Her cheery tone took a decided dip into sarcasm on those last two words. And ironically made the sibling relationship more believable.
“She of the incredible talent with a piece of paper and a pair of scissors,” Sylvie said, shaking Pet’s hand. A few painful dregs of hangover were brushed aside by curiosity. Dominic was more than a few years older than his sister—and light-years apart in personality from this perky, wee sprite. “Wee” being the operative word. She was at least six inches shorter than Sylvie.
Some of that buoyancy in Pet’s face had faded as Sylvie spoke, morphing into something more complex. “Oh,” she said, a bit uncertainly. “Has he actually . . . Has he mentioned me?”
She glanced across to the studio to where Dominic was deep in conversation with the executive producer. As he was probably purposely not looking in Sylvie’s direction, he also hadn’t seen Pet yet.
“He gave Mariana a silhouette portrait you cut of her.” Sylvie must be almost a decade older than Pet, but she didn’t want to be condescending. Nevertheless, she found her voice gentling. “She showed it to me. You’re extremely talented. Are you a full-time artist?”
“Thank you.” Pet cleared her throat. “No, I’m not. I’m a full-time PA, and right now I’m temping for Dominic while his executive assistant is out on sick leave.” She held up an envelope. “Hence the personal delivery service with urgent documents he needs to sign.”
“Well, if you ever wanted to practice art as a profession, you could. We’re all jealous of Mariana’s portrait. Count me in if you ever need a model.”
“Sure. Anytime” was the response after a noticeable pause and a slightly odd glance.
“Pet!” Mariana returned with more cake and offered them both a piece. “How nice to see you again. Have you come to watch the filming?”
“Officially, and if my brother asks, no.” Pet tasted the cake and immediately brightened. “This is really good cake.”
“Courtesy of Emma.” Mariana inclined her head to where most of the contestants were whispering amongst themselves. “In the red apron. Next to her in the blue apron is Adam. And the matchmaker here would like to see them team up over more than a group challenge.”
They all watched as Emma leaned forward to wipe up a puddle of spilled lemon juice. She stumbled, and Adam just about threw himself across his neighboring station to grab hold of the bow in her apron strings. He pulled her back before she could fall and ended the performance with a reassuring pat on her upper arm. Emma said something, and he blushed on every visible patch of skin on his body.
As he turned away, fiddling with his badly knotted tie, Emma self-consciously adjusted her glasses and patted the multitude of tiny braids twisted under her headscarf.
“Oh, wow.” Pet had pressed her hands together before her face, Dominic’s urgent envelope currently forgotten, squeezed between her palms. “I so ship it.”
“I will concede they’re sweet,” Mariana said. “And that I shouldn’t be surprised the resident unicorn enthusiast is a hopeless romantic.”
Sylvie had returned to rubbing her temples. “Pardon me if it’s obvious when two people are into each other.”
“Is it?” Mariana murmured. And smiled at her blandly.
“Speaking of sweet,” Pet said, “those little unicorn marshmallows you put in your hot drinks at Sugar Fair are the best. I’d like to steal your idea and add them to the menu at De Vere’s, but unicorns are not on Dominic’s radar.”
“Unless they’re catapulting straight into his skull.” Mariana examined another piece of cake and prodded it between her lips.
“Have you been giving me illicit patronage after all?” Sylvie teased Pet.
“It’s evidence of my ironclad willpower and loyalty that I’m not facedown in a booze cauldron every Saturday night, but no. Sorry. Dominic’s apprentice is the one putting coins in your coffers. He loves them. And it sounds like he could do with the treats right now, poor guy.”
“Going through a rough time?” Mariana asked incuriously through her mouthful of cake, and Pet nodded.
“Yeah. He’s sole caregiver for a family member with high needs, and his work’s really been slipping. Dominic’s shortened and changed his hours so he can spend more time at home, on full pay, and given him a bonus so he can pay for some home help.”
Sylvie looked up. “Dominic did that?”
“Surprising.” Mariana’s response was blunt. Apparently, the warm fuzzies over her gifted silhouette had reached their expiry date.
“I don’t think it’s surprising at all.” Pet folded her arms, but the belligerent gesture turned into something more like a self-hug. Sylvie was pretty sure that only she heard the soft follow-up: “But I suppose I don’t really know him well enough to say.”
Sugar Fair
Where everything has been running like clockwork in the boss’s absence and it is, as ever, one big happy family.
It’s nice to have something to rely upon in a world of constant change and unwanted skin tingles.
“For the third time,” Jay was saying when Sylvie finished decorating a golden anniversary cake that afternoon and walked through to the central shop floor, “could you mix up the lollipop selection? We’re almost out of birds and jungle animals, and we have way too many of these weird walrus things.”
Mabel didn’t look up from the ball of sugar she was molding. “That’s you, dipshit. Just balder this time. I took the liberty of giving Lollipop Jay a haircut since the breathing version seems to have lost the address of his barber.” Helpfully, she added, “Imagine the walrus with a Steven Tyler wig, and look again.”
Jay stared at her before his gaze dropped to the lollipop in his hand. Sylvie was eight feet away and she could already see the perfect likeness of his face sunk eerily into the sweet, like a tiny trapped spirit.
An alarming crimson flush rose up Non-Lollipop Jay’s neck.
She prayed for strength.
“I have to go out for an hour or two,” she said loudly, “to do some research for . . .” She glanced at Mabel’s lowered head. “For a commission. Is everything going to be all right here?”
“Sticky hands keep touching my art, and if this scraggly-haired idiot doesn’t stop interfering with my vision, I’m going to sculpt a six-foot-tall amezaiku voodoo doll and shove an ice pick in his dick,” Mabel returned pleasantly. “Business as usual.”
Sylvie made the executive decision to just let that go. As she turned away to collect her coat, Mabel added, “Have fun poking about dusty old papers at the Royal Archives.”
She stopped. Mabel was engrossed in her work. Fortunately, all their current customers were in the right atrium, beyond the waterfall, which muffled sound.
“I won’t ask how you know that.”
Mabel’s snort was scornful.
Jay caught her up in the back cloakroom. “Do you want me to come? Lend an extra pair of eyes? I’ll let you borrow my magnifying glass.”
Sylvie frowned, buttoning up her coat. “Don’t you have an early group in the Dark Forest soon?”
“Oh . . . right.” He ran his hand over his jaw. “And another group later, yeah. We’re doing well for bookings. All this promo for Operation Cake and the social media campaign is really boosting sales.” He reached out and pulled her plait free of the coat collar. While his hand was in the vicinity, he gave her cheek a fond stroke with his thumb. “Sorry it’s at the expense of daily run-ins with De Vere.”