Vanilla

Fifty Two

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't been able to reply to the beautiful long comments by my regular few readers (you know who you are :')) I'll do my best to this time!! And gosh, I know I write about working in a bakery but BY GOD it is much, much harder than I expected it to be. If there is one major thing I'd change about the Baked series (if I haven't already said I wish I could re-write the entire thing), it is how little credit I give the Honeycutts for running one. Oh, I'm part-timing in a Japanese-French bakery by the way ;v; just in case you didn't catch me saying that on Instagram.

Ah, to smell like freshly-baked bread all day every day. Indeed, a dream come true. I'll do my best to keep the updates coming! ^^ I'll be updating everyone on Instagram about Thursday's SeeSaw short story. At the moment, I'm not too sure if I can churn it out just yet but it will be a special one about Leroy /.\

Enjoy the long chapter!

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[Vanilla]

"You have a really nice smile."

I glanced up from my notepad, pen hovering over table twenty-one's ticket. The mother and daughter deuce were beaming up at me throughout my pause to register a compliment received. The only response I could come up with was to nod appreciatively. "Ah. Do you really think so? I suppose you could say it is well-practiced." They laughed as soon as I said this—leaving myself moderately confused since I hadn't identified my diction as particularly humourous. "And, for your entrée?"

Their eyes lowered back to the menu before them and the words I had been crossing my fingers to hear made their grand appearance as though on cue. "I can't decide... Lily, what are you getting?" The younger of the two then re-directed the question, glancing briefly at the silver name tag pinned to above my breast pocket. "What do you recommend? Mr. um, Mr. Cox?"

It was the only item we forgot to switch.

"Well, the scallops we have this afternoon are the freshest of the season," I started off with. "The miso asparagus it comes with is a great introduction to fusion dishes rising in popularity. I'd say the flavours and textures make a splendid pair."

Both mother and daughter seemed notably swayed by a swift but precise nudge in the right direction and decided upon the scallops soon after before moving on to dessert. I took my leave after repeating their order in full and then got straight to adding it behind the mental checklist I was in the middle of working through; a habit I'd developed ever since Uncle Al first introduced it to me at the age of seven.

Table three's entrée should be served in two minutes. Table nine's salad, cleared in one. Fifteen should be coming back from their smoke in less than five. Water for tables six and eight. Table eighteen and twenty-one just ordered—

"Waiter." I passed table eight on my way back to the kitchen and he made a brief gesture for attention. I exercised the same well-practiced smile. "Hey, think you could make some changes to my ticket? I ordered the panna cotta for dessert but, uh, I'd like whatever that first table's having. Saw them enjoying it on my way back from the bathroom. Is that possible? To change my order."

I glanced over at table one. "The caramel meringue in pate sucree crust?" Glancing down at the rim bowl of mushroom soup he had in front of him, I was relatively certain about the possibility of an order change. Nevertheless, I knew better than to make any promises. "I'll see what I can do and get back to you with a glass of water and hopefully some good news. Is there anything else I could help you with?"