Page 50 of The Incubus's Angel
And now that Aunt Annamae has recovered, I know my time at The Flowering Teapot is also coming to an end. They haven’t said as much, and I know they’ll allow me to stick around as long as I want, but I can’t keep living in that tiny spare bedroom.
Is Ren ready for me to move in with him? Should I get my own place? And if I do, how would I afford a living? I won’t allow myself to revert to a directionless state again, and I won’t make myself dependent on a partner at this point in my life. I only wish there was a way I could stay, a way I could have it all.
But that’s a worry for another day, today is only supposed to be about the cake and the party. I blink out of my melancholyand start humming a happy tune, Uncle Richard’s baritone quickly harmonizing with me when he recognizes the song.
Grabbing my offset spatula, I start working on each tier’s crumb coat that’ll smooth the surface and prevent any bumps from showing later. Once they’re all covered in a thin layer of buttercream and I’m satisfied with this step in the process, I pop them back in the fridge to chill while I stretch my sore muscles.
Now that I have a small window of rest, I allow my thoughts to freely sweep to Ren as they always seem to do. Since I woke this morning, and like every other day since I’ve met him, he’s been a steady presence in the back of my mind. It’s like he’s taken up residence in my head and my heart and I can’t remember a time before I knew him, nor a time when I’ve ever felt this strongly about someone.
He told me he’d come by today to photograph the cake before it goes down to Kraken Cove, and he offered to attend the party with me too. I know he doesn’t like crowds, so the fact that he’s willing to expand his comfort zone by this much makes me indescribably proud of him and has me feeling all sorts of giddy that he’s taking this big step with me,forme.
Ambling over to The Flowering Teapot’s windows with my second cup of coffee this morning, I stare up at the telltale signs of what’s to be a remarkable sunrise. Oranges and pinks tinge the sky behind feathery plumes of golden-tipped clouds as excited jitters scatter out from my chest and tingle down my limbs.
I have such a good feeling about today. Maybe it’s all centered around the cake, but it’s also so much more. Today somehow feels pivotal in the grand scheme of my life. How that is, I’mnot sure. The only thing I know is that I’m going to do my utmost best to produce the best fucking cake I’ve ever made while grasping onto the fact that I have the support of someone special who lo— likes me. A lot. And who wants to keep me.
Aunt Annamae joins me and Uncle Richard in the kitchen not much later and effortlessly conjures the variety of edible flowers that we had agreed would elevate the cake and match the theme for the party. Having a kind and talented dryad for an aunt sure comes in handy when you’re trying to make an extravagant cake.
“These colors look really good together,” she says, staring down at the bunches of calendula, pansies, lavender, and cornflowers on the counter.
A delightful smile plays across my lips as I pick a few and hold them up in a mini bouquet. “They really do. I’m excited to see what the cake is going to look like between the arrangements you have planned for the beach too.”
Placing her newly healed arm across my shoulder, she lifts the other hand in front of us, drawing it in a slow arc through the air as if visualizing the whole scene. “The colors are going to look striking together, and with your cake as the centerpiece—spectacular!”
I giggle. “It’s not even done yet.”
“I have full faith in you,” she announces levelly and pops a fresh daisy into my hair.
“Thank you,” I utter in an emotional breath, meaning it for more than just the compliment, but hoping the simple words can encompass everything I’m not saying too—the opportunity to come to Starry Hill, to become part of thecommunity and for all the new friendships formed, to have the freedom to create and bake in their kitchen, to their faith and pride in me, and for their hand in helping me meet my Ren.
But I can’t afford to get emotional right now. I have a mission and I’m not about to fuck it up.
I place the flowers back on the table. “And with that, I better get to assembling the beast. It should be chilled enough now for the final layer of buttercream.”
“Do you need help with anything?” Aunt Annamae asks sweetly, moving over to Uncle Richard and placing a fresh foliage crown on his head. I spot eucalyptus, rosemary, ferns, and bits of jasmine in the design, reminding me that she’s planning on making the partygoers personalized crowns today. I guess if Doc Calla is your best friend and she’s celebrating such a milestone birthday then one has to pull out all the stops.
I shake my head. “Uhm, not right now, thank you. But, I might call you or Uncle Richard when it’s time to add the top tier so you can maybe hold the ladder for me.”
She gives Uncle Richard a peck on the cheek and I pretend not to see the way he caresses her butt. “We’d be happy to. I’m off to prepare the shop floor. Shout if you need me.”
I carefully move all the flowers to one side of the table, then take the bottom tier back out of the fridge and place it on the turntable. Flexing my fingers, I eye the large base. “It’s you and me now, Mister Vanilla Bean Sponge. Time to get you dressed.”
Grabbing the big bag of buttercream frosting, I meticulously add another layer, making sure it’s level all along the sides as well as on top. I come back with the scraper and apply evenpressure to smooth everything out and check that there aren’t any imperfections.
After, I pop it back in the fridge to give the frosting time to set, and repeat the process with the next two tiers.
While I’m busy, Uncle Richard hums contentedly on his side of the kitchen as he finishes up his bakes for the party, then starts prepping the pies and other treats for The Flowering Teapot’s display cases.
It feels like forever ago yet also like yesterday at the same time when I was staring at the display case in the café’s window and wondering how I could improve things. How much my life has changed since then. I thinkthatMaisie would be really proud ofthisMaisie.
After a couple of minutes and a few more sips of my cooled coffee, I bring out the lemon and elderflower tier and change the nozzle of the piping bag to a small pointed tip. I shake my hands out a couple of times before I fastidiously start piping the winding lace pattern that’ll go along the sides. Even though I practiced this numerous times, I’m still a little nervous. Going slow is the key, since I really don’t want to fuck up Doc Calla’s favorite cake and the one most creatures will be looking at.
When all three tiers have gotten their lace treatment, I once again bring out the base layer to measure the dowels that it’ll need. I grab one dowel and sink it through the soft sponge until it meets the cake drum. Marking the point where it’s level with the frosting, I keep my thumb on the spot and carefully remove it.
Without needing to ask, Uncle Richard comes over and hands me the dowel cutter just out of reach. He silently stays bymy side while I cut it and measure the other two dowels, gives me a nod of encouragement, then sets off for his corner of the kitchen again.
This quiet support means so much to me. Technically, I know what to do and all the steps I have to follow, but having Aunt Annamae and Uncle Richard close by is a comfort I didn’t know I needed. I kind of wish Ren was here too.
No, Maisie. Cake things only. For now.
