Lucie’s Vintage Cupcake Company

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_983edb93-7907-5b6e-a6c2-90a08501f5b1)

‘Okay, people, it’s a big night tonight. The restaurant’s overbooked – how did you let that happen, Sofia? – so we all need to be at the top of our game. I want our diners to marvel over our minestrone, drool over our ditali and swoon when they taste a slice of Lucie’s signature strawberry crostata.’ Gino smiled as he delivered his regular pre-shift monologue to his kitchen staff in preparation for the busiest night of the week at Francesca’s Trattoria.

‘Yes, Chef,’ they chorused.

‘I want us to have fun with it because, when we do, our pleasure shows in the food we serve. However, as we all know, it’s an even bigger night for our very own Dessert Diva.’ Gino’s mahogany eyes rested on Lucie.

‘Yay, Lucie!’

‘Go get him!’

‘Alex is a lucky guy!’

A surge of heat rose to her cheeks as she glanced around at her colleagues who had become friends over the last two years. They had listened to her, offering their own increasingly bizarre suggestions, as she’d organised and plotted every detail of what she planned to do that evening with almost military precision. She was determined that everything would be perfect, nothing would be left to chance, for it wasn’t every day a girl proposed to her boyfriend.

‘Okay, let’s go, guys!’

Lucie strode over to her prep area. She tried to prevent her lips from tweaking upwards at the corners but failed. The sooner she finished that evening’s desserts, the sooner she could wriggle into the Hobbs dress hanging in her locker and be on her way. Francesca frowned on her chefs asking for Friday night off but had reluctantly agreed to her request provided she spent the whole afternoon at the trattoria cooking up a storm. She tightened her apron round her waist, grabbed her favourite silver mixing bowl and began to sift the flour for her strawberry tart.

Soon she was in the culinary zone and her happiness ballooned. She adored Alex, but a very close second in the race for her heart was her love affair with baking and her perfect job as a pastry chef for one of the best Italian restaurants in Hammersmith. She sliced, squeezed, liquidised and whisked; all to the accompaniment of Gino’s barked suggestions, Sofia and Antonio’s increasingly racy gossip, and snippets of an aria from one of Gino’s favourite operas. A mouth-watering aroma of garlic and olive oil, intertwined with caramelised sugar and lemon zest, snaked through the kitchen and caused her stomach to growl as punishment for skipping lunch.

At last she sprinkled a generous dusting of sugar on her torta di cioccolato e mandorle and stood back. She checked her watch. It was time to go.

‘Hey, Lucie! You still over there creating your culinary magic? Go on, get out of here! Go get that handsome guy of yours!’ smiled Gino, dragging her into a bear hug and depositing a noisy kiss on each of her cheeks.

Lucie unravelled the strings of her apron and hung it on its designated hook. Gino ran a tidy kitchen, yet, even left to her own devices, she would have had her workspace as pristine as a surgical operating theatre. Tidy kitchen, tidy life – this was the mantra her mother had drummed into her ever since she had held her first wooden spoon. It had seeped into her consciousness, but had slipped from her sister Jess’s shoulders like sand.

‘Bye, everyone. Wish me luck!’

She almost made it to the door, but Sofia caught up with her. She placed her hand on Lucie’s forearm and met her eyes. ‘Lucie, are you absolutely sure you want to do this?’

‘Sofia…’

‘All I’m saying is maybe you should talk to Alex before you rush into anything.’

Lucie rolled her eyes. She’d been listening to various versions of the same sermon for the last eight weeks, ever since she’d announced her intention to propose to Alex.

‘Why not wait until Alex asks you to marry him?’

‘Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, I adore Alex and he adores me. And we’ve been together for ever. I’m fed up of waiting. We’re just plodding along – everything’s become so comfortable, so predictable – and unless I take the initiative I can see us in five, maybe even ten years’ time, still meandering arm-in-arm down life’s highway with no real destination in sight. I want to inject some zing into our relationship – and this is the perfect way to do it!’

The trattoria’s indomitable manager flicked the sides of her short chestnut bob behind her ears. Tall and willowy, especially in her work stilettos, Sofia possessed the stature of a mannequin. If she ever had the need for a second income she would be snapped up by a modelling agency straightaway, but she relished playing the lead female role in her own restaurant drama – well, until the eponymous Francesca Santini, the restaurant’s owner and all-round gastronomic ogre, arrived to stamp on her toes. She opened her mouth again to continue with her soliloquy of caution, but Lucie didn’t have the time or the inclination to listen to a repeat performance, however well meaning.

‘Don’t worry, Sofia. I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be perfect. The store manager has even agreed to play our song at exactly eight p.m. so it will be on in the background as I make my declaration of true love. I’m so excited I could skip naked along the rooftops.’

It was Sofia’s turn to roll her eyes in frustration.