When Only Cupcakes Will Do Read Online Free Page A

toddle around the tables with the bread basket. Lucie loved him – all the staff at Francesca’s did – and he was the reason she had forced herself to slap on a mask of make-up and return to work. Friday nights were always manic, but the kitchen staff worked in formation like a professionally choreographed ballet troupe. Well, under usual circumstances they did – that day she had been cast in the role of the clumsy, flat-footed clown.
    Next it was Antonio’s turn to grab her shoulders and deposit a noisy kiss on each cheek before declaring she was too good for the tight-arsed, stuck-up lawyer and should stick to dating red-blooded, passionate Italian sous chefs instead of dallying with wet, cowardly corporate suits. Lucie smiled her gratitude at the Italian Adonis who had girls reserving the same table every Saturday night to ogle the fruits of his obsession with the gym. Sicily’s loss had been their gain throughout the winter season, but the women would be sobbing into their Prosecco rosé when he returned to Palermo in July to help his uncle out at his pizzeria for the summer.
    Yet, as Lucie chopped, sliced and grated the stack of ingredients she would be using in her desserts that evening, she had to admit Gino and Antonio did have a point. Alex still hadn’t returned any of her calls. Even her friend Steph had tried to corner him one morning at the County Court but he’d scuttled away with his client into a conference room. Steph had declared herself disgusted at his spineless attitude.
    â€˜Damn!’
    Lucie took a sharp step backwards as an almost empty bottle of extra virgin olive oil, which Francesca’s brother had sent over from his hill farm in Tuscany, slithered from her fingertips. Then she was forced to watch in horror as Francesca herself appeared in the kitchen doorway and bent down to retrieve a piece of the broken glass, her sharp hazel eyes narrowed and her brow creased into parallel lines of concern.
    â€˜I should deduct this breakage from your salary, but I’m prepared to make an exception on this occasion.’ Francesca leaned in a little closer to scrutinise Lucie, running her eyes from her tangle of bird’s-nest-inspired hair to the scuffed toes of her ankle boots. A blast of her heavy perfume lingered in the air between them. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Lucie, you look like you’ve been flattened by a runaway steamroller and waited while it reversed to make sure the job was done properly.
    â€˜Of course, I understand that you’ve just endured the most tremendous shock but you must resist bringing your personal difficulties into the kitchen. If you are unable to do so, you should take the rest of the day and this evening off when you’ve completed your desserts. However, I should remind you that indulgence in your relationship problems will most certainly have to be accounted for. I don’t want you to make a habit of it. And if Antonio’s tip-off is correct, and we are to be visited by the celebrity blogger from Anon. Appetit , then tonight of all nights I will need my staff to be at the top of their game.’
    â€˜Really, Fran, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I know how important tonight is and…’
    â€˜Well, if you insist on staying, I want the same attention to detail I demand from all my staff every night of the week no matter what personal triumph or disaster has befallen them that day.’
    Francesca paused in the habitual tailspin of energy she used to control every aspect of her trattoria, then walked over to the preparation bench where Lucie had started to murder a mango she was supposed to be slicing. Strangely enough, an imprint of Alex’s features had appeared in the speckles on its skin. She stopped her attack as Francesca rested her palm on her forearm, forcing her to let go of the knife.
    â€˜We can’t allow our standards to slip. Do you understand?’ Francesca allowed