you first thing on Monday.’
‘Jesse?’ he asked. ‘And will Jesse be taking care of my order throughout?’
‘That’s right. So if you have anything to discuss regarding your cake, he’ll be able to help you out with that. On Monday. During shop hours.’
The other end of the line went quiet for a few seconds.
‘I was just wondering, and I’m sorry to keep you, but you are the boss and so I think I should really run this past you.’ His voice was relaxed, and carried with enough softness that his referring to my snippiness in the shop didn’t bug me. ‘There are going to be a lot of people at the event we’ve hired you for. We don’t really want them all wandering over and helping themselves to your masterpiece, it could get messy.’ Jess’s masterpiece. ‘I was just wondering to what extent your business’s services could be utilised?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Argyll, I’m not sure I understand the question.’
‘I was just thinking that it might be an idea to employ you to oversee the cutting and serving of the cake. After seeing the detail of your work, I don’t think the staff are going to know what to do with it.’
‘I’m sorry, are you asking if we can babysit the cake for you?’
He laughed then, an effortless press of breath against the phone. ‘I suppose I am. Of course, you’d also get to spend the evening at the Gold Rooms. I think you’d enjoy it.’
Across in the mirror, the redness had definitely started to leave my cheeks, but I looked even more confused now. Why would I want to stay there? Why would he think I would?
‘Ah, we don’t offer that kind of service, Mr Argyll.’
‘Call me Ciaran.’
The faintest prickle rode over my neck. I reached up to rub it away.
It was hard to decide if that gentle edge to his voice had come from a childhood left behind, or his father’s intonation influencing his own through the years.
‘We don’t cake-sit, Ciaran. The venue’s banqueting team will be able to accommodate you.’
‘You’re right. They should do for what they charge. Have you ever been there?’ Were we chit-chatting?
‘No,’ I answered, more than bemused. ‘But Jesse’s told me all about it,’ I said in a voice that must have shown my disinterest.
I felt a large droplet of cold water fall from my hair onto my thigh.
‘Then he’s told you how exclusive the venue is?’ What was he getting at?
‘He mentioned it.’
‘That it’s notoriously difficult to get into?’ This was getting weirder. The place was seriously swanky, I got it.
I was about to disappoint him. ‘As Jess explained it to me, it’s not difficult to get in there. You just have to pay your way in.’
‘At an eye-watering price,’ he added.
‘I heard that too.’
‘And you wouldn’t take the chance to enjoy an evening there? Without having to pay your way in?’
‘The cost of entry isn’t what puts me off, Mr Argyll. Well, it would, but places like that just …’ I remembered to choose my words carefully. I might be sat on my bed, for some bizarre reason talking about frivolous haunts, but I was still talking to a customer.
‘Not your thing?’ he offered. Exactly.
‘Nope. Not really,’ I said, wondering how to round this chat off before I did offend him.
‘And is it Jesse’s thing?’
I gave a small laugh myself then, his question had surprised me. ‘Anything with gold, music or overindulgence is Jesse’s thing.’
‘Then the Gold Rooms must score highly on places he’d like to visit?’
Jesse had already made it perfectly clear how much he’d like to visit. It would be mean to head off a chance for him.
‘You’re welcome to ask him if he wants to cake-sit. But your best chance of catching him will be on Monday … when we’re open.’
The line went quiet again for a few moments. Maybe I’d gone in too hard. ‘Sorry, I’ve kept you. I’ll deal with Jesse then from now on?’
‘Jesse’s your man.’
‘Thank you for your help, Miss Jefferson. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’ He clicked the phone off before I had chance to say bye.
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