Jennifer Crusie - Agnes and the Hitman

Evie sighed. “The people at the Flamingo are very pleased with the golf course Palmer designed,” she said faintly. “So they sent the car.”

“It’s pink” Agnes said, still staring.

“Flamingo pink,” Evie said. “Palmer gave it to Maria.”

“He’s no dummy,” Agnes said without thinking.

“Well, isn’t it the cutest thing?” Brenda said, exchanging a glance with Agnes of mutual agreement that it wasn’t while Evie grew grimmer.

“I’ll just go inside and get the cakes,” Agnes said.

When she got back with the cake plate, Maria was in the gazebo, looking incredibly lovely, her long glossy dark hair caught up in a knot at the top of her head, making her big brown eyes and pointed features even more striking. For once, Palmer wasn’t staring at her adoringly, his slightly foolish features and slightly receding blond hairline fixed in her direction. Instead he was surveying Agnes’s extensive lawn, an unfocused look in his eyes, a dress bag draped over his arm as if he’d forgotten it was there.

“Agnes!” Maria threw her arms around Agnes.

“Hello, honey.” Agnes hugged back with one arm while she held the cake plate steady with the other. “How are you?”

Maria smiled at her at little too widely, her eyes a little too bright. “Fine, now that I know you’re doing the cake.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Can you really do this?”

“Yep.” Agnes sat the cake plate down to get better traction on the hug. “I have some ideas to cover up the fact that I’m not one of the world’s great cake artists, but I will bet you six M amp;M’S that you will have abeautiful cake anyway, and I swear it will be delicious, much better than Bern the Baker’s. His cake tastes like cardboard because he’s always concentrating on his sugar paste.”

“Six M amp;M’S. High stakes.” Maria grinned the way she had when she’d been little, and Agnes felt her heart tug at the memory. “You’re on.”

“Such a pity Bern canceled on you,” Evie murmured, watching her son from the corner of her eye, as if waiting for a sign that he wanted out of his engagement.

“I was shocked when Bern told me he wasn’t going to do it after all,” Brenda said, her lovely face growing serious. “Some people do not know their places.”

“So true,” Evie said, looking at Brenda.

Mean, Agnes thought, and moved closer to Brenda.

Off in the swamp, somebody fired a gun several times, and Agnes jerked around, expecting to see a guy in a bandanna come out of the swamp and demand her dog, but nothing happened except that Evie looked displeased. She didn’t legally own all of Keyes, but spiritually she did, and she clearly hadn’t put in an order for gunfire this morning.

“So we’ll all sit down,” Agnes said brightly to cover up her nerves and the gunfire that continued. Damn hunters. “And we’ll taste cake. Palmer, you sit here, and I’ll get another chair-”

“No, no.” Palmer turned and smiled, a genuine smile that surprised Agnes with its sweetness. “I tagged along and I don’t deserve cake. But I’d like to look at the lawn if you don’t mind.”

Brenda looked up, puzzled. “Why would you want to look at my lawn-?”

“Not yours,” Evie murmured.

“The lawn?” Agnes said. “Of course I don’t mind.”

Palmer kissed Maria’s cheek. “Pick a winner, darling,” he said, as if by rote.

Maria patted his shoulder. “I already did, baby,” she said, equally without warmth.

That doesn’t sound right, Agnes thought, but her real interest was in the woods where the shots had come from. All she needed was a stray bullet picking off a member of the wedding party, and there’d be hell to pay.

Palmer draped the dress bag over the gazebo rail and wandered off, and Maria sat down and said, “So. Cake. Chocolate raspberry?”

“The cupcakes,” Agnes said, concentrating on the important stuff, since the gunfire seemed to have stopped. “I know that’s your favorite, Maria, but the cake has to be strong enough to support the fondant, and that one’s pretty delicate. It’d be wonderful served with raspberry sauce at the rehearsal dinner, though. The raspberry sauce is in the silver bowl. The heart-shaped cakes are Italian cream cake and the round ones are pound cake, which is the only kind I’m positive will hold up the fondant. The square ones are a coconut pound cake that I’m trying out. I think it might work if you’re afraid plain pound cake is too boring, but I’m warning you now, I’m not an expert cake decorator, so the stronger the cake you give me to work with, the better chance you have of getting something that makes it through the reception.” Agnes picked up a plate.

“I have to confess that I am concerned that the house isn’t painted yet,” Brenda said as Agnes put cakes on the first plate, and Agnes flinched.

“It will be.” Agnes handed the plate to Maria. “Bride first.” Maria handed the plate to Evie. “Absolutely not. Mother of the groom first.”

Evie accepted the plate. “Thank you, my dear. You have such lovely manners.”

“Because if the house won’t be ready-” Brenda began.

“It will be.” Agnes plopped cake on a second plate and then shoved that plate at Brenda, wondering what her problem was.

Brenda frowned at the plate. “Now is this the china you’ll be using for the wedding, sugar?”

“No,” Agnes said, distracted again. “Taylor’s got china on order to stock his catering kitchen in the barn, and we’ll be using that.”

Brenda shook her head. “There’s an awful lot that isn’t in place -”

“It will all be here,” Agnes said firmly. “The china, the house, the cake, the flowers, everything. Which reminds me, I tried calling the florist this morning to double-check on the delivery times, but I couldn’t get through. That’s not like Maisie. Is she sick?”

“Oh, Maisie.” Brenda took the plate, shaking her head. “Poor old Maisie, always did have more boobs than brains, bless her heart.” She forked up a piece of the Italian cream cake, taking care not to drop any crumbs on her own significant cleavage. “You’re not going to believe this. She canceled.”

Agnes stopped filling the third plate, and Evie and Maria froze, too. “What?”

Brenda bit into the cream cake, hesitated, and shook her head. “Oh, I think that’s just a touch too sweet, Agnes, but then it’s too soft for your fondant anyway. What? Oh, Maisie. Well, you know how disorganized she is, incompetent really. She just felt overwhelmed by the whole thing and canceled.” She tasted the pound cake and pursed her perfect lips, although her forehead did not wrinkle. “I think the pound cake may be too dry. And you know you’ll have to cover it with the fondant at least the day before, probably two. So if it’s dry now…” She shook her head and then met Agnes’s eyes. “What? Oh, Maisie? Yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to do the flowers, too.”

Agnes felt her temper rise, took a deep breath, and put the last cake on the plate. This isn’t like Brenda, Brenda’s on my side, I’ll just stay calm and find out what happened later, everything will be fine. She turned to Maria, whose jaw was set, but who did not look surprised. “I’ll fix it, you’ll have flowers,” she said quietly, while beside her Evie looked grim.

Very good, Agnes. You control your anger; your anger does not controlyou.

The morning’s not over yet, Dr. Garvin.

Agnes turned and smiled at the table. “Look at this, I’ve been so anxious to get you all cake, I didn’t serve drinks. What have I been thinking?”

Evie picked up the lemonade pitcher and began to pour. “This coconut pound cake is just delicious, Agnes, you have outdone yourself. Lemonade, anyone? Or sweet tea?”