Twirling Cakes

Shelby loved driving in the early morning, the peace of the resting city, its usual noise muffled by the blanket of night. The lights had dimmed, nothing ever turned off here, but the soft glow as she drove through the rain-slicked streets reminded her of the holiday season.

Quiet city blocks rolled past as she turned towards the market district, the small strip mall bathed in a multitude of colors, many coming from her sign, Twirling Cakes Bakery.

The bakery’s name was lit in multi-colored LEDs, matching the colors they were attached to. Shelby parked her old sky-blue Camry under the glow of it and hurried to the door, keys jingling in her shivering hand.

The store lights flickered on, washing the pastel interior with a warm glow. A handful of small purple benches with matching tables lined the walls of the shop. Pink and purple high-top tables and chairs were piled in one corner. However, four sat in the center of the room, two chairs surrounding one.

Covering the massive chalkboard menu behind the front counter, the words “MCLARRENNE TASTING TODAY” greeted her. She felt her hands, feet, and heart all flutter in unison as she giddily started forward.

Setting up tables and chairs for the tasting, she went about waking up her bakery, something she had mastered in the nine years of owning it. She had taken the leap when her last job had fired her for messing up a dish for a member of the corporate board.

It still made her chuckle that most of her coworkers had quit upon hearing the news, their hookup for treats now gone. She donned her lucky apron, a stained pink-purple tye-dye with the same cupcake as her sign sewn onto the pocket. A gift from the same coworkers, many of which were still her most loyal customers almost a decade later.

The early hours of the morning flew by with the numerous doughs, batters, glazes, and icings she made. Her mind ran on autopilot as she thought about the decorations and ideas she had planned for each cake. She had planned everything down to the minute, from the moment she found out about the tasting.

The McLarrenne’s were the wealthiest family Shelby knew of, reading about them on the cover of magazines and newspapers. She never cared for gossip; most of her days consisted of this anyways.

The sun had barely crested the horizon when a large, matte black SUV rumbled its way into the parking lot. Chrome rims glinted as the monstrous vehicle parked in the two spots beside Shelby’s Camry, dwarfing the old car. The front doors swung open, the interior the same dark coloration as the paint.

Out of the passenger door stepped a massive man wearing a tidy black suit and overly tight sunglasses. His bald head turned to speak to what looked like a copy of him stepping out of the driver’s side. This man wore a similar suit and sunglasses, but a tight top knot of brown hair held back the rays of the morning.

Almost in unison, the two turned to open the back doors. Bursting out of the passenger side, a thin, handsome man in a fitted, shining suit and shoes barged out, visibly upset. He ran a tan hand through slicked-back blonde hair and adjusted his suit, stepping around the back of the SUV towards the other side.

A young woman stepped from the other door gracefully, a clutch of ivory leather and a bright silver clasp held in her hand. She smiled and spoke to her driver, adjusting the mint green sundress she wore. The man came around the corner, reaching for the woman’s hand and nearly yanking her towards the bakery entrance, the two giants following shortly behind.

Soft chiming from the bell prefaced a drawn-out sigh from the man as he entered, the rest of the four close behind. The woman freed herself of his grip with a quick motion, stopping to take off her sunglasses as she looked around the interior. Shelby smiled as bright as she could, fighting the urge to bow for no reason.

“Welcome to Twir-”

“Are you Shelby?” The man stomped forward, cutting her greeting off.

“Yes, I am. Is everything alright? We can reschedule if needed.”

“There’s no issue. He just isn’t a morning person.” The woman spoke up from the entrance, still looking around at the cloud and dawn sky artwork on the walls, another gift from her old coworkers.

“Thank you for working with us; I know this is a bit unusual.” The woman stepped forward, still looking around before turning a smile towards Shelby and extending a hand, “But Stafford wouldn’t stop talking about a cake he had from here. Nice to meet you; I’m Alaisa.”

Shelby raised hers instinctually before pulling back, showing the icing and glaze that still covered them. “Sorry, everything of yours is ready. I was finishing the morning bake.” Smiling in apology, she walked behind the front counter and began washing her hands. “Please, take a seat. Let me get some chairs for the other two.”

“They can stand.” The man spat, plopping himself into his seat.

“Michael. Please, they can get the chairs if you don’t mind.” Alaisa responded, glaring towards the man before setting her handbag down and sitting. She turned towards Shelby, who was drying her hands, “The interior is absolutely adorable. Did you design it yourself?”

“I picked out the furniture, but a friend of mine painted the walls and designed my logo.” She pulled the first of the cakes from the display case.

“So cute. I do feel bad having you up this early.”

“Please don’t. I would be up this early anyway.” Shelby set the cake on the first table, nodding towards the racks of cooling bagels and muffins.

Alaisa hopped up from her chair, fixated on the confection placed at the first table. Behind her, Michael stretched to get a glimpse, and the two bodyguards had slowed in carrying their chairs to look as Shelby brought out each cake.

“So each of these are ideas for what your cake can be. I can also do catering with other goods, cookies, cream puffs, eclairs, stuff like that.” Shelby explained as she brought the other two cakes out.

“Would everyone like a piece? I made enough.” Shelby pulled a stack of plates and forks out, matching pink and purple of the furniture.

“No, they don’t need any-”

“Yes,” Alaisa cut off Michael quickly, “if they would like some, they are more than welcome to.”

Shelby set the plates down, hurrying away from the tension to find a knife. Returning, she grabbed all four dishes and filled them with a small slice of each cake. Placing a fork on each plate, she delicately set each one around the table and stepped back.

Alaisa pinched her fork and sliced off a small portion of a vanilla cake. The rest followed her lead, Shelby clearing her throat before beginning the descriptions she had rehearsed every night for three weeks.

“This cake is a vanilla cake with hints of nutmeg and a small zest of lemon to add a twist to it. The frosting is a spiced buttercream that contrasts the richness of the cake. I can easily change the frosting, and vanilla complements a wide assortment of flavors from lemon to olive.”

Shelby felt like she could generate a small mixer with how much she was shaking, but Alaisa gave her a look that calmed her down instantly. She swallowed, clearing her throat before looking at the bald guard.

“My god Stafford, you're picking the restaurants from now on. Shelby, this is incredible; I’m not a fan of lemon, but the frosting is sweet, decadent, and light” Alaisa finished off her piece quickly, turning to her fiance.

“What do you think, love?”

“What’s next?” he grumbled a bit and nibbled on a piece. Alaisa rolled her eyes and turned back to Shelby with a smile.

“Entirely up to you, ma’am.”

“Oh please, call me Alaisa. With a cake this good, I have a feeling we are going to be friends.” Shelby felt her heart skip a beat. She squeezed her forearms behind her back to the point of pain, focusing on not squealing in joy.

Alaisa cut a piece from an orange-yellow slice, not waiting for Shelby’s explanation to dig in.

“That is an orange cake, one of the many fruit flavors I can make. I know it’s not necessarily traditional, but I can always make it with vanilla buttercream and a more subtle flavor profile.” She watched as Micheal took one small forkful, sniffed it, and set it down, scoffing.

“This is wonderfully refreshing. What do you think, love, something everyone could enjoy to help with the hangover the day after?” Alaisa nudged Michael, who glared in response.

Shelby shook her head, continuing, “Lastly, there’s the chocolate hazelnut cake. I sell a variety of this recipe in the store, Death by Chocolate. It is one of our bestsellers and won this awar-”

A squeaking chair interrupted her as Michael shot out of his seat, storming out of the bakery. The bell jingled as the door was thrown open, his fading footsteps rising again as the top-knot followed after him in close tow.

“I’m sorry about him, really.” Alaisa sighed and stood up, taking a singular bite of the chocolate cake, a small moan escaping as she took her clutch and began walking out, Stafford following.

Shelby felt a punch to her gut as she watched them walk away. More than anything, she felt confused. Picking up half-eaten plates, she began cleaning. Alaisa stopped at the door, pulling Stafford close to whisper something to him, and pulled a folded paper out of her clutch.

As the bell chimed again, Stafford walked up to Shelby, clearing his throat like a truck engine.

“Excuse me, miss?”

“Yes?”

“Miss McLarrenne wanted me to tell you that she is pretty sure you are going to be the caterer and wanted to apologize for her fiance,” He pushed the paper into her hand, nearly knocking a plate out of it.

“If you are interested, here is a shortlist of themes for the three sections of the wedding. Along with it, there is a card with a phone number that she requested you call before you open. Again, apologies about Michael.” He turned around, careful not to bump anything off the tables, and headed out swiftly, the slam of the car door muffled through the windows.

Shelby stood in that spot, holding the paper and plates for five minutes after they had left, stunned by everything. When her senses finally came to, she hurriedly grabbed the phone, pulling a small metal card with an engraved elegant M in the center of it.

She flipped it over, the back reading a series of digits that she punched into the phone. The speaker rang once, twice, thrice, then a click and a smooth, delicate voice came through. In the background, Shelby heard faint snoring cutting in and out.

“Hello? Shelby?”

“Yes, is this Alaisa?” Shelby felt her voice shake over the phone.

“Yes, oh amazing, Stafford, thank you for giving her the security card. This evening, come by the estate. You and I will discuss everything. I’ll send over the list of cake flavors we would like to try. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Yes. Wh- what’s the address?” Shelby wasn’t thinking at this point. Her head was screaming in joy.

“Oh, just slide the back of the card up, and scan it when you get here. See you tonight, dear!” The line clicked, and Shelby lost another five minutes to astonishment.

Her printer shook her from the stupor. Grabbing the paper, she looked over the massive list of flavors, and at the bottom, two things caught her eye: the commission price and page one of three.