“Let’s check it out once I get this how it needs to be.”
That “I” definitely isn’t a “we,” so I give him space, watching the Miranda family finish decorating the tables. The event doesn’t start for two hours, but the birthday celebrant’s parents and grandparents are taking care of the space, while the girl herself is getting ready at one of the condos down the mountain before they go to Mass.
I have met most of this part of the family before while we planned and sampled the menu, so I give a quick hello. Then I jump into the kitchen to make sure all is well. I won’t stick around for the event itself; I’m not needed after the endless work we did on the menu and the prep this morning.
I wander back to Theo, but my feet stop before I ever reach him.
The dessert table has been transformed. The white tablecloth Summit House provided now has been topped by a rich, colorful overlay.
That’s not the most transformative thing, though.
On top of the table is the cake, but it is much more than that. More like a Frida Kahlo painting come to life with vibrant colors set against a black cake of all things. My feet pull me forward. The cake isn’t black, not exactly. It is ombré, from a perfect black at the top to a stormy grey at the bottom of the bottom layer.
The contrast with the white overlay of the tablecloth, embroidered like a huipil dress, is beautiful against the mountain backdrop visible through the windows.
Beyond the color work and the setting, the cake itself is stunning. The bottom layer has wide ribbons of grey to almost white ombré, flowing like the ruffles on a dress, and brushed with a light shimmer dust. The next layer up is taller than the one below it and the one above it, giving a modern feel to the traditional cake. Exquisite bright floral patterns look embroidered on the frosting, as if someone took huipil overlay and made a cake from it. The stitch work on the embroidery is also visible on the icing “embroidery” of the cake, needlepoint decorations piped with precision onto black frosting.
Well, almost black, because the top layer is the only one that is truly black.
The top layer is smooth as silk, with a crusting of shiny black sparkling sugar in a three-inch band around the bottom of the cake, tying together the bottom layer and its more subtle shimmer.
On the very peak of the cake is a golden tiara set off with real flowers in the same rich colors of the embroidery, both on the cake and on the cloth. Those same flowers dot the tables and the stage in tall, golden vases.
I know now why Theo was so nervous, although I can’t believe anyone would trust such a masterpiece to a stranger. The fury I have at this baker spikes. This is beautiful work, abandoned to whomever could find a way up the mountain.
Bastard is lucky that Theo is so competent.
The birthday girl’s grandmother comes to stand beside me. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is. I hope you will be as satisfied with the food as you are with this cake.”
The older woman places a gentle hand on my arm. “That tablecloth, the one we brought, was made from a dress of mine my granddaughter always loved. It was too damaged over the years for her to ever wear. Out of fashion these days, too. But there was enough to make a tablecloth and to inspire the cake.”
“It’s truly beautiful.”
“And rich in meaning. What did you say to us when we planned the menu? That it was all about fusion? The blending of the modern and the old?”
“I did say that. It’s what I try to achieve with Summit House. It’s what this cake has accomplished.”
“Theo,” the woman says, taking his hand as he stands beside her. “You must convey how much we love it. I can’t imagine anything more perfect.”
“I’ll make sure they know.” His cheeks blaze as red as the flowers on the cake. I can’t quite place the look on his face, and then it is gone.
Theo takes a picture with his phone, and I find the photographer to make sure pictures of the cake in the space are taken as well.
My pastry chef couldn’t have done this, and I know it. Hell, Jude, my pastry chef friend who catered Jack and Perrin’s wedding, could maybe get close. I take a picture myself, of the cake and its parts, and send it off to Jude for his opinion.
“Are you okay, Theo?” I ask as we ride the gondola back down the mountain. “You are awfully quiet. I can’t imagine that going any better than it did.”
“It was great. I’m relieved, I guess.” A soft smile rises, making his boyish features prominent.
As we exit the gondola and walk past the lift ticket windows, my phone buzzes. It’s Jack.
“Hold on,” I tell Theo.
“We are all headed to the Big House, if you are ready to join us. Just the family today, plus the kids,” meaning Piper and Liam, “so bring Theo, and we can keep it casual.” Jack’s need for the family to be together in one place, no matter what we are doing when we get there, is clear in his voice. I tell him we are on our way and hang up.
“How do you feel about spending part of the day with my family, sugar?” I wrap one arm over his lean shoulder.
