Free Rebel Without a Cake by Jacklyn Brady

I’ll run up some sketches and get them to you. Do you have a preference about the flavor or type of icing? We can do a lot with buttercream, but cream cheese is always popular. Or there’s fondant . . .”
    Evangeline didn’t say anything for a moment. She just looked down her nose at me in silence. “So you’re the girl Philippe married, are you?”
    That was so unexpected, the pen slipped from my fingers. “Yes I am.”
    â€œIt’s strange that you’re here now, running his bakery like this, don’t you think? Tell me, why did we never see you around here when he was alive?”
    Her audacity stunned me into silence, but only for a moment. I’d had my reasons and they’d seemed legitimate at the time. But legitimate or not, they were none of her business. I could have said so straight out, but I’d lose the contract for sure if I did, and I still had things to prove.
    â€œOh, you know,” I said with a thin laugh. “Life gets in the way. Now, about the cake—”
    â€œYou two met in Chicago. Is that right?”
    â€œYes. At pastry school.” I wanted to escape those cold, hard eyes so I grabbed the portfolio from the top of the filing cabinet. “Maybe you would like to look at some of the other cakes we’ve created. We have some extremely talented cake artists on staff. Looking at cakes we’ve made for other clients may give you some ideas.”
    After handing her the folder, I sat behind the desk again. “I’m sure you’ll want the cake to tie into the idea of vintage clothing, so what if we did something like this?” I sketched a rough outline of a couple dancing, both in what I hoped was appropriate vintage clothing, and turned the sketch so she could see it. “It’s off the cuff, of course, but it’s a rough idea.”
    Evangeline glanced quickly down at the sketch and away. “It’s
quite
rough, isn’t it? It’s also somewhat ordinary.”
    I was tempted to show her a whole bunch of ordinary, but I bit my tongue and swallowed my pride. “Meeting with your decorators will help.” So would a few suggestions. If she was this unforthcoming about what she was looking for, no wonder the other bakery had failed to produce a design she could approve. “If you could help me narrow down what you’re looking for—”
    Just then there was a knock on the door and Edie poked her head inside. “I’m really sorry to disturb you, but you have a phone call, Rita.”
    The interruption surprised me. Edie knew better than to barge in on a client meeting. “Take a message, please. Tell whoever it is that I’m with a client and I’ll call back when I’m finished.”
    â€œI tried that. It’s Miss Frankie’s neighbor, Bernice. She says it’s an emergency.”
    She had to be joking. I should have called this morning to tell her about the cat. Quickly, I pondered my options. I could stay with Evangeline Delahunt and let her continue taking potshots at my self-esteem, or I could take a moment to reassure Bernice. Maybe the break would also help get Mrs. Delahunt back on track.
    It took me roughly two seconds to make up my mind. “Would you excuse me, Mrs. Delahunt? I’ll only be a minute. You can go through the portfolio to see if there’s anything that sparks an idea for you.”
    Evangeline looked anything but pleased, but I hurried out to Edie’s desk and picked up the call. “Bernice? What’s wrong?”
    â€œWhat’s
wrong
?” she whispered. “There’s a crazy woman sitting in my living room and she’s got a voodoo whatever with her. You have to get over here right now and get rid of them.”
    Surely I’d heard her wrong. “I’m sorry, who did you say was there?”
    â€œI just told you. You have to come now. I don’t know what to do with them.”
    I