Sweetheart Kerubi
exquisite
Chantilly's ears flattened back against her head to mitigate some of the noise. Between the sixteen oven timers going off, the constant (and unnecessary) droning of the head chef, and the general hustle and bustle of a room of busy hands, she was quite certain that the embodiment of chaos had to be a busy bakery. Not to mention the mess—a cloud of sugary sweetness was palpable in the air of the cooled room. Every surface seemed covered in flour and pie pastry, while a colossal column of unwashed bowls was quickly becoming a ninth-wonder-of-the-world contender next to the sink. The tourists would have to wait, the Kerubi mused. Not that anyone would want to take pictures of something so sticky!
She was brought out of the line of thought as the head baker passed her station and clapped two fuzzy legs together to get her attention.
"Do we have a problem?" The Bombus buzzed impatiently, eyes slanted in what seemed like a state of permanent disapproval. It was obvious from her stare that she'd been asking something. Something Chantilly had missed. She tried not to look too worried, but couldn't help the slight uncertainty of her reply.
"No?" She guessed. Hopefully nothing was wrong. After all, she was only a junior baker—what task could she possibly have had that was so important?
"I'll assume then," the lead baker hummed, "that there's a reasonable explanation as to why the twenty-five pies that we have been assembling on the front table have not yet been packed and loaded?" Her antennae twitched as she gestured towards the confection collection near the front of the room. Chantilly was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that the Bombus baker wasn't the only one watching. In fact, nearly everyone had stopped moving to watch the byplay.
If she hadn't already been pink from head to toe, they would have noticed the rosy tint rising in her cheeks.
"I'm sorry ma'am," she said quietly. "I was thinking about something else."
Her apology didn't seem to help; her supervisor let out a huffy "As usual!" before lighting into the youngest member of the staff.
"Honestly, I have no idea what we're going to do with you," she continued, bolstered by an awareness of her rapt audience. The bakery staff loved nothing more than a good dressing down—especially when it was for someone else. "You're slow on your feet, consistently distracted, and forgetful at nearly every task! Your head is almost always in the clouds, child. Until you come back down to the ground and start to truly appreciate the art of pastry, I simply have no use for you!"
Chantilly could feel the tears rising—she had wanted this more than anything else. What would her friends say? Another failed job. She just couldn't concentrate on such boring tasks when there were more exciting things to watch and see!
"I do care about pastry, I do appreciate it," she mumbled, wishing with all her heart that her defense was stronger, that she had something braver and bolder to say.
"Well, perhaps appreciate wasn't the right word," the baker said cruelly, gesturing at the Kerubi's slightly chubby form. The room broke out in a whisper of snickers and giggles, and Chantilly could feel the burn of humiliation down to her toes.
"You're done. Go deliver those pies, then don't come back. I have no need for a junior baker who can't even complete a simple task." With a wave of her hand, the lead baker sent the room back into a flurry of activity, and Chantilly was left beside the table of unpacked pies. Resigned and sniffling, she set about packing them as best she could, and stacked them in the back of the bicycle cart, eager to be on her way out of this horrible place.
The truth was, she did love baking. She loved all the things that it entailed: attention to detail, the perfection of filling and topping, cream and custard, sprinkles and icing. The final presentation of a perfect dessert was like the punctuation of a great meal. That's why she'd applied to the bakery in the first place, after all—encouraged by her friends to try her hand at being a "professional", she had marched eagerly down to the bakery and gotten the job straight away. How could they not hire her, she thought, buckling the lid of the basket closed. She had an extensive knowledge of fillings, fruit tarts and sugar fillagree, cupcakes and candies—and lots of practice working on her own concoctions (which everyone had loved!).
She pedaled quickly around the corner, careful not to take it too sharply or upset the cargo. Baking for a living, it had turned out, was quite different from baking as a hobby. While she got to see how well her pastries were loved by those who received them at home, at the bakery she never got a chance to even make anything on her own. Apprentice and Junior Bakers worked for years before they even got to roll out the dough or put finishing touches on cakes and cookies. No, a life of being a professional baker simply wasn't for her. There was too much patience required!
Her paws gripped the pedals as she slowed to a stop in front of the pie gallery. Gingerbread edging lined the top of the big front window, where an assortment of picture-perfect pies and serving trays were arranged for passersby. Hungry Subetans were gathered outside the windows, marveling at the detail on each treat—curling latticed crusts and sugary sprinkles that caught the lights above and made the pies glitter. Unpacking the basket of the latest additions, Chantilly had to fumble as she was almost bowled over by an exiting customer.
"All those pies and she wouldn't let me eat a single slice!" the Hipottu huffed. "Blackberry, blueberry, cherry and gooseberry, anything you can think of! A gallery of tasty treats, to be sure, but absolutely nothing to eat!"
Chantilly raised an eyebrow. She didn't know that the pie gallery didn't serve pies. These in her arms would only be added to a growing collection, she supposed. Well, it couldn't hurt to get a sneak peek of what would soon be on display, could it? She opened the lid to the first box and almost fell over when the pie popped up and looked at her.
"Well, about darn time," it declared, eyeing her beadily. It's a lot of work being stuffed in a box, you know. Are we there yet? Took long enough. You should have pedaled faster."
The Kerubi resisted the temptation to shove him back into the box.
"I got here as fast as I could have. If I'd tipped you over, you'd just be a filling smear on the inside of that lid," she retorted, annoyed. She could feel the ruff of fur around her neck frizzing in agitation, and smoothed it down with a delicate paw. She wasn't about to let herself be wheedled by a pastry!
"Oh, it makes threats now, then," The talking pie stood up and maneuvered himself to the edge of the box, then hopped up in a quick motion onto the side of the bicycle basket. I'm glad you didn't smash me then," he said sarcastically. "I'm Rainier. Are we at the gallery yet?"
Chantilly nodded, glancing at the building. A small crowd was gathering around. She wasn't sure how the owner would feel about her accidentally revealing next month's display, even if it hadn't been her idea.
"Let's go inside," she said quietly. "I wouldn't want anyone to get any ideas about eating you." She cast a sideways look to see if the hungry Hipottu was still around.
"Well, Fantine help them if they tried," Rainier chuckled. "I'd be sure to give them a most terrible case of indigestion. Say, I rather like you. Do you own the pie gallery?"
She shook her head. "Nope, I'm just a juni- I mean, I'm the delivery girl. I'm actually out of a job, as of today," she explained, picking up the stack of pies and letting Rainier perch himself on her shoulder. She quite liked him as well, now that she thought about it.
"Well, maybe you should work here," Rainier said ecstatically, puffing out his pastry in self-importance. "I'm to be the new door greeter. You could help me. Keep people from eating me, or the other pies."
Chantilly smiled. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. The doorbell sounded quite a bit like the oven timers in the bakery. At least this time, the ring was music to her ears.
