Just Desserts by Barbara Bretton Page B

planet.”
    â€œCalm down. You’ve seen that guy on Food Network. If he doesn’t have a big enough pan, he builds one.”
    â€œHe knows how to weld, Michie! He practically has a machine shop attached to his bakery.” Hayley felt herself move another giant step closer to total meltdown. “What am I going to do? I promised I’d fax an idea to them today and I’ve got nothing!”
    â€œIt’s only seven in the morning,” Michie reminded her. “You have time.”
    â€œI have the dentist at nine, my annual at the gyno at ten thirty, and a retirement cake I need to finish this afternoon for Mrs. Ostrowsky at the bank. Not to mention the fact that the van broke down last night and needs a new transmission.”
    â€œDon’t forget Lois is taking over for me at noon today.”
    She groaned. “Which means I’d better make sure her prune Danish is our featured pastry.”
    â€œI can’t believe anyone still eats prune Danish.”
    â€œGoldy’s tradition,” Hayley said. “Prune Danish on Thursdays, baklava on Fridays, and blackout cake on Saturdays. Some things never change.”
    â€œBetter you than me,” Michie muttered. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
    â€œRight now my biggest problem is the fact that I need a cake pan the size of a VW.”
    â€œI’ve seen you think your way out of worse messes than this one. Remember the swans? Nobody makes a pan in the shape of a giant swan. You—”
    Hayley leaped to her feet and swept Michie into a hug. “That’s it!”
    The idea was so simple, so perfect, she wondered why it took her so long to see it. She grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and her marking pens and laughed out loud as the design sprang to life on the page as if by magic.
    Monster-sized decorated cookies mounted on padded wire frames, then covered with tinted rolled fondant would serve as the set of drums while ten perfectly matched triple-layer cakes gilded with gold and silver leaf would represent some of the gold and platinum records Tommy Stiles and the After Life had amassed during their long career.
    â€œI’ll get there extra early,” Hayley said, her mind racing. “I’ll need to talk to the hotel’s union rep and see if I can get the waitstaff to work up a flashy presentation for the cakes.” A darkened ballroom. Some After Life blaring from the speakers. The waitstaff entering from the back, cakes held high, sparklers shooting gold and silver in every direction.
    First there would be a long, awestruck silence that would be followed by cheers and stomping of feet and cries of “Baker! Baker!”
    Okay, maybe that was going a tad too far, but they would know her name before the evening was out. That much she was sure of.
    Michie, however, seemed uncertain. “The contract specifies a cake in the shape of a bass drum. They didn’t ask for a giant cookie.”
    â€œMichie, come on! They’re getting their cakes. The cookies are a bonus.”
    â€œBut they didn’t ask for cookies,” Michelle persisted. “They’re not expecting cookies. You can’t just whip out surprise cookies and expect them to be happy about it.”
    â€œAren’t you listening to me? They’ll get their cake and cookies too.”
    â€œMaybe you’d better fax them the new design and have them sign off on it.”
    â€œYou’re starting to sound like Lizzie.”
    Michie laughed out loud. “I wish! If I sounded like Lizzie, I’d be running my own company, not working part time in the family bakery for bingo money.”
    â€œOkay,” Hayley relented. “You might be right. I’ll scribble a quick note explaining the changes and fax over the plan. I think they’ll be okay with it, don’t you? I mean, they must like my work or they wouldn’t have driven all the way down to Lakeside.”
    â€œI