Wedding Cake

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Oh please, oh please, oh please, she prayed silently as they drove toward the downtown section of Garrison where Rachel’s Bakery had been for more than a decade. She found some Tylenol—thank goodness—but had to swallow it without water, which was not her preference. She leaned back against the seat and took a breath. Please let all of this be wrapped up by lunchtime.

  Chapter 8

  The officer Pete had been working with at the station called back as they pulled up to the curb in front of the bakery, so Pete stayed in the car. The bell above the door announced Sadie’s arrival, and by the time she reached the glass case full of delectable goodies, her stress levels were telling her to have one of each. She thought of the cookies she’d planned to make at home—would she really have time to bake? And if they didn’t find Jane in the next few hours, would she need them at all?

  There was a full tray of Rachel’s sugar cookies with pale pink frosting in the case, which Sadie knew from experience were delicious. Maybe she should buy them instead of making her lemon-almond shortbread recipe but that would defeat the purpose of having made something for the barbeque.

  Rachel entered from the back of the bakery, her dark hair piled on her head and covered in a barely noticeable hairnet. She wore her signature white shirt and pants with a pink apron bearing a calligraphy R on the front—her logo. “Hi, Sadie,” she said, resting her forearms on the top of the glass case. “I got to thinking about something after we talked. Are you tracing that number I gave you?”

  “The police are,” Sadie said.

  Rachel’s eyebrows went up reminding Sadie that most people didn’t trace calls on a regular basis. Sadie gave Rachel the condensed version of the situation, which caused Rachel’s eyes to grow even wider. Most people didn’t deal with stalkers much either.

  “What can you tell me about the caller?” Sadie asked, segueing rather smoothly, she thought, into why she was here.

  Rachel nodded, ready to do her part now that she knew what they were dealing with. “It was a woman—like I told you—but with a deep voice.”

  Sadie remembered Jane’s masculine demeanor and smoking habit that could be heard in her voice. “And what exactly did she say?”

  “Well,” Rachel said, looking thoughtful, “she said she was your niece, Julie, and helping you with some of the final details. I didn’t think too much about it, people double-check on things all the time, even though you seem a bit more hands-on once I thought about it.” She offered an apologetic smile, and Sadie waved it off, encouraging Rachel to continue. “She asked how the cake was coming, and I told her that things were going well; the basket weave was done, and I was waiting for it to set before I added the flowers.” She paused to smile. “It really did turn out beautifully. Want to see it?”

  “I’d love to,” Sadie said, distracted by the offer. Rachel moved to the side of the counter and lifted a latch that allowed her to pull open a hip-high door, allowing Sadie to pass through.

  “What else did she say?” Sadie asked as she followed Rachel toward the swinging doors that separated the two halves of the shop. Sadie was reminded of Blackburn Bakery in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and was excited to see the back of Rachel’s Bakery too. She loved behind-the-scene views of places like this; it made her feel like she’d gotten a backstage pass.

  “She said she’d be picking up the cake for you and asked when it would be ready. I told her it would be ready this afternoon. I always try to finish my cakes a day in advance.” Rachel gave a self-depreciating shrug as she pushed open the door and ushered Sadie through. “But wedding cakes aren’t something you can just store in the fridge next to your leftover sausage gravy, ya know? So I asked her why the change since I was planning to deliver it tomorrow, and she said you were storing it at North Hampton overnight and she wanted to pick it up for you at three. That was downright weird since you rented North Hampton for tomorrow, not today. Besides, why would they let you bring the cake early? Why would you pick it up instead of having me deliver it? Do you have any idea how many cakes get ruined in transport? Plus, the Iversons—do you know the Iversons over on Powell?”

  “Ruby and Kent?” Sadie scanned the baking area for her cake but didn’t see it. Instead she saw pans of unfrosted éclairs and half a dozen cakes about four inches in diameter and eight inches tall—Rachel’s famous Triple Chocolate Stack Cake. They were baked but had not yet been drizzled with Rachel’s equally delicious ganache. It was a recipe Rachel wouldn’t share—Sadie didn’t blame her for that—but Sadie had come up with a version on her own that was pretty darn close, even though it relied on a mix, which she was certain Rachel’s recipe did not. “Ruby was the assistant librarian for years, wasn’t she? And isn’t Kent a carpenter?”

  “That’s them,” Rachel said, smiling at the shared acquaintance. “They’re having their fiftieth wedding anniversary dinner at North Hampton tonight.” She pointed to the chocolate cakes, which must be why Rachel knew the details of a family event. “And I knew they wouldn’t appreciate having the fridge full of your cake—no offense.”

  “None taken,” Sadie said, prying her attention away from the fascinating ovens and racks around her to remain focused on Rachel and this conversation. “I understand completely.”

  “So, anyway, it just sounded weird that you wanted someone else to pick up the cake so that you could store it there. When I put your niece—or this Jane woman, I guess—on the spot, she was a little too insistent about picking it up. I’ve had enough orders unravel due to people trying to ‘help’ a friend that I don’t take chances anymore.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” Sadie said, following Rachel as she walked toward the far side of the kitchen.

  “I told her I’d need to talk to you about the change.” She led Sadie around a wheeled cooling rack, and Sadie stopped when she saw the cake. It was two tiers, fourteen inches wide on the bottom and eight inches on the top, with a perfect basket-weave detail around the sides of both tiers in Rachel’s famous pearly white frosting.

  Sadie took a step closer. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, walking around the table where the cake sat. It still needed the border of flowers along the top edge of the layers, and, as Rachel had said, it was missing the frosting daisies in a variety of shades of white and cream that would take the place of the cake topper, but it was as beautiful as Sadie had imagined it would be. Sadie had always loved a good basket weave.

  “I’m so glad you’re happy with it.” Rachel grinned with the kind of pride Sadie recognized from the times she’d been the creator behind something exquisite. After a few more seconds of pure admiration, Sadie’s brain cycled back to why she was at the bakery in the first place.

  “What did Jane say when you said you’d need to talk to me?” Sadie asked, looking away from the cake to Rachel.

  “She hung up and I called you.”

  “I’m so glad you did.”

  “I can’t believe any woman would be so horrible as to try to mess up another woman’s wedding. Even for a stalker that’s pretty low.”

  The bell from the front sounded. Rachel headed that way, and Sadie followed, casting one last look toward the fabulous cake. For an instant she could see it on the small table she’d requested on the northeast side of North Hampton reception hall with her and Pete holding a knife together as they cut the first piece.

  Pete was waiting at the counter when they emerged through the swinging door. Sadie smiled at him and went through the half door to join him on the other side of the counter. “So?” she asked. “Did they trace the number?”

  “The phone belonged to another person here in Garrison—Brian McCollum.”

  Sadie was surprised to know the name. “I know Brian. He’s a friend of Breanna’s from high school. They didn’t date or anything, just hung out sometimes. It was his phone?” Did it mean anything that she knew the owner of the phone or was it just a coincidence? Sadie knew a lot of people in town.

  “He works over at Pep Boys and said we could come over. H
e had his phone when he got to work this morning.”

  “I’m so glad he’ll talk to us,” Sadie said, excited by the chance to get more information and glad that Pete didn’t seem to be deferring to Malloy and his team on this. She smiled at Rachel. “Thank you so much for your help.”

  “Oh, I didn’t do anything but stick to my policy. You still want the cake delivered to North Hampton at noon tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Sadie said with a nod. “Nicole said she would be there to receive it. I’ll stay close to my phone today. If the caller should try to contact you again, please let me know.”

  “Of course,” Rachel said, nodding quickly.

  “Thanks for all your help.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They said good-bye again, and Pete held the door for Sadie as they exited the shop. “I can’t believe I left without buying anything,” she said once they were on the sidewalk, not sure if she were proud or disappointed in herself for such restraint. “I’m certain it’s the first time I’ve left without being at least twenty dollars poorer. Rachel’s an amazing baker.”

  “I do love her cheesecake,” Pete said as he opened Sadie’s door for her.

  “Is it better than my cheesecake?”

  Pete made an exaggerated look of pained hesitation.

  “Never mind,” Sadie said, putting up her hand dramatically as she sat in the passenger seat. “I don’t think I can handle the rejection right now.”

  Pete chuckled and was closing the car door when he tensed, staring over the top of the car. Sadie immediately turned to see whatever had captured his attention.

  Across the street, in front of the UPS store stood a golden-skinned woman dressed in a pale blue sundress with white sandals that sparkled in the morning sun. Her blonde braid hung over one shoulder. At first glance, Sadie didn’t see anything that would warrant Pete’s tension other than the fact that the woman was staring at them, but in the next moment she took in the woman’s height, the thin figure, and sharp detail of the portion of her face showing around the large sunglasses. Sadie’s heart skipped a beat.

  It was Jane—looking very different from the gothic-punk styled Jane Sadie knew. That Jane always dressed in jeans and dark colors. She had spiked dark hair and wore bright lipstick and nail polish. This woman wasn’t anything like that, but of course she wouldn’t be. Jane was playing a game, and she would need to look as different from the real Jane as possible. But she couldn’t change her height, and a spray tan and wig couldn’t hide the angular lines of her body. A rush of heat and anger took Sadie off guard. “Jane,” she hissed.

  The woman lifted her hand, giving Sadie a little finger wave, patronizing and calm with a self-assurance that made Sadie want to scream.

  Sadie got out of the car and slammed the passenger door shut, narrowing her eyes as she hurried around the front of the car. She stopped to look both ways for a break in traffic. Main Street was the busiest road in town, but she needed to get across it.

  Jane turned to her left and started down the sidewalk. She held a small white purse—like a little girl’s—by the handles and swung it back and forth as she casually walked away.

  “Jane!” Sadie yelled. Jane didn’t respond. There wasn’t enough of a gap in traffic for Sadie to cross Main Street safely, but she stepped into the road anyway, holding her hands over her head to make sure the cars could see her in time to stop.

  “Sadie!” Pete called from behind her, but she didn’t stop.

  Jane looked over her shoulder and then began walking faster. There wasn’t much foot traffic so early in the morning, and she was making a quick getaway.

  The screech of brakes caused Sadie to run the last few steps to the turning lane. Pete yelled her name again, but Sadie was intent on crossing the remaining two lanes of traffic.

  Jane disappeared around the corner of a breezeway that went between two buildings on the east side.

  “Jane, stop!” Sadie screamed in frustration and ran across the next two lanes of traffic as soon as there was a big enough gap in traffic for her to do so. She was determined to catch up with her and confront her face to face. She’d yank that braid right off her head!

  “You promised!” Pete yelled when Sadie stepped up on the curb where Jane had been standing a minute earlier. Sadie looked back across the street where Pete still stood beside his car. Why hadn’t he followed her? He’d said she promised—what did that mean? A split second later, though, she remembered. She’d promised not to go anywhere alone. So why hadn’t he followed?

  “She’s getting away,” Sadie called back. The door to the bakery opened behind Pete, and Rachel ran onto the sidewalk, her eyes wide as she called Sadie’s name and waved her over. Pete turned toward Rachel, and Sadie watched them talk. Rachel was obliviously distressed.

  Sadie looked toward the breezeway where Jane had disappeared and battled whether or not to pursue her. She had promised Pete she wouldn’t, and the alleyway that Jane had entered was only semipublic. What if Jane ambushed her?

  She looked back at Pete who stepped into the street with his hands out, but not in pursuit of her, rather just to stop traffic. When he saw Sadie watching him, he motioned her toward him. She dropped her shoulders and gave him a pleading look, but he pointed to Rachel who had her hands covering her mouth. Something was definitely wrong.

  After casting one more glance toward the alley, Sadie looked both ways, confirmed that all the cars were stopped for her, and hurried back across the street, mouthing thank yous to the drivers who looked back at her with varying degrees of annoyance. One of the drivers was a friend from an old book group Sadie had been a part of, and Sadie waved at her. Samantha waved back but looked confused.

  Pete fell in beside Sadie when she reached him, and he put a hand on her elbow as though to keep her from running again. They stepped up to the curb together.

  “I could have caught up with her,” Sadie said.

  “And then what?” Pete asked, looking at her. They stopped in front of Rachel and Sadie turned her attention to her friend.

  “What happened?” Sadie asked her, noticing tears in Rachel’s eyes.

  Rachel shook her head as though she were in shock or something.

  “What is it?” Sadie asked a second time, putting a hand on Rachel’s arm. She was really upset.

  “I’m so sorry,” Rachel choked out after lowering her hands. “I don’t know how it happened, how it could have . . .”

  Chapter 9

  “What happened?” Sadie asked even as she feared that whatever had Rachel so upset must be about the cake. Had Rachel accidently knocked it off the table? The idea made Sadie sick to her stomach, more for Rachel’s anguish than her own though.

  “Your cake,” Rachel said, her voice breaking. She looked from Sadie to Pete, and when Sadie glanced at him, she knew whatever had happened was more than an accident.

  Rachel opened the door to the bakery. Pete put a hand at Sadie’s back, and they hurried straight through to the back kitchen. They rounded the table of éclairs and then the wheeled cooling rack. Sadie skidded to a stop, and she let out a squeak of surprise when she saw the cake.

  The beautiful white frosting was splattered with what looked like blood.

  “It’s food coloring,” Rachel said, waving toward a bottle next to the cake. The deep red liquid—almost black—pooled around a large chef’s knife plunged into the top of the cake where the flowers should be and dripped from the unfinished edges of the tiers, creating rivulets of color through the basket weave.

  The horror of what it looked like—a bloody wedding cake—moved aside for the actual horror of her cake being ruined. Then even that moved aside as the exact fear she knew Jane had hoped this display would cause settled in around her. Was Jane sending a message about how far she would go to get her revenge against Sadie’s rejection? Or was this just about creating a horrific image?

  “I can make another one,” Rachel said quickly. “I can’t do this exact design—I wouldn’t h
ave time for the layers to age enough to hold the weave—but I have some layers of, um, a white cake, and I think there is some chocolate hazelnut in the freezer. I always keep a few extra things on hand. But it’s not the yellow cake you’d ordered and not the exact sizes. I just—I can’t believe anyone would do this. I’m so sorry.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Sadie said, shocked, but not wanting to make Rachel feel any worse than she already did. Jane had been here. Minutes ago, maybe even when Sadie and Rachel had been in the back. And then what? She’d turned the cake into a monstrosity and run outside to wait across the street so Sadie would see her?

  “I’m going to call Malloy,” Pete said. He turned to Rachel. “You and Sadie go to the front. I’ll wait here until the police come to secure the scene.”

  “The scene?” Rachel asked, wiping at her eyes. “Like, a crime scene?”

  “I’m so sorry you got pulled into this,” Sadie said, putting a hand on Rachel’s arm and guiding her to the front, continuing her apologies and assuring her that everything would be okay. Rachel was in shock, to the point where Sadie wasn’t sure she was even listening. Sadie led Rachel to a stool behind the counter and got her a bottle of water from the cooler.

  A customer came in, and Rachel stood quickly as though she didn’t know why the woman would be coming inside the shop. Or maybe she thought it was Jane.

  Sadie stepped forward and acted the part of employee, boxing up a dozen sugar cookies and helping the woman choose a cake for her mother-in-law’s birthday brunch. Sadie recommended the lemon poppy seed Bundt cake; it was her favorite snack cake, and Rachel’s recipe was divine. She’d given the recipe to Sadie a few years ago after Sadie complimented it for the fiftieth time, it seemed.

  Rachel seemed to recover in time to ring up the woman’s purchases, which was a good thing since Sadie didn’t know how to run the cash register. After the door closed behind the woman, Sadie pulled Rachel into a hug that was stiffer than Rachel deserved only because Sadie couldn’t hide her tension completely. She pulled back with her hands on Rachel’s shoulders and smiled.