“What’s Alex like?” he asked, after a while.
“He’s…..” She sighed. “He was the right person to sell the bakery to.”
“I don’t doubt that. I just wonder what made you think so.”
“He’s local,” his mum said, quickly curling a ribbon with the blade of the scissors, a trick Brandon had never been able to master. “He grew up here, so he knows people and how the village works. I didn’t want someone coming in and thinking they could try and set up, I don’t know. A boutique cupcake shop.”
“That wouldn’t last a week.”
“I know. And so does Alex. He’s not resting on his laurels, Bran. He has his Wednesday offers and his Saturday specials and people want to go back there, to see what new things have appeared since they were in last.”
“That’s good. That’s good business sense.”
She nodded. “I think so. He hasn’t expanded into birthday cakes yet. I keep nagging him for that, but he says he hasn’t got time.”
“Cakes are big business. But he’s doing it all on his own, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t have time to pick that up again yet.”
“He would if he got an assistant.”
Brandon huffed a laugh. “God, it sounds like you nag him like you nag us.”
“I’m trying not to interfere. I didn’t go down there hardly at all at first, I thought I’d be in the way. But Alex said I should, it helps to show that there’s no bad blood between us. And he makes a smashing seeded cob loaf, so.” She shrugged.
“I think I upset him.”
“Oh, I doubt it,” she said airily. “Alex is very laidback.”
“I might have implied that I thought he was stupid.”
His mum looked up then. Well, more glared up than looked. “Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Brandon said quickly. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“Well, you’ll have to go back and apologise, then.”
Brandon ducked his head and picked up the next present for wrapping. He wasn’t stupid enough to argue with his mother. He wasn’t stupid enough to go back to the bakery, either. Alex had made it pretty clear he wasn’t welcome and that was… it was fine. Just… fine.
Alex spent the next week going slightly mad. He’d been busy before, he’d worked busy seasonal periods before, but this was something else.
If he was honest with himself, he might have overestimated his abilities. Just a teeny, tiny bit.
Product flew off the shelves in the morning now the local kids had broken up from school for their Christmas holidays. Early in the day his shop was crammed with parents with their little kids; then, later in the morning, the teenagers who had just rolled out of bed.
Newton Green didn’t have a big chain coffee shop—the town council had voted unanimously against letting one take over one of the vacant shop spaces. Alex had seen that as an opportunity, and even though he didn’t have any tables and chairs for people to sit down inside, he had designed some super funky takeaway cups and spent an extortionate amount on a coffee machine.
It had already proved to be a wise investment.
For the holiday season, Alex had redesigned his takeaway cups, just like Starbucks did, and for some completely unknown reason, all the local teenagers went nuts for them. He’d stopped checking his Instagram tags during the day—his feed was overflowing with selfies featuring his cups. It was free marketing and Alex was not complaining.
Normally, Alex would close up the kitchen with the shop around two in the afternoon and go home for a nap. But there wasn’t time for that any more—he needed to get Christmas cakes finished and decorated ready for collection the next day. Along with anything else people had decided to order.
He couldn’t complain, he really couldn’t. Being busy now would carry him through the traditionally slow first six weeks of the new year, until he could do a big push around Valentine’s day and again leading into Easter.
Alex almost jumped out of his skin when someone knocked on the back door.
“Sorry,” Carol said, sticking her head around the door. She shook her umbrella off outside before stepping in. “Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s raining cats and dogs out there.”
Alex grinned and grabbed his mitt to take the next tray of gingerbread out of the oven.
“Good to see you. Sorry, it’s manic around here.”
“You need a hand? I just finished my shopping. I thought it was done, but you always forget something.”
“I haven’t started yet.” Alex laughed, sounding a little hysterical even to his own ears.
“You do need help. I’ll send Brandon over.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Alex said. He picked up the next tray of gingerbread and deftly slid it into the oven. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be twice as fine with another pair of hands. I’d stop and help, but I have a kids’ Christmas party over at St Philip’s to go to. I’ll send Brandon. He’s only moping around the house, anyway.”
“Okay.” Alex was too busy to argue.
“How’s your grandma?”
“She’s doing fine. Just a broken hip, and since she’s healthy the doctor said she should heal up no problem. My mum and dad are going mad running around after her, though.”
“Ah.”
Alex didn’t let his dad into the kitchen—he famously burned toast and had once set a pan of spaghetti on fire. His mum was a bit better, but she wasn’t used to the pace of his kitchen, and got stressed when Alex tried to usher her along. So it was better for everyone if Alex just got on with it on his own.
Brandon was different, though. Brandon knew his way around a kitchen, this kitchen in particular, and he was definitely more help than hindrance.
“I’ll send him over,” Carol repeated as she flipped the hood on her coat back up.
“Wait,” Alex said before he could stop himself.
“Hmm?”
“Brandon.” That’s his mum, stupid.
“What about him?” Carol asked with a laugh.
“Does his face always look like that?” Alex pouted dramatically to make his point.
Carol burst out laughing. “Ever since he was a baby,” she said, pulling her gloves on. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Thanks, Carol,” Alex said, but she was already ducking back out into the rain.
It took almost half an hour for Brandon to turn up, and he was wearing loose grey joggers and a tight black T-shirt when he shucked off his rain coat. His hair was sticking up on one side, making Alex think Brandon had either been asleep or stretched out on the sofa watching TV when his mum sent him to help.
For some reason, that thought made him smile. He turned away so Brandon wouldn’t see it.
“Hi.”
The word sounded so ominous Alex really did laugh.
“Hi,” he said. “Carol kicked you out?”
Brandon grunted. “She said you needed help.”
“I do. Thank you.”
“I thought the bakery closes at two.”
Alex tried hard not to snap. Brandon was here to help, after all.