Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Part 2

Part 2, Chapter 1: Forks and Spoons

I want to yell "Fuck!" as loud as I can and although no one else is around and it's half past five in the morning, I still hold it in.  The thing is, I can feel my sweet, tiny grandmother, bless her heart, staring down at me from wherever she is, looking sad and disappointed that her granddaughter wants so badly to curse like a dirty, drunken pirate.  I can't deal with that sort of guilt. 

So instead, I blink rapidly several times (which honestly, does nothing but make me sort of dizzy) and then I grab a raw egg from the bowl on the counter and I throw it as hard as I can into the sink.  Not on the floor, because hello! I'd be the one cleaning it up.  I throw the egg hard, and it makes a pleasant but also sickly smashing noise as it hits the stainless steel.  Not as satisfying as yelling obscenities but less guilt.

The thing is, it's not every day that your pastry chef and your delivery boy run away to Australia to live in sin and most likely a lot of recreational drug use.  It's early Wednesday morning, and I'd hardly gotten through all the dark chocolate croissants and honey almond cinnamon bread before my phone started ringing.  And ringing, and ringing, and ringing. 

Who decided that a ring was a good idea for a phone? Why couldn't it be some lovely man with a delicious Scottish accent crooning "Aye, the phone's for you, lassie." But no.  The phone in the bakery sounds like a tortured cat, slowly dying under the weight of a thousand angry seals. It's my bakery, but I've yet to get a new phone.  Or hire a Scot to take messages for me.

I'm about to start icing on a four tier French buttercream wedding cake when the bakery phone finally stopped ringing, and my cell phone started vibrating in my pocket.  Now I know it must be something important.  I wiped my hands on my apron, and grabbed my already slightly crusty phone from my pocket.  When I answered, the first thing I heard was a lot of sobbing and wailing. 

"Mandy, repeat what you just said to me.  Repeat it slowly and without all the crying." I started to feel the panic rise in my chest, and I pushed my frosting knife to the side, just out of precaution.  The last thing I needed was to accidentally stab someone out of sheer panic.

"Krissy and Greg....Krissy and G-g-greg!" Amanda, Mandy to her friends, started to blubber again and it took everything in me not to scream.  Mandy is amazing, totally capable, and a miracle worker  over at Tiny Baker, but she also has a tendency to cry. A lot.  And I can't deal with it at the moment. I took what I can only hope are cleansing breaths, holding the phone away from my ear and then I continued.

"Mandy...breathe. It will be okay." I leaned up against the metal work table and tried to release my death grip on my phone.  I'm covered in flour, and my arms are sticky with powdery sugar residue.  Just a regular Wednesday.

"Krissy left me a note saying that she and Greg are eloping.  And she left four dozen cream puffs just laying out...on the damn counter! They were for the Point and McAllister party.  And shit, Charlie, I can't make a fucking cream puff!! I can sell the hell out of them but—" Mandy started a downward spiral, cursing rapidly as I feel the spirit of grandma writhing in ghosty agony.  Mandy began to ramble about how great her sales are, but how she has no idea what the best butter to flour ratio would be for cream puffs.  I fought back a laugh.  It was serious.  It was very serious.  Cream puffs are the most serious thing ever. But I still can't help but laugh.

"Mandy, it will be okay.  This isn't the end of the world.  I cannot believe that Kris and Greg just up and left." I shook my head, and saw a small plume of flour rise around me.  My mind raced, thinking of all the possible outcomes to this somewhat major crisis.  "I'll call Susan and she will finish the cream puffs.  And then..." I stared at the wedding cake in front of me.  I am supposed to finish 5 dozen cupcakes that afternoon for the same event.