Always the Baker, Never the Bride (38 page)

25

I
t was five-thirty by the time Emma returned to The Tanglewood. She parked in the back and entered through the rear door of the restaurant. They’d had half a dozen reservations for the tea room that afternoon, and she planned to head straight in to talk to Fee, wondering if everything went well.

A scuffle of raised voices drew her attention and, when she rounded the corner, she saw a group gathered near the entrance. Her father and Jackson appeared to be yelling at a man she didn’t know, while Fee tossed around some very animated Italian, apparently directed at Anton as Pearl made every effort to keep him calm.

“What’s going on?” she asked, but her question fell on deaf ears.

As she approached, she met Miguel’s gaze, and he hurried toward her.

“What’s this all about?” she asked him.

“You, I’m afraid.”

She looked on curiously, trying to catch hold of some snippet of conversation that made sense to her.

“This is my hotel,” Jackson announced to the stranger, “and I’ll thank you to leave the premises immediately.”

The stranger said something she didn’t understand. Was he speaking French?

“Hellooooo,” she called out, and the whole group fell silent and all eyes landed on Emma.

Her father was the first to speak. “Princess, there you are. I want you to—”

And then she was lost again beneath the tangle of voices and questions and accusations.

“Did you do this because of me?” she heard Pearl exclaim before tugging at Anton’s arm. “You did this, didn’t you? Because I talked to you about Jackson and Emma—”

The roaring hum of other voices drowned them out, and Emma couldn’t focus in on any one of them.

“Hold it!” she shouted, and they faded once again. Before they could resume the craziness, she insisted, “One at a time, please. Daddy, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“And Fiona, why are you shouting in Italian?”

“I’m trying to make Anton understand that he can’t just call his friend into this hotel and help him drag you away by the hair like some … some … culinary caveman!”

“Who are you?” she asked the stranger in the very expensive blue suit.

“I am Luc Granville, and I’ve come to steal you away, Emma Travis!” he announced with
very French
flair.

She immediately wished she hadn’t paused to think that over because the cacophony of voices rang out again, and she couldn’t understand a single phrase of it. In desperation, she cut through them toward Jackson. Tugging at his hand, she dragged him behind her by the wrist across the kitchen and into her office, where she closed the door.

“What on earth!” she exclaimed as she plopped down in the chair behind her desk. “Who is the French guy, and why does he want to kidnap me?”

Jackson folded into one of the chairs flanking her desk and groaned. “Luc Granville is evidently an old colleague of Morelli’s. He has a fleet of bakeries across France, Anton told him you’re some sort of pastry genius, and now he’s here trying to hire you away from me to start a franchise here in the States.” Before she could open her mouth to respond, he quickly wound himself up tighter than a wristwatch. “And if you’re thinking of taking him up on his offer, let me remind you that we have a contract. You are exclusive to The Tanglewood for three years and—”

“Jackson, please!” she interjected, raising one hand in the air. “I know we have a contract.”

“And while I have you here behind closed doors,” he added and then softened, “I’d like to speak to you about our date last weekend.”

She eyed him for a long moment.

“Oh. Was that a date, Jackson? I thought it was just two friends going to a football game.”

“Well, I sort of thought of it as a date,” he remarked.

Emma felt her blood pressure bubble upward toward the top of her head.

“No. That wasn’t a date. I know this for certain because, once you dropped me off at my door, I never saw or heard from you again.”

“Emma—”

“Now I’m going out there to meet Mr. Granville. You are free to stay in here, or to come out there, either way. I don’t care, as long as you don’t continue shouting at me or talking about nonexistent dates.”

Ten minutes later, the group of them was gathered in the restaurant, except for Fee, who looked on from the kitchen, and Emma and Luc Granville were seated in her office behind a closed door and too many windows. Fee’s scowl cut straight through the glass and pressed in on Emma’s forehead until it throbbed.

“You’ve caused quite a stir, Mr. Granville.”

“Luc.”

“Luc,” she enunciated. “May I ask why you chose to talk to my co-workers and family before you brought your offer to me?”

He grinned at her. “Enthusiasm?”

“Well, thank you. However, I hate to burst your enthusiastic bubble, but I’m under contract to The Tanglewood. I couldn’t leave and come to work for you even if I wanted to.”

“If you want to come to work for me, Miss Travis,” he declared in bumpy English, “I can make this happen.”

“Again, thank you. But I really don’t want to go anywhere, Luc. I’m afraid you’ve wasted a lot of time. And generated a lot of grief and lung power.”

“I am assured by my friend Anton that Miss Bianchi is more than capable of taking over for you here. And if you will only consider making this very lucrative move—”

“Anton is correct. Miss Bianchi really is more than capable,” she told him. “But I don’t go anywhere without her, and I’m certainly not going to leave Mr. Drake and his hotel in the lurch. So you can see how that creates a rather insurmountable problem.”

“Nothing is insurmountable, Miss Travis. There’s more to hear about my offer. You listen five more minutes, and then you decide if the problem is truly insurmountable.”

When Emma finally emerged from her kitchen, Fee was on her heels. Emma didn’t even make eye contact with Jackson as she passed him; she simply paused in front of Anton, planted a kiss on his cheek and squeezed his hand.

“
Il mio tesoro
,” he said, and they exchanged smiles that looked to Jackson to be almost loving.

“Emma, I think we should talk about—” Jackson began.

“I’m going home,” she announced. “And Fee is going with me.”

With that, she resumed her staunch mission toward the lobby.

Fee turned back toward them for an instant, then she fumbled to catch up to Emma.

“Emma,” he called after her, but the solid brace of her shoulders told him she had no intention of slowing down. Turning back to Anton, Jackson sighed. “Why would you bring this on? Haven’t we treated you well here? Haven’t we given you everything you’ve asked for?”

“
Sì veramente
,” Morelli replied stoically. “This has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Jackson corrected him. “You brought this down on me, but why?”

“
Una questione del cuore
,” he answered as if Jackson might know what it meant.

In desperation, he looked to Pearl, and she nodded knowingly and touched his hand. “A matter of the heart, Jackson. Anton feels Emma’s heart is no longer safe here.”

“Her what? What are you saying?”

“
Lei è un uomo molto egoistico
,” Anton growled, pointing a solid finger at Jackson. Then he turned to Pearl and softened as he added, “
Sono qui finito
.”

The two of them swept out of the room and into Anton’s kitchen without so much as a glance back at him.

Jackson took three short steps backward and plopped into the nearest chair. After a moment, Gavin sat down on one side of him and Miguel on the other.

“What just happened here?” he asked them.

“Hah! Schah,” Gavin puffed out as he scratched his head.

“Not one clear clue,” Miguel added, and the three of them just stared ahead, toward the closed door to Anton Morelli’s kitchen.

The door on the other side of it popped open just then, and Luc Granville stepped out of Emma’s kitchen. He paused just long enough to straighten his tie and shoot Jackson a fleeting glance, then he sauntered through the lobby and out the front door of the hotel.

Important Translations for the Savvy Hotel Owner

26

A
re you going to say something eventually? Do you need some insulin?”

Emma blinked. She looked over at Fee, perched on the arm of the sofa. “Sorry. I was just processing.”

“Dude. I wanna process too.”

Emma chuckled. “Sorry.”

“So turn on the light. It’s dark in here,” Fee teased, tapping her temple with her index finger. “What did Granville say to you, and how is this going to play out?”

“Could you sit on a cushion?” Emma asked, cringing. “Maybe a chair?”

Fee slid down the arm of the couch with a plop. Seated at the opposite end of the sofa, she looked at Emma over the bridge of her square glasses. “Spill.”

“Okay!” Emma leaned forward and rubbed her hands together. “So it’s really all about Jackson.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Anton has been watching us, and I suspect that Pearl has filled him in as well.”

“Loose lips.”

“Mm,” Emma said with a nod. “Well, Luc Granville and Anton have apparently known each other since they were knee-high, and Anton called on his friend for help after he cooked up this whole thing in hopes that Jackson would come to his senses in the face of possibly losing me, face what he’s feeling about me, confess his undying love—”

“And you both live happily ever after,” Fee finished.