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HOW IT STARTED

Brooklyn Devereaux was a disaster as a baker. This was well-known within her immediate family, friends and work associates. What she didn’t know was that baking was a bit like science, and very exacting. She loved to cook and found it easy, since you could add this and that, taste it as you go, and recipes were usually forgiving. However, make one ingredient error when baking and you end up with hockey pucks for dessert.

Being a very competitive person, Brooklyn didn’t let her past failures stop her from trying again. So it was on a rainy day in Los Angeles that she decided to bake treats for her Saturday playdate with niece Sally, who loved chocolate more than anything. Games and movies were on the schedule, with a pizza party to follow, so the only thing missing was something super rich and ‘ooey-gooey’ from the oven.

After all, how hard could it be to make chocolate drop cookies?

Apparently, very hard. The massive smoke plumes from the oven set off all the fire alarms in her townhouse, frightening her neighbors who came running to make sure everything was okay. Sally thought it was all very funny and grabbed her cell phone to let her mom know that there were two firetrucks in the driveway, dragging big hoses to put out the oven fire. Really? It wasn’t THAT bad.

The good news was that the firemen were all very nice, and very friendly. The fire captain walked up and patiently told Brooklyn that because her oven had thick layers of grease on the bottom, and because the temperature was way too high for baking cookies, the inevitable occurred. Cookies blackened, the grease heated up, fire ensued. He did say that the oven was a total loss and would need to be replaced as soon as possible.

So ended the playdate meant to permanently establish Brooklyn as Sally’s favorite relative. With promises of rescheduling, Brooklyn took her home. Her sister Diane came out to talk to her, and in her ‘older sister’ way started asking a lot of questions. Brooklyn had no desire to stand in the rain and have to explain anything. Instead, she apologized for dropping Sally off early, and left.

Mercifully, the rain clouds disappeared, and Monday arrived in a shimmering blaze of glory. Brooklyn drove her BMW convertible through the canyons connecting the valley to West LA. Allowing the breeze to revive her spirits, she wound her way into the city, toward her plush corner office on Sunset Boulevard. Working as an executive assistant for her real estate mogul boss, Darin Tomjanovich had its perks, but it also came with heavy demands on her time, both personally and professionally. Hosting events, attending openings, meeting with city officials, and weekend planning sessions had become the norm. When she had asked to take time off to tour Europe for a few weeks, Darin was adamant that it be limited to one week at a time, so her only vacation became a week away in Northern California touring the wineries, hiking the Muir Woods, and fine dining in San Francisco.

No wonder her latest boyfriend Keith had decided that they should take a break. Which was code for goodbye - another relationship lost to her career. Not that she was heartbroken, but relationships seemed so futile, time after time choosing the wrong guy, and setting herself up for failure.

A week after the oven-fire event, her best friend Janice decided it was time to get Brooklyn out for a ‘girls-night’ to cheer her up. They stayed local, which for a Friday night meant gathering at their favorite Mexican spot, EL MARIACHI GRILL, a sports bar with incredible food and outstanding margaritas. Inevitably they would run into friends, and hopefully she wouldn’t see Keith hanging around. He wasn’t really one to patronize local eateries – and was most likely in Beverly Hills at the Polo Lounge trying to find his next conquest.

As they relaxed and watched the crowd gathering, a tall, dark-haired man in a white tee-shirt and denim jacket approached.

He focused on Brooklyn. “Hey, you’re the oven killer! You probably don’t recognize me without my all my gear on, but I am a witness to the crime.”

Brooklyn frowned. “Excuse me?” It took her a minute to figure it out. “So you’re the fire captain. I’ve been trying to keep a low profile about that if you don’t mind.”

He reached out his hand. “Cameron Moretti, nice to meet you.”

“Wow, ok then, Brooklyn Devereaux, and this is my friend Janice Dixon.”

Cameron nodded, smiled and moved back, resting his arm on the bar behind Brooklyn’s’ chair.

Janice elbowed Brooklyn and silently mouthed “be nice.”

Cameron pointed to a table where four more beefy men were laughing and watching a basketball game on the jumbo screens above the bar.

“My crew is here, there’s room at our table – so we’d like to buy you gals a drink.”

Janice smiled. “That would be nice. We’re margarita gals, on the rocks, no salt, no lime.”

“Done.”

By the time the evening ended, Brooklyn had a full understanding of the workload and commitment required to serve as a firefighter, and that some of these men were also paramedics, savings lives on a regular basis. To be surrounded by people who did something important was refreshing. God knows that her snobby work associates didn’t give a hoot what happened to people outside their circle.

Aided by what she knew was tequila-driven liquid courage, she pulled Cameron aside.

“Look, I never did thank you for taking care of my fire emergency. And you were right that I killed my oven, so I did order a new one and I promise I won’t ever try to bake anything again.”

Cameron grinned and looked at her intently. “If you could learn how to cook without making a mess in the oven, and then actually follow a recipe to bake dessert, you’d be fine. I could help you with that, you know - I’m the head chef and baker down at the fire station. Maybe that’s being too forward too soon, but I’m a sucker for a leggy blonde with hazel eyes.”

“Hmmm. I think you’ve got the wrong gal, but I appreciate the compliment. Thank your buddies for a fun night. Take it easy.”

She pinched Janice and as they wove their way out, she glanced backwards, and locked eyes with Cameron as he watched her leave.

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT

Once her head stopped spinning from the previous night she had nicknamed ‘Margaritas and Firefighters’, Brooklyn went about organizing her Saturday. She lived alone, had no pets, one married sister, and parents who had retired to Key West. So, no one to disappoint today. Either she could set about cleaning her house and doing laundry, or she could venture out and go shopping. One or the other, as it was impossible to consider multi-tasking.

She cast her vote and was happy that it went in her favor. Grabbing her purse, grocery list in hand she sprinted to her front door and bolted out. Crashing into something directly in front of her, she came to an abrupt halt, nearly falling over a large cardboard box sitting dead center on her welcome mat.

“What the heck?”

It was decorated with a big bow and a large card addressed to her hanging from the side. There was nothing else to identify what was inside. She hurriedly opened the card and read it.

“Step one, put the cake in the refrigerator. Step two, save the recipe. Hope you enjoy!” ~ Carrie’s Bake Shop, Santa Monica

Picking up the box, she gasped and hesitated. After all, every crime show had episodes where crazed stalkers would send explosive devices to innocent people. But why would a bakery share their recipe? It had to be okay. Taking a deep breath, she took it inside and opened it. Inside was another box, but this one was definitely a cake box. Taped to the top of the box was the recipe – beautifully done in gold leaf calligraphy.

“Nanny’s Chocolate Fudge Bundt Cake.”

“Hmmm…Who would send something like this anonymously?”

Whatever, chocolate was chocolate. She carefully put the cake in the fridge, then set out to complete her errands. It was never easy to get a lot done while navigating through LA traffic, but Brooklyn was determined to give it her best shot. Dry cleaners, vitamin shop, watch repair, groceries. Done. No time for clothes or shoe shopping. Chocolate cake was waiting, so she gave up her quest to be super-shopper and headed home.

But dinnertime came and went, with the cake sitting out on the dining room table untouched.

8pm approached and she found that she was still staring at the cake, uncertain if she should eat it. She speed-dialed Janice, who was equally intrigued upon hearing the tale of the cake.

“I say eat it. Maybe it’s from Keith wanting to get back together. Not that you’d ever want to see him again, but hey, it’s chocolate. Save me a piece, ok?”

Brooklyn knew better than to gorge on dessert, especially since she hadn’t eaten dinner and it was already getting late. But gorge she did, making little comments as she devoured each bite. “Best ever, oh my gosh this is the yummiest, unbelievable, this is ridiculously delicious, the best I’ve ever eaten in my life.” She didn’t care if the sugar rush made her dizzy or if it kept her up all night. She just wished she knew who to thank.

As luck would have it, she didn’t have time to dwell on the cake mystery. Early Sunday morning she was awakened by the familiar ring tone of Mr. T, her self-focused and invasive boss. He got right to the point and advised that he required her to accompany him to New York first thing Monday to meet a with an investors group interested in developing ocean front property near Venice Beach. Last minute travel was nothing new, but she felt imposed upon rather than excited, especially as he wanted to be in NYC for a whole week.

“Darin, I can only be away until Thursday. I need to be back in LA early Friday. I’ll arrange for your travel to extend into the weekend so you can enjoy Manhattan, and I’ll fly home separately.

“Is there some problem, Brooklyn? You know that I rely on you to manage my schedule and should something come up across the entirety of my trip, I expect you to be available. I thought that was understood.”

“I do understand. After all these years working for you, I trust that you know how loyal and committed I’ve been to the business and to you. I’ve never given you cause to doubt that. In this instance, I have personal reasons for needing to leave ahead of you.

“I see. In that case, please forward all pertinent information to your assistant Ms. Taylor, and advise her that she will be taking this trip with me. I can’t afford to be left high and dry, and as you know, these negotiations have a life of their own, requiring flexibility and availability. I’ll see you when I return.”

Brooklyn was stunned and suddenly felt emboldened. “In that case, I’ll be taking the entire week off while you are away, and I hope you have a successful trip. I’ll let HR know that I’m not to be contacted for any reason due to my personal crisis.”

And for the first time in a long time, Brooklyn Devereaux knew she was on the edge of something big. What that meant wasn’t clear, but she knew this was life-altering. Standing up for herself had created a kind of adrenaline driven super-power energy. Whether or not she had made a fatal career mistake didn’t seem to matter. The fact that she didn’t have a personal crisis, but simply needed to be home for the delivery of her new oven didn’t matter either.

The call to Claire Taylor was easy. “Yes, I know it’s Sunday and that the flight is first thing in the morning, but I think it’s best that you meet me at the office right away. There’s a lot that I need to pass on to you now that you’re going to be the liaison in New York. I will be there in 20 minutes. Use the security door on the 2nd floor and I’ll buzz you in.”

Sunday traffic was light allowing Brooklyn to reach her office in record time. While waiting, she put together a packet with logins and passcodes to all her files, and access to everything Clair would need to do the job, and further, to totally replace her. She deactivated her company profile on the office network, and signed out, leaving no personal information anywhere. Then she called Darin, which ended up being a brief voicemail to let him know of the decision she had made.

Once Claire arrived it was just a matter of showing her where things were, and explaining how to setup her travel account, executive calendar, and network permissions. Brooklyn then handed her the packet and told her the news. “So Clair, it’s been great working with you, and I want you to know how much I’ve appreciated all that you’ve done as my assistant here at DT Enterprises. As of this moment, I’m leaving the company and passing the baton to you. You’ll find full details and information in that packet to get you launched, and HR and IT can help you with everything else. I’ve advised Darin that you’re in the driver’s seat now. Good luck, and don’t forget to take care of yourself along the way!”

Claire just sat there, slowly realizing what this meant. She was ambitious and eager to grow in the company, so maybe this would be her opportunity to make it big. Step up and save the day after Brooklyn so abruptly left with no notice (which everyone knew was tacky and unprofessional). She stood up, grabbed her purse and the packet and stormed by Brooklyn without saying a word.

“No hesitation, eh Claire?” Brooklyn then cleaned out her office and marched down to HR, remembering that it would be locked up tight. Using the drop box window, she returned her badge, American Express card, keys, and resignation letter stating her cause for quitting without notice. She had explained that Mr. Tomjanovich’s recent behavior was in breach of her contract, and constituted harassment under company policy. It was so liberating to be able to put that in writing and not have to meet with anyone. Simply walk away. And just like that, the corporate strangle-hold that had required so much of her life was over.

Carrying her box of personal possessions and one large painting which had been a gift from a client, Brooklyn took the stairs down to the parking garage instead of using the elevators. With each step she savored the sense of freedom resigning had spawned. Amazingly, as she drove away, she had the strange, strong urge to go to an animal shelter and rescue a dog. Maybe it was impulsive, but when you’re in the middle of a personal renaissance you just need to go with it. And that’s how Stella the abandoned French Bulldog puppy, became Stella Devereaux.

HERE COMES THE TRUTH

Brooklyn spent the next two weeks training Stella not to scream (Frenchie’s were known for this, as it was their special dog language used to express their feelings). Other than that, the adjustment period was easy. Stella was pure joy, loving and funny, and very obedient. Exactly who was training who was up for grabs though, as Janice was quick to point out.

She kissed Stella on the head. “I like your new roommate Brook, and the crate idea is epic! Baby dog sleeps safe and sound, and you get to have lunch with me!”

Brooklyn was thankful for Janice’s encouragement and push to get her out of the house. She had spent long hours assessing her investment portfolio and was pleased to find that she had amassed a sizeable nest egg. Along with her payout inclusive of unused vacation time, her final walk-away from DT Enterprises would be a hefty sum and would give her breathing room to figure out her next career steps.

She was indeed grateful for the diversion of a lunch date. Eating outdoors on the street-side patio of her favorite French Café was just the ticket.

“So how goes the rebirth of Brooklyn 2.0? I mean, you’ve been so fast paced for so long, I’m wondering if you’ll be able to slow it down and start enjoying life again.”

“Hey, I’ve enjoyed my life so far. Maybe the job changed me, I get that. Trading pieces of your soul here and there? Getting swept up into the jet set lifestyle? Okay. But you of all people know that underneath that façade there was always the real me, right? Sweet, generous, kind, smart me?”

“And don’t forget humble…Yes Brook, all those things, but I may be the only person who did know. Your family certainly didn’t think that you’d ever come down from your high horse. Maybe Sally did, but she’s only 6 years old and unblemished!”

Avoiding the subject, Brooklyn stuffed an oversized piece of bread into her mouth, immediately gasping as it got stuck in her throat, her chest feeling like it was collapsing. Like something out of a movie, she felt herself being picked up from behind and with one swift move the bread came flying out onto the sidewalk.

“Are you okay?” A deep voice, full of concern was speaking. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she turned around, stunned to see Cameron Moretti standing in front of her, grabbing her shoulders to steady her. “What the heck - Where did you come from?”

Janice cleared her throat, hoping to send Brooklyn a clue.

“I’m sorry, I was just surprised, thank you. Really, I mean it, thank you.”

Cameron remained in paramedic mode. “It’s called the Heimlich Maneuver, and we’re trained to perform in whether on duty, or off. I just happened to be jogging by when I saw a woman gagging. But since it’s you - by my count this is the second time I’ve rescued you, so you’re welcome, Ms. Deveraux.”

And with that he flashed a charming smile, released his grip, and sprinted away.

Janice shook her head. “Wow, Brook, nicely done. He’s dreamy and you just blew him off AGAIN!”

“Come on Jan, I am totally innocent here. What do you expect from me when I’m blindsided here? I didn’t plan to choke, I didn’t know he was in the vicinity, he isn’t anyone in my life, and a few interactions with this guy doesn’t constitute a blown opportunity. Can we please just get our food and go home? I’m mortified!”

“My goodness Brooklyn, it’s ok. I fully understand, but it would help if you weren’t so defensive – when did you stop being able to take a joke or let something roll off your back?”

Brooklyn stared at her folded hands, and finally lifted her head. “I don’t know what’s happening with me, Jan, but I’m grateful that you are willing to walk me through it. Forgive me for being such a jerk.”

Janice stood up, signaled the waiter that the bill was paid, and drove Brooklyn home. “Think about it Brook, you need to let yourself relax…”

Brooklyn hugged her and slowly moved to her front door. She was shocked to see another big box on her stoop. Big pink bow, large card attached.

“Oh dear, what now?”

She could hear Stella crying in a loud voice, a clue that the puppy was aware Mommy was home. She pushed the box aside and went to comfort her baby. The exuberance and wiggling that she was greeted with went beyond love. Stella raced outside to do her business and immediately came flying back, jumping into Brooklyn’s arms. “I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you!” Her words were overshadowed by Stella’s loud vocals, which diminished once she was fed and knew that Brooklyn wasn’t leaving again.

With puppy asleep, it was time to retrieve the pink bowed box. As before, the box contained another cake box, and the card identified similar to the first one.

“Step one, put the cake in the refrigerator. Step two, save the recipe. Hope you enjoy!” ~ The Butterfly Bakery, Sherman Oaks.

Taped to the top of the box was the recipe – once again, beautifully done in gold leaf calligraphy.

“Chocolate Turtle Caramel Pecan Decadence.”

There was no hesitation this time. Brooklyn cut the cake, making sure she got the full experience of chocolate, caramel and pecan. It was indeed decadent and rich mouthfuls overwhelmed her senses. She shut her eyes and imagined that she was in Paris, ready to walk the Champs-Élysées. “Why didn’t I go to Paris? Why didn’t I eat chocolate? WHY?????”

A fitful nights’ sleep followed, and at daybreak she determined to attack this cake thing full force.

First, she called Carrie’s Bakery to see if they would reveal who sent the first cake. No such luck. The customer who ordered the cake requested to remain anonymous.

Next, she went to Butterfly’s in Sherman Oaks and asked for the manager.

“I really need your help. I received a cake delivery from your bakery, with no idea who sent it. Can you please let me know who I can thank?”

Once again, she was told that confidentiality was in place and they couldn’t tell her who placed the order.

Brooklyn sighed. There was really little else to go on. She certainly wasn’t going to call Keith. And she was positive it wasn’t from anyone at her former job. She decided to let it go, and just wait to see if anyone would fess up.

Walking Stella in the neighborhood was great for clearing her head. Big dogs had nothing on her little Stella, who obviously didn’t know that she was so tiny. Every canine was equal in Stella’s eyes, and every single one had to be sniffed, barked at and greeted with tail wags. So it was no surprise when a dog seven times her size suddenly stopped in front of them, leash dragging alongside.

“Well hello there, mister, where’s your owner? The dog looked like a golden retriever or lab mix, and seemed gentle enough, so Brooklyn checked the collar to see if there was any identification. “Ok, your dog tag says that your name is Jake, and that if found to call CJ @ Fire Station #19. Okay, so you’re lost, and you picked us to help you. I wonder if I’ve met any of your buddies over there, Jake. Let’s go guys…”

Back at her townhouse, the dogs curled up in front of the bay window where the sun had warmed the floor. “Don’t get too comfortable you two – this is SO temporary.” She googled the location of station #19, and realized it was only 3 blocks away, totally in walking distance. Putting Stella in her dog crate was met with loud resistance. “Oh be quiet, I’ll be right back. Time to go, Jake, let’s get you home.”

Brooklyn didn’t know much about life inside a Fire Station. What she did know was that at any given moment one of the trucks could come flying out honking loudly. Her approach was tentative, but Jake’s wasn’t. He started dragging her, barking enthusiastically announcing his return.

One of the trucks was being washed, and Jake yanked her in that direction. They made it around the corner where a fireman was spraying the side of the rig. Brooklyn let go of the leash and jumped back, just in time to avoid a full-frontal water blast. She tripped on the curb and fell backwards. Strong arms caught her, and a familiar voice spoke directly into her ear. “I think that makes it three times that I’ve rescued you, and you know, three time’s the charm.”

Embarrassed, Brooklyn pulled away, and turned to face him. “Fire Chief Cameron Moretti, how nice to meet you again. I take it you are the CJ on Jake’s dog tag?”

“At your service, Cameron James Moretti, to be exact. Thank you for bringing him back, but you could have called and I would have come to get him.”

“Yep, I could have, and you could have.” Brooklyn realized that she was fidgeting and took a step sideways to try and regain her composure. It was absolutely true that this guy was disarmingly attractive, but the fact that they kept running into each other was inexplicable.

Just as these thoughts took shape, another fireman came out and hollered at Cameron. “Hey that bakery is on the phone – they want to know if you want coconut cream or Oreo fudge for your cake filling. Oh and do you want the recipe to be done in calligraphy? Hurry up CJ, I’m not gonna keep running interference anymore.”

Brooklyn couldn’t believe it. She shot Cameron a look. “I should have known – the recipes. Big clue.”

Cameron touched her arm. “Just give me a minute – don’t leave, please just wait for me.” Something in his voice resonated inside her – and she knew he held the answers to questions she had yet to ask.

And so she waited.

HAPPY EVER AFTER

Stella and Jake looked so cute in their doggy wedding clothes. Brooklyn had to remind herself to breathe, as she stood at the back of the church waiting for the doors to open. Her sister Diane and best friend Janice had already gone down the aisle, with Sally just about to head down tossing rose pedals. The wedding march started, and she gripped her father’s arm. He turned, patting her hand. “Let’s go angel.”

The ceremony was dreamy. Fragrant flowers, shimmering lights, sweet laughter and poignant vows. As they left the church for the reception, Cameron drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

“Ready for the Pièce de résistance my love?”

“Oh boy – a surprise? Is it something French?”

Without answering he took her hand and walked her into the reception. Directly in front of them was a long table, filled with chocolate cakes of all sizes, decorated in every way possible. An Eiffel Tower centerpiece had an envelope hanging from it, addressed to Mrs. Moretti.

Brooklyn searched his face. “Cameron, what did you do?” She ran to the table and opened the envelope. Paris. They were going to Paris.

The room erupted in clapping and cheering as their guests poured in, joined by Stella and Jake’s loud vocals adding to the celebration.

What she knew in that moment was that love really does cover a multitude of wrong choices. The love of family and friends who forgive and forget. The love of a man who saw through the façade and pressed in to find the real woman inside. And of course, the love of a dog named Stella, who showed her how to open her heart.