The Sweetest Temptation

“That’s going to depend on Micah. He’s asked his father to be his best man, and his two brothers will be groomsmen. You’ll be my maid of honor, Simone a bridesmaid and I’m thinking of asking Micah’s sister-in-law whether her teenage daughter can be a bridesmaid.”

Faith wrinkled her pert nose. “Isn’t it going to feel funny planning your own wedding?”

“I’m not,” Tessa admitted smugly. “Simone’s going to be my wedding planner.”

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Faith asked, an expression of shock freezing her features.

Simone shook her head. “No, she’s not.”

A blush suffused Tessa’s face. “Micah and I have decided to begin trying for a baby as soon as we’re married. And if that happens, then I’d like to have a backup person in case of morning sickness, bloated ankles and when I’m too fat to bend over to tie up my shoes.”

Faith waved her hand. “Please, Tessa. Knowing you, you’ll probably design a wardrobe that will make you Brooklyn’s most tricked-out mother-to-be. Speaking of Brooklyn, do you still plan to live there after you’re married?”

Tessa nodded. “Yes. Micah sold his Bronx condo to Bridget and Seth, and he only has six months left on his Staten Island rental. I’ve put a lot of money into the brownstone, so I’ve decided to keep it.”

Reaching for her wineglass, Faith raised it in a toast. “To Tessa and Signature Bridals.”

Simone and Tessa followed suit, touching glasses in a toast to Signature Bridals.

Chapter 5

Faith couldn’t believe how quickly time had slipped away when she closed the door behind her cousins. They’d talked nonstop about Tessa’s upcoming June nuptials, and would’ve still been talking if Simone hadn’t had to go to Grand Central Station to catch a train to White Plains, before she had to wait hours for one or they stopped running altogether until the following morning. Tessa had invited her sister to spend the night with her, but Simone turned her down, saying she had to deliver flowers to patients at a local hospital.

Faith had filled a large container with leftover chowder for Simone. Her artistic cousin grew and arranged beautiful flowers, set an exquisite table, but couldn’t cook worth a damn! When their paternal grandmother decided it was time her granddaughters learned to prepare some of the recipes that had been passed down through countless generations of Whitfields, Simone was nowhere to be found. And when she finally showed up hours later, she was dirty and sweaty from playing ball with the neighborhood boys.

Clearing the table, Faith stacked dishes in the dishwasher, and then she saw it. It was the paper with Ethan’s number. How could she have forgotten that he’d called? Picking up the cordless phone, she dialed his number. He answered after the fourth ring.

“Good evening.”

Smiling, Faith cradled the receiver between her chin and shoulder. “Good evening to you, too. This is Faith Whitfield returning your call.”

A deep chuckle caressed her ear. “I knew it was you, dessert lady, because your name and number came up on my caller ID.”

“Did you make it home all right last night?”

“It took a little longer than I’d expected, but yes, I made it home safely. Thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you have your calendar nearby?”

A slight frown appeared between her eyes. “Why?”

“I’d like to see when you’re available to go out with me.”

“Before I get my calendar, I’d like you to answer one question for me.”

There was a pause before Ethan said, “What do you want to know?”

“Are you married?” She’d noticed the gold signet ring on the pinky of his right hand.

There came another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Do you think I’d ask you to go out with me if I was married?”

“I can’t answer that, Ethan.”

“And, why not?”

“Because I’ve been asked out a few times by married men.”

“Well, I’m not married, so are you still willing to go out with me?”

Tearing a sheet off the pad, she picked up a pen, drawing a line down the center of the page. She jotted down Ethan’s initials and labeled the columns Frog and Prince. She checked off Prince.

“Yes. Hold on, let me check my calendar.” Retrieving her PDA, she clicked on the current month. “I’m free Thursday and Saturday.”

“It would have to be Saturday because I’m taking you to the Rainbow Room for dinner and dancing.”

“The Rainbow Room,” she repeated.

“Rockefeller Plaza, sixty-fifth floor.”

“I know where it is, Ethan.”

“Well…”

“Well what?” he asked.

“Okay.”

“Okay what, Faith?”

She let out a sigh. “I’ll go to the Rainbow Room with you for dinner and dancing.”

“Why does it sound as if you’re doing me a favor?”

Faith smiled. “That’s because I am, Ethan McMillan.”

He laughed again. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready. Good night, Ethan.”

“Good night, Faith.”

She ended the call, her smile still in place. Faith was tempted to give him another check, but decided to wait until Saturday.

When Faith unlocked the door to Let Them Eat Cake early Tuesday morning she was met with the tantalizing smell of baking bread. She’d hired Oliver Rollins the year before because some of the regular customers who frequented the patisserie had requested freshly baked bread. Oliver made the ubiquitous white, rye, wheat and pumpernickel, then one day he added onion-dill rye and maple-pecan breakfast loaves. The nontraditional varieties became so popular that Faith and Oliver decided to forgo the traditional loaves. On Saturday mornings a line of customers stretched down and around the block as they waited patiently to get into the tiny shop to purchase loaves of bread, rolls, cake, candies and delicate pastries for the weekend.

During the warmer weather, the selections varied when Faith made beignets, diamond-shaped donuts made famous in New Orleans where they’re traditionally eaten warm with café au lait. Foccacia had become an instant favorite the first time it was offered, along with pesto swirl bread. A delicious layer of pesto spread on light whole-wheat dough rolled up and baked into a tasty loaf was the perfect complement for soups, salads, pastas and grilled meat and fish.

Let Them Eat Cake’s reputation hadn’t flourished from the exotic pastries and desserts offered to their customers but from the individual-size portions on display in the showcases. Someone wishing to purchase a black forest cherry cake as dessert for three was given the choice of buying three individual-size cakes rather a whole cake that would serve eight to ten. It took more time to create the smaller cakes, but customers were more than willing to pay extra for the more precise portions. Those who’d admitted being on diets expressed their gratitude because of the all-natural ingredients and size proportions.

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