Macarons at Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page A

empty—a big change from when he’d first opened a year before and had had nearly a shop’s worth of leftovers every day for a month. He was sweaty and tired, but happy tired, the kind where he’d worked hard and everything had gone well. Millie had been bustling back and forth, filling the display for their afternoon customers. Their crowds usually came in waves, one in the morning, then lunch, and a last little surge around four before they closed at five. Millie usually handled that one on her own, and closed the shop down since Henry usually got there somewhere around four in the morning to start baking.
    “How are you doing on the dough?” Millie asked.
    “Great. I have most of it mixed up and ready to bake off in the morning. I can’t believe I’m actually ahead of things for once.” He hadn’t been ready for how much work it would be. Baking was very different in pastry class than when he was running his own shop, small as it was.
    “Sweet. Why don’t you take off a little early? It’s going to be quiet in here for the rest of the afternoon, anyway. I think the lunch crowd is pretty much over.”
    “You okay with that?”
    “It’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.” Millie smiled at him. Tease or not, they both knew she didn’t want to work anywhere else. She just wanted some help. Henry vowed to get on that as soon as possible.
    Henry trudged to the back room and grabbed his messenger bag. Leaving early. That was something completely new for him. He’d just made it out to the front of the shop and was about to say good-bye to Millie, when the door flew open and his sister blew in on her usual burst of perfume, scarves, and the clip of expensive shoes. This time, she wasn’t alone.
    “Hey, Trix.” Henry glanced warily at the heavily coiffed, expensive-looking woman behind her. She had dark hair and pale eyes, plastered-on jeans that looked like they were tailored exclusively for her, riding boots even Henry had to admit were beautiful, a flowered blouse, tweed jacket, and a handbag worth more than all his baking equipment combined. This  was definitely Trixie’s kind of friend.
    “Hi, H!” Trixie said. Her smile was cheery and huge, and she was exuberant as always. Her friend was considerably less so. She surveyed his tiny shop coolly, a serene smile on her face. Henry liked to hope he wasn’t being judged. He knew he was.
    “This is my friend Poppy. Remember?”
    Poppy? Henry wracked his brain, trying to think of when Trixie had ever introduced him to someone named Poppy. She had an entire army of well-bred friends, so it could’ve happened at any time. Poppy… Poppy… Uh yeah! The macarons. “It’s really nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. Poppy’s hand was cool and manicured and her ring finger had a rock the size of the Titanic on it. He hoped she didn’t try to swim with that monster. She’d sink to the bottom.
    “Aren’t you the cutest thing ever? I could just eat you up.” Henry smiled his most winning smile. Her accent was soft and lilting compared to what Henry was used to. Southern, he imagined. He wasn’t fooled by the sugar. He had a feeling she would eat him if he didn’t make her happy. Most likely while he was still alive and squirming. “So, Henry, darling, your sister told me you were the best baker in the city. I have a job for you.”
    He wanted to kill his sister for overpromising. Or promising anything at all. “Trixie’s just being a good sister. I’m far from the best. But I’d be honored to have my cookies at your party. Macarons right?”
    “Yes, macarons. I just think they’re too cute. The girls love them.”
    “When is the event?” Henry asked.
    “The party is tomorrow, and I know that’s short notice, but Ruby Grace just could not make up her silly mind about what she wanted.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “Girls these days.”
    “T-tomorrow?” Henry tried not to look panicked. “How many do you think you