by Linda Seed
“Okay. I still need to wrap up the cakes and get them into the freezer,” Cassie said. “But they need to cool completely first. How about if I drive you home and come back in a bit to finish up?” She looked at Brian, who was still lounging on the sofa. “Is that okay with you?”
“Sure.” He waved from where he was sitting. “Bye, Lacy. Trevor. Good to meet both of you.”
“You too.” Lacy, weighed down with her child and her diaper bag, waved back with two fingers, which were the only parts of either hand she had free.
When Cassie and Lacy were in the car, with Trevor strapped into his car seat in the back, Lacy shifted in the passenger seat to face Cassie more fully. “I think you’re right about the harmless goofball thing. I’m not worried about you coming back later.”
“Neither am I.” Cassie pulled away from the curb and started the short drive to Lacy’s house. “He’s fine. He’s actually pretty nice.”
“And cute,” Lacy said. “Don’t forget cute.”
“You think?” Cassie wrinkled her nose.
“Why? You don’t?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She considered it. “The thing is, I’ve always known him as one of the two knuckleheads on the Ike and Brian show. Now I’ve got to think of him as a real person. I’m still making the transition.”
“I get that. But, I’ve got to tell you, as someone who’s never seen the Ike and Brian show? He’s cute. Objectively, actually cute. For what that’s worth.”
“What, are you trying to fix us up now?”
“No. I’m just saying.”
As Cassie drove, she considered Brian’s objective cuteness. Dark, wavy hair. Blue eyes. Thick-framed glasses that were kind of geek chic. And his smile. The smile was vaguely mischievous, as though whatever amusing thing he might be thinking was also a little bit scandalous.
“Yeah, okay. He’s objectively cute,” she agreed.
“I didn’t see any evidence of a girlfriend,” Lacy said. “It’s something to think about.”
Once the women had left and Brian was alone in his house, Thor’s head resting heavily on his thigh, he was feeling pretty good about how things had gone. He’d enjoyed watching the movie with Cassie and Lacy, had liked being helpful, and was optimistic about his chances for getting Cassie to go out with him.
Hell, he’d liked learning about cake baking, too. It wasn’t anything he’d ever given any thought to, but now that he had, it was interesting.
It might not reflect well on his manliness that he was looking forward to watching her decorate it. But, to hell with his manliness. He had an abundance of that, he assured himself. He could spare a little.
He gently nudged Thor’s head off of his leg, got up, and stretched. Then he went into the kitchen and looked at the cakes with some satisfaction. Three tiers, two layers per tier. Some of the cakes were cooling on the kitchen counter, and three more were on the dining room table. They smelled fragrant and comforting.
He yawned and decided he had time for a quick shower before Cassie got back. He went into the master bedroom, stripped down, and stepped under the hot spray.
He was just pulling on his clothes when the doorbell rang. Perfect timing.
He went straight from the bedroom to the front door, without detour, and opened up for her.
“Hey. That didn’t take long.” He smiled, happy to see her.
Together, they walked into the house and toward the kitchen.
“I’ll just get the cakes wrapped up and—” Cassie gasped and slapped both hands over her mouth.
Brian spun around to see what had alarmed her—and his own mouth fell open in speechless horror.
In front of them, Thor was standing on top of the dining room table, his tail wagging. His front paws had disappeared into one of the cakes as he gleefully ate another. The third one clearly had been stepped on—the center bore the distinct and deep impression of paw prints.
From the look of things, Thor had used one of the dining room chairs to get up there. Had Brian forgotten to push them in? Oh, shit. Had he?
“Oh my God,” Cassie gasped when she could finally form speech.
Then she burst into tears.
“Shit. Shit. Thor! Bad dog. Bad, bad dog!” Brian ran over to the table, grabbed Thor around his midsection, and lifted the dog off the table, putting him down on the floor. Then he grabbed Thor by the collar, led him into the bedroom, and closed him in. Thor whined and scratched at the door a little, but that didn’t last.
The dog wasn’t a fool. He knew what he’d done wrong.
With Thor neutralized, Brian rushed back to where Cassie was standing in the dining room looking at the devastated cakes and sobbing into her hands.
“Don’t cry.” He patted her shoulder ineffectually.
“It’s ruined! The cake is ruined! The wedding is on Saturday! What am I going to dooo? It’s never going to get done in time! I’m going to ruin the bride’s wedding! They’re going to have to get married with … with a sheet cake from Costco!”
“I love sheet cakes from Costco.”
“Don’t!” she yelled at him. “Don’t make jokes! This isn’t funny!”
In fact, he hadn’t been joking. He really did love sheet cakes from Costco. Who didn’t? But this hardly seemed like the time to defend himself.
“Okay, let’s think.” It sounded to him like a good, helpful thing to say. “Today’s only Thursday.”
“Nobody can bake and decorate a three-tiered wedding cake for one hundred in a day!” Cassie wailed.
“Well … what time is the wedding?” Brian asked.
“Two o’clock.”
“Okay. The way I see it, that gives us one and a half days, not one.”
“What do you mean ‘us’?” Cassie said.
The way she saw it, her aspirations to bake wedding cakes professionally were lost in Thor’s digestive tract along with her cake. And they were going to end the same way—in a steaming pile of shit.
That was bad enough. Disappointing a bride who’d been counting on her was worse.
The bride—a friend of Cassie’s sister Jess—had been reluctant to hire Cassie, knowing she was a hobbyist and that she didn’t have the experience of an established baker. Cassie had sworn that she was up to the job. She’d sworn it. And now Deandra’s greatest fears would be proved true.
My God, Cassie might not even be able to get a Costco sheet cake at this late date. They might have to settle for Walmart. Cassie would be disgraced. Word would get around, and that would be the end of her dreams.
“I’m sorry,” Brian was saying. “I’m so sorry.”
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to demand to know why he’d left a dog alone with several tantalizing cakes. Why hadn’t he kept an eye on Thor? Why had he left the dining room chairs situated in such a way that Thor was able to get up there? Why, why, why?
But that wouldn’t be fair. The cakes were her responsibility, not his. She hadn’t thought about the dog, either. She hadn’t moved the chairs, either. He’d only been trying to help. He’d had no obligation to let her use his kitchen, but he’d done it.
She wasn’t going to punish him for that.
Cassie wanted to tell him all of that—that it wasn’t his fault and that he shouldn’t blame himself. But she was too choked with emotion to get out any words.
“Oh, God. Here. Sit down.” Brian pulled over one of the dining room chairs Thor had used to get onto the table, and she sat. He went to the kitchen and pulled some paper towels off the roll and brought them to her.
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose loudly into the towels.
“You’ve got a day and a half,” he said. “You can’t give up.”
“I can’t … I can’t give up,” she repeated.
“You’ve got to try.”
“I’ve got to try.” He was right. She did have to try. It wasn’t just her reputation at stake—it was someone’s wedding.
She nodded and dried her eyes one more tim
e. “All right.”
“We can do this,” Brian said encouragingly.
“We?” she asked.
“I can help,” he said.
Maybe he could.
In any event, she had to do something. She had to come up with some kind of cake for the wedding, and it had to look like a wedding cake. She couldn’t just grab a Disney Princess cake from the refrigerator section at Albertsons.
“You’ll help?” she looked at him hopefully, sniffling a little.
“Of course I will.”
“But … why?” Why would he do this? Why wouldn’t he just send her on her way with a handshake and a few empty words of encouragement?
“It was my dog,” he said. “Besides. It could be fun.”
Chapter 6
It was already late, so Cassie decided there was nothing they could do that evening. She still had three cakes that hadn’t been violated by Thor, so she wrapped those up and put them in Brian’s freezer.
They agreed that she would return to Otter Bluff at eight a.m., when the Cookie Crock opened, so she could get more ingredients and dive into the task of baking the replacement cakes.
Cassie barely slept that night, tossing restlessly in her bed in the Airstream. When she did sleep, she had nightmares of ruined weddings, angry brides, collapsed cakes, and possible lawsuits.
She got up early, showered, and drank a cup of strong coffee, trying to create a plan for the day that could plausibly result in a finished cake by tomorrow at two p.m.
She was still thinking about it when her sister Jess called.
“How’s the cake coming along?” Deandra was Jess’s friend, and Jess had been the one to recommend Cassie for the job. Of course she couldn’t admit it was all going to hell.
“Fine.” Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, as though the lie might not count if she couldn’t see herself telling it. “I baked the layers yesterday.” That, at least, was not a lie. She’d baked them. She had no obligation to reveal what had happened after that.
“Okay. You’re sure you’ll have enough time to decorate it? You only allowed yourself one day, and it’s a pretty elaborate cake, so …”
“I have a day and a half,” she said. Another not-lie.
“Yes, but—”
“Jess. I’m telling you I’ve got this under control.”
“But it’s your first wedding cake for an actual paying client, and—”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Fine. Do you need help? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got this.”
She didn’t have it, but Cassie would call on just about anyone other than Jess if she needed help with this—or anything, really. Jess, the big sister, had always seen Cassie as the family’s adorable screwup. The immature one. The one who lacked ambition, lacked direction, lacked everything except their father’s favor. (The fact that Cassie did seem to be Vince’s favorite made Jess even more likely to point out her faults whenever she found them—which was often.)
“I swear, Cassie, if you mess this up—”
“God, Jess. I won’t. Can’t you just have a little faith in me for a change?” Cassie was so involved in her own righteous indignation that she forgot how justified Jess’s lack of confidence was.
“I’m just saying.”
“I’m hanging up.”
And she did.
By the time Cassie showed up at Otter Bluff, Brian had a plan. He liked having a plan for this situation or any other—he was, after all, an idea man. Brian’s ideas had been the driving force behind the Ike and Brian show, and he hoped they’d be equally useful here.
“Give me a list and send me to the grocery store,” he offered. “While I’m doing that, you can start making the flowers. You already have the ingredients for that, right? I looked it up on Google—you can make them ahead.”
“You looked it up on Google? You really researched cake decorating?”
“Of course.”
“Well … yeah. I can. But—”
“I mean, from what I can figure from the articles I read, making the flowers will be the most time-consuming part. The earlier you get on that, the easier it’s going to be to get caught up.”
She frowned—not in an unhappy way, he was glad to see, but in a thoughtful one.
“Yeah. That is the most time-intensive part. So … that could work.”
“Great.” Brian clapped his hands once, as though he were giving a pep talk to a sports team. “Give me that list, and let’s get going.”
There was the expected argument about who would pay. Brian offered, as it had been his dog who’d destroyed the cakes. Cassie tried to refuse, because Brian wouldn’t be in this in the first place if she hadn’t appropriated the use of his kitchen without permission.
In the end, Brian won. List in hand, he rushed out the door and to the Cookie Crock. When he got there, he scanned the aisles for flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and the various other things Cassie needed.
This was good. This was useful.
He liked to be useful.
It didn’t feel good just because he was buttering up an attractive woman, either. It felt good because he loved a nice project. He enjoyed having something to sink his teeth into—metaphorically—and this was as good as anything.
He didn’t know if one brand of flour was better than another, but he assumed the brand mattered. He bought the big-name stuff instead of the generic, just in case.
He wanted to get this right.
At Otter Bluff, Cassie mixed up a batch of buttercream frosting, using the big mixer to blend butter, powdered sugar, a touch of cream, and food coloring to get a cloud of frosting the color of a faint blush.
She made up a pastry bag out of parchment, fitted it with a rose petal tip, then used a rubber spatula to spoon frosting into the bag. She cut out squares of parchment, used a dot of frosting to glue one of them to the head of a flower nail—a gizmo that looked like a stainless steel thumbtack blown up to ten times its normal size—then took a deep breath and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes.
She’d been practicing roses for weeks. She knew how to do this.
She closed her eyes, took a moment to center herself, then opened them and began shaping her first rose.
Brian got back to Otter Bluff with two bags of groceries and a fresh sense of purpose.
He’d given Thor an extra-long walk this morning and had settled the dog into a bedroom with his bed and a fresh chew toy.
There would be no more ruined cakes today—not on his watch.
He came into the kitchen in triumph, a bag under each arm.
Then stopped and marveled at what she’d done.
Already, there were dozens of flowers. Roses in various stages of opening and in varied colors of pink. Dark ones, fully bloomed. Light ones in tightly coiled buds. Some in between, their petals just beginning to open, as if to welcome the spring.
Every damned one of them looked like it had been freshly plucked from some perfect garden tended by forest sprites.
“Wow.” That was all he seemed to be able to say. He hadn’t even put the grocery bags down yet. He was too busy staring at the sugary bouquet.
“Wow good, or wow, how can I expect someone to actually pay for that?” Cassie looked at him, her brows furrowed.
“Wow, those are works of art.”
She smiled, and her smile filled his chest with warmth and light. “Really?”
“Really. You’ve got a gift for this.”
“God, I hope so. Put that stuff down, and I’ll get to work on the batter.”
Cassie had barely started on the roses—she had a few dozen finished, and she needed hundreds—but Brian’s reaction pleased her and gave her a much-needed boost of optimism that she might actually pull this off.
She transferred the finished roses to the refrigerator to set, then started mixing ingredients for the next batch of cakes.
“What can I do?” Brian asked. “I want to help.”
She glanced at him and saw that he meant it—he really did want to be involved.
“How about you start cracking eggs? I’m going to need the whole dozen.”
“I’m on it.” He rooted around in a cabinet for a bowl, then began cracking eggs with a level of concentration that was both amusing and adorable.
“Do you cook?” she asked as she measured butter into the bowl of the KitchenAid.
“Mmm?” He was focusing so completely on his task that he didn’t seem to hear her at first. “No, not really. Unless you consider putting a frozen pizza in the oven to be cooking.”
“I don’t.”
“I make a mean bowl of cereal,” he added.
“I don’t think that counts.”
“Don’t be so sure. Getting the perfect ratio of cereal to milk isn’t something most people master.”
She glanced at him, smiling. “No, I suppose it’s not.”
They worked side by side companionably. When he’d finished with the eggs, she put him to work cutting rounds of parchment to line the bottoms of the cake pans. While he did that, she creamed butter and sugar together, then added the eggs and vanilla, watching as the mixture turned into a smooth, creamy blend.
“How’s this?” He held up a parchment round.
“Perfect. Keep going on those. I need two more.”
Cassie wondered if this was what it would be like to rise in her profession to the point where she could eventually hire an assistant—even two. She imagined herself barking orders, assessing cakes for quality, insisting that substandard decorations be redone.
She’d be harsh but admired for her commitment to excellence.
“Where’d you go?” Brian asked after a while. “Seems like you were off in your own special world somewhere.”
“Oh … I was just thinking about cakes. And business.” He didn’t need to know about her desire to be the baking equivalent of Gordon Ramsay. “Would you mind preheating the ovens? Put them at 350.”