That Old Black Magic by Mary Jane Clark Page B

for Sabrina and Leo’s wedding cake. I’m really excited about it.”
    â€œWonderful!” said Bertrand as he unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. “You can tell me all about it while I get the beignets started.”
    As she followed Bertrand back to the kitchen, Piper noticed the large wooden panel with a handle set into the corridor wall. She realized it must be the dumbwaiter that led up to her apartment. It made her a bit uneasy, knowing that there was such easy access.
    But she pushed those thoughts aside as she watched Bertrand combine yeast, warm water, and granulated sugar in the bowl of the heavy-duty mixer. After the mixture stood for about five minutes, he added evaporated milk, eggs, salt, more sugar, and shortening.
    â€œOkay, Piper. Would you begin beating and gradually add the flour?”
    While Piper followed the instructions, Bertrand went to the refrigerator and took out a huge covered bowl. He dumped the contents onto the floured surface of the worktable and began rolling it out.
    â€œYou see, you are making the dough for tomorrow’s beignets, Piper. It has to sit overnight. I made this batch yesterday.”
    Bertrand began cutting the beignet dough into squares. “So,” he said, “tell me what you are thinking about for the wedding cakes.”
    â€œWell, I thought we’d have three layers—six-inch, ten-inch, and fourteen-inch rounds for the big Natchez cake,” said Piper as she poured more flour into the mixing bowl.
    â€œThat sounds about right,” said Bertrand. “What kind of cake?”
    â€œHow about a red velvet cake for the steamboat party and a bananas Foster cake for the party at Bistro Sabrina? They’re both so New Orleans, right?”
    Bertrand nodded. “And icing?”
    â€œCream cheese with crumbled pralines for the bananas Foster cake and, for the red velvet, my mother has a recipe that she always uses. It’s my favorite frosting ever.”
    â€œOkay,” said Bertrand, smiling. “Sounds good so far. I’d like to try that icing of your mother’s.”
    â€œI’ll make you some,” said Piper. “And in terms of decorations, I was thinking about doing fleur-de-lis dotting around the sides of the layers.”
    Bertrand’s facial expression collapsed.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” asked Piper.
    â€œAh, Piper, do you know how many wedding cakes I’ve decorated with fleurs-de-lis, the symbol of New Orleans? I was hoping to do something different for Sabrina and Leo.”
    â€œWell, I had a thought for a special cake topper,” Piper said tentatively.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI was thinking about a miniature paddleboat, like the Natchez, where Sabrina and Leo met. I saw one in a gift shop yesterday. We could have figures of the bride and groom standing together beside it.”
    Bertrand smiled again, coming around the table and taking Piper’s hands in his. “Now, that’s an idea I like. Très bien! ”

Chapter 19
    F alkner groaned as he looked at the clock. He was groggy, and his eyes burned from lack of sleep. Why did his dissertation adviser insist on meeting so early in the morning? Falkner dreaded their conversations, and getting together at such an ungodly hour only made it worse.
    It wasn’t that he didn’t have a passion for the subject on which he’d chosen to write his doctoral thesis. “The Origin and Hidden Meanings of English Nursery Rhymes” still fascinated him. The first literature to which most people were exposed often focused on the most basic concerns of children and mirrored the culture’s most elemental values.
    The problem was his difficulty in coming up with original insights. His research wasn’t leading to anything that hadn’t already been published. Try as he might, Falkner was rehashing what others had already analyzed.
    Forcing himself from bed, he stumbled to the bathroom and