The Cakes of Monte Cristo (4 page)

I laughed at the command and checked to make sure there was cleaning fluid in the dispenser. “Sit. Relax. I'm on a roll here. This may never happen again, so accept it while I'm in the mood.”

Edie looked like she might argue, but then thought better of it and sat at the table. “The kitchen is clean. The baby is asleep. How can I ever thank you?”

“I didn't do it all,” I said. “I'd still be holding JD if River hadn't come by.”

Edie stiffened noticeably. “Don't start.”

“I'm not starting anything,” I assured her. “But it's true. He's a good guy, Edie, and he's utterly besotted with JD. He wants to help.”

“I won't deny that, but I'm not getting together with him just because he loves my kid. That would be stupid.”

“It's not just JD he cares about.”

Edie laughed softly and shook her head. “Whatever. Let's not go there right now. I don't have the energy. I wonder if I'll ever have energy again.”

I went over a stubborn stain on the floor with the Swiffer a couple of times. “You'll get back to normal once you're not sleep deprived. Just go with the flow. This is normal for now. Don't waste what energy you do have fighting it.”

“I can't just hang around the house forever. I'm going to have to go to work again.”

“But not yet. Take whatever time you need. We'll work around you.”

Edie's expression sharpened. “What do you mean?”

Her reaction surprised me. “Just what I said. Take whatever time you need.”

“You don't want me back?”

I stopped scrubbing the floor and searched her face for some indication that she was joking. I didn't find one. “Of course we want you back. But I want you happy when you come back, and you won't be happy if you're still—” I realized that I might be going the wrong way with that thought and shifted directions. “If you're not ready. That's all I mean.”

“I should have known this would happen,” Edie said. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Dumbfounded, I leaned the mop against the counter and sat down beside her. I'd been trying to shield her from the reality of life at Zydeco minus Edie, but maybe I'd been wrong. “That's absolutely
not
true,” I said. “We're desperate to get you back. We need you. We can't do what we do without you. But I am not going to rush you. I want you back when the time is right.”

“I guess this temp person is doing all right then?”

“Hardly.” I told her about Danielle quitting and Estelle's idea for a replacement, and then because I'd already told her
everything else, I even told her about Ox's concerns. “So I don't know,” I said as I wound up. “Zoey might work out and she might not, but we'll keep muddling through until you come back.”

Edie sighed deeply, but I thought she seemed a little less worried since I'd been honest with her. “What if Zoey turns out to be amazing?”

I laughed. “I suppose that's possible, but what are the odds? I'm batting oh-for-three in the receptionist arena right now. If she turns out to be amazing, I'll give her a great recommendation when she leaves but she's not taking your job. I promise.”

Edie seemed to accept that, so while she made tea, I got up and finished the floor. I left thirty minutes later, utterly exhausted. My arms and legs ached, and my eyes felt gritty with fatigue. It had been a long day, and I hadn't done a single useful thing at work.
Give me physical labor over people problems any day of the week
, I thought as I aimed the Range Rover toward home.

I picked up a burger and fries on my way home from Edie's, ate quickly, and crawled into bed a little after eleven. Even though I was almost dead on my feet, I had so many things on my mind I thought I'd lie awake worrying, but I must have fallen asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow because the next thing I knew my alarm was going off.

The snooze button tempted me, but with payroll figures to pull together before five, a company blog post to write for the Zydeco website, and lunch with Simone—in addition to a few thousand fondant beads to create—I had a busy day ahead. I crawled out of bed reluctantly, put on a pot of coffee, and stepped into the shower while it brewed. I gulped down one cup while I dressed and nursed another as I drove to work.

I'd wanted to get a jump on the day, so it was only a little after seven when I pulled into the parking lot. To my surprise, the employee lot was full; I realized that I was the last to arrive. The staff's dedication to the job is just one of the
things I appreciate about them. They've become like family to me since I moved to New Orleans. My evening with Edie and the baby had left me feeling all warm and fuzzy, and looking at the cars in the parking lot that morning ramped the fuzzies up another notch.

I breezed into the design room, and spent a few minutes saying good morning to everyone (except Estelle, who wasn't at her workstation). I verified that Ox and Isabeau would be delivering the restored wedding cake later that morning and then hurried into the front of the house.

One look at the reception area explained why Estelle wasn't in the design room. She was here, pacing in front of Edie's desk and apparently waiting for me. She stopped walking when she saw me and smiled broadly. Her red hair curled all over the place without the kerchief she usually wore to contain it, and her orange shirt clashed wildly with her lime green capris.

“There you are, Rita,” she said. “I was starting to think maybe you weren't coming in. You
have
to do something about Ox.”

Uh-oh
. Ox hadn't looked upset when I said good morning, but maybe I'd missed something. “Why?” I asked cautiously. “What has he done?”

“It's about Zoey,” she said with a nod toward the wingback chairs flanking the front window.

My heart sank when I remembered that on top of everything else on my agenda, I had to train Estelle's niece Zoey to do Edie's job, or at least a fraction of it. I did some rapid mental reshuffling as I glanced at the heavyset girl with greasy brown hair who was watching us. The girl—presumably Zoey—wore an oversized T-shirt and jeans that looked at least two sizes too large. Apparently she'd inherited her aunt's fashion sense. When she realized that I'd noticed her, she slumped down so far on her tailbone, it had to hurt.

Not exactly what I'd been expecting. Estelle's other nieces were slim, blond, and bouncy—as if they'd mysteriously fallen from Isabeau's family tree. But Zoey had none of their physical attributes, and it was painfully obvious that she was aware of the difference.

I'd grown up in a poor Hispanic neighborhood without parents of my own and I recognized the look on Zoey's face. It practically screamed,
I don't measure up
, and it tugged at my already fuzzy heartstrings.

“Zoey, say hello to Rita,” Estelle instructed.

Zoey glanced up at me from beneath a veil of bangs that obscured her eyes. Her upper lip twitched, which I thought might have been an attempt at a smile. “Hullo.”

I'm not the kind of person who routinely takes others under my wing, so the surge of protectiveness I felt for Zoey caught me by surprise. For some reason, I felt an almost overwhelming need to make her feel welcome and appreciated.

I crossed the room toward her and held out a hand. I got some chubby, damp fingers in response. They sat like dead fish in my grip, but I pumped her arm a couple of times and gave her a friendly smile. “We're glad to have you, Zoey. Estelle has told me lots of good things about you.”

Zoey's surprised gaze shifted from my face to her aunt's. “You did?”

“Well, of course I did, you silly girl,” Estelle chided. “You're smart. You always have been. The only person who doesn't believe that is you.”

I knew Estelle meant well, but I didn't think this was the time or the place for such a personal comment. I thought it might bother Zoey but she merely shrugged and looked back at me. “I guess I should say thanks for giving me the chance.”

Her enthusiasm was underwhelming but I didn't let it bother me. I didn't know what had hurt Zoey, but I was convinced something had and that cemented the bond I felt for
her. I'd spent my early teen years hurt and angry and convinced I didn't belong anywhere. I'd overcome most of those old feelings, but I still struggled with them at times.

“I'm hoping for good things from you,” I said warmly. “I'm sure you'll live up to Estelle's predictions.”

“Thank goodness someone has good expectations,” Estelle said with an irritated glance at the door to the design room. “Ox told her to keep busy until you got here and had the nerve to tell her to move those boxes out of the storage room on the second floor. Can you believe that? It's not even eight in the morning. She's only here this early because she had to ride in with me. Besides, I told him she's not here to do manual labor. She's here to do Edie's job. I told Zoey to sit right down here and wait for you.”

“It's okay,” Zoey said when Estelle finally took a breath. “I don't mind—”

Estelle cut her off with a flick of her wrist. “I heard what he said yesterday,” she said to me. “He doesn't think Zoey can do the job. Or that she
shouldn't
anyway. But I'm not going to let him treat her like . . . like some cheap day labor.”

I didn't know which bothered me more, the fact that Estelle had heard Ox talking about Zoey or that she was bringing it up in front of her niece. My protective feelings toward Zoey bubbled up a bit more. I didn't want her to think we'd been talking about her—even if we had.

“That's not what he meant,” I assured them both.

“I know
exactly
what he meant,” Estelle interrupted. “Really, Rita, I wish you wouldn't try to cover for him.”

“I'm not covering for anyone,” I insisted. I glanced at Zoey to see how she was reacting to the conversation, but she had embarked on a thorough study of her stubby fingernails. A casual observer might have thought she'd stopped paying attention but I had a feeling she was absorbing every word.
“Obviously there's been a misunderstanding,” I said. “Whatever you heard—”

Estelle shook her head so hard a couple of faded red curls tumbled into her eyes. “I won't have Ox acting all high and mighty around my family, Rita. You know how he can get. And the way he told Zoey to start moving boxes like she's some common day labor he hired off the street? He has no right. Just because Zoey is a few pounds overweight—”

Sheesh, Estelle!
I cut in before she could make things worse. “Ox wasn't trying to insult Zoey and he doesn't think anything like what you're suggesting. That conversation was private. Whatever part of it you heard was out of context, so let it go, okay?”

Estelle's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a couple of times. “Fine. Whatever. What do you want to do first?”

I wanted to get Zoey away from her aunt's clumsy attempts to boost her self-confidence, but I didn't say so aloud. “I think Zoey and I will be fine on our own. Why don't you go back to work?”

Estelle didn't move until Zoey nodded, and even then, the worried aunt moved off reluctantly. But she did leave us alone, so I counted that as a minor victory.

Zoey stood, hitching up her too-big pants in the process, and spent a moment readjusting her clothes, tugging at her shirt, and wiping the toe of her sneaker on the back of her pant leg, then followed me to Edie's desk. I ran over a few of the basics of the job with her and then left her at the cluttered desk to fill out some paperwork.

Having sorted out both Estelle and Zoey (at least temporarily), I went to my office and booted up my laptop so I could get to work on the payroll figures. I lost myself in numbers for a while and didn't think about Zoey again until a heavy thump overhead snapped me out of my digit-induced
stupor. Suddenly aware that I'd left the poor girl sitting at Edie's desk with nothing to do, I hurried into the foyer.

I wasn't surprised to find that Zoey had abandoned Edie's desk but I was embarrassed at my lack of attention. All my good intentions had evaporated the instant Zoey was out of sight. Some mentor I was.

While I stood there chiding myself, I heard a noise above my head. I turned and saw Zoey at the top of the stairs, struggling to hoist a heavy-looking box on top of two others.

“Zoey? What are you doing?”

I must have startled her because she lost her footing and staggered under the weight of the box. She stabilized herself and sent a sheepish grin over the stair railing. “Ox said you needed these boxes moved out of the storage room. I didn't have anything else to do and you were busy, so I thought I could get started.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I felt about two inches tall. “Thanks, but you really don't have to do that job. Put those boxes down and we'll start on your training. I'm going to grab a soda. Would you like one? Or maybe some coffee?”

Zoey shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Soda's fine.”

I'd taken only a couple of steps into the hall when I heard Zoey swear, another heavy thud, and a cry of alarm. I made it back to the foyer in time to see Zoey's foot slip from the top step. I watched, frozen in horror, as she tried to catch her balance. The box rocked from side to side, gaining momentum in spite of her efforts to get it under control.

I finally managed to shout a warning and ran toward the stairs, but it felt as if I were moving in slow motion. As I plodded up the first two steps, the box slipped out of Zoey's arms and tumbled toward me. My instinct for self-preservation kicked in and I lunged back downstairs as fast as I could.

Zoey caught the railing and kept herself from falling but the box crashed into the wall, gouging a deep hole in the
plaster, and continued down the sweeping staircase toward me. It bounced a few more times, ricocheting between the wall and the railing. Plaster dust and wood splinters flew into the air with every hit.

Zoey staggered away from the edge of the stairs, but in the process she sent another box tumbling. I ducked and covered as the first heavy box bounced past me and the second crashed into the railing with a sickening crunch. Half a dozen newel posts splayed in every direction and a couple of boards on the steps popped up, leaving gaping holes where the stairs should have been.

“Oh my gosh!” Zoey said from somewhere above me. “I can't believe I did that. I'm so
sorry!
”

Both boxes had come to rest on the main floor, sides crushed and tops split wide open. A huge hole gaped in the wall near the top of the stairs, and several beautiful wooden posts leaned out into the room. The damage made my heart sink, but at least I hadn't gotten hurt. I hoped the same was true for Zoey.

“Are you all right?” I called up to her as Estelle, Sparkle, and Dwight burst into the room. No Isabeau or Ox, I noted. They must have been out on the delivery already.

Estelle saw the mess and cried out in alarm. “Zoey! Are you hurt?”

Dwight gaped at the staircase and Sparkle toed one of the boxes experimentally.

Zoey shook her head and took a jerky step away from the edge of the landing, but apparently she'd forgotten that one of the boxes was right behind her. She tripped over it and sprawled into another stack, which sent a third box down the steps toward the rest of us.

This one rolled harmlessly past us, but I didn't want Zoey to do any more damage. “Don't move!” I called up to her. “Just stay put.”

Zoey sat up and looked through the railing. Tears filled her dark eyes. “I'm such a klutz!” she wailed. “You must hate me.”

Before I could reassure her, Estelle got in my face. “You made her move the boxes?”

“No! I—”

“I did it myself,” Zoey wailed. “She was busy and I wanted to be helpful. Don't get mad at Rita.”

Dwight muttered something about repairs and turned to me as if he expected me to give him a hammer and nails. Sparkle stepped over one of the boxes and joined him. “What do you want us to do?” she asked.

“Right now?” I glanced around at the damage and sighed. “Go back to work. We'll deal with this later.”

Dwight looked surprised. Sparkle shrugged and turned away. Estelle started toward the stairs. “You do
not
have to do the heavy lifting,” she said to Zoey.

I wasn't in the mood for that conversation so I tried to divert her attention. “We can sort all of that out later. Zoey isn't hurt and we all have work to do.”