The Cakes of Monte Cristo (21 page)

“What things?”

“I think somebody was prowling around outside my house one night. And then somebody tried to mug me outside the Dizzy Duke.”

Dwight's eyes flew wide. “You were mugged? Why didn't you say something?”

“I didn't want everybody to worry and get all overly protective,” I said. “You know how you all get. And the mugger didn't get anything anyway.”

“And you think Ox keeps secrets.”

I gaped at him. “That's not the same thing at all.”

“If you say so. Have you told the police about the other things?”

“Yes and no,” I admitted. “I called after I spotted the prowler lurking outside my house, but I didn't report the mugging.”

Dwight snorted softly. “I think you have your priorities backward. If you were going to pick and choose when to call the police, I'd say to do it after you were physically assaulted.”

“If I'd known that was coming, I might have skipped the first call. The police weren't all that worried about the prowler. I didn't think they'd do anything about the mugging.”

“So you didn't even give them a chance.”

I made a face at him. “They'll get a chance tonight. We'll see what they say.”

Dwight rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Don't you think you should call Sullivan?”

“I'm thinking about it,” I said. I didn't mention that I hadn't exactly confided in Sullivan about the other incidents and—since he hadn't called or come over to lecture me about my personal safety—I figured he didn't know. Maybe I was being naïve, but I wanted to keep it that way.

*   *   *

The police finally showed up about forty-five minutes after Dwight placed the call, and I swear they were working in slow motion. It seemed to take forever for them to look over the scene of the crime, call in our driver's licenses and plates to check for warrants and question both of us about the incident. (How many ways can
you
say, “I didn't see anything”?) After that, they filled out some paperwork and left, but I still had a vehicle without a window to deal with.

Dwight and I rigged a replacement window out of clear plastic from the storage room and packing tape, which I just
knew
was going to leave residue on my brand-new car. Dwight called a friend of his and arranged for the Range Rover to be towed in for repairs and gave me a ride home, promising to pick me up bright and early in the morning.

I didn't sleep well. First the prowler, then the mugging, and now someone breaking into my car. Seriously? Did
someone really think I was keeping a valuable ruby necklace in my glove box?

On the way back to Zydeco the next morning—which came
way
too early to suit me—Dwight and I hashed out a new plan for hauling everything we needed from Zydeco to the Monte Cristo and back again that didn't include the Range Rover in the lineup. With a little creative adjusting, we managed to come up with a plan that wouldn't require anyone to make extra trips, which made me feel slightly better. The Range Rover was gone when we pulled into the parking lot, which I told myself was good news . . . assuming no one had removed our makeshift plastic window and hotwired it.

Luckily, Ox had retrieved a business card and a copy of an invoice that the tow truck operator had left on the loading dock door, so I was able to stop worrying and get to work. The plan was for half the crew to deliver and set up the cakes while the other half stayed at Zydeco and spent the morning sautéing, roasting, and baking. They would transport the hot food later in the day, close to time for dinner service.

Ox had offered to remain behind and oversee the dinner preparations with Isabeau and Estelle. Calvin stayed, too, since he'd be needed to help carry the heavy food items and other equipment. The cakes were heavy, too, but I had Dwight, Sparkle, and Zoey on my team. It took a while to load all five cakes into the vehicles that would transport them, and in the process of moving them, two of the dress form cakes developed small cracks in the fondant—an annoyance and a minor time suck, but not a catastrophe. Once we had all the cakes loaded, we drove in a caravan to the hotel, where Dwight and I started the long and tedious process of carefully offloading and then hauling each cake to the second floor in the antique elevator while Sparkle remained on the street with the remaining cakes and two vans.

Eventually, we got the cakes inside the hotel and the vehicles
stowed at a nearby parking garage, and we were able to get down to work. The next few hours passed in a blur as we moved the cakes into the ballroom, covered the tables with pale gray tablecloths, patched the cracked fondant, secured a few unstable decorations, and positioned the shoes and accessories for each dress. I was aware of Simone and her crew bustling about as they decorated the ballroom for the event, zipping in and out between members of the hotel staff, who delivered long banquet tables for the displays and rounds for the dinner service. While Dwight and Sparkle finished with the last cake, I supervised setup of buffet tables in the hallway, making sure they were spaced far enough apart to allow for easy traffic flow.

Early that afternoon, the arrival of the band Simone had hired added to the chaos as they hauled guitars, a keyboard, drums, amplifiers, and other gear I couldn't identify and set up their equipment on a small raised platform at the far end of the ballroom. While they performed sound checks and tuned their instruments, Simone's team hung strings of fairy lights, positioned vintage decorations between the display tables, and dressed each table with gleaming stemware and polished silver. Centerpieces of cut flowers in old-fashioned milk bottles added to the vintage feel.

Tommy Sheridan bustled in and out throughout the afternoon, checking on his crew, touching base with Simone and me to make sure we had what we needed. By the time Natalie Archer and the other members who had purchased display space began to arrive at three, we had finished setting up all five cakes.

The peacock feather dress shimmered in the lighting Simone had arranged. The tailored suit looked so real I wanted to try it on, and the simple cotton dress with its painted flower print looked almost translucent. The beaded evening gown sparkled, and the shirtwaist dress with oxford pumps looked like something straight out of
The Grapes of Wrath
.

Dwight roped off each cake to prevent anyone from
bumping into them while they worked, and Sparkle and I began trailing large extension cords from the outlets in the wall to the buffet tables, taping down each cord for safety as we went. Two or three times I heard Natalie bark an order at one of the other members, but for the most part, she seemed to be on her best behavior. I just hoped it would last.

By five o'clock, the displays were set up and artfully arranged, the items for the silent auction clearly designated and bidding sheets provided for each item, and the ballroom glittered and gleamed. Simone and the others who were attending the ball vanished, presumably to dress for the evening, and like clockwork, Ox and his team arrived with the food.

I hoped for Simone's sake—and for my own—that the evening would be a rousing success. We'd both worked long and hard, planning and then changing plans right up until the last minute. I wanted the silent auction to raise an obscene amount of money for charity, and for the food and the cakes to be enthusiastically received. This was the largest job I'd ever undertaken, and I was both nervous and excited.

At last the witching hour drew near and people began to arrive. My nerve endings hummed as I watched group after group of glittering, smiling people step off the elevator and survey the scene in front of them. I heard a few gasps of delight when people saw the cakes and several murmured comments that sounded like approval, and a tingly warmth spread all through me.

Gabriel, looking jaw-droppingly handsome in a tuxedo, spotted me as he arrived and came over to greet me. Finding out that my favorite bartender came from a family with ties to the elite had surprised me at first, but I was slowly getting used to seeing him at events like this. He gave me a hot Cajun smile and kissed my cheek, murmuring something in my ear about wanting to claim a dance later.
As if
. Not that I didn't want to. I'd danced with him before and I can honestly say
the man knows his way around a dance floor, but there was no way he'd get me out there when I was on the job.

As he melted into the crowd, I turned my attention to the elevator again. I was a little bit nervous about seeing Miss Frankie and Bernice. Actually, I didn't worry about Bernice, but I didn't know if Miss Frankie was back to normal or if she was still freaked out about the Toussaint necklace. At least the necklace was one thing I
didn't
have to worry about since it was safely locked up at the bank.

At last the flow of arriving ball guests dwindled, people assumed their seats in the ballroom, and Evangeline Delahunt, looking elegantly glamorous in dark blue silk that floated delicately when she moved, stood in front of the podium to welcome the crowd. Simone had reappeared at some point, even more stunning than her mother in a pale pink evening gown that must have been made of silk, her dark hair gently waved in a style I always associated with Hollywood starlets from the 1930s.

I, on the other hand, was wearing industrial black slacks and my chef's jacket over a black tank top, a pair of sturdy, comfortable shoes, and had my curly hair tamed and held back in a severe bun. I felt anything but glitzy. But I wasn't there as a guest, and my perks would come in the form of a paycheck and (hopefully) a bigger customer base that would more than make up for anything I might miss out on.

Evangeline welcomed the crowd, gave a short speech about the charity they were supporting with tonight's event, and officially opened the buffet lines. Ox, Isabeau, and I stood near each of the buffet tables, ready to answer questions should any of the guests wonder about ingredients or have health concerns. I picked up some buzz about the necklace and a lot of chatter about the food as people passed by, but I was too busy for the next half hour to do anything else, including keep an eye out for my mother-in-law.

It wasn't until the lines at the buffet had dwindled that I
spotted Miss Frankie and Bernice at a table near the front of the room. Miss Frankie must have been watching for me because, as soon as I noticed her, she waved me over. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if Evangeline would think it inappropriate of me to mingle with the guests. Maybe she would, but I knew Miss Frankie too well to think that she would give up if I ignored her. To avoid a scene, I slipped carefully between tables, skirting the cash bar and avoiding a couple of collisions with members of the hotel staff who were providing beverage service with the meal.

I was thrilled to see that everyone seemed to be enjoying the food, and ecstatic to see the ongoing interest in the cakes. Several people had left their tables to snap pictures of the cakes with their phones, and the bits and pieces of conversation I picked up as I moved through the room all seemed enthusiastic.

Miss Frankie greeted me with a brief hug from her chair and a kiss on the cheek. She looked wonderful in a champagne-colored gown, matching shoes, and a diamond necklace I'd seen her wear only a couple of times before. Her auburn hair had been teased and sprayed into its usual style, but tiny sparkling gems peeked out from bejeweled combs in her hair here and there.

“It looks like everything is going well, sugar. The food is wonderful and the cakes are absolute works of art!”

I grinned from ear to ear and took the empty seat beside her, wondering if the gems in her hair were real diamonds. “It is going well, I think.”

“You've done well. I'm proud of you.”

Her praise filled me with warmth. “And the rest of the staff,” I prompted. “They did most of the work.”

“Well, of course they've all done well. They're wonderful. But you led them.” She put a hand on mine and patted it gently. “You've done us all proud.”

“You sure have,” Bernice chimed in. She was wearing a dark blue velvet gown that made her hair seem extra snowy white. “Everybody is raving about those cakes. They look even better in person.”

“It's our best work yet,” I said, glad to see that Miss Frankie was acting like herself again. “When this is all over, I'd like to give the whole staff a bonus,” I said. “They've all gone above and beyond getting ready for tonight.”

Miss Frankie nodded. “Certainly. If you think we can afford it, and if you think they deserve it, go right ahead. It's a good idea to keep people happy in the workplace.” She fell silent while a trio of women approached the evening gown cake. One snapped a photo of the other two, then they changed places for another two shots before finally wandering away.

Miss Frankie sent me an “I told you so” look.

Bernice came close to giggling out loud. “You're going to be famous before the night is over. Evangeline always invites the press, so I'm sure the right people are taking note of what you've done.”

I started to remind them that Simone was responsible for most of the decorations, but Miss Frankie spoke up before I could finish. “It's a good thing you got rid of that necklace. Otherwise, who knows what might have happened tonight? What did you do with it anyway?”

Gulp!
It was one thing to keep key pieces of information to myself, but quite another to tell an outright lie. “It's at the bank in a safe-deposit box.”

Miss Frankie closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, sadness infused her expression. “Oh, sugar. You still don't understand, do you?”

I turned in my chair to face her more fully. “I
do
understand, Miss Frankie,” I said, my voice low to keep us from being overheard. “I know why the necklace upsets you so much, but I also know that there is no such thing as a curse.
And if you'll just stop for a minute and think rationally, you'll have to admit you know it, too. Besides, I'm only hanging on to it until I can figure out who the rightful owner is and then I'll turn it over, I promise.”