booth next to the big window overlooking the street, sits a beautiful young woman with long, sleek, shiny black hair. She has a notebook in front of her, sheaths of paper, and a white, shiny box with a cellophane window on top.
I can’t help but smile. She reminds me of myself when I had that first meeting with Christian and Clementine.
Prepared for success.
“Priya?” I ask as I approach. “I’m Poppy Davies. I’m a biscuit artist here, and I’ll be sitting in on your interview this morning.”
She quickly rises from her seat, a bright smile lighting up her face. “I’m Priya Kapoor.”
I shake her hand, ticking off details in my head about her. I’d say she’s maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. Dressed professionally in a chic navy trouser suit and a vibrant pink scarf. I smile. She’s nailed the first impression with her appearance and early arrival, so my hopes surge even higher for the interview now.
“May I get you a drink?” I ask. “Water? Coffee or a cup of tea?”
“Oh, no, no, I’m fine, thank you so much for asking,” she says.
I nod, and we both take seats across from each other in the booth. I feel her eyes appraising me, and then she laughs.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m a bit star-struck. I’ve watched your biscuit tutorials on YouTube. I’m a big fan,” Priya says, grinning.
“Me?” I ask, shocked. “But you’ve worked in a Michelin restaurant. I’m sure you’ve done incredible desserts and pastries.”
A thoughtful look passes over her face. “Yes, I’ve learnt amazing techniques under one of the top pastry chefs in the world. I’ve worked with the best ingredients. I’ve made elegant desserts with foams and exotic-flavoured jellies. But I’d be in that kitchen, and all I wanted to do was make an iced biscuit that could make someone smile with joy. Or use some wacky, fun ingredient in a cookie that would remind a person of their childhood. Like a cookie with chopped up Crunchie bars or Coco Pops. That’s what makes me happy. It might not be what is expected of a pastry chef, but life is too short to always do what people expect you to do.”
Her words strike me. She has a wisdom and depth that is far beyond her years. And I connect with her passion. It’s how I feel when I create a biscuit. It might not be the most complicated dessert in the world with sumptuous ingredients, but it doesn’t matter. Sometimes, you have to do what your heart wants.
“May I see your biscuits?” I ask, glancing at the box sitting between us, eager to see her work.
Priya smiles. “I’d love to show them to you.”
I practically hold my breath as she lifts off the lid. I already like Priya; in fact, I suspect we might become friends if we work together. But none of that will happen if her biscuits don’t meet the mark.
Priya reveals her work to me. I stare down at an array of exquisite biscuits, decorated with such artistry, it takes my breath away. A stunning painted mermaid sitting on a rock, the whole biscuit awash in colours of the sea. A hummingbird amongst bright pink flowers. Then some that are whimsical, like a cute, fluffy lamb with curls and a replica Thomas the Tank Engine that would make any child squeal with delight. And the showstopper biscuit? One that has a picture of Big Ben on it, but it’s cut into puzzle pieces that perfectly fit together to create the image as a whole.
“Wow,” I gasp, staring at the art in awe. “These are gorgeous, Priya.”
I hear her exhale and glance up.
“Sorry, I’m just so relieved,” she says, beaming at me. “I was so worried about what you might say.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Are you kidding? After seeing these, I’m worried about what you will say about mine! These are brilliant. Pure perfection. I can’t come up with enough words to describe how lovely these are.”
Her dark eyes shine with happiness. “Thank you so much.”
I glance back down at the biscuits. Priya was right to quit her job. This is what she was meant to do.
“You have a calling for this,” I say to her. “Just like I do.”
Suddenly, my heart catches. Priya gave up a prestigious career to be able to ice biscuits and follow her passion.
Whereas I might have to walk away from my passion if I were to choose Xander.
I blink. No. Xander promised me he’d find a way for that to work.