“We gotta go,” Eamon told her. “He may come here next.”
“Eamon…” she said, a desperate plea in her voice.
“I’ll keep him safe, I promise.”
Eamon ended the call, then turned to me. “We have maybe one minute before he shows up here. I know you’re scared, but I need you to listen carefully.”
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“When he asks what time you delivered the cake, subtract half an hour from the actual time, like we agreed on.”
I nodded. He’d gone over this with me three times now, ensuring I knew what to say.
“Tell me what you’ll say to him.”
“Nine instead of nine-thirty,” I repeated what he’d made me memorize.
“Good. It won’t hold Carlo off forever, but it might buy us some time. If he thinks you left before his conversation with Chan, you’re not an immediate threat.” Eamon grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “You need to make your lie convincing.”
“I don’t know?—”
“You can,” he said firmly. “You’re smart and strong, and you can do this. You got there around nine and you left right after setting up. Remember the details we came up with?”
“Solstice had just gotten back to her shop, and she helped me load the cake into my van. And the nine o’clock news was on the radio. They mentioned measles.”
“Good. Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.”
Before I could respond, the bell above the front door chimed, and my blood turned to arctic slush. Through the pass-through window between the kitchen and the front of the shop, I could see a familiar figure silhouetted against the morning light.
Carlo Ricotta had just walked into my bakery.
“Showtime,” Eamon murmured. “I’ll be right here, sweetheart. Just act natural.”
I took a shaky breath and walked out to the front counter, forcing what I hoped was a welcoming smile onto my face. “Mr. Ricotta! What a surprise. How are you?”
Up close, Carlo was even more imposing than I remembered. Tall and lean, with dark hair and the kind of expensive suit that probably cost more than I made in a month. But it was his eyes that made my skin crawl—dark and calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey.
“Please, call me Carlo,” he said with a warm smile that didn’t reach those cold eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by so early. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to thank you personally for the wedding cake.”
“Of course not. I’m always happy to hear from satisfied customers.” I was amazed by how normal my voice sounded. “How was the reception?”
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” His smile widened, showing teeth that were too white and too sharp. “That cakewas the centerpiece of the evening. Everyone was raving about it. You’re incredibly talented.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Carlo moved closer to the display case, his movements casual but somehow predatory. “Gia couldn’t stop talking about how professional you were during the setup. She said you were so efficient, in and out without any fuss.”
My mouth went dry.
“I actually have a small favor to ask,” Carlo continued, turning those unsettling dark eyes on me. “I seem to have misplaced something valuable that morning, a family heirloom that means a great deal to me. I’m trying to retrace everyone’s steps to see if anyone might have found it.”
“Oh no,” I said, hoping I sounded genuinely sympathetic. “What did you lose?”
“A cufflink. Gold, with my family crest. I noticed it when the wedding photographer arrived.” He shrugged, the picture of casual disappointment. “I’m asking everyone who was there what time they arrived and left to see who might’ve found it.”
Nine. Left right after setup. Add details.
“I got there around nine,” I said, surprised by how steady my voice was. “Steve—the young man who works there—helped me get the cake set up on the table, and I left almost immediately after.”
