The Icing on the Cake

  Okay, he had a point there too. And he obviously wanted to tell me what had happened last night. Why couldn’t I just relax and let him? Instead, I reached for the handle of the door. Armando grabbed it first and opened it for me. I rushed inside, ready to be done with this. Just one more thing I needed to say.

  “Armando, listen, this is Hannah’s night. I really need to stay focused on her. Can we have this conversation another time? After the wedding, maybe?”

  “But it won’t take long to explain.” The door closed behind him. “You’re going to feel really bad when you hear where I was.”

  “I doubt it.” I glanced across the restaurant to see if I could locate the others. Ah yes, there they were. In the back on the left. The maître d’ approached, but Armando gestured for him to give us some time. Great.

  “Look . . .” He leaned in so close I could smell his cologne.

  Do. Not. Get. Distracted.

  I turned away from him toward my BFF, who glanced my way with a concerned look on her face.

  “After we met with Devon the other day—after I saw how bad off his mom is—I decided to ask a friend of mine if she had room at the halfway house called Sheltering Arms in South Houston.”

  “W-what?” I looked at him, confused.

  “Yeah. I don’t really call her Cynthia, though. I’ve always known her as Miss Cindy. I got to know her when I was staying at the men’s facility down the block. And by the way, she’s old enough to be my mom. Oh, and did I mention that she’s married to a pastor? They’ve been in ministry together for over thirty years.”

  I swallowed hard and felt my pride slither down my throat.

  “Anyway, I left the island and drove all the way to South Houston to see if she could get Devon’s mom into her program. We worked it out.” He put his hand on my arm. “She’s got room for her, so I set the whole thing up. Devon’s mom can check in as soon as she wants. We just have to talk her into it now, but I think Devon can do that. I plan to go by his place tomorrow afternoon after the wedding to give him some pointers for how to approach her. I really think we can make this work. I do.”

  Still, none of this made sense. “Why didn’t you just come back to the island and tell me all of this in person?”

  “I left Sheltering Arms at 5:45 to come back home, and I got caught in traffic. I wanted to call, but that’s when I realized I’d left my phone back at the facility. So I had to turn around and drive back to Houston to get it.”

  Well, that made sense. Sort of. “And then?”

  “Then . . .” He shrugged. “Then I got caught in even more traffic and didn’t make it to Miss Cindy’s place until an hour and a half later, which totally ruined my night. When I got there, she told me I’d missed a call. When I made the drive back to Galveston, I called you.”

  “I didn’t have any calls from you.”

  “Check your phone. The call went straight to your voice mail. You must’ve been on the phone with someone else at the time, but I definitely left a message.”

  I reached for it, anger setting in. How dare he say he’d called me?

  A quick glance at my phone sent a cold chill down my spine. I’d somehow overlooked the voice mail. His call had come through at the very same time I’d ratted him out to his sister. Ugh.

  “I even came by the church, but by then you guys were all gone.” He gestured for the maître d’ to seat us. “But I did catch Devon. He was walking home. Did you know he walks all the way?”

  “N-no.” I had no idea.

  “Yeah. I took him home and told him all about the program. He’s talking to his mom to see if she’ll do it. I prayed all the way home last night, and I have a real peace about it. Oh, and I think I’ve also got Devon convinced he should invite his mom to the talent show. She can do that first and then join the program. Might help her to see that her son is in good hands while she’s away.”

  Shame washed over me as I realized just how off base I’d been about Armando.

  We followed the maître d’, who led the way to the wedding party in the back of the room. I needed to shift gears now, to think only of Hannah. But my thoughts kept drifting back to what Armando had done for Devon. I’d totally misjudged him, and now I felt like a fool.

  I somehow made it through the dinner and was all smiles every time Hannah looked my way. I even managed to give a rousing maid of honor speech, though emotions grabbed hold of me and tears flowed a couple of times. By the time we left the restaurant, I was a mess. Emotionally, I was spent. Physically, even more so.

  Still, I had a wedding cake to decorate. How in the world could I do that now, with nothing left in me to give?

  Armando seemed more than a little concerned about my well-being. This I discerned from his ever-present hovering. He seemed especially worried as I headed out to my car. We stood under the overhead light as I fished for my keys. When I found the remote, I pressed it, and the locks on my Jeep clicked open.

  Still, Armando would not leave my side. “Scarlet, let me drive you back. You’re exhausted.”

  “That’s sweet, but I might need my car to make a run to the store.”

  “A run to the store? At this time of night?”

  “Yeah. I’m not going home, anyway. I’m going back to the bakery.”

  “At eleven o’clock on a Friday night?” He looked genuinely perplexed by this.

  “Yes.” I offered a nod, followed by a yawn. “I’m going to be up all night working on Hannah’s wedding cake. With everything going on, I didn’t make as much progress as I’d hoped. So I have no choice.”

  “Is Kenny helping you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “He promised to run the shop for me tomorrow so I can focus on Hannah, so I don’t want him to know I plan to stay up most of the night.”

  “At the bakery?” Armando looked alarmed. “You’re going to be there by yourself?”

  I nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s a safe area.”

  “A safe area? The Strand? In the middle of the night? Scarlet, you’re not going to do this alone. I’m going to come and help you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I put my hand up. “The cakes are baked and have the clear coat on them. They just need to be iced and decorated. Well, after I make the cream cheese frosting. Which will require a trip to the grocery store for cream. And cream cheese.” I glanced at my watch, wondering how long all of this would take.

  “I’m going to do all of that with you.” Armando’s pat on my arm brought me comfort. “There’s no way I’m letting you tackle all of this by yourself in the middle of the night.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He took my keys from me and opened the passenger door, ushering me inside. Once I settled into the seat, he leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. “And by the way, you look amazing tonight.”

  “I . . . I do?”

  “Yeah, that dress is perfect on you. Love the color with your eyes.” He traced my cheek with his finger. “I think Lucy would’ve approved.”

  That got a chuckle out of me. No doubt she would have. I’d stolen the design from her, after all.

  We stopped off at the store for cream and cream cheese, and then Armando drove me back to the bakery. We arrived at 11:35. He grabbed an apron and put it on, then tossed one my way.

  “Okay, where do we start?”

  “We . . .” I pulled the largest cake from the refrigerator and double-checked my milk supply for the frosting. “We have to start with the largest one. I plan to do a really cool scrolling design on this one but can’t start that until the cakes are frosted.” I yawned. “Which means we have to start by making the cream cheese frosting.”

  “I think we’ve already established that I’m pretty good at that.” He gave me a wink, and my heart took to fluttering.

  Yes, he was good at the sweet stuff, all right.

  He grabbed my largest bowl, opened the packages of cream cheese, and dumped them inside. “Where’s the recipe?”

  I fo
und it and we went to work, mixing and frosting alongside one another for the next couple of hours. Before long all four cakes were iced and scrolled, and I’d created some gorgeous gum paste flowers in varying shades and pressed them into their designated spots.

  I stood back and looked at what we’d created together. My heart wanted to sing at the sheer beauty of it all. Then again, I could barely think straight, let alone sing. And if I did sing, Armando would probably bring up that whole “you’ve got to sing at the fund-raiser” thing. No way was I going there. Not tonight, anyway.

  “We’ll wait to stack them until we get to the church tomorrow morning.” I paused and glanced his way. “You are going to the wedding, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not doing sound, but I’ll be there as a guest.” He smiled. “If you want the truth, I’m coming just to see how gorgeous you look in your dress. But don’t tell the bride. I’m sure she’ll look nice too.”

  Ugh. He would have to go there. That awful maid of honor dress.

  “Can you come by the shop at nine and take the cakes to Club Wed?” I asked. “I really need to spend the morning with Hannah.”

  “What time is the wedding again?”

  “Eleven o’clock.” My heart quickened as I realized it was now two in the morning. Not much time to sleep, awaken, shower, dress, and prep for the wedding.

  “Okay. I’ll come by at nine. What about Kenny?”

  “Kenny.” I paused as I spoke my assistant’s name. “He’ll be here running the shop. Can’t really expect him to load and stack cakes with only one arm.”

  “True. Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll get everything to the reception on time, I promise.”

  We finished putting the cakes into the walk-in refrigerator and then headed out to the front of the bakery for a cup of coffee. While filling the coffeepot, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrors behind the cases. The mixer had sprayed splatterings of cream cheese frosting into my hair. Go figure. Not that Armando seemed to notice . . . or care. Likely he would just call it all “accessorizing.”

  “I think this is going to be your best cake ever,” Armando said. “And I’m not just saying that because I helped.”

  I gave him a playful wink. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but I added an extra ingredient this time. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I used heavy whipping cream in the frosting instead of milk.”

  “Wouldn’t have known the difference, to be honest. But what would your aunt say about that?” Armando waggled a brow.

  A little sigh escaped. “She’s so by the book.” I thought about Aunt Willy, and an odd rush of fear gripped me. Reaching for my phone, I gave it a close look to see if perhaps I’d missed a call from her. Nothing. So strange. I would have to remember to call her in the morning to see if she planned to attend the wedding.

  “Is she a devout recipe follower or something?” Armando asked, clearly oblivious to my concerns about Aunt Willy’s MIA status.

  “What?” I put the phone away. “Oh yeah. She follows them to a T, which is kind of funny, because I’m more adventurous. I’ve always loved coming up with new concoctions. A little of this, a lot of that.” I chuckled. “You never know what you’re going to get when you make up recipes like I do, but sometimes you end up with something really great that no one else has thought of. Like my sticky buns, for instance.”

  “Love your sticky buns.”

  I did my best not to flinch and just smiled instead. The boy would never know my dirty little nickname. Not if I had anything to do with it.

  Armando drew close, a sly smile on his face. “So, if I’m understanding you correctly, sometimes you follow the recipe you’ve been given and the outcome is good. Other times you add a pinch of this and a dash of that, and you wind up with something so great that it takes your breath away.”

  “Right.”

  He pulled me into his arms, and my heart quickened. “Sometimes you take two things—or, in our case, two people—who don’t seem to go together, and throw them into the same bowl, and you end up with something better than anyone could’ve expected.” He followed these words with a tiny kiss on my cheek, which sent a delicious shiver through me, yummier than the frosting I’d sampled earlier.

  “Oh, now I see.” I did. I saw his boyish smile, his sparkling eyes, the little dimple to the right of those gorgeous, sexy lips. I saw the playful expression, the dark, wavy hair—hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. I saw the boy—no, the man—who had captured my heart. The same man who had come to my rescue not once but twice now—first on the cake challenge, and now on my BFF’s wedding cake.

  Cakes weren’t the only things he’d rescued, though. No, he’d rescued my heart, hadn’t he? Rescued it from mediocrity. Rescued it from being handed over to the wrong fella. He’d given it reason to sing.

  Sing.

  A little hum escaped my lips, and Armando grinned. “There you go again. Singing.”

  “Yeah.” I felt heat rush to my face. “Sorry. Just can’t seem to help myself.”

  “You go right on, you songbird, you.” He gazed into my eyes and smiled. “Glad to see I have that effect on you.”

  At once the little melody ended, and guilt washed over me. “Armando, I feel awful about what happened last night. Just goes to show that I shouldn’t have judged you.”

  “It’s okay. Totally understandable.”

  “Still, I know you better than that. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “From now on you can.” He winked and placed several tiny kisses on my cheek. “Mmm. You taste like sugar.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Take it any way you like.” He kissed me soundly on the lips—twice. I found myself a little giddy. Then again, with the smell of sugar in the air, I might be delirious.

  Yep, I was delirious, all right. In his arms, I realized the sweetness of his kisses were enough to send me on a sugar high that could very well last the rest of my life.

  “Do you realize how beautiful you are?” he whispered in my ear when the kiss ended.

  “I have cream cheese frosting in my hair and gum paste under my fingernails.”

  “Yes, I know.” He gave me a sexy little wink. “And you’ve never looked better.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “No, seriously. You’re in your element, and that’s one thing that makes you beautiful to me. You’re doing what you were created to do.”

  So are you. I wanted to say the words aloud but didn’t. He was doing the very thing I needed him to do right now—holding me steady. Being the anchor to my proverbial ship. Keeping my breathing under control.

  I leaned into him, and our lips met for another precious kiss.

  I heard a rap at the front door and looked up to see a Galveston County police officer standing there, mouthing the words, “Everything okay in there?” No doubt the man was worried, what with two frosting-covered fanatics standing in the bakery at two in the morning.

  I nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, and he headed down the street to keep a watchful eye on the other businesses.

  A little chuckle escaped me as I thought through the song now rising up inside my heart once again. Yes, everything was certainly okay inside of Let Them Eat Cake. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time when things had been better.

  21

  That Takes the Cake!

  I never met a cupcake I didn’t like.

  Author unknown

  On Saturday morning, as I prepped for Hannah’s wedding, I checked my phone once more to see if Aunt Willy had called. Nothing. I texted her, but she didn’t respond. Seemed a little strange. Usually she called me several times a day. I really would’ve expected her to call and ask how things were going. But she didn’t.

  So I called her. Oddly, she didn’t answer. This stirred my curiosity and, frankly, made me a little nervous. At this point I honestly gave a thought to calling 911 so that someone could check in on her. Maybe a drive up to Houston was
in order. Still, how could I leave with so much going on?

  Instead of panicking, I decided to call my mother. She was usually pretty good at panicking enough for the both of us.

  Mama answered on the fourth ring, sounding a little out of breath. “S-Scarlet. I was just jogging around the house.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “It’s that new Wii Fit thingie. I put the remote in my pocket and jog around the house. Trying to get back in shape.” She began a lengthy conversation about her cholesterol, which only served to get me more worried about Aunt Willy.

  “Mama, have you heard from Aunt Willy over the past couple days?”

  “No.” A couple of quick pants followed her words, and I could tell her jog continued in spite of our conversation.

  “And did you notice that she didn’t send out her promo email the other night? She’s never missed that. We always get those notices like clockwork.”

  Mama continued to huff and puff. “Actually, now that you mention it, I don’t recall seeing it.”

  “And doesn’t she usually call Dad at least once a day to complain about something? The weather? The price of gas? Some television pastor asking for her money? Anything. Everything.”

  “Yes.”

  “But she hasn’t called today?”

  “Hmm.” Mama paused and appeared to catch her breath. “Maybe she tried your daddy on his cell. Hang on a second, Scarlet. I’ll ask him.” She was gone for a minute, then returned, now sounding as concerned as I felt. “That’s odd. He says he hasn’t heard from her for three days.”

  Ack. A sick feeling came over me. “Mama, you don’t suppose . . .” I couldn’t say the words aloud, but they flitted through my mind.

  “I’ll give her a call. And if she doesn’t answer, I’ll have her assistant check on her.”

  “Ooo, that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m sure she’s okay, honey,” Mama said. “She’s just been really distracted since the television show. Maybe she’s resting. Or maybe she’s taking a little vacation or something.”