A Batter of Life and Death (29 page)

“Before you go, can I ask you one thing that’s been bugging me?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Where were you during
Othello
?”

Linda looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Othello?”

“The play. You said you were at the play the night Marco was killed, but you never went, did you?”

“Oh, the play. That’s right. I forgot all about the play. No, I am guilty as charged. Philip and I snuck out for a cocktail, I sure do miss cocktail hour like we have back at home. But I was terribly jet-lagged and had to call it an early night.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

Linda’s cheeks warmed with color. “I didn’t want anyone to know I was out with Philip, sugar. We ladies have to keep some secrets, don’t we?

“Speaking of Philip, I’m going to go meet up with him now, I’ll see y’all later.”

Nina swirled her coffee cup as Linda left. “I think I’d be in a fetal position on the floor if a murderer had tried to take me out.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. The truth was that I had surprised myself. I was stronger than I realized. That felt good.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mom said to Nina, reading my mind. “Don’t underestimate your strength—either of you.” She gave me a knowing look and then explained that she needed to look through the menu for Lance’s bash this evening. She went to the office to make sure we were lined up with supplies, leaving Nina and me alone in the kitchen.

“I made a new pie.” Nina pointed to the counter behind me. A berry pie with a lattice crust sat in the window. “No butter. This one is all mine.”

“It looks great.” I studied her pie. The crust was a golden brown and looked like it would flake nicely when sliced.

“We’ll see.” She shrugged. “I feel good about it, though. I’m really sorry I lied. I appreciate you not saying anything to the others.”

“No problem. I’m glad that you’re taking the risk. Mom always says that anytime we take a risk and put ourselves out there it always pays off—even if we don’t realize it at the time.” I thought about my conversation with Thomas yesterday. It was true.

Nina refreshed her coffee. “By the way, we tried to salvage your pie. It’s in the fridge. I scraped the whipped cream off it and stuck your caramel sauce in there too. Philip is going to explain what happened to the judges. They’ll all understand that they’re going to be tasting day-old pies.”

“Thanks.” I broke off a bite of scone and popped it into my mouth. “Who is he getting to host?” I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Philip was pushing to wrap up the show given the intensity of the last few days, but the fact that we were filming in light of Elliot’s arrest seemed bizarre. I was ready to be done with
Take the Cake
for good.

“No idea.”

The next few hours passed at a smooth and easy pace. I wasn’t much help in the kitchen, so I mainly oversaw production on Lance’s party prep. Nina and Linda both offered their skills too. Between Stephanie and Mom and Linda and Nina, onions and garlic were chopped and sautéed, bread was rising in the oven, and rows of desserts and appetizers were lined on trays and stored in the fridge.

Stephanie watched over the Bolognese sauce. I peered over her shoulder into the bubbling pot with vibrant red tomatoes. “That smells fantastic.”

“It’s your recipe.”

“That must be why it smells so good.” I laughed.

She stirred the sauce. “Is it true what they’re saying about Elliot?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Stephanie stopped stirring. “I can’t believe it. I thought he was a nice guy.”

“I don’t think anyone thought it was him.”

The pot erupted, sending sauce splattering on the backsplash and stove. Stephanie stirred quickly and turned the heat down. “Sterling was right all along. He’s never going to let me live this down.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d give him more credit than that.”

She wiped the splattered sauce with a rag. “I’ve been such an idiot. He’s going to throw shade my way. I know it.”

“Throw shade?”

“Yeah, you know, like hate on me.”

“Stephanie, trust me. He’s not going to ‘hate on you.’ I think he was probably a little jealous. You should talk to him this morning.” I sounded like I knew what I was talking about when it came to love life advice. Ha!

By the time Torte opened for customers, we had the pastry case stocked and the prep for Lance’s party nearly complete. Linda, Nina, and I left for the Black Swan. They carried my pie, and fussed over me the entire way up the hill.

Philip was waiting at the front of the theater when we arrived. He kissed me on both cheeks. “Here’s my TV star. Thank goodness Elliot didn’t go for your face.”

“He tried,” I said, nodding to my cast. “That’s how I broke this.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear it, but this is going to make for some incredible television. I’ve been on the phone for the last twenty-four hours with the lawyers at the network trying to figure out how we can spin Elliot’s breakdown. I haven’t figured out our angle yet, but I do have a special surprise for you all. Follow me.”

We followed him to the set. My pulse picked up a bit as I stepped under the lights. It was in this very spot just yesterday that I almost met an early death.

Nina grabbed my left hand and held it tight. She must have sensed my tension. I appreciated the gesture.

“They’re here,” Philip hollered to the stage.

The curtains parted and out stepped a devastatingly handsome man. I’d recognize his face anywhere as he was probably the most famous living chef. Philip had definitely called in a major favor to get Chef Antonio Pacco to Ashland. The world-class chef had been commissioned to bake cakes and pastries for everyone from the British royal family to Hollywood stars at Oscar parties.

Carlos idolized the Spanish chef. He had a signed copy of Antonio’s cookbook next to his side of the bed. I couldn’t believe he was standing in front of me. I wanted to snap a picture on my phone and send it to Carlos, but the chef stepped down from the stage and walked directly to me.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chef Antonio caressed my left hand. “You must be Julieta.” The way he pronounced my name in Spanish sounded exactly like Carlos. His Latin skin tone and dark hair reminded me of Carlos too.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” I replied.

He kissed my hand. “No, no, I assure you the honor is mine.”

The rest of the filming was a blur. Chef Antonio and the other judges deemed my pie the best. Tomorrow we’d wrap the show with the grand finale—wedding cakes. Nina’s vegan pie came in second. Sebastian rounded out third place, and Linda’s ice-cream sundae pie didn’t make the cut. Nina, Sebastian, and I would be competing for the prize tomorrow.

Philip pulled me aside after we were done shooting. “We all understand that you have a hardship with your injury. The judges and I have agreed to bend the rules. You are going to be allowed one assistant. In order to make it fair, the other contestants will be offered the same option, with one catch.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I get to decide on the assistants. I’m assigning Richard Lord to Sebastian and pairing Linda with Nina.” He gave me a sly smile. “You’re welcome to choose your own assistant.”

“Thanks.” I left the theater and headed down the hill. I knew that Stephanie would love to help and, even though she wouldn’t admit it, would also love a chance to be on TV. Plus maybe getting to meet Chef Antonio would help ease the pain of learning that her crush was a killer.

Back at Torte I noticed that Sterling had left his post up front. Andy manned the counter and coffee. There were only a few customers in the shop. Sterling and Stephanie were deep in conversation at the stove. I didn’t want to interrupt them, so I ducked into the office. Mom sat at the desk, reviewing a stack of paperwork.

“What are you up to?” I asked.

She jumped in her chair and sent the paperwork scattering all over the floor. “Oh, honey, it’s you.”

I bent over to help her pick up the papers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but seriously, when are you going to break down and get yourself a pair of hearing aids?”

“I’m fine.” She brushed me off, and then sighed. “I was looking over our numbers again. I hope that catering Lance’s party turns out okay because if we want to upgrade we’re still short.” She handed me a spreadsheet.

I looked it over. She was right. Even with the extra cash we’d be getting from the Pastry Channel, we still needed more money. Business had been maintaining a steady pace, but we’d hired Sterling and me, of course. With paying out extra salaries, our income was just breaking even.

“It’s going to be great,” I assured her. “Have you smelled it out there? I can’t wait to taste everything.”

Mom placed the spreadsheet back in a file. “You’re right. I shouldn’t worry so much. This is going to be a fun, new challenge tonight.”

“That’s the spirit.” I checked to see if Stephanie and Sterling were still talking. They weren’t. He’d returned to the front counter. “Now I need to get baking. I have a wedding cake to create for tomorrow.”

Mom clapped her hands together. “I love weddings. Let me file this stuff away, and I’ll come help.”

I called Stephanie over as I sketched out a design for the cake on a piece of a paper. “Did you talk to Sterling?” I asked, making sure he couldn’t hear us.

A small smile spread across her face. “I did. Thanks.”

“So we’re all cool around here now?”

“We’re cool.” She nodded.

I designed my cake over a cup of coffee and was ready to start making the batter. That was a task I could complete with one hand. Stephanie would assemble and frost the cake once it had baked and cooled. I opted for a basic yellow cake with almond flavoring. We’d make French cream frosting and secure each tier with dark chocolate and seasonal berries. I’d run over to A Rose by Any Other Name later and choose some fresh flowers to adorn the top. Simple and elegant.

I creamed butter and sugar in the mixer and watched them whip together. Baking is exactly what you need at this moment, Jules, I told myself. The batter came together quickly. I handed it off to Stephanie to pour into greased pans. Soon the smell of almond cake mingled with the scent of the sauce simmering on the stove.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon putting the finishing touches on the food for Lance’s party. Philip sent Nina and Sebastian to Richard Lord’s kitchen in order to give us all enough space to assemble our cakes. A little after two o’clock, Lance pranced in.

He did his usual round of greetings, like he was a celebrity. In fairness, he sort of was, at least in Ashland.

“Darling, I heard the horrific news.” Lance blew me air kisses. “You should have heeded my warning.”

“What warning?”

“My little note. Didn’t you get it?”

“I knew it was you!” I flicked him. “You know, I lost sleep that night thanks to you.”

Lance looked shocked. “That can’t be true. I made it crystal—crystal-clear that it was a joke. Didn’t you read between the lines?”

“In case you hadn’t heard, there was an actual murderer who tried to kill me.”

Lance grimaced. “I may have heard something about a real killer on the prowl, but I did warn you that we were going to have a little fun.”

“Fun? That’s your idea of fun?”

“Testy. Testy, aren’t we?” Lance assumed a namaste position. “Breathe.”

I punched him.

“That’s more like it.”

It was hard to stay mad at him. “What did your note even mean? ‘One clue, two clues, three clues, you’re through.’ I don’t get it.”

“What’s to get? It was just a little fun, a touch of whimsy, a nice little rhythm to keep you on your dainty toes.” He marched toward the stove. “Now let’s talk about my fete tonight.”

I sighed, and followed him. Stressing about Lance’s misunderstood joke wasn’t going to do me any good.

Stephanie removed the lid on one of the serving dishes when Lance and I approached. “We’re ready.”

“Divine.” Lance took in a whiff of the Bolognese sauce. “I’m heading up to the house now. See you there soon. Ta-ta.” He waved with his fingers and strolled out of the kitchen.

“He’s insane,” Stephanie said as Lance waltzed around a customer waiting for a drink and through the front door.

“Well, what do you expect? He’s the artistic director of one of the most famous theater companies on the planet.”

She shrugged, unimpressed. “Should I start packing everything?” Stephanie asked, returning the lid to the pot.

“Yep. Let’s do it.” I paused. “Well, you guys do it. I’m going to scoot over and grab some flowers for the cake.”

I told Andy and Sterling to help Stephanie box up everything for Lance’s party, and I flipped the sign to
CLOSED
on my way out.

Large black tubs with flowers sat outside A Rose by Any Other Name. I picked a handful of pale purple roses and brought them inside. I half expected to see Thomas, but his mom stood behind the counter instead.

“Juliet!” She scooted from behind the counter and embraced me. “Thomas called me last night to tell me the news. I’m so glad you’re okay.” She released me and stared at my cast. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“I do.” I smiled. I’d always gotten along well with Thomas’s parents. They treated me like one of the family.

“Good choice on the roses,” she said, taking them from my hand. “Would you like them in a vase?”

“No. They’re for a cake actually. Do you have any of those plastic containers? And I’m hoping for some greenery too.”

Thomas’s mom bustled behind the counter. “I have just the thing.” She placed a box with miniature plastic tubes on the counter. “They can be filled with water and pushed into the cake. That way the flowers stay fresh and the cake stays intact and untouched by the stem.”

“Perfect. Any thoughts on greenery?”

“What about some of this?” She held up a handful of dried grape vine. “It’s not green but it might be interesting with those roses.”

“Great idea! I’ll take all of it.”

“How are you baking with one arm?” she asked as she wrapped everything in glossy butcher paper.

“Help. I have lots of help.” I chuckled.