A Sheetcake Named Desire by Jacklyn Brady Page A

she’d given me over the years. I’d rebelled against most of them when I was a deeply unhappy teenager, but today it seemed like a good idea. Be assertive, I told myself, not aggressive. “I’d like to see it.”
    Her eyes darkened and her lips thinned. “It’s nothing important.”
    “Apparently, it’s important enough for you to try hiding it from me. What is it, Edie?”
    “Just a client file. No big deal.” She started to turn back to her computer, trying to dismiss me and end the conversation.
    I hesitated for a heartbeat. I wasn’t planning to stay here permanently, so I wondered just how important it was for me to establish my authority. But I was here on Miss Frankie’s behalf. If Edie was keeping secrets about the business, I needed to know. “I’d like to see it,” I said again.
    She scowled up at me. “Why?”
    I wasn’t going to let her put me on the defensive, so I countered with an offensive move of my own. “Maybe you should tell me why you’re trying so hard to hide it.”
    “I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m just doing my job.”
    “By making it impossible for me to do mine?” I held out a hand and wiggled my fingers. “Just hand it over, Edie. Save us both time.”
    With a heavy sigh, she tugged open the desk drawer and shoved the folder at me. “Fine. Have it your way. It’s no big deal. Just a client who’s refusing to pay his bill.”
    I chalked the moment up as a minor victory. “So why didn’t you want me to see it?”
    “He’s a very wealthy client with an even more wealthy and powerful father.”
    “Aren’t all your clients wealthy?” They had to be, considering the price tags I’d seen on the cakes in the design area.
    “Not this wealthy,” Edie said. “The Hightowers are old money and high society. Julian—the father—has taken the family money and invested it in real estate, businesses, sports teams, entertainment. You name it; they probably own it. Anyway, they’re a very big deal, and Philippe was really stoked about getting the contract for J. J.—the son’s—wedding.”
    I sat across from Edie and flipped open the folder. “So what’s the issue?”
    “It’s totally bizarre. The cake was amazing. Exactly what the couple asked for. But the groom,” Edie nodded toward the folder, “threw an absolute fit when Philippe delivered it. In front of three hundred guests. So what could have been the greatest boost to Zydeco’s reputation yet turned into a complete disaster. Three hundred rich potential clients now think that Zydeco is a half-baked operation. And J. J. Hightower is refusing to pay the balance due, which is a ton of money. It was an incredible cake.”
    I flipped through the file to acquaint myself with the order. Edie was right. The photos inside showed a stunning cake. Four tiers of milk-chocolate cinnamon cake covered in buttercream of the palest yellow. Sunflowers, also made of buttercream, cascaded from top to bottom, so beautifully sculpted that they appeared real. All for a measly seven thousand dollars. Geez, I could have lived on that for months. “It looks great. What’s his problem?”
    Edie raked her fingers through her hair. “J. J. claims we made a mistake on the cake. And before you ask, I don’t know what he thinks we did wrong. I tried calling him a few minutes ago, but he refuses to discuss it with anyone but Philippe.”
    My head shot up from the file. “Did you tell him that’s not going to be possible?”
    “They’ve been on their honeymoon. Just got back last night and apparently haven’t heard the news yet. I tried to explain, but J. J. hung up before I could tell him about Philippe.” Edie propped her chin in her hand. “The whole thing is a huge mess. I didn’t want Miss Frankie to hear about it until I could fix it. Our reputation has taken a huge hit. We can’t afford to take a hit financially, too. I mean, we could swallow the loss,” she said, “but first of all, I’m not sure that would