day Billy got to the Copley Mall early—stopping at Doubleday's to buy that new Renoir book—before heading to Bella Donna to check on her cakes for the jubilee. She'd finished them yesterday, and wanted to make sure they were safe and sound, their decoration pristinely intact. She also wanted to place candy leaves around all the edges, which she couldn't do until now, because if she had put the candy pieces on too early, moisture from the icing would have broken them up.
When she got to Bella Donna, she said hi to Des, who was cleaning the rotating pie case. "Is Donna here?" she asked.
"Yeah, up in her office, making the schedule for next week."
Nodding, Billy went to the back and crossed the pink tile to the walk-in freezer. She lifted the cover off the first cake, but the freezer was too dark to make anything out clearly, so she propped the door wider to let some light in. And then her jaw dropped.
Oh, no...
What happened?
Smeared icing—waves and sunset swirled together into a tye-dyed blob of pastels. Her stomach knotted as she scanned the cake in disbelief. This one was her favorite of the three, too. Sudden panic seized her chest, and she raced to the freezer to check on the others.
Damn it all! The other two cakes were also a mess; the trim was mashed and the images distorted. What the hell had happened? And what if she hadn't decided to come in and check on the cakes before the jubilee tonight?
Holding back frustrated tears, Billy sucked in a breath and tried to figure out what to do. First of all, it was suddenly clear what had happened: Someone must have been ambling around in the dark freezer, accidentally knocked over the stack of cakes, and not had the guts to own up to it. She was really disappointed at the thought, because she considered her coworkers friends. To give them the slight benefit of the doubt, whoever had done it surely hadn't realized the extent of the damage. A lot of good that did her—Jesus, what now?
Time to get it together and solve this mess. Of course, she could simply show Donna, who would undoubtedly suggest that Billy wipe off the frosting, recoat the cakes with white icing, and forget it. The defeatist in her might be tempted, but ultimately that wasn't how Billy wanted to handle this. She'd been excited about the sheet cakes; she'd spent the past few days slaving over them, and she wanted to present something special tonight. She didn't want to cop out with something generic.
At the same time, there was something about having to redo something you'd labored over that was more daunting and awful than simply starting a whole new project. Hmm...
Looking around the room, she caught sight of her little plastic Doubleday's bag, inside which was her new book on Renoir.
And suddenly she had an idea.
* * *
By the time Billy got to Churchill that night, she was wiped out and exhausted—not exactly an ideal feeling when you were about to cater a party. She definitely needed a cup of coffee before the Dessert Jubilee got under way. After spending hours slaving and redecorating, she'd managed a simplified but pretty re-creation of Les Grands Boulevards , which spread panoramic style across all three cakes. Obviously she was no threat to the art-forging world, but she still thought it was pretty impressive for cake.
As she walked down Main Street with a café mocha, she took in her surroundings, noting that Churchill was one of the cutest, coziest places she'd ever been. It had storybook charm, with cobblestone streets, wrought-iron street lamps, and sidewalks lined with maple trees. People strolled past the quaint boutiques, an old-fashioned bookshop, and a string of elegant little restaurants and bistros.
The plush expanse of green lawn that served as the town square was surrounded with thick foliage and benches, and right in the center was a statue of Mort Churchill—town father and famed dessert connoisseur. From what Billy understood, the annual Dessert Jubilee was a kind
When she got to Bella Donna, she said hi to Des, who was cleaning the rotating pie case. "Is Donna here?" she asked.
"Yeah, up in her office, making the schedule for next week."
Nodding, Billy went to the back and crossed the pink tile to the walk-in freezer. She lifted the cover off the first cake, but the freezer was too dark to make anything out clearly, so she propped the door wider to let some light in. And then her jaw dropped.
Oh, no...
What happened?
Smeared icing—waves and sunset swirled together into a tye-dyed blob of pastels. Her stomach knotted as she scanned the cake in disbelief. This one was her favorite of the three, too. Sudden panic seized her chest, and she raced to the freezer to check on the others.
Damn it all! The other two cakes were also a mess; the trim was mashed and the images distorted. What the hell had happened? And what if she hadn't decided to come in and check on the cakes before the jubilee tonight?
Holding back frustrated tears, Billy sucked in a breath and tried to figure out what to do. First of all, it was suddenly clear what had happened: Someone must have been ambling around in the dark freezer, accidentally knocked over the stack of cakes, and not had the guts to own up to it. She was really disappointed at the thought, because she considered her coworkers friends. To give them the slight benefit of the doubt, whoever had done it surely hadn't realized the extent of the damage. A lot of good that did her—Jesus, what now?
Time to get it together and solve this mess. Of course, she could simply show Donna, who would undoubtedly suggest that Billy wipe off the frosting, recoat the cakes with white icing, and forget it. The defeatist in her might be tempted, but ultimately that wasn't how Billy wanted to handle this. She'd been excited about the sheet cakes; she'd spent the past few days slaving over them, and she wanted to present something special tonight. She didn't want to cop out with something generic.
At the same time, there was something about having to redo something you'd labored over that was more daunting and awful than simply starting a whole new project. Hmm...
Looking around the room, she caught sight of her little plastic Doubleday's bag, inside which was her new book on Renoir.
And suddenly she had an idea.
* * *
By the time Billy got to Churchill that night, she was wiped out and exhausted—not exactly an ideal feeling when you were about to cater a party. She definitely needed a cup of coffee before the Dessert Jubilee got under way. After spending hours slaving and redecorating, she'd managed a simplified but pretty re-creation of Les Grands Boulevards , which spread panoramic style across all three cakes. Obviously she was no threat to the art-forging world, but she still thought it was pretty impressive for cake.
As she walked down Main Street with a café mocha, she took in her surroundings, noting that Churchill was one of the cutest, coziest places she'd ever been. It had storybook charm, with cobblestone streets, wrought-iron street lamps, and sidewalks lined with maple trees. People strolled past the quaint boutiques, an old-fashioned bookshop, and a string of elegant little restaurants and bistros.
The plush expanse of green lawn that served as the town square was surrounded with thick foliage and benches, and right in the center was a statue of Mort Churchill—town father and famed dessert connoisseur. From what Billy understood, the annual Dessert Jubilee was a kind
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