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I doubt she even knows what a millefoglie is. The only reason I know about the multi-layered cake is because I went to a traditional Italian wedding a few years ago, and that had been the highlight of the entire reception.
“Of course,” Lucia says graciously. “It was simply an option.”
There are twelve cupcakes on the tray to sample, which seems like a lot now that I’m facing them down. They have plenty of other options for a wedding thatisn’t even going to happen, I remind myself.
I can just eat cupcakes and enjoy myself with Lucia and Angel. That’s all today is. It’s just about being together and passing along information. With cake. It should be a good day.
Angel cuts up the cupcake labeled ‘chocolate w buttercream frosting’ and serves it up to all of us. It’s just a quick morsel, and tastes… Well, it’s a chocolate cake. I have no idea how much money Pavone is spending on this wedding, but to my palate, the cake isn’t any better than what you’d get at a supermarket.
Lucia swallows her bite and immediately takes a sip of coffee after. “This works.”
Katie seems surprised at Lucia’s immediate choice. “Um… there are eleven other flavor combinations…”
“What she means,” Angel says quickly, “is that it’s fine. It’s a decent cake, but I’m not sure it’s got thatwowfactor. I’d hate to, uh, disappoint my family if they took a bite and realized it was a plain chocolate cake.”
I feel Angel kick me under the table, and I kick back mostly out of confusion. I have no idea what he’s trying to signal to me.
“Yeah,” I pipe in, “It’s good.”
Angel gives me a look, but I shrug helplessly.
“Here’s some water,” Katie says, pouring three cups from a pitcher of ice water. “This will clear your palate better than coffee, Ms. Bellini.”
Ms. Bellinidoes not look thrilled about the water, but she takes it with a murmur of thanks.
The next cupcake is ‘tiramisu.’ I like this one more than the plain chocolate, almost enough to forget what the cake is meant to be for.
“This one is good, too,” Lucia says, with a little more cheer that I absolutely know is forced. She might be able to fool strangers, but she can’t fool me.
Angel sighs, kisses Lucia on the head, then turns to Katie. “Sorry, could you give us some privacy? We’ll let you know our final choice. They all look delicious, but, um, it’s hard to discuss our opinions if you’re standing there. No offense.”
“Oh!” Katie says. She blushes. “I apologize. I simply wanted to be on hand in case you had any questions about the flavors or potential substitutions. I’ll leave you be. Please let me know if you have any questions.” She quickly leaves the room, and I’m a little embarrassed for her.
“Smooth,” I tell Angel.
“Whatever.” Angel turns Lucia’s chair so the two of them are facing each other. “Hey, Princess, I know you don’t want to do this. I fucking don’t want to do this. But you need a result to show for all our time out. Let’s just have fun eating cake, and when we go back home tonight you can report about the twenty million flavors and how you picked the perfect one, okay?” He glances at me. “And we can laugh to ourselves later about how he doesn’t suspect a fucking thing.”
“Yeah,” Lucia says listlessly. “Serve up the next kind.”
Angel finds ‘red velvet w cream cheese frosting’ and divides that up between us. “Tell me you have some good news, Saint,” he says before popping a piece into his mouth.
“I… I do, actually,” I whisper, and Lucia finally looks at me with haunted eyes. “I found your father’s offshore accounts.”
I definitely have Lucia’s attention now. “How?”
“Eh…” It would be a lot of technobabble to her. “Followed a few trails. It doesn’t look like Pavone’s gotten his hands on any of it yet,” I tell her.
That has to be a major weight off her shoulders because Lucia instantly looks a little more relaxed. It doesn’t make her look normal, but she doesn’t look quite as lost. “Good. Good,” she says, nodding and taking a bite of the red velvet cake. “Can you access the funds?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Probably? It’s harder now with your father… um, if you have any hints as to what his passwords might have been? Or maybe your mother knows?”
Lucia bites her lip, but I notice her sitting up straighter, too. “I’ll figure it out. My mother might be drunk most of the time, but she must know something.”
“If we can manage to talk to her. But it’s a start. And scratch red velvet off the list, it’s just chocolate,” Angel says. “We should get one of the exotic flavors. Pistachio.” He cuts that one up and adds it to our little plates. “If we’re lucky, somebody in the wedding party is allergic.” Angel laughs. “Fuck, that’d be a hilarious end to the wedding. Call the ambulance, Rossi’s throat is swelling up!”
Lucia smirks at that, but I say again, “The weddingis nothappening.” More emphatically this time, because I seem to be the only one who remembers that this is a pointless exercise.
“Yeah, I know,” Angel says. “But we need to at least make an effort forhissake.”
