Save the Cake - Sample Chapters

Chapter 1

I had spent the last two days working on the same five layers of cake before I went in for my haircut.

The project was a big deal: it was the cake for the 18th birthday party of Odette Belmonte, this year's "It Girl" debutante. The five layers were thick stacks of vanilla and chocolate cake, sculpted and covered in sheets of fondant and molding chocolate to look like designer luggage and hat boxes. The topper, a shopping bag marked with the words "Odette No. 18," was made out of rice cereal and marshmallows, covered in more fondant.

My assistant Monica and I had worked on bigger cakes than this, but it still took a lot out of us to make it. The tropical heat in the kitchen made everything unbearable. Cracks in the fondant base were covered up with strategically-placed ribbons. A whole chocolate panel had to be discarded after the painted labels began to bleed.

My cramped neck chafed at the scratching of the hair net against my skin. Fat beads of sweat formed on my scalp, leaving my hair in clumps at the end of the day. It was enough to make a girl want to rip her hair out.

Thankfully, my hairdresser talked me out of going bald by suggesting a shoulder-length cut that I could put up into a neat ponytail or tie back with a scarf to keep the stray hairs in check. But it was still a radical change – and I was already overdue for one.

"I can't believe you went for it, Eloisa," Monica told me, after I came back with my hair hanging no farther than my shoulders. "You should've gotten it straightened if you're going that far."

"Girl, I've already had it with my long hair," I replied, taking a bandana from my pocket so I could tie my hair away from my forehead. "It's about time I kept my hair under control. Besides, I was getting tired of the hair net."

"What about the stray hairs?"

I pointed to the bandana. "Minimized." 

My sister Neri took a break from assembling a club sandwich to check out my hair. "The cut looks good on you, actually. It softens up your face a bit."

"Really?"

"Yes," she answered. "Just put on some red lipstick, and you'll look like those pictures of Lola Carmen in the café."

I took it as a compliment. Had our grandmother lived long enough to see this moment, she would have approved of me wearing lipstick to work at the bakery.

"So no more hair nets, then?" Neri put on a clean glove on her free hand.

"Not for now. But you, on the other hand…"

"All right, sis, I'll take the appointment with your stylist. Maybe I'll get myself some pink highlights, just like Monica's."

The thought of my broad-shouldered, strong-armed sister getting anime-like pink streaks in her hair amused me. Monica had a delicate, doll-like face which matched her petite frame, so she could get away with hot pink streaks in her dark, chin-length bob. Neri and I had thick, wavy hair, and we both stood tall – thanks in part to the dominant genes we inherited from our Pappy – so looking like a Japanese cartoon character was out of the question.

"We better start working," Monica remarked. "Are you going to tell your brother about your haircut?"

"Later," I answered. "Let's get this cake out of the way first."

My brother Paul Carreon graduated with an MBA from one of the top universities in the country, with the intention of assisting Pappy with the day-to-day business operations of Reyna Bakery. It was Paul's idea to set up the café as a showcase for our cakes and baked goods, which were often served with the sandwiches and pasta dishes that Neri developed in culinary school. Pappy, who had run the bakery with Mom since Lola Carmen's death, was not crazy about the changes in the bakery, but Paul insisted that this would create more business for us – "taking the brand into the 21st century," as he used to say. Pappy responded by assigning Paul to handle the business side of special orders, which I was already supervising on the creative side.