The Cakes of Wrath (6 page)

I shook my head. “None that would accept an invitation. Her sister isn't speaking to her either. I'm afraid that unless and until Edie works things out with her mother, nobody's going to cross the line those two have drawn in the sand.”

“Really? Hmmm. Well. We'll see about that.”

I knew the look on Miss Frankie's face and it made me nervous. “Don't even think about trying to patch things up between them,” I warned. “Their family issues are none of our business.”

Miss Frankie waved off my concerns with the flick of a wrist. “I'm sure that her mother will come around once she realizes how much Edie needs her.”

I was equally sure that Edie was going to kill me for telling Miss Frankie about her family issues. “No,” I said firmly. “You're not getting involved. It's a bad idea. Very bad.”

Miss Frankie stood and gathered her things. “Now don't you worry about any of this, Rita. I know what I'm doing. You said yourself that you wanted me to take over everything. Don't try to go back on our agreement now.”

I picked up my cup and trailed her from the room. “I mean it, Miss Frankie. Let them work it out themselves.” And then, in case she wasn't taking me seriously, I pulled out my secret weapon. “If you even try to get involved, I'll fire Pearl Lee so fast it'll make your head spin.”

But Miss Frankie just kept walking. She'd already stopped listening to me.

After Miss Frankie left, I joined the rest of the Zydeco crew in the design room, a spacious area with huge windows overlooking the employee parking lot and garden. It's easily my favorite room in the building, with its vaulted ceilings, brightly colored walls, and ample sunlight.

The first time I'd walked into the room, I'd wondered if I was dreaming. I'd sketched this area so many times in the early years of my career I could have drawn it with my eyes closed. Philippe had, of course, seen my designs when we were together. And he'd re-created my vision here at Zydeco. After we separated. Without me.

Through a strange trick of fate, I'd ended up with my dream shop and my dream staff. Half of them were quirky and creative friends from pastry school, the other half quirky and creative locals Philippe had hired when he opened Zydeco three years earlier.

One of my oldest friends was Wyndham Oxford III or, as we call him, “Ox.” He'd been Philippe's closest friend in pastry school, so I hadn't really been surprised to find him working at Zydeco last year. He's a tall man in his late thirties with creamy coffee skin and a smooth shaved head that reminds me of Mr. Clean. I'd given Ox creative control over our largest project that week, a massive cake sculpted to represent the eighteenth hole at a new golf course opening in Houma this weekend. He'd drawn and redrawn the plans until the clients were happy with the results, and he'd spent hours dividing up the work and charting a schedule for the staff to ensure delivery of a cake that would knock the clients' socks off.

That morning I found him at his workstation, hands planted on the stainless steel table in front of him, boring holes with his eyes into the sketches and notes scattered all over it. He looked worried—and that worried me.

I stopped in front of his table and waited for him to notice me. He glanced up after a moment and gave me a chin-jerk greeting. “You look like hell.”

I made a face and settled on a stool to relieve the ache in my back and legs. “Yeah? Well, you look concerned. Is everything okay?”

Ox nodded and swept the papers to one side. “Yeah. Fine. Just going over the schedule again to make sure I haven't missed anything.” He ran a look over me and said again, “Seriously, Rita. You look like hell. Shouldn't you be home? You know . . . healing or something?”

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” I said sullenly and then immediately felt like a jerk. Ox had only asked once, as had everyone else. I'd have done the same thing if any of them had turned up looking like I did. I flashed an apologetic smile. “I'm fine. A little sore, but otherwise ready, willing, and able to do my job. Did you and Dwight get that space on the dock cleared? People are supposed to start bringing donations this afternoon.”

Ox jerked his head toward the metal door that led outside. “You want to double-check what we did? Make sure it looks the way you want?”

Normally, I would have but the ache in my neck was getting worse and spreading into the base of my skull. “What's to double-check? I'm sure it's fine.” I glanced around the room, taking in the activity buzzing in every corner, pleased to see that everyone was working.

Near the kitchen, Dwight Sonntag—another friend from pastry school—bent low to study the massive stacked cake. Twelve tiers of spicy Italian plum sheetcake held together with layers of chocolate mocha buttercream, all just waiting for Dwight's artistic endeavors with a serrated knife to turn it into rolling hills, water hazards, and sand traps. He scratched at the beard guard covering his scraggly brown whiskers and shaved a fraction of an inch from one corner of the top tier. Dwight is unkempt and his wardrobe leaves a lot to be desired, but his attention to detail when he's decorating is unmatched. He has undeniable talent.

Kitty-corner from him, Estelle crumb-coated a four-tier round cake that would eventually pass itself off as a tuxedo, an opening night cake for a local actor who'd landed the biggest role of his career. Estelle's red curls spilled out from beneath her bright green kerchief, and she laughed occasionally at the nonstop monologue coming from “perkier than anyone ought to be” Isabeau.

On the short side of twenty, Isabeau bounced around the workroom in a pair of blindingly white Keds and a red skirt so short it looked like it belonged in a cheerleading catalog. She'd paired the skirt with a white twin set. The only thing missing from her high school football game look were the bobby socks.

In the far corner—the only part of the room that the sunlight never reached—Sparkle Starr chewed one black-painted lip as she sculpted off-white gum paste into a cover for a tiny golf cart she'd molded earlier out of Rice Krispies treats and then covered with fondant.

Everyone seemed happy and productive, which was a good thing. “Do you still want me to work on those petunias?” I asked. “Or would you rather have my help on the golf course?”

Before Ox could answer, the door to the reception area flew open with a bang and Edie appeared. She gripped both sides of the door frame and glared around the room. “Rita?”

I could tell she hadn't seen me yet, and I had a sinking feeling I knew what had put that look on her face. I had the childish urge to duck behind Ox's table but I managed to ignore it. I was trying to earn the staff's respect, and hiding from a confrontation didn't seem like the right way to go about it. I gave Edie a little wave and sang out, “I'm over here, Edie. Is there a problem?”

She strode across the room. “You're damn right there's a problem. Guess who just showed up to help with the collections for the neighborhood cleanup? Guess who says you invited her to help out?”

Yep. Trouble. I glanced toward the door to make sure Destiny hadn't followed Edie. “I can explain—”

“Is that true? Did you
ask
her to help?”

“Of course not! Moose asked me to let her help. That's what we were talking about when that van came around the corner. I tried to say no, but it wasn't that easy. And then, after he saved my life, what was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe bake him a cake to say thank you?” Edie put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “You can't seriously expect me to work with that woman all afternoon—and I use the word
work
loosely. She won't do anything except take up space and get in the way.”

“You don't know that,” I said. “She might actually be helpful.”

Edie lowered her hand so she could shoot me a death ray. “She's wearing a pair of shorts that will expose everything she has if she moves an inch. Those boobs of hers will come tumbling out if she bends over. And I'm pretty sure she's high on something.”

That surprised me. I glanced at the door again. “What makes you say that?”

Edie shot me an evil grin. “Why don't you come and see for yourself?”

Putting the petunias on hold for the time being, I followed Edie back into the front of the house. It was empty. No sign of breasts or other jiggling body parts anywhere and only a faint whiff of Destiny's perfume. I almost sighed with relief but then I heard a noise coming from my office and Edie's evil grin morphed into a furious scowl.

She pushed past me and hurried through the door. “Destiny! What do you think you're doing?”

I could hear Destiny's voice, but I couldn't make out her reply.

“I told you to wait out here,” Edie snapped. “This is Rita's private office. You have no business being in here.” She turned back to me and muttered, “Some people. Can't trust them to do anything. I hope you're happy.”

“Don't worry about her,” I said quickly. “I'll have her work with me. You won't even know she's here.”

Edie laughed through her nose. “Unbe
liev
able.” She glanced at Destiny again and went back to her desk mumbling, “Have fun with that.”

After a few seconds, Destiny strolled out of my office and into the reception area, blinking in the sudden glare of sunlight. Her hair was even more tousled than usual and her eyes were heavy. She made a sluggish effort to look excited, a far cry from how she'd looked only a few hours earlier. “Rita! I was just looking for you,” she said in a voice so slurred and thick it sounded like she had marbles in her mouth. She dragged the strap of her purse onto her shoulder, but it slipped down again and she didn't seem to notice.

For the first time all morning, I got to ask the question of the day. “Are you all right?”

She laughed and took a couple of uneven steps toward Edie's desk. “I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm so glad you're letting me do this. I wanna make Moose proud of me.”

“I'm sure he's proud already,” I assured her, although I was almost positive that if I'd put “worn out by crazy wife” and “proud of wife's accomplishments” on a scale, the weary Moose would have won easily. “It's a little early,” I said. “I wasn't expecting you until one o'clock. We're not quite ready for volunteers yet.”

Destiny put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oops! Am I in trouble?”

Edie snorted again and turned away.

Which just made me want to show her how wrong she was. “Trouble?” I said with a friendly smile for Destiny. “No. It's just that I have some work to do before we can get started.”

Destiny pulled the hand away from her mouth and flapped it around. “Oh, that's okay,” she slurred. “I can wait right here. Edie and I can catch up.”

“Over her dead body,” Edie muttered.

I'm not sure Destiny heard her, but I got the message loud and clear. “Edie's really busy,” I said. “Why don't you help me with some of the plans for this afternoon?”

I took Destiny by the arm and started walking her slowly toward the employee break room. She staggered a little and nearly ran into the wall. Okay, so maybe Edie was right. I wasn't sure what to do with someone who was so obviously under the influence. I didn't have time to babysit her, but I couldn't just let her wander around Zydeco on her own and I wouldn't feel right sending her out onto the street. She might be used to trolling the neighborhood in this condition, but I could almost hear Aunt Yolanda paraphrasing from the Bible in my ear, “Shut your ears to someone in need and God won't hear you when you're asking for help.”

That wasn't a risk I was willing to take. I just hoped God wouldn't notice how much I resented having to devote attention to the woman in obvious need when I had so many other things I should be doing. I couldn't smell alcohol over her flowery cologne, so I had to assume she'd taken some kind of narcotic. In that case, would coffee help or just make things worse? Would it sober her up, or just wind her up?

I steered her toward a chair in the break room and put on a pot of coffee just in case.

She propped her chin in her hand and watched me. “You're nice, Rita.”

I turned, surprised, and rummaged up a smile. “Thanks.”

“I'm real sorry about what happened to you last night.”

“Thanks. Me, too. I haven't had a chance to check on Moose. He didn't get hurt, did he?”

Destiny shook her head. “Naw. He's like a rock.” She laughed softly and repeated, “Like a rock. Dumb as one, too, sometimes.”

I blinked a couple of times as I tried to convince myself I'd heard wrong. “I'm sorry? I missed that.”

Destiny grinned up at me. “Hey, I love the man. He's got a heart as big as . . . something really big. But sometimes he's one beer short of a six-pack, if you know what I mean.”

Yeah? I'll bet I knew where the other five had gone. Moose had been nothing but nice to me, and my hackles rose in his defense. “That's a horrible thing to say,” I told her. “He seems like a great guy.”

Her arm wobbled and dropped to the table. Her head landed beside it, and she grinned up at me from behind a curtain of hair. “You want him? Go ahead.”

“That's not what I meant!” I sat beside her and decided to stop dancing around the big pink elephant in the room. “What are you on, Destiny?”

She lifted her head and stared at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it's pretty obvious you're either drunk or high. Your words are slurred, you can barely sit up, and you're talking crazy. What did you take?”

Very slowly and carefully, she rose to her feet and glared down at me with as much dignity as she could muster. Which wasn't much. “You don't know what you're talking about. I took something for a headache, that's all.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Some headache. I stood to face her. “I know you were excited about helping with the collection this afternoon, but you can't do the work in this condition. I'm going to take you back to the Chopper Shop now. Maybe you can help out on another project.”

I reached for her arm, but she jerked away from me so fast she almost lost her balance again. “I'm fine. You just don't want me here.”

There might have been some truth in that, but not the way she meant it. “I'd be happy to have you be part of the team, but clearly you're not feeling well today.” Okay, so I fudged a little on the “happy to have you” part. But the rest was entirely truthful.