Goody for me.
I accepted the cronut and followed True to the kitchen. Wooden shelves full of dry ingredients lined the wall to my left. To the right were the industrial ovens, gleaming and quiet under the buzzing kitchen lights. Directly ahead were steel doors that I assumed led to the freezer and walk-in cooler. Smack in the middle of the room was a long stainless steel table topped with a three-tiered wedding cake.
My heart sank as I approached the creation. It looked as if True was adding decorative flowers.
It was breathtaking.
“Isn’t this fun?” True picked up a piping bag and began to draw frosting flowers on the outside of the cake expertly. It sat on a turntable, making it easier to get all sides. The flowers were freaking perfect. Like her.
“Fun? I’m not a big fan of baking.” I admitted.
She smiled at me over the cake. “That’s okay. Not everyone is. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to captain a boat. I get seasick.”
I frowned. “Then why were y’all at Pegleg Pete’s the other night?”
True shrugged. “Jesse wanted to see you. I wanted to meet you. That’s why God invented Dramamine.”
“Huh.” I moved to the worktable and sat down my cronut, then pulled over a stool to sit. “Is it okay if I sit here?”
Her smile was as sunny as her disposition. “Of course! I’m so glad you’re here!”
Acid coated my stomach, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat my “donut crossed with a croissant” treat, which I had discovered in the case out front.
“Jesse is running a little late.” True turned back to her decorating. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you that?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“That’s so like him.” True pressed her lips together. She paused the piping and twirled the cake this way and that, squinting one eye to look at her work like an artist would.
“You’re good at that,” I admitted.
“Thank you! I love baking. It’s the science of it. Everything has to be exact, or a cake will fall, and bread won’t rise.”
“Science?”
“Baking is chemistry. If you don’t get the amounts right, it turns to doo-doo,” True laughed. “Shit. It turns to shit. My grandmother used to give me grief for swearing.”
“Your grandmother who recently passed?” I raised my eyebrows.
She smiled and stared at the piping bag in her hands. “She raised me and taught me how to bake. Although, her method was ‘a little of this, a little of that.’ As you can imagine, that didn’t work well when I tried it. She had been making some of her creations for so long that she knew exactly how much flour and sugar to put in a recipe. I had to go to cooking school to learn it.”
I joined her in laughter. She was easy to talk to, and it pissed me right the hell off. I didn’t want to like this woman. I was planning on ruining her wedding. It didn’t matter that there was no workable plan at the moment; the time would come when I would end things.
But how to do it?
My chance came a few minutes later when True headed into the walk-in cooler to get something. I was alone in the kitchen: me and the cake. I glanced around wildly, looking for inspiration. A shelf of spices caught my attention, and I scrambled to look closer. Chili powder, garlic, lemon pepper. Who the hell put lemon pepper in sweet treats?
Focus, Kendra!
What would ruin a wedding cake?
I thought back to my lunch with Jesse and wondered if there was an extract of rotten eggs. That made me giggle, but I stopped when I spotted almond extract on the shelf.
Didn’t True say she was allergic to almonds?
I pulled up the bottle and perused the ingredients. It contained real almonds.
I could put a drop in the icing on top of the cake, the part where the bride and groom ate, and it might cause her a minor allergic reaction, nothing dangerous, but something that would ruin the day, right?
