Always the Baker, Never the Bride (34 page)

Items to Keep on Hand When Covering a Sculpted Cake with Fondant

1. PIZZA CUTTER—This tool is much easier to handle than a knife when cutting away excess fondant from the base of the cake.
   
2. ROLLING PIN—This tool is not only needed to roll out the fondant to about a quarter of an inch; it is also very handy in applying the fondant to the sculpted cake.
   
3. SMOOTHING TOOL—This tool looks like the one used to apply spackle to a damaged wall.
   
4. SCULPTING TOOLS—At first glance, this set looks very much like miniature gardening tools; however, they are used to form, shape, and imprint the fondant once it is placed and smoothed.
   

22

T
he cake had been filled, layered, and sculpted into the perfect shape of a baseball glove before going into the freezer overnight. Fee made sure it was crumb-coated and went to work on creating the little bride and groom for the top while Emma applied a thin layer of butter cream to the cake board and set the glove into place.

She rolled the brown fondant around the pin and had just begun to unroll it over the cake when the kitchen door popped open and Jackson stepped inside.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Not right now, unless it’s an emergency. Can I see you after we get this cake together?”

Jackson stood there in the doorway, his head angled so that he could see what she was doing. “Is that your boyfriend’s cake?”

Emma glared at him without moving a muscle.

“Ex-boyfriend,” she clarified. “Yes.”

“That’s … amazing.”

“Jackson?”

He lurched upright. “Sorry. I’ll talk to you later, then?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t turn to leave, she straightened and stared at him until he did.

Returning her attention to the glove, she draped it in the fondant, and shaped it with both hands, smoothing it out beneath her touch.

“That’s going to look smokin’,” Fee commented from a stool at the far side of the island. “So, what’s going on between you and Boss Man?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Em. The tension was so thick you could spread it between layers.”

“Make yourself useful, Fiona. Hand me the smoothie.”

Fee slid the tool toward her and took her place across from Emma.

“He’s jealous, I think.”

“The roses from Baseball Boy?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! Good.”

“So he called me yesterday and invited me to the Falcons game on Sunday.”

“Very good.”

“But he botched it so badly that I didn’t know if he was tossing a ticket at me before he ran, or if he was actually asking me out.”

“Typical.”

“The thing is,” she said as she rolled the cutter around the edges, slicing away the excess fondant around the base of the glove, “I don’t even know if I want him to ask me out. I mean, he’s still so in love with his late wife, Fee. I don’t know how I could ever compete with that.”

“Yeah, but … she’s dead, Em.”

“Not breathing, maybe. But she
is not dead.
Not to him, anyway.”

Fee reached across the counter and took the cutter out of Emma’s hand. “Look, it’s like this. Are you warm for the guy? Does he have what it takes to float your boat?”

“I don’t know,” she stated, and then she sighed. “Yes. He really does.”

“Do you have stuff in common?”

She nodded.

“Can you look down the lane and see him standing there?” Emma tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Way down there, at the very end of the lane. Yes, he could be there.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Grab a taxi and go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“There’s construction going on down the lane. Road closed.”

The
phloop!
of the kitchen door sounded again, and both of them fell instantly silent as Jackson walked back in.

“The thing is,” he said to her, looking very much like a rod was tucked up his jacket to hold him upright, “I have these tickets. Falcons-Redskins, on Sunday. Would you like to go?”

“I would,” she replied.

“I’ll pick you up at your place around eleven. We’ll be joining some of my buddies for tailgating prior to the game, so come hungry. There’s a lot of food.”

“Food is good.”

“All right then. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Sunday.”

The moment Jackson disappeared behind the flopping door, Fee appeared at Emma’s side, but they both faced the door in silence until its last
phloop.

Raising two fists before her, Fee grinned from ear to ear as Emma tapped them with her own. Then came the palm slaps, first two and then another two, a quick couple of hip bumps, and then raspy whispers—

“Hoo-yeah!”

Emma bounded out her front door and trotted down the stairs toward Jackson where he stood leaning against his car.

“I was headed up to get you,” he told her.

“No need. I saw you pull up.”

Her silky hair was twisted at the back and pushed upward with a big clip, flopping back down over it in a perfect, bouncy curve. She wore a black and red leather Falcons bracelet on her left wrist, and the oversized bright red Falcons jersey was knotted at the hip of washed-out Levi jeans with a rip under the left knee. Jackson wondered if she bought them that way or created it herself with some scissors or a dull knife.

As he held the car door for her, he noticed a sprinkling of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks and, when she grinned at him, her lips shimmered with a pale pink glaze. He closed the door and rounded the car, thinking that she could easily pass for a college student, and hoping he didn’t look like her perverted older professor in his Dockers and black Henley.

When they reached the Georgia Dome, Jackson went ahead and parked in the first spot he could find. It was about half a mile out, but he knew precisely where to go to find his friends. He and Emma walked side by side for most of the way, but then she slipped her arm through his and angled her face up toward him. The whole scene felt strangely familiar to him, from the sideways pirate smile with which she charmed him to the intimate loop of her arm through his.

They made their way to Decker Stanton’s SUV. Like every game Sunday, Decker and Joe had likely arrived at the break of day to claim their spots near the grass. There were lawn chairs lined up, a grill was set up behind Decker’s Yukon, and a long folding table stood at the back of Joe Ridgeway’s F-150 next to the grill.

“Glad you could join us,” Decker called to them as he tended the burgers and dogs on the grill.

“Traffic,” Jackson called back to them. “I want you all to meet Emma Rae Travis. She works for me at the hotel.”

“Hey, Emma Rae. Welcome to The Bullpen.”

Emma smiled and waved at him.

“That’s Decker Stanton,” Jackson told her. “And this is his wife over here, Felicity.”

“Hey, girl,” Felicity said in that cool way she had about her.

“Roger Strang and Deanna Brody over here. And that’s Joe and Connie Ridgeway. Everyone, this is Emma.”

After the circle of greetings made it around, Emma strolled over to the table and offered to help them set out the food. Joe took the opportunity to elbow Jackson in the ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he joked. “After two seasons of stagging it, you show up with a chick in tow after never even mentioning her?”

“First of all, Emma is no
chick
.”

Joe raised his hands in surrender and laughed.

“Second, I’m mentioning her now.”

“So she works with you over at the hotel. What’s she do for you there?”

“She bakes wedding cakes.”

After overhearing Jackson’s comment, Connie hurried toward Emma. “You’re the one who took the award for your wedding cakes!” she exclaimed in a high-pitched Southern drawl. “I read all about you in the newspaper. Why on earth would you go to work for Jackson Drake?”

They all laughed, and Emma tossed Jackson a toothy grin. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

Joe leaned in close and whispered, “She’s a keeper, man.”

Jackson hadn’t really thought of this as a
trial date
until that moment, but then he had to ask himself whether the swelling pride pushing against his chest betrayed a trace of it. Had he brought Emma along just to see how she fared when tossed into the lion’s den with his friends?

Emma’s laughter chimed like a church bell in the distance, and he watched as she casually chatted with Felicity. Standing there together, they looked like opposites in the same set of bookends; Felicity with her dark African-American skin and wild, natural curls, and Emma, her pale skin flushed, and her hair smooth and silky and twisted away from her face. Each of them was extraordinarily beautiful in her own way, but as different as two women could be.

In fact, Emma stood out that way the entire day; completely different from the other women, but so much a part of their group after such a short amount of time. After they’d eaten and visited, Emma helped Felicity, Joe, and Connie clean up the table, and Deanna stopped at Jackson’s chair and rubbed his shoulder lightly before leaning down and softly telling him, “I like her, Jackson.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he just smiled at her, and Deanna sauntered away with Roger to carry the trash to one of the nearby receptacles.

It was more of the same as the eight of them made their way to the Dome and found their seats. The conversation was casual, and Emma was very much a part of it, never once giving off the air of being the new kid on their block.

She watched the game with sharp, attentive focus, cheering in all the right places, groaning at every misstep. Emma was as much a
Falcaholic
as the rest of the thousands crowded into the Dome to watch their team wipe the floor with the Washington Redskins.

Ryan had a short throw that turned into a forty-yard touchdown play, and a ten-yarder to Tony Gonzalez that gave the Falcons a 14-7 lead at halftime. Emma spontaneously exploded from her seat, joining Decker, Felicity, and Roger in one of their Falcon happy dances that looked like a hybrid version of that chicken dance people sometimes did at weddings.

Desi couldn’t have cared less about football, or any other sport for that matter.

The comparison jolted him, and Jackson leaned back in the uncomfortable seat with a sigh. Why was he always comparing Emma to Desiree? Would a time ever come when he was ready to start a relationship that didn’t hinge on memories of Desiree?

The Falcons took the game, 28-14, and the jubilation of the crowd seemed to carry them along out of the stadium. Emma chattered with Felicity most of the way, and the two women embraced warmly when they said their good-byes in front of the Yukon.

“I’ll call you next week,” he heard Felicity promise, and Emma was still waving at them halfway down the parking lot aisle.

“That was so much fun!” Emma exclaimed when they were finally out of sight. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Jackson. I really liked your friends.”