“These will bake for 20 minutes, which is when I make the icing. But we’re only baking the muffins right now,” Lacey Truman walked backwards along the faux-kitchen’s island to tilt a plate of finished muffins for the cameras. “This is what they’ll look like when finished. As you can see, I’ve added the icing and a light dusting of lemon peel shavings.
“And for those with limited time for the kitchen, I am excited to announce that my bakeries will be selling our unique line of icings in the fall.”
“How exciting,” the morning show hostess said as she accepted a finished muffing from Lacey. “Will this include the chocolate raspberry? That’s a personal favorite of mine.”
“Mine as well, as well as most customers,” Lacey smiled. “I spent over three weeks getting the blend of sweetness and tartness just right, perfectionist that I am.
“And yes, that will be one of our introductory flavors, along with pineapple-coconut, French vanilla, blueberry-lemonade and the Yankee autumn tradition: pumpkin spice. But with an added twist, which I won’t spoil just yet.”
Looking at the camera while keeping her head mostly turned to the morning show hostess, Lacey put a finger to her lips and smiled. Beside her, the hostess took a bite of the muffin and moaned audibly.
“Mmmmm. So good. This would go perfectly with a,” here she put on an atrocious British accent, “spot of tea, eh guvnor?”
Lacey’s camera-ready smile did not change, it simply mutated from the traditional audience-friendly warmth to a forced pleasantness. Oh, these insipid Americans.
“Yes,” she made herself titter bubbly for a second, and then the brunette baker took a hefty bite of her own confection, her teeth sinking into the chocolate-banana muffin with relish as she maintained eye contact with the hostess. “Perhaps I should look into creating a line of house teas.”
The segment was wrapped up moments later, the hostess giving Lacey’s bakeries an enthusiastic plug. Off-camera Lacey’s assistant mimicked bowing slightly, squeezing her shoulders in to emphasize a pair of breasts she did not have. Spying her, the British expat smiled for the camera and leaned forward her ample chest straining against her apron.
Cloaking her recent weight gain in the trendy air of ‘body positivity’ was still new for Lacey, and sometimes she needed to be reminded to let shine her burgeoning portliness instead of hiding it behind black clothes and vertical lines. She had overruled her assistant’s suggestion to wear the blue and white blouse that made her potbelly appear bigger, no matter how much it would make her relatable to the housewives tuning in, but playing up her heavy breasts (she was approaching E-cups now, and would probably need new bras before the season was out) and hip-hop music video-ready behind allowed her to indulge in feeling sexy while also convincing her target demographic she was one of them in body if not mind and spirit.
‘This form of abundance wouldn’t have been appreciated back home,’ she thought to herself after the cameras cut away and she was free to exit the studio. But not before grabbing a muffin; just one, unfortunately, as the hostess (Lacey had already forgotten her name) asked if she could take the others to share with the rest of the crew.
As certain as she was that the hostess would hoard them all as she was planning to do herself, Lacey smiled sweetly and said
“By all means.”
She wasn’t keen on giving up food for free, but by thinking of it as one last part of the free publicity this morning’s segment would give her bakeries, it was worth the cost.
Besides, there would be a full plate of muffins waiting for her back at her office. If her new apprentice knew what was good for her, at least...
“A perfect presentation,” Lacey’s assistant said, falling into step just behind her boss. The brunette Brit could feel the other woman’s eyes on her pencil skirt-clad rear, but being ogled bothered her less than the pointless flattery.
“Of course it was perfect,” the baker responded, dropping her British accent to its naturally low levels. Years of traveling the world, honing her baking skills at the best kitchens in France, Italy and elsewhere had smoothed her once coarse accent (don’t call it Cockney, more than one prospective apprentice had learned too late), but she could whip out a posh inflection whenever it suited her. And when dealing with Yanks easily impressed by a whiff of British aristocracy, it suited her often. “Do you think I needed to call upon any reserve of my talent to impress Betty Homemaker?”
Exiting the studio proper, she continued
“Call ahead to the Tristan Avenue location and tell them to prepare a box of three apple fritters, four raspberry glazed doughnuts, a pair of pecan tarts and a pair of orange cranberry muffins.”
They got into Lacey’s chauffeured car and returned to her office with a stop at one of her signature bakeries. There were five in the city, soon to be six, and every day Lacey made a spot pick-up at a random one to test the wares of her business. Her assistant knew to not bother her with other matters until after she had sampled each piece and made her judgment.
That she had ordered multiples of each item was not in itself a sign that she expected the Tristan location to pass with flying colors; one part of her testing was to sample more than one piece of each selection, to check for consistent quality.
The other fact was that Lacey had always had a healthy sweet tooth, and even less-than-perfect sweets were good enough for her most any day.
The assortment today did pass muster, Lacey giving her assistant mostly positive notes and even the criticisms easy fixes rather than outright errors. They were small things the average consumer would not pick up on, but Lacey’s palate was so refined a little too much sugar or a little too much salt would stand out to her.
Just as impressive was her knowledge of her employee roster. Even with almost half a dozen locations with 10-15 employees each, she knew every employee’s schedule, how they worked together, and what to expect from their labors.
Today, for example, she knew the manager at the Tristan location had a hands off approach to production in the kitchen, but considering the talent and experience of the two main bakers on hand that was acceptable. On the other hand, the Ridgeway Drive location’s manager today was a strict backseat baker, always keeping one eye on the inexperienced bakers under her command.
‘Might do to make a surprise visit there around noon,’ Lacey thought to herself. ‘See if they’ve gotten up to snuff with the red velvet cake recipe.’
Critiquing done, she gobbled up the remainder in as ladylike a fashion as she could manage, finishing just before they arrived at her office located in the same building as her first bakery.
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