The Cakes of Wrath (24 page)

Sparkle had spent hours painting a beach scene on the cake, and now half of it was just a big smear of blue, aqua, and tan. Rows of tiny beading designed to mimic a sash on the bride's dress, so intricate it had kept Isabeau working through lunch for two days in a row, were gone.

I felt a little sick as I assessed the damage. Ox, it seemed, felt even worse.

He dropped onto a stool and put his head in his hands. “This is bad,” he groaned. “I don't know how it happened, but I screwed the whole thing up. There's no way we can deliver this cake to the client in the morning.”

Dwight put the mangled top tier on a nearby table and handed me a towel. “We'll figure it out,” he said. “We've fixed worse than this.”

At least, that's what I think he said. His last words were cut off by the sound of running feet and a high-pitched screech as Isabeau burst into the tight circle we'd made around the cake.

Her blond ponytail swished from side to side and she clapped both hands over her mouth. She stared at the cake with wide blue eyes and let out a little moan as she slowly pulled her hands away. “What
happened
?”

Ox put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently.
“
I'm sorry, babe. I lost control of the cake. The ladder . . .” He was still at a loss to explain, and I hadn't been paying attention so I was no help at all. “Rita and Dwight tried to save it,” he said, and broke off with an elaborate shrug, letting the cake speak for itself.

I felt like a complete jerk and gave myself a mental kick for letting my mind wander. What if I had been paying attention? Could I have saved the cake? I really needed to get my head in the game. My inattention might have just cost everyone hours of unnecessary work.

Tears shimmered in Isabeau's eyes, but she took a deep breath and blinked a few times to clear them away. “So we have to do all that again.”

“I'm afraid so,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Dwight assured me.

I gave him a grateful smile, but he was being far too kind.

“We have to redo that whole thing by eight in the morning?” Sparkle had returned, too, and now she moved into the circle we made. “There's no way we can do that. Do you know how many hours it took to paint it the first time?”

“Nobody feels worse about this than I do,” Ox said, “but I'm afraid it's going to be an all-nighter. We can't just fail to show up because we had some bad luck. There's a couple getting married in the morning and they're expecting a cake.”

“He's right,” I said. “It's a pain, and I'm sorry, but we don't have any choice. It won't be so bad if we all stay to help. Dwight, can you stack another tier? Estelle can crumb-coat it and then get started mixing the buttercream.”

Dwight had already removed his hair and face nets sometime while I wasn't paying attention. He nodded gamely and started putting them back on. “Do we have three more lemon mist cakes in the cooler?”

“I sure hope so,” Ox said. “But if we don't, we'll just have to substitute with whatever we do have and knock something off the price to compensate.”

I hated the compromise, but I knew he was right. The clients wouldn't be happy with a substitution, but they'd be even more upset with no cake at all.

Ox turned toward the kitchen. “I'll see what I can find and I'll let you know.”

Still trying to dodge barbs of guilt, I looked at the rest of my staff, who were watching me with expressions ranging from mild irritation at the inconvenience to heartbreak over their lost work. I would have given anything for a chance to undo the damage, or send them all home and fix it myself, but both options were impossible.

So I did the next best thing. “I know this puts a kink in everyone's plans, but I'll bring in dinner for everyone who stays. It's not much, but it's the least I can do. What sounds good? Let's make it something local so I don't waste time driving across town.”

My question didn't exactly earn a rousing response, but Ox tossed out a few suggestions and everyone else did the same. After agreeing on Chinese from the Golden Dragon and phoning in our order, Edie and I set off together to pick up the food. We walked slowly because we had to for Edie's sake. Her doctor encouraged her to get a little mild exercise, but the pace she set had me chomping at the bit, wanting to hurry so I could get back and do my share of the work.

Dwight's questions from the night before rolled through my mind as we walked. I knew Edie was feeling edgy thanks to Sparkle's well-meaning interference, but what if Dwight was right? What if she decided to bail on us when the baby came? Didn't I deserve a heads-up? Didn't the rest of the staff deserve an easy transition?

I eased into the subject by asking about her most recent doctor's appointment, the day before.

“Nothing's changed,” she said with a frown. “But I feel fine. I don't know why Dr. Simpson insists on treating me as if I'm about to break.”

“She just doesn't want you to take any chances with the baby,” I said. “But in your case, no news is good news, right? You're no closer to going into premature labor or whatever?”

Edie shook her head, but she put her hands on her back and arched her spine slightly.

I shot a concerned look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she said impatiently. “I'm pregnant, not sick. I wish everyone would stop treating me like I'm fragile.”

“Okay,” I said with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I don't mean to hover. Have you decided whether to stay in your apartment or get a bigger one?”
Like, say, a few rooms in your parents' house?

She shook her head. “I haven't decided yet, but I've got time. I'll probably keep the baby in my room at first anyway, so there's no rush.”

I nodded and fell silent while trying to figure out how to ask what I really wanted to know.

Edie kept sliding glances at me as if she had something to say. She spoke up first. “You have to do something about Sparkle,” she said eventually. “She's driving me absolutely nuts.”

I knew I had to tread cautiously. “I know it doesn't feel like it to you, but she really is just trying to be helpful.”

“She's being a pain in the butt. You've seen what she's like. She's been just plain weird lately.”

We stopped at a corner and waited for a car blasting a heavy bass beat to pass before I spoke again. “Has she told you why this is such a big deal to her?”

Edie looked up at me, her almond-shaped eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Something about her childhood. Her mother. No father. Blah, blah, blah. Look, I know that sounds awful, but I've had to start tuning her out so I won't go crazy. I'm sorry for her. I really am. But her family junk doesn't give her the right to tell me what to do with my baby.”

I didn't want to take sides in this argument. They both had valid points. But I had to say something, so I asked, “What exactly is Sparkle saying to you?”

Edie waved a hand in front of her. “Oh, you know. The same kinds of things my mother says. That I should get married. That I should at least make the baby's father part of our lives. I should, I should, I
should
. I can't stand the way everyone thinks they know what I
should
do. They don't have a clue what I'm going through.”

I took another very cautious step. “Maybe if they did have a clue, they'd be more understanding.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that if they don't know the circumstances, how can they understand the choices you're making?”

“The circumstances are nobody's business but mine. But you'd never know that to hear Sparkle talk. She actually asked me for the father's name so
she
could talk to him.”

I let out a disappointed sigh.
Bad idea, Sparkle. Really bad idea.
“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. What could I tell her?” Edie gave me a suspicious look. “What did you want me to tell her?”

“Nothing. But . . . Look, I'm not saying you need to broadcast your situation to the whole world, but your friends might be more supportive than you think. I had no idea what you were going through until you told me.”

“And apparently that was a mistake.”

“No!” I put a hand on her arm. “I haven't said a word to anyone, and I won't. But if Sparkle understood the situation, I'm sure she'd back off. A little information can make a big difference. That's all I'm trying to say.”

Edie stared at me for one long and thoroughly awful moment. “So until I told you, you agreed with her and my mother? You thought I should find the baby's father and drag him into the middle of all this?”

“That's not what I said.”

Edie stopped walking abruptly right in front of a dark alley that stretched from one end of the block to the other. One dim light burned at the far end of the alley and a bulb glowed over the back entrance to the Chopper Shop. Everything else seemed deserted. I suppressed a shiver of apprehension and tried not to get caught up in thoughts of Destiny's murder and the recent strange happenings at Zydeco.

“So . . . what? You think I can't do this on my own? You think I need a man around to help me?”

Now she was purposely misunderstanding me. Out of respect for her raging hormones, I tried to stay calm but it wasn't easy. “I didn't say that either.”

“Well, here's a news flash for you, and Sparkle,
and
my parents: I don't need help. I'm doing just fine on my own. You can all just
back off
.” She turned back in the direction we'd come and walked away.

“Edie, that's not what I said!”

She waved a hand over her head and kept going. I stood there for a minute, debating whether to go after her or give her some space so she could cool off. It wasn't a difficult choice. She'd made it clear that she wasn't interested in excuses or explanations, and I wasn't in the mood to beg her to be reasonable. She wasn't the only one going through a tough time.

With a sigh of frustration, I turned toward the Golden Dragon. I was going to have to carry food for the whole staff back to Zydeco on my own, and I wasn't happy about it. As I started walking, I heard the scuff of a shoe on pavement in the alley and for a split second thought maybe Edie had changed her mind and come back.

But instead, as I turned to look, something hit me from behind. Pain shot up my shoulder and across my neck. My knees buckled and I let out a cry of pain. A second blow landed on my shoulder, knocking me off balance. I stumbled forward, trying desperately to keep myself upright even as I saw the pavement rushing toward my face. I heard something metal hitting the pavement somewhere near my head, and then for the second time in a week, everything went black.

• • •

I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up to the soft touch of a hand on my cheek and a worried voice calling my name. I tried to open my eyes, but pain seared my head and I couldn't manage more than a slit before the light made the pain worse.

“Oh! Thank God!” I heard the voice say. “I was afraid you were dead.” The warm touch left my cheek and I felt someone take my hand. “Squeeze if you can hear me.”

I did my best, but it hurt like hell.

“Good. That's good. I've called for help, so just lie there until someone comes, okay? I don't dare try to move you. I don't think I'm strong enough.”

Very slowly, I focused on the face swimming in front of me. It seemed to take forever for Edie's face, her waterfall of dark hair, and her worried expression to take shape.

“What happened?” I croaked.

“I don't know. I was on my way back to apologize. I found you lying here.”

“Somebody hit me,” I said on a groan. “I don't suppose you saw who it was?”

Edie shook her head and gently brushed hair away from my eyes. “I didn't see anything or anybody. Can you see me okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”

I squinted until I could see her hand in the dim light. “Two.”

“Now?”

“Still two. Seriously, Edie, that's making me feel worse. Can we just not talk for a minute?”

“But I'm supposed to keep you awake, aren't I?”

“I don't know.”

“I think I am. I think I read that with a head injury you have to make sure the injured person doesn't fall asleep. Can you remember your name?”

“Rita Lucero. Now please stop worrying so much.”

“I can't. Are you really okay?”

I would have nodded, but I thought it might make my head fall off. “As okay as I can be.” Slowly, details about the attack began to return. My head was pounding, but my shoulder and back had taken the brunt of the impact—lucky for me.

I inched up onto my elbow and looked around into the shadows. “Do you see a pipe or something metal anywhere? I think that's what he used. Maybe the police will be able to get some fingerprints from it.”

Edie got to her feet and made a circle around me. “There's nothing like that here. Are you sure that's what he used?”

“I think so.” I managed to sit, but I cradled my head in my hands as if that might stop the splitting headache. “I heard something metal hit the ground. I'm sure of that.”

Wasn't I? I groaned and closed my eyes again. Yep. This was, without a doubt, a very bad week. I couldn't wait for someone to figure out what was going on so this whole nightmare would be over.

But I was also very aware that I was lucky to be alive. And I wondered if I'd be so lucky next time.

Edie stayed with me until the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance for what was turning into my weekly ride to the emergency room, but I wouldn't let her accompany me to the hospital. The staff still had a cake to fix—without me—and they still needed dinner. Dwight came to drive Edie to the Golden Dragon and I went to the hospital alone. I didn't even want to think about what this was going to cost, but when I wasn't feeling sorry for myself or trying to remember something about the attack, money was all I could think about. I'd managed to find group coverage for Zydeco's small staff, and I was paying through the nose to include maternity coverage for Edie. Individual policies, like mine, had a high deductible and distressingly low payout ceiling. I had no idea how many acts of violence the policy would cover. I'd never thought to ask.

For the next three hours, I answered questions for hospital staff and then for a couple of uniformed police officers before submitting to examinations by nurses and other support personnel. After another lengthy wait, a doctor looked me over and assured me I would live. She sent someone in to bandage my shoulder, asked me a few questions about the prescriptions I'd been given just a few days earlier, and finally wrote me a couple of new prescriptions before telling me I could leave.

As the doctor was leaving the examination room, I overheard one of the uniformed officers telling her that Detective Winslow was on his way. Apparently he wanted “a few words” with me and had asked that the emergency room staff keep me there until he arrived.

I didn't know if they could legally detain me, but regardless, it wasn't going to happen. I was
so
not in the mood for a conversation with Winslow. I wouldn't put it past him to accuse me of attacking myself.

Determined to get out of Dodge and avoid what I knew would end up as an inevitable charge of assault on a police officer, I shut the door and tried to undo the ties on my hospital gown. Pain tore through my shoulder and raced down my back when I reached behind me. My knees buckled and I cried out, but I grabbed the railing on the bed and managed to stay on my feet. I took a couple of deep breaths and waited for the worst of the pain to subside. Then, fighting back tears, I worked first one arm and then the other out of the sleeves and slowly inched the gown around so the ties were in the front.

I'd just managed to untie the bottom bow when I heard loud voices and rapid footsteps outside my room. I froze and stared at the door like a deer in headlights. A moment later the door flew open and Miss Frankie burst inside. Pearl Lee surged inside right behind her.

I was weak with relief to see them instead of Detective Winslow, but I was also irritated by the invasion of privacy. I clutched the edges of the robe together. “Do you mind? I'm getting dressed! How did you get in here anyway?”

Pearl Lee closed the door behind her quickly. Miss Frankie took one look at the bandage on my shoulder and clapped her hands over her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes and a sob caught in her throat. I hated seeing her so worried, and as my initial irritation faded a little, it occurred to me that their arrival could be a blessing in disguise. With their help, I might be able to get dressed and slip out before Detective Winslow showed up.

“Stay there,” I ordered Pearl Lee as I picked up my jeans from the chair. “Don't let anyone in.”

“Oh, sugar, just
look
at you,” Miss Frankie said, automatically stepping forward to help me. “I didn't believe Ox when he called. I thought he was playing some kind of joke.”

Even with another pair of hands, it took forever to get into my pants and fasten them. “When did Ox call you?” I asked as we worked. I'd been in the ER for hours, after all.

She looked around the room, spotted my shirt, and reached for it. “It's been a while,” she said. “They kept us waiting in there forever and nobody will tell me anything. How on earth did you get hurt?”

“Edie and I were going to pick up dinner for the staff,” I said. “Somebody hit me. That's about all I remember until Edie woke me up and called for help.” Okay, so I left out a few things. I didn't want to burden Miss Frankie with the gory details about our argument.

Pearl Lee had been studying her manicure, but as I spoke, she glanced up with a horrified look in her dark eyes. “My goodness! Where did it happen?”

“We were on our way to the Golden Dragon. It happened at the end of that alley that runs behind Second Chances and the Chopper Shop.”

Miss Frankie scowled as she worked my shirt over one arm and then the other. “That certainly seems to be a dangerous area. Did you see who attacked you?”

“No. I heard footsteps and I started to turn around. That's the last thing I remember.”

“But Edie saw, right?” Pearl Lee asked. She gasped before I could answer and asked, “Is
she
all right? Was she attacked, too? What about the baby?”

“She and the baby are fine,” I assured them both. “Can we talk about this later? I'd really like to get out of here.”

Looking confused, Miss Frankie stopped working entirely. “Edie was there?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “She was on her way back to Zydeco when I was attacked.”

“But you said she woke you up,” Pearl Lee said helpfully.

“She did.” I checked the clock on the wall and realized that twenty minutes had passed since I'd found out that Winslow was on his way. “It's complicated. I'll explain everything later. I just need my shoes and my bag.”

Miss Frankie bent to pull my shoes from beneath the chair. “So you don't know who hit you.”

“No, but I can guess who it was.” I met Pearl Lee's wide-eyed gaze, hoping to see a flash of guilt or even just the realization that she was at least partially responsible for my current condition. “Scotty Justus got all up in my face yesterday at lunch. Tonight, somebody attacked me just a few feet from the Chopper Shop. It doesn't take much to connect the dots.”

Miss Frankie looked shocked. “You think Scotty Justus attacked you?”

Pearl Lee's wide eyes narrowed, and the concern in them turned to ice. So much for sympathy. “That's a very serious accusation,” she said. “Did you actually
see
him?”

I rolled my eyes. They were the only part of my body that didn't hurt. “I didn't see him or anyone else,” I said again, and I tried to get my shoes from Miss Frankie without moving my shoulder. “But that doesn't mean he didn't do it.”

Miss Frankie handed over my shoes one at a time. Slowly. “But
why
would he?”

“It's complicated,” I said again. “Would you mind grabbing my bag?”

Miss Frankie nodded absently. “I'm sure you know best, sugar.” She looked over at Pearl Lee and explained, “Rita's very good at figuring out things like this. If she says it was Scotty, it probably was.”

I could see Pearl Lee wanting to argue, but if she did that, Miss Frankie would probably guess what she'd been doing with her time. Frankly, I thought their relationship could benefit from a little honesty. “Well, I'm almost positive it was Scotty,” I said. “Unless he has an alibi. What do you think, Pearl Lee? Does he have one?”

Pearl Lee laughed. “Oh, Rita, how would I know that? I'm not even sure I know who you're talking about,” she said, while boring a hole through my skull with her eyes. “But then, I've met so many new people since I arrived, it's impossible to remember them all.”

Miss Frankie gave me an odd look. “Are you sure you're all right, Rita? You're behaving strangely. How could Pearl Lee possibly know whether or not this Scotty person has an alibi for the time of your attack?”

I planned to answer that question . . . later. “Let's finish this conversation in the car,” I said. “I'm tired and more than ready to get out of here. Would you mind giving me a ride back to my place? My car is still at Zydeco.”

Miss Frankie put a gentle hand on my back and steered me toward the door. “I won't close my eyes for a second if you're alone. You're coming home with me.” I started to protest, but she cut me off before I could get a word out. “Don't even think about arguing with me, Rita. You're staying with me for the next few days and that's final. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

I wanted to curl up in my own bed in my own house, but my head was swimming, and getting dressed had left me with a thick shaft of pain pulsing through my shoulder. Maybe she was right, I conceded reluctantly.

“If you insist,” I said. “I have my prescriptions, so there's nothing keeping me here. Let's go.”

In an actual effort to be helpful, Pearl Lee opened the door with a flourish. I poked my head out into the hall and did some reconnaissance. I spotted a couple of women in scrubs behind a desk at the end of the corridor, but other than that, the hall was empty.

Miss Frankie came up behind me. “Why don't you wait here for someone to bring you out in a wheelchair? I'll bring the car around.”

In the interest of getting out of there quickly, I refrained from arguing. “That's a great idea,” I said, even though I had no intention of sticking around. I did, however, like the idea of a getaway car waiting for me at the front door.

Miss Frankie hurried off, leaving me alone with Pearl Lee. As soon as Miss Frankie turned the corner, I started after her. Pearl Lee fussed a little, but I guess she could tell that I meant business. She finally settled down and offered me a shoulder to lean on, putting an arm around my waist to help steady me.

“He didn't do this to you, you know. Scotty's not a violent person.”

“Oh, so
now
you know who he is?” I laughed bitterly. “Are you for real?”

Pearl Lee merely shrugged. “Don't judge me. You can't possibly understand the life I've lived.”

“You're right about that,” I said. “I don't know why you insist on defending him. You didn't see his face when he barged into Rubio's.”

“He was upset. Surely you can understand that.”

I twisted to look at her and barely suppressed a cry at the pain that caused. The pain and frustration brought me to the end of my rope with cousin Pearl Lee. I checked up and down the hall to make sure Detective Winslow wasn't coming toward us and then unloaded on her.

“Okay, Pearl Lee, I want you to listen to me and listen good. I've been putting up with your crap for almost a week and I've had enough. I understand now why your family decided to put you on a short leash.”

Her mouth fell open and anger bubbled up into her eyes but I didn't care.

“I'm no good at having conversations like this, Southern belle style,” I said. “So we're going to do this the Mexican way. No more mincing words. No more dropping pretty hints and hoping you'll understand me. I'm going to say exactly what I mean, and you need to know that I mean what I say. You are through lying to Miss Frankie as of right now. Either you tell her the truth about what you've been doing since you got here, or I will. Is that clear?”

Tears shimmered in Pearl Lee's eyes. “Rita, I don't know what I've done to upset you—”

I cut her off before she could finish. “Save it. You know exactly what you've done. But it ends now. Tonight. As for Scotty: You go right ahead and think that he's Mr. Wonderful. I reserve the right to disagree. I think the man is a psychopath.”

“Well, you couldn't be more wrong.”

“Whatever. If he did this to me, if he killed Destiny, I'm going to do everything I can to put him in prison for the rest of his life.”

Pearl Lee did her best to give me a pouty face in spite of all the Botox. “You're going to feel mighty foolish when the truth comes out.”

“I'm sure one of us will,” I said. “I just hope we're both alive to figure out which one.” And then I limped away from her with as much dignity as I could muster.

She stood there until I was about halfway to the other end of the hall and then slowly came after me. I didn't know what she'd do with my ultimatum, but I'd drawn the line in the sand and I had every intention of following through with my threats. If she didn't come clean with Miss Frankie, I'd do it for her. Let the chips fall where they may.

As for Scotty, putting him behind bars might be a bit more difficult, but I sure meant to try.