Sugar Sweet & Whiskey Sour: Sweet With Sour Series, #1

By kayleigh kavanagh

Ruby never planned to return to Lancaster (England), but when her aunt suddenly falls into a coma she has little choice. Aunty Ann's Bakery can't afford to close during the busiest point of the year, not with Christmas fast approaching. Despite barely being able to make brownies by herself Ruby has to step in and take her aunt's place.
She's surprised when several customers are people she knew from high school. Getting to re-know her once friends (& teenage crush) isn't something she expected to enjoy. Will Justice looks even better in his 30s (no matter how much she tries to ignore it), and Erica is now an aerial and pole fitness instructor. Ruby gets roped into beginner's classes and steps outside her comfort zone. Between visiting Blackpool, baking, and visiting the pub, her previous crush is returning with force.
Though something isn't right. Between a bizarre egg attack, smashed windows, and a supposed family member returning, Ruby finds herself potentially trapped in a strange conspiracy. Especially as her aunt still hasn't woken and no one knows why.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oriana Neoma
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223521808

Book preview

Chapter one

The flour exploded everywhere for the third time in as many hours. Ruby wanted to scream. Her eyes passed over the battlefield that had once been a kitchen. The fallen soldiers of cracked shells leaked over the surfaces. Granules of sugar dispersed over the countertop and floor. Pools of water where the tap had somehow managed to spray across the room. And, of course, the fine dust of white coating everything which looked somewhere between a drug den and a winter wonderland. This was not how things were meant to go.

Ruby used the back of her arm, trying to wipe away the flour from her eyes. Her hands were no use right now, still caked in the batter she’d been trying to mix. As she tried to blink the residue from her eyes, she stared at the kitchen once more. Only a few short hours ago, the place had been pristine. Shining steel countertops and floors so clean you could have eaten off them. Now there was barely a patch that hadn’t been coated by her failed attempts at baking.

She wasn’t even sure how she’d done it. Granted, it’d been a good few years since she’d baked, but what was the point when it was cheaper to buy a ready-made cake or baked item from the local supermarket? Her aunty Ann might have claimed ‘You get what you pay for’, but Ruby’s palette was hardly refined enough to spot much of a difference. Sweet was sweet. Still, even if it had been over a decade since she’d last tried to bake something from scratch, she hadn’t thought her attempts would go this poorly.

Brownies were easy, she’d thought. Any idiot could make brownies. They might not have been up to Ann’s standard, but they’d have been decent. Edible at least. Then somehow, whilst the first batch had been baking, she’d flipped through a book on the table. Naively thought the pretty pictures couldn’t be too hard to replicate. Yet here she was, a few hours later. With two burnt batches of brownies (she couldn’t have sold them, but they were still edible), a dozen foul-tasting cupcakes, and a destroyed kitchen to show for it.

Ruby sighed, drooping against the countertop. Ignored the squelch noise as her clothes were likely now coated in whatever had been slopped there. When she’d gotten the phone call, when she’d made the decision to come back and help, she hadn’t seen this coming. The fire alarm suddenly started blaring as the automated sprinklers activated. Ruby barely even flinched. This was merely the cherry on top of the awful week she was having.

A week? Her brain paused. Had it really only been a handful of days? Not even a full seven, since she’d still been living in London?

Eventually, she made her body move, opening the window and letting the smoke escape. Nothing was actually on fire, if you ignored her life in general. With a flick of a switch, she turned off the sprinklers and silenced the fire alarm. The room barely looked any worse than before. However, she could already see the sugar starting to melt everywhere.

Ruby grabbed a sponge, remembering from her teenage years how difficult it was to remove that sticky stuff once it set again. She started on the sides first. She almost grabbed the mop, but recalled how her aunt always made her do the floors last back when she worked here as a child. ‘You do the floors last, or you’ll end up doing them twice whenever something inevitably falls on them’. As her aunt was an experienced baker, Ruby took her knowledge to heart. Mostly because she’d did used to do them twice whenever she was dumb enough ignore her aunt. Though back then Ruby had been a teenager, sometimes they needed to learn things the hard way.

She sighed again. Exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. Probably spiritually, too. This was supposed to be her big new step. A good thing, despite the circumstances. Right now, she felt more like a failure than she ever had. She couldn’t even bake something as simple as brownies properly. How was she supposed to keep her aunty’s business afloat if she couldn’t even get this much right?

The mixing bowls clanged together before the mountain of dishes rumbled. She watched on. Frozen. As they all fell to the floor. Scattering their contents everywhere and making even more mess. ‘Good thing I didn’t start with the floors,’ she thought, staring at the sheer chaos before her. These weren’t her belongings. This wasn’t her kitchen. They belonged to the business. It was only these thoughts, and the knowledge of how much it would cost to replace them, which kept her from throwing everything in the bin or lighting the place on fire.

Her aunt would probably cry if she saw the state of her kitchen right now. Ruby huffed, trying not to feel like a complete failure. Or in an attempt to stop herself from bursting into tears. She might be a bad baker, but it would only take a little elbow grease to make this place pristine again. She couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. With a glance at the clock, she realised there was only an hour or two until the staff arrived. Her attempts at midnight baking might have been a flop, but she refused to stop the trained people from doing their jobs.

If only the mess that was her life would be as easy to clean up as the kitchen. Soon the dishes were soaked, washed and on the drying rack, the counters were clear and even the floors were sparkling once more. A beeping alerted her to the time. With a hurried pace, she rushed over to the third over. Pulled the tray out. The cupcakes were mostly golden. The burnt could be scraped away.

The kitchen door slammed open as an elderly woman and a young student entered the room. She watched as they took in the scene around them and Ruby’s dishevelled appearance.

Cupcake? she offered, hoping neither would comment.

Why is their batter on the ceiling?

Ruby sighed again. This was not her week.

Chapter two

A few days earlier

Ruby fell into her desk chair. Her legs gave out on her. She didn’t know why she was shocked. Everyone knew it was coming. Yet, somehow, seeing it written in black and white hurt. It happened. She wasn’t surprised. They’d all known it was coming. The bosses might not have been the best, but the management was friendly and kept everyone updated. Liquidation. The business had gone under and here was the written document declaring the termination of her contract. She was unemployed.

Thirty-one years old, after finally landing a job she could tolerate and lasting almost five years, it was over. She’d spent the latter part of her teens and early twenties changing her job more often than she’d done her bed sheets. Finally found somewhere she could tolerate which paid enough to keep a roof over her head in the absurd London prices, and now, here she was, unemployed. Again.

When she was younger, Ruby would have just brushed this off, thought, ‘It wasn’t a big deal’, and tried to look for new work. Logically, she knew she would do this. Eventually. For now, she just needed a moment to breathe. Working in an office hadn’t been her dream job. Heck, it hadn’t even made the top ten, but it had been good. Comfortable. The work was just stressful enough to be engaging, but not too much it made her anxiety flare up. She could just clock out at the end of the day and not have to worry about it at night. A luxury given the current work ethos.

Stars and Spindles Designs had been a decent place. The top brass only ever cared about the bottom line, and her wage had only increased by a few pounds - not even keeping up with inflation, but overall it had been good for her. The form still sitting innocently on her desk destroyed all that. Took away a safety blanket she hadn’t even realised was there. She had no job. No job meant no money. No money meant… it meant a lot of bad things.

England was in a recession, even if the media tried to blank it out. Between the soaring cost-of-living prices and the mess energy prices had caused, people were struggling. This business wasn’t the first to go under and it wouldn’t be the last. Everyone was feeling it. Everyone was tightening their belts. A knock-on effect which was impacting the entire economy, and she’d just become another statistic. Another victim of cutbacks and people doing whatever was necessary to stay afloat.

The problem with being older was she saw things differently. In her twenties, she would have shrugged this off and already be looking for her next job. The next source of income to see her through another month in her lacklustre apartment she’d been renting for just shy of a decade. Except the landlord had just put up the rent. The other building's occupants were already talking about how, since the Bank of England raised the interest rate up to five percent, he’d likely be putting it up again soon. Meaning any job she took would need to be able to cover these expenditures. Which, from a quick search, they would not.

Even for someone like her, with a degree and experience, the jobs weren’t paying. The salaries were barely above starter wages and wanted intermediate to expert levels of skill. It was a joke. Even if she got a new job and used her meagre savings, she would likely be in a pickle within the next six months. The city was becoming too expensive. Even the suburbs and surrounding areas weren’t looking promising. Everyone doing the same thing as her.

Ruby even went as far as to look at other apartments further away and check the commute. A studio apartment with no amenities, or luxuries, and twenty minutes from the nearest train line had over five hundred applications. They wouldn’t even look at her whilst she was unemployed. It brought up a thought she’d been toying with for some time. Relocation.

In her youth, relocation had meant Spain, or Australia, going somewhere warm and being able to escape the dreary rain of the UK. Now it meant looking further up north as possible. Manchester sounded nice. She’d grown up close to it, and visited the place enough. Mostly for concerts and nights out, or shopping trips with her friends. She’d never worked there, but it was something she might need to seriously consider.

Ruby packed up her desk. They’d all known this was coming. Her manager and friend Deanna had kept her in the loop. Although they were work colleagues, they were genuine friends, too. Not just a friendship of convenience, which Ruby learnt were common. Friendships you formed because you were forced into close proximity and were easy to maintain because you regularly saw one another, but quickly dissolved once you were no longer regularly pushed into one another's lives. She’d had a lot of friendships like this. Between school, college, university and a whole host of jobs, she’d realised early on how many of her ‘closest friends’ were lost once they were no longer made to stay together. A hard truth of life, but a lesson well learnt.

This was why she knew the friendship between herself and Deanna was real. As an adult, Ruby became more selective in who she associated with and with whom she let close. Don’t get her wrong, she was still friend-ly with everyone, but there was a difference between being nice to people and making small talk vs. divulging traumas and sharing keys to your place. Even if she moved away, Ruby knew, between the two of them, they would keep the friendship alive.

Deanna had told her, as soon as she’d heard, that the company was looking to dissolve. It was only a small firm, by industry standards, but had been a registered LLC and had to follow certain steps before the company could just stop trading. But now they were all done, and so was she. Deanna already had a new job lined up. In a completely different field. As a manager, the other woman was able to transfer those skills and had been snapped up by one of the companies they’d done design work for. Her friend was one of the lucky ones.

Ruby wasn’t even sure what job she wanted to do. Design was easy enough. She could probably also get a job in marketing, given her job was largely focused on helping other businesses promote themselves. It might not have been her official role or title, but marketing was essentially what she’d been doing in her capacity as a designer. She could add it to her CV at least. There was no harm in trying.

You finished up?

Ruby jumped in her seat, glad the cup was empty as her jolting arms knocked it over.

De, she gasped, raising a hand to her heart. You scared me.

The other woman pulled her lips into her mouth, attempting not to laugh. Sorry. Though she didn’t sound it.

Ruby rolled her eyes, willing her heart to go back to normal. What’s up? she eventually asked.

Nothing much, we thought we’d just let people go early, as no one’s focusing anymore. The other woman grimaced, eyes dropping to the p45 on Ruby’s desk.

More than half the office received one. A few others were being kept on until the end of the week - finishing whatever work they were doing, but Ruby wasn’t one of them.

Yeah, Ruby agreed. Though her mind was already debating whether she should buy a bottle of alcohol on the way home and drown her sorrows.

Her phone flashed. She didn’t normally keep it on her desk during work hours, but she’d forgotten to put it back in her bag after the last break. A number she didn’t recognise. She turned the phone over, ignoring it, and returned to looking at her friend.

Do you fancy grabbing a meal? Deanna asked.

Ruby was tempted. In her more impulsive youth, she’d loved grabbing a meal after work. Sharing a bottle of wine or pitcher of cocktails between friends whilst they talked about whatever seemed important at the time. However, her mind flashed back to the image of her bank balance. She could probably afford it, yes, but most nights out were a hundred pounds plus these days. She couldn’t justify spending so much whilst knowing her income was about to dry up.

I could probably stretch to a takeaway and a bottle of wine from the convenience store, she replied, pulling a face in displeasure. But with this– she held up the paperwork for her termination, –I can’t risk any unnecessary expenditures.

Fair enough. Deanna winced in sympathy. I do fancy a curry. And that spot by your place is decent.

Ruby hummed in agreement. I’ll send the order through now. We can pick it up on the way back to mine.

She picked up her phone, noting the same number had tried calling her a second time before leaving a voicemail. She would listen to it later. Or maybe tomorrow. It was a landline number. From an area code, she knew well. Yet, no one other than her aunt would have her mobile number, and if it was her aunt, the woman would have just texted or left a message online. Whoever this was, they could wait until tomorrow.

Deanna returned a few moments later with her bag swung over her shoulder. Ready?

Ruby looked around. Her bag was as bursting as her bin. How had one little desk held so much rubbish? Though she was glad to get most of it sorted. She could still come back in later if she missed anything, but there shouldn’t be anything important left in there now. She’d never really kept anything too important here anyway, only a few sentimental items. The pictures she’d had on her desk of friends and her deceased mother, weird little gizmos given by clients, and toys she’d added for decoration. They were all now squished in her handbag. They were things she genuinely wanted to keep. The rest would probably go in the bin, but as she no longer worked here, someone else could deal with it.

Ruby sighed as she moved to stand, stretching her back out before collecting the paperwork and cramming it into her bag. As much as she wanted to rip it up, it was a necessary document and one she would need for her files. Being a mature adult sucked. She was feeling her age today, in more ways than one.

They left the building soon enough, grabbing the bus. If there was one thing you could say about London, its transport system was pretty decent. Much better than where she grew up, anyway. Mind you, comparing the metropolis that was the country's capital versus a small town (masquerading as a city) in the northwest of the country probably wasn’t a fair thing to do.

Do you know what you’re going to do? Deanna asked when they’d reached their stop.

The bus stop was less than a three-minute walk from her building, with a tasty Indian takeaway between the two. The app beeped, telling her the order was ready. She held off answering as she went inside, quickly grabbing their order. It gave her a few more moments to think of an answer.

Not really, she finally answered when they were back outside.

Despite it being early November, the city wasn’t too cold, but after the heat of the takeaway, it was a slap to the face. A wake-up call she probably needed.

The job market is a mess. I’ve been looking further afield, but honestly, I’m not even sure I want to stay in design. Ruby entered the passcode to the building, holding the door open for her friend as they entered.

I thought you loved it? Deanna sounded alarmed.

Ruby flicked her gaze over to the other as they began climbing the steps. The building technically had a lift, but it was temperamental at best and after the day she’d had, didn’t fancy being stuck inside it. The three flights were easy enough to climb. Deanna was staring at her with concern, and Ruby wasn’t sure what to reply. Her instinct was to automatically reassure her friend, but at the same time, she didn’t have the energy to lie.

She jingled the keys in the lock until it finally caught, pushing the door open. The smell of the cat filled her nostrils. Ruby might love the little blighter, but it was not the best-smelling of creatures. She made a mental note to empty the litter box later. If she did get a new place, she needed to make sure they accepted pets.

Hey, Onyx, Ruby said in greeting. She set her bag down to scratch the animal.

Deanna smiled, taking the food over to the counter and getting the glasses. She'd been here often enough to know where they were.

I'm surprised he hasn't torn this place apart yet, her friend commented, referring to the cat.

Despite what her aunt had joked about, she’d fallen in love with the little pest before learning its name. A black cat she'd named Onyx. Her high school self would have been embarrassingly pleased about this development. Ruby hadn’t gone to the shelter with plans to take home an animal. She’d been feeling guilty about something or other, and decided to go on a volunteering kick.

It hadn’t gone well. Mostly because you needed to be vetted before you could become a volunteer and there was a long list of people before her. Despite the mess, she’d somehow come home with a new pet. Little Onyx stole her heart as he robbed the half-eaten sandwich from her bag. The rest, as they say, was history. Though she would prefer it if he'd stopped scratching at things.

Could you grab the cutlery? she asked, gesturing to the draw. I’ll grab the plates.

The two women soon sat down. A bottle of rosé and a small mountain of food between them. Truthfully, Ruby wasn’t that big a fan of the pink drink. She much preferred white. Deanna was mostly a red wine drinker, but the stuff tasted like literal vinegar to her. Over the years, they’d eventually settled on just getting a rose between them. Although she wasn’t the biggest fan of the taste, she did enjoy the ritual. The two shared stories of their lives and any gossip they’d heard. After a day like today, she needed the familiarity. The comfort.

If Ruby did move away, this would be another security blanket ripped from her. A thought she wasn’t keen to entertain, but something which bared considering. There was one place. One place she could go. Return to. A safety net which would keep her afloat. However, it was more of a last resort. Maybe it was childish to cling to her teenage pact to never return to the place. However, the idea of going back there, of going ‘home’... she shuddered. That place hadn’t felt like home when she had lived there. The idea of returning was not one she