The Mulligan estate in the hills of Wildwood included a five-thousand-square-foot, Spanish-style house on fifty gorgeous acres of vineyards. Now, nearing 8:00 p.m., the land lay in the cool Northern California darkness. From where the gathering took place under a veranda on the patio, with gas heaters cutting the chill and thousands of tiny white lights creating an intimate kind of joyous atmosphere, Avery let her gaze drift over the aqua pool glowing in the dark.
“Uncle Bill is allergic to nuts.” Tiffany Mulligan, the bride-to-be and a friend of Avery’s since grade school, frowned at her mother. Tiff hadn’t changed much over the years. She was still a pretty, freckled blonde. And Avery had been thrilled to discover Tiffany’s big heart had only grown with age. “I don’t want him swelling into a balloon at my wedding.”
“He’s been allergic his whole life.” Nancy batted away her daughter’s concern like a fly. “He’s used to avoiding foods that aren’t good for him.”
“He’s walking me down the aisle, for God’s sake. He shouldn’t have to avoid my wedding cake.”
“And I won’t have the remaining five hundred forty-nine guests settling for an average cake they could get at any wedding because one person is allergic to nuts. Avery’s carrot cake is exquisite. Like nothing I’ve ever tasted. No one will be forgetting that cake as soon as they leave the reception.”
Avery smiled and offered a soft, “Thank you.”
The Mulligans could have easily hired a ritzy cake designer from Napa or Marin or San Francisco, but Tiffany had insisted on using Avery, which, every time she thought about it, still created a warm spot beneath her ribs.
She tried to keep her mind on this beautiful moment for Tiffany and Sean, both down-to-earth, damn good people. But her mind couldn’t keep from comparing this gallant wedding affair with her own hasty elopement before David had entered basic training. Or her own desolate marriage and how jaded she’d become toward the union as a whole.
So she turned her mind to Wild Harts. Only that brought up an immediate burn of stress. God, she had so many things to finalize—menus, protocols, staff, bookkeeping. And that didn’t even touch on the fact that her new, commercial-grade equipment hadn’t arrived yet—$20,000 worth of appliances, the installation of which was holding Trace back from finalizing the kitchen construction.
And dammit, there he was again—Trace—in her head. His tongue stroking her fingers. His lips sucking the cinnamon-and-cream-cheese frosting off her skin.
The memory of their sudden and intimate moment three days before wound through her like a spiral of heat. Heat that turned into an uncomfortable burn when she thought back over how he’d been acting since—preoccupied, evasive, distant. Like he wanted to be anywhere but around her. After years of experiencing the same syndrome in her marriage, Avery recognized what was happening with Trace perfectly.
Man, do I know how to pick ’em or what?
“Avery.” Tiffany’s plea brought her thoughts back. “Tell my mother she can’t feed nuts to a man with a nut allergy.”
Fatigue made Avery a little snarky. “Depends.” She grinned at Nancy. “How well do you like him?”
Tiffany’s jaw dropped. “Avery.”
Nancy started laughing.
“I have to admit,” Avery went on with mock seriousness, “it would really put a damper on the wedding to lose someone to a nut allergy. I mean, for years to come, there would be a bevy of nut jokes—”
“Avery!” Tiffany said, half-shocked, half laughing.
Avery shook her head and shooed the idea away as if they’d all been considering it in the first place. “Really all around better if we just skip it.”
And Nancy was still laughing.
“I have a solution that should please you both,” Avery told them. “Nancy, your brother probably isn’t the only person attending the wedding with a food allergy. Nuts, gluten, wheat, dairy, and eggs have become real problems in recent years.”
Nancy’s happiness turned to frustration, and she threw her hands up in surrender. “Oh, for God’s sake. I’m so damn sick of having to be so politically correct. I know, Tiff, let’s just forget the cake altogether. What shall we serve? Rice crackers and Cheez Whiz?”
Tiffany covered her face with both hands and groaned.
“I think you’ll like my idea better,” Avery assured her with a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’ll make the cake of your dreams, Tiff—a tiered carrot from scratch, with ginger-cream-cheese filling and fondant icing, decorated with exquisite, handmade, crystalline sugar flowers in your wedding colors”—cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching, the pair had chosen some of the most expensive specialties available—“and I’ll also make a dozen single-serving cakes for guests with allergies. They’ll look like mini-versions of your cake and taste so good, the guests won’t know they’re any different. Instead of feeling shortchanged because of their allergies, they’ll appreciate your concern over their individual issues. I’ll reserve one of those for your uncle.”
Tiffany clapped her hands beneath her chin. “That’s perfect.” She turned to her mother. “Isn’t that perfect, Mom?”
“Phoebe told me if anyone could make this work, it would be you, Avery.” Nancy glanced at Tiffany. “Go ahead and fill out the order form. We’ve still got presents to open.”
With both Mulligans returned to their buoyant, pre-shower bliss, Avery stood, lifted a wine bottle from the bar nearby, and strolled toward the table where Phoebe sat with several other women, including Willow Holmes, the amazing, mature-beyond-her-years, eighteen-year-old Avery had hired as the manager of the café once it opened, and Willow’s mother, MaryAnn.
Avery felt so lucky to be getting Willow. The girl had been working in their family restaurant since she was six years old—a steakhouse just outside town—and had all kinds of experience Avery didn’t. Avery could create recipes and bake and build clientele, and, yeah, she could do the basics at a restaurant, but running a café and a bakery while also taking on specialty orders was a whole different animal.
In that way, Willow’s year off between high school and college, and her desire to become a pastry chef, was an absolute godsend to Avery. Definitely a win-win for both of them.
As long as the overprotective MaryAnn stayed out of it.