Macarons at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

need?” Saturday was one of his busiest days at the bakery, and he already had a morning full of baking lined up. His ovens would be full from four until opening.
    Poppy pulled out a list. “This should do it. And make them colorful. She likes bright colors.”
    Henry looked at the list and nearly had his second heart attack in under a minute. Two hundred in four different flavors—blackberry cassis, anise, passion fruit, and pistachio. Henry breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were flavors he had the ingredients in stock to make. That wasn’t a problem. Time, on the other hand, was. Millie was so right. They really needed an assistant. Too bad he wasn’t likely to find one in the next ten hours.
    He saw Millie eying him from the corner of the shop where she’d gone to hide from Trixie’s friend. Millie had a deep and long-standing hatred of most of Trixie’s friends. Even ones she’d never met. She was busy glaring at him significantly. Henry knew. When the hell was he supposed to bake two hundred macarons and everything else? Never. Not if he was planning on sleeping. Still, he kept smiling, and wrote down Poppy’s order like it was the best thing that could happen to him.
    “We’re going to head out,” Trixie said when he’d finished. “We have lunch reservations.”
    “It was nice to meet you, Poppy,” Henry said with another hopefully charming smile and handshake.
    “You too, sweetheart. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Five o’clock sound about right?”
    “Yes, that’s perfect.”
    “And you’ll help with the setup, I assume?”
    Henry nearly groaned aloud. “Yes. Of course,” he said, smile plastered in place.
    “You want to go get us a cab, hon? I’ll say good-bye to my brother and be right behind you.”
    Poppy waved, and flowed out the door in a fragrant eddy of perfume. It was a skill all of Trixie’s friends had mastered.
    “Don’t piss her off,” Trixie muttered as soon as Poppy had gone. “She will bury you.”
    “No kidding,” Henry grumbled back. He swatted her on the shoulder. “Best baker in the city? Thanks for that.”
    “You are good. I want you to be successful.” She gave him her best winning Trixie smile. Henry had to admit it still worked on him, even though he knew all her tricks.
    “I know. And I love you for that. But please, give me a little more warning when you’re about to bring in one of your society friends. A text, a flare. Heat-seeking missile. Something.”
    “I did text you. Twice.” Trixie raised her eyebrows and smoothed the edges of her flowery scarf down over her shirt. “Might be helpful if you check your phone once in a while.”
    “Oh.” Henry felt dumb. Then again, he never had time to check his phone during the morning rush. Again… they really needed to hire someone soon.
    Trixie leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, bro. Good luck with everything.”
    “Love you too. Will I see you tomorrow?”
    “At a party filled with thirteen-year-olds?” She scoffed. “Kill me now.”
     
     
    T RISTAN HAD had a long week, but one of the first good ones he’d had since he’d gotten to town. He really liked Shatara. Not in a grab-a-pint-after-work kind of way, but he respected her. They worked well together, and he felt wanted for the first time since he’d left London. It was also a relief to spend most of the day away from his floor and Jordan’s little crew. He, Wendy, and a new import called Jeremiah, who seemed like a decent guy, had holed themselves up in the conference room with Shatara, tossing around slogans and layouts and color schemes they hoped would sell some ridiculously overpriced celebrity fragrance that kind of smelled a bit like Pimm’s, if you asked him.
    It was Friday, nearly Saturday, according to his watch, and Tristan had taken himself on a much longer walk than usual. He’d honestly gotten himself a bit turned around. It couldn’t be far from his flat—he recognized