Always the Baker, Never the Bride (13 page)

As she pored over them, Emma wondered who would have the task of suggesting barbecue and cole slaw for Danny’s baseball wedding.

Pumpkin tortellini with chestnuts.

Herbed pork loin with praline mustard sauce.

Pan roasted Georgia rainbow trout with Granny Smith apple and walnut chutney.

Roasted prime rib of beef with wild mushrooms and caramelized onions.

Glazed duck breast with roasted eggplant.

“This is staggering,” Emma told Anton. “You’re a master. An absolute artiste.”

His very straight face slowly tilted upward into a sort of smile, and she heard Jackson sigh as it did.

“Now you tell me,” Emma suggested. “Out of my list of specialty cakes, which ones would create the best marriage with your entrees?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norma shoot Jackson a look, and she imagined that it meant they were pleased. At least she hoped that’s what it meant.

“Let’s start with the crème brûlée cake,” she said. “What would you think of suggesting a pairing with the duck?”

“No!” The three of them jumped when the word popped out of him like a sharp, pointed sword. “They must pair crème brûlée with the prime rib of beef!”

Emma cast Norma a quick glance. Then she shook her head, chuckled and nodded. “Of course. You’re one hundred percent correct.”

“A gentler taste with the duck,” Anton insisted, pulling one of the description cards from the pile on the desk. “This one, with pistachio filling.”

“Perfect.” Emma nodded, handing the card to Norma. “The champagne and pistachio cake with the glazed duck breast entrée. Of course, we can never guarantee that they’ll take our suggestions, but—” His expression changed as fast as a dark storm cloud appearing on the horizon. “—we’ll always nudge them toward good taste wherever we can.”

Anton surprised her with a laugh. “One man’s praline sauce is another man’s beef barbecue, ehh?”

Emma looked up into Anton’s eyes, and he winked at her. “Fee Bianchi told me of the baseball disaster. But we will please every customer, not just the ones who are right in the head.”

A string of chuckles tumbled out of Emma, a sort of blended mixture of relief, amusement, and averted panic. Pulling it together again, she told him, “I think that attitude just reinforces why you’re such a master, Mr. Morelli.”

Anton tweaked her cheek just a little too hard, and Emma glanced over at Jackson just in time to catch the silver flecks of glee flashing in his dark brown eyes, which caught and held hers.

“Now for the daytime weddings,” Norma interjected. “Mr. Morelli has created some simpler menus for brunches or luncheons.”

Emma tried to concentrate on Norma’s words—

Smoked salmon bruschetta, cocktail meatballs in black pepper cider sauce, chicken roulade with rice pilaf…
something about stuffed chicken breasts …

—but all she could really hear was the annoying pound-pound-pound of her own heartbeat in response to Jackson’s tender hold on her eyes. Emma couldn’t look away, and it was frustrating. She was reminded of the time she and Danny had been arguing, and he used duct tape to bind her wrist to his so she couldn’t escape. No matter how hard she twisted and pulled, Jackson Drake’s eyes had her in an infuriating lock.

“Emma?”

“Hmmm?”

“Anton asked if you had a pastry with a Southern slant. Something traditional to go with his rainbow trout.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, peeling her gaze away from him like gray duct tape from her wrist. “Yes. Umm, I have something here …” She fumbled through the cards until she found it. “It’s a pecan praline filling with a caramel glaze.”

“Exceptional,” Anton rumbled, and he gave Emma’s hand a harsh little pat.

Stacking Multi-Tiered Wedding Cakes

• A cake with multiple tiers often looks as if the layers have simply been placed one on top of the other; however, this is not the case. To do so would ensure a cake avalanche effect as the weight of the upper layers crumbled into the lower ones.
  
• The bottom tier of the cake is affixed to a cake board with a thin layer of icing to hold it in place.
  
• The upper tiers are supported with three or four wooden dowels per layer, carefully placed and measured, so that the weight of the upper layer is supported.
  
• Remember that tiered cakes tend to be quite heavy, so if the cake has to be transported, you’ll want to consider that carefully. You may choose to disassemble the layers before transporting, and then reassemble them when you reach your destination.
  
• Always advise the bride and groom to cut the cake at the
  bottom layer first.
  

8

N
orma had transformed the room that had once been an office into an inviting consultation room for planning receptions, banquets, and special events. Steel-blue walls set a backdrop for an arrangement of six 11” x 14” photos in identical brushed nickel frames displaying an array of banquet possibilities, from buffet tables brimming with choices to elegant place settings bearing gourmet meals.

A cherry table and three chairs angled into the corner, and on the opposite wall hung another arrangement of six framed photos, those showcasing Emma’s abilities as a baker and wedding cake designer. Beneath the display sat an overstuffed floral sofa between two indigo easy chairs and a cherry coffee table set with glossy flyers and brochures detailing what The Tanglewood Inn had to offer.

“It’s really beautiful,” Emma told her as they stood inside the doorway and inspected the finished room.

“I tried to make it into a place where clients will want to relax and spend time pulling together the details.”

“You certainly accomplished that.”

Fee poked her head through the doorway. “Wow!”

“Isn’t it great?” Emma asked her.

“Amazing.” She tossed a smile toward Norma before catching Emma’s eye. “You have a call.”

Emma rubbed Norma’s arm on her way to the doorway. “You done good.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

She rounded the corner and crossed her kitchen, then sat down behind her very own desk with a sigh.

“Emma Travis,” she said as she picked up the phone. “My daughter, the professional.”

Emma grinned and leaned back into the chair. “Mother.”

“It always sounds like you’re calling me a bad name when you say it like that, Emma Rae.”

“How would you prefer me to say it?” she laughed.

“Mother, darling!” Avery exclaimed. “I’ve missed you so.”

“Well, I have. How are you, Mother darling? Are you in town?”

“No, I’m in Savannah with your Aunt Sophie, sweetheart. I’m thinking about bringing her with me to Atlanta.”

“It would be nice to have her visit.”

“Not for a visit, Emma Rae. I’m thinking of bringing her there permanently.”

Emma chuckled. “Have you discussed that with her yet? I can’t imagine Aunt Sophie packing up and leaving Savannah behind after all these years. Has she ever even left the city limits?”

“Yes, she has. But she’s not doing very well, and I’m worried about her. I thought I might be able to get her one of those apartments in the Sandy Springs complex where Delores and Beauregard Denton moved last year. Peachtree something.”

“Everything in Atlanta is Peachtree something, Mother.”

“It’s one of those communities; a retirement village with a penthouse.”

“Assisted living?” Emma asked.

“Yes, that’s it. Sophie can’t live on her own anymore, Emma Rae.”

“It’s that bad?”

“She wandered off in her nightclothes last week, and they found her waiting outside Nieman Marcus for the doors to open.”

“Oh,” Emma groaned. “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. I’m very concerned. I’m going to call the Dentons and see what they can tell me about the place. I visited them last year, and we had a very nice luncheon in the restaurant downstairs.”

“The cafeteria?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Give Aunt Sophie my love?”

“I will, sweetheart. Now tell me how your new job is coming along. When do you open?”

“Next week we have an official opening,” she replied, and then she opened the desk drawer and propped both feet on it. “The first hotel guests are booked the week after, and our first wedding is on the eighteenth. You’ll never guess whose wedding it is.”

“Tell me.”

“Danny Mahoney.”

“Mahoney,” Avery repeated. “Mahoney. Where do I know—”

“My high school boyfriend.”

“Oh! Sweet Ivy James, you can’t be serious. Remember how your father abhorred that boy?”

“Well, he needn’t have worried. Apparently, Danny has found the woman of his dreams in a tiny blonde named Callie, and their wedding theme … wait for it! … is the Atlanta Braves.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Avery said with a chuckle. “Didn’t he play baseball in school?”

“He sure did. I’m designing a sculpted wedding cake for them in the shape of a baseball glove.”

“Please. No more.”

“Oh, there’s more, Mother. The reception food?”

“Chicken wings?”

“Barbecue.”

Avery began to chortle, and Emma could just picture her there, her hand to her slender throat, her dark brown hair pulled back into a perfect, elegant bun, her sparkling smile lighting up three or four rooms around her.

“What a shame, sweetheart. No wedding barbecue for you. Are you heartbroken?”

“Deep despair. When will I see you?”

“Another week or so, I imagine. I’ll let you know. Perhaps you can give me a tour of your beautiful new hotel.”

“It’s not my hotel, Mother,” Emma said with a laugh. “But I’d be happy to show you around.” Thinking better of that, she added, “Maybe on the weekend, when no one else is here.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?”

“No,” she replied, and it bounced on a nervous chuckle. “Of course not. Give me a call.”

“I will. I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

The weight of the situation began to press in, and Emma replayed her conversation with Jackson in spurts. Georgiann had wanted Avery to attend the opening; now Avery was coming to town right around the time of the opening.

“
Worlds colliding, baaaaaad
,” Jackson had said.

Emma popped her feet from the desk drawer to the floor and groaned. “Very, very bad,” she said out loud.

“What’s bad?”

Emma jerked her attention to the doorway, where Fee leaned on the jamb. “Huh?”

“You said something was very, very bad. What is?”

“Oh.” She dismissed her with the wave of her hand. “Nothing.”

“Can we talk?”

“Sure. Come on in. Is this bad news?”

“I don’t think so,” Fee answered with a slight cringe.

“Oh, no.”

“Dude. Don’t get all bunged up. I just want to ask you something.”

“So ask.”