Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-eight
But no cupcake could comfort Iris after she received Veronica’s text message that her lawyer, Brianne, had suddenly dropped their case.
Iris knew she had to speak with Veronica in person, so she’d left the office immediately, dropped Hugo off at her apartment, and took the subway straight to the midtown Magnolia where Veronica worked.
Iris entered the bakery where a stacked line of customers was divided from the hustling employees by a row of fogged glass cases holding mini cheesecakes, key lime pie, red velvet cupcakes, chocolate mousse, and a battalion of banana pudding cartons.
The Magnolia staff deftly took orders from between the large display cakes of every conceivable color and decoration that topped the counter.
Iris scanned their faces, but no Veronica.
She discreetly cut the line of tourists and got the attention of a staff member stacking trays of cupcakes on a metal rack.
“Hi, is Veronica working today?”
“She’s on cake decoration. You picking up?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“She’s busy. But I got you, whatchu want?”
“I’m her lawyer,” Iris lied.
The man reluctantly nodded his head in the direction of the back kitchen. “You’ll see her. But don’t touch anything.”
With most of the staff distracted with customers, Iris slipped around the counter and squeezed between the rolling racks.
In the cramped kitchen, Veronica was stationed behind a layer cake on a pedestal, with a blue hairnet over her braids, beads of sweat on her brow, and wired headphones in her ears.
She held the long spatula perfectly upright and spun the cake against it, smoothing the pink buttercream with mesmerizing speed.
Iris waved to get her attention, and Veronica pulled out her headphones and greeted her with surprise—but without slowing her icing.
Iris began, “I got your text, and I couldn’t reply or call back because…” She didn’t want to say the truth, that she was paranoid about her devices right now. “I was nearby. But tell me, what exactly did Brianne say?”
Veronica puckered her lips in disappointment. “Not much more than what I texted you. Just that she can’t work with us no more, effective immediately.”
“She didn’t give you any reason?”
Veronica shrugged. “Mr. Wolff stopped paying her bills, I guess.”
Iris felt a sudden dip in blood sugar. He knows. “Did she say why he stopped?”
“We didn’t talk, she texted me saying I was no longer a client.
I tried to call her, but looks like now she got me blocked.
” Veronica picked up a conical pastry bag and began to pipe green leaves onto the cake base.
“To be honest, I was expecting this. It ain’t the first time somebody trying to be a hero overpromised us.
I don’t want to be ungrateful, so I just never get too comfortable.
Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, you did everything you could. ”
Actually, Iris thought, this may be precisely my fault. “Has Mr. Wolff contacted you at all?”
“No, but I figure our days at the apartment are numbered. It’s the nicest place we’ve ever lived, I knew it was too good to last. I’ve been looking for another option since we moved in.
” Veronica’s green vines crept up the sides of the cake.
“Roman swears he can find us something, I know he’s been busting his butt looking, and James said we could stay with them again—but there’s no room for us.
I don’t know what we gonna do, I can’t think about it. ”
Iris’s heart broke for Veronica. Not to mention the wave of guilt that it was likely her asking Brianne for the camera footage that had caused Wolff to turn on the Pattersons.
“I’m going to talk to Jonathan.” Although as soon as she’d said it, Iris questioned when exactly Jonathan was going to turn on her, if he hadn’t already.
Veronica switched to a bag of red frosting, and in seconds the cake was blooming with confectionery roses.
“Don’t. That’s your boss, you gotta take care of that relationship, don’t push it.
We’ll figure something out. I just hope we can find a place before school starts up again.
My kids have already lost so much. I don’t want them to start school feeling like their life’s a mess. ”
“It’s hot back here.” Iris fanned herself. Or maybe it was just her blood pressure.
“It’s the ovens. Nice in the wintertime, July not so much.” Veronica wiped her brow with her sleeve. “But I like working here. The early morning shifts help me fit in my second job. And the cakes remind you of all the love in this city. I like being a part of people’s best days.”
The comment touched Iris. In contrast to the hand she was dealt, Veronica took pleasure in creating precise, controlled beauty and sweet treats for customers all day.
Iris wanted the Pattersons to have their own cause for celebration, but at the very least, she couldn’t live with herself knowing that she had been the cause of their latest setback.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna work out.” Iris prayed it was the truth.
—
Iris left Magnolia feeling worse than before.
On the street, she wove through the herds of white-collar workers heading home at end of day.
She’d been foolish to hope there was some benign alternative explanation for why Brianne had suddenly cut ties with Veronica.
Only one thing had happened in the two hours between Brianne discussing active legal strategy with Iris and the lawyer and case being abruptly shut down: the Hendricks surveillance footage.
Iris had seen something she wasn’t supposed to.
Now the only question was: Did Wolff know only that Brianne had pulled the Hendricks security footage for the Pattersons’ case, or did Wolff know that it was Iris who had requested and viewed the tape?
If it were the former, she still had time to plan her next move. The latter—
A gray Mercedes lunged to a halt on the curb beside her and both the driver and rear passenger doors swung open. The stone-faced driver sprang from the car and grabbed her. It was Esdras.
“Please get in,” he requested, even as he forced her into the vehicle.
Iris’s feet scuffed the sidewalk as she struggled, and the car door’s edge collided with the front of her hip as he muscled her around it.
Iris yelped and buckled in pain while Esdras slammed the door shut. Her lower abdomen was so sensitive.
Jonathan was already seated in the back. “Forgive Esdras’s clumsiness. We’re in a terrible rush.”
The car doors locked.