shook his head. “Your kitchen passed muster a month ago. Why did they need to recheck everything because Mrs. Watson received a cake she never even touched?”
I took the Department of Agriculture’s invoice out of my jeans pocket and pushed it across the table. “The holiday shopping season is upon us. Maybe they needed the forty dollars.”
“What? They actually billed you for this inspection?”
“Yep. I believe that’s what is commonly known as adding insult to injury.”
“That’s certainly not the phrase I’d have chosen, Daph. But yours is the nicer one.”
After Ben left, I made up a batch of stiff butter cream. I divided the icing into fourths and tinted one fourth yellow, one fourth pink, one fourth peach and one fourth red. Thankfully, I’d remembered to put on decorator’s gloves before coloring my icing. I didn’t want to have multi-hued fingers at Violet’s house tomorrow.
Violet. That would be a pretty color for roses, too .
But I’d already divided and colored the icing in four popular colors. I could make Vi a cake with violet roses for her birthday.
As I put couplers in four featherweight bags, I tried to remember the date of Ben’s birthday. Surely I’d known it when we were growing up. I think it was in spring. Or maybe summer.
I took out a Styrofoam block, my flower nail and my number twelve and number 104 tips. Deciding to make yellow roses first, I filled a bag one-third of the way with yellow icing. I attached a square of waxed paper to the flower nail with a dot of icing. I put the number twelve round tip into the coupler and made a generous cone base for the rose. As I stuck the flower nail into the Styrofoam, I still couldn’t remember Ben’s birthday. But, since I still had no clue as to whether he was a HUG (hot unavailable guy) or a HAG (hot available guy), I guessed it didn’t matter all that much at this point.
I traded the round tip for my number 104 petal tip and retrieved the flower nail. I made sure the wide end was at the bottom, and I made the center petal. I followed up with the three top petals, five middle petals and seven lower petals. Voila. One yellow rose. I removed the waxed paper square from the flower nail and placed it and the rose it held onto a long, flat container. I had several of these freezer-friendly containers for this very purpose.
I put a new waxed paper square onto the flower nail and stood the nail on its Styrofoam perch while I switched tips.
The phone rang, and I picked up the headset I use while I’m working. “Daphne’s Delectable Cakes.”
“Hi, hon. It’s Myra. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, constructing a rose base onto the flower nail. “You?”
“Well, I just heard they got Yodel Watson’s autopsy report back.”
“Wow. That was quick.”
“Yeah, it was, and it apparently raised more questions than it gave answers.”
“What do you mean?” I switched to the petal tip and twirled the flower nail as I put the rose’s petals in place.
“The autopsy report gave Yodel’s cause of death as respiratory failure. It also said she had some gross hemorrhaging, some dead tissue and something about bad kidney tubes.”
“Ick. That sounds horrible. Where did you get the lowdown on the autopsy?”
“From Joanne Hayden. I saw her in the drugstore. She was buying hair dye. I knew that wasn’t her natural color.”
“Good ol’ Joanne. I should’ve guessed.” I put this rose into the container beside the first one. “I really need to meet her. I’ve heard so much about her, I feel I know her already.”
“Joanne says the police are afraid Yodel might’ve been poisoned.”
I froze. “Really?”
“Yeah, and she said you were even being investigated to make sure it wasn’t something in your cake that did her in.”
“Myra, you saw that cake . . . you’ve got that cake! It hadn’t been touched until you tasted the frosting. Did you tell Joanne that?”
“Yes . . . well, I tried to. But
I took the Department of Agriculture’s invoice out of my jeans pocket and pushed it across the table. “The holiday shopping season is upon us. Maybe they needed the forty dollars.”
“What? They actually billed you for this inspection?”
“Yep. I believe that’s what is commonly known as adding insult to injury.”
“That’s certainly not the phrase I’d have chosen, Daph. But yours is the nicer one.”
After Ben left, I made up a batch of stiff butter cream. I divided the icing into fourths and tinted one fourth yellow, one fourth pink, one fourth peach and one fourth red. Thankfully, I’d remembered to put on decorator’s gloves before coloring my icing. I didn’t want to have multi-hued fingers at Violet’s house tomorrow.
Violet. That would be a pretty color for roses, too .
But I’d already divided and colored the icing in four popular colors. I could make Vi a cake with violet roses for her birthday.
As I put couplers in four featherweight bags, I tried to remember the date of Ben’s birthday. Surely I’d known it when we were growing up. I think it was in spring. Or maybe summer.
I took out a Styrofoam block, my flower nail and my number twelve and number 104 tips. Deciding to make yellow roses first, I filled a bag one-third of the way with yellow icing. I attached a square of waxed paper to the flower nail with a dot of icing. I put the number twelve round tip into the coupler and made a generous cone base for the rose. As I stuck the flower nail into the Styrofoam, I still couldn’t remember Ben’s birthday. But, since I still had no clue as to whether he was a HUG (hot unavailable guy) or a HAG (hot available guy), I guessed it didn’t matter all that much at this point.
I traded the round tip for my number 104 petal tip and retrieved the flower nail. I made sure the wide end was at the bottom, and I made the center petal. I followed up with the three top petals, five middle petals and seven lower petals. Voila. One yellow rose. I removed the waxed paper square from the flower nail and placed it and the rose it held onto a long, flat container. I had several of these freezer-friendly containers for this very purpose.
I put a new waxed paper square onto the flower nail and stood the nail on its Styrofoam perch while I switched tips.
The phone rang, and I picked up the headset I use while I’m working. “Daphne’s Delectable Cakes.”
“Hi, hon. It’s Myra. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, constructing a rose base onto the flower nail. “You?”
“Well, I just heard they got Yodel Watson’s autopsy report back.”
“Wow. That was quick.”
“Yeah, it was, and it apparently raised more questions than it gave answers.”
“What do you mean?” I switched to the petal tip and twirled the flower nail as I put the rose’s petals in place.
“The autopsy report gave Yodel’s cause of death as respiratory failure. It also said she had some gross hemorrhaging, some dead tissue and something about bad kidney tubes.”
“Ick. That sounds horrible. Where did you get the lowdown on the autopsy?”
“From Joanne Hayden. I saw her in the drugstore. She was buying hair dye. I knew that wasn’t her natural color.”
“Good ol’ Joanne. I should’ve guessed.” I put this rose into the container beside the first one. “I really need to meet her. I’ve heard so much about her, I feel I know her already.”
“Joanne says the police are afraid Yodel might’ve been poisoned.”
I froze. “Really?”
“Yeah, and she said you were even being investigated to make sure it wasn’t something in your cake that did her in.”
“Myra, you saw that cake . . . you’ve got that cake! It hadn’t been touched until you tasted the frosting. Did you tell Joanne that?”
“Yes . . . well, I tried to. But
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