half. Would Hayden have asked Skylar for anything while I was gone? I sort of enjoyed how he insisted on dealing with me as if I was special. The way he’d reacted to me asking him about the preferences sheet—another guest might have lost it, but I liked that I’d read him well enough to know I was okay to bring it up and I liked him even more for filling it out. He understood and respected we had a job to do and he didn’t seem to look down on me—that was unusual. Now here I was wondering if anyone else had noticed that instead of just making sure my hair was neat, now I tried to make sure it looked glossy. Lately I’d worn a little more makeup than usual. Hell, I was running out of fake tan. It was stupid. Hayden didn’t see me like that. To him, I was staff.
Ten
Hayden
I exhaled, trying to beat back the panic pushing through my veins. I straightened out the Financial Times and read the feature again in more detail. It was all about the performance of private companies and how success was so closely tied to their leadership. The article went on to detail companies that had gone belly up when their CEO left or retired. Phoenix Holdings was highlighted as being at risk as their CEO and owner was coming up for retirement.