Page 18 of Cakes for the Grump

I shake my head in the negative. Twice.

Luke goes around the kitchen island. His hand moves to the door in a silentshall we?

“I already ate.” Mr. Duncan shifts his gaze to me. “And this is?”

Still experiencing residual remorse about my dessert today, I beam my friendliest smile so as not to give Luke anything more to complain about. “I’m someone who has no idea what you mean by a white whale, but I’ve got a feeling you and Lu—ah, Mr. Abbot don’t share an interest in cetology.”

“Cetology—”

“Is a branch of marine mammal science that deals with whales,dolphins, and porpoises,” I answer, taking off my apron. “And before you think me a snob, I got the word from aJeopardyepisode that I watched on my flight to Barcelona. Not that I am an aficionado of the show.” My voice lowers and warms as if I’m sharing a treasured secret. “Actually, I was seated next to a fighting couple, so I kept invisible by staring at my screen regardless of what was on.”

“How informative, indeed. And generously open of you to share.” He studies me with curiosity. “And may I ask where you are from?”

“She’s from Mumbai,” interjects Luke. “If you want to retire to the living room, Mr. Duncan, I’ll pour us a drink and we can get comfortable.”

“Oh! I’m quite comfortable here.” Mr. Duncan steps closer to me. “Do you have any other trivia for us, Miss?—”

“Rita Singh. And I am afraid that was my strongest attempt at trying to impress an audience where I am outgunned. Especially a man of your stature.”

“What makes you think I’ve got stature?”

Now he’s suspicious. If I was to tell the truth, I would say that all his questions so far smell of a man used to commanding a lofty ego, but that isn’t a charming answer. So I continue playing into my fake-cheer persona.

“You’ve got power coming off you…” I answer dramatically with a wink, “…is what I would love to say, but it’s more so that you looked confused about sitting closely next to other people on a flight, so I figure you’ve never flown economy before. Am I right?”

Mr. Duncan grunts out a laugh. “Quite so.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch the way Luke looks disproportionally shocked at the noise.

“Do you fly economy often, Ms. Singh?”

“Always. Less pollution and easier on the wallet.”

“People in our circles don’t admit to these kinds of confessions. That’s why I did not expect someone like you to be with Luke Abbot.” Mr. Duncan turns to him. “And frankly, I didn’t expect to stay this long either.What you’re attempting to do isn’t possiblewas going to be my quick and dirty answer to you tonight. The white whale you want is big and moralistic. They won’t touch a company they’ve called vultures sucking on the teat of humanity, drying the wells for anybody behind them, bartering on lies to fatten their coffers.”

Iblink.

Vultures. Teat of humanity. Lies to fatten their coffers.

It’s everything online critics have said about the Abbot Industries albeit in a more poetic way. I look to Luke, wondering at his reaction, at what he feels about his family’s business being so thoroughly besmirched. As the CEO, it must feel like a personal attack.

Luke meets Mr. Duncan’s gaze head on. He isfocusedwith the kind of attention you give a loved one so they feel like they are the only one, or the kind you give an opponent to tell them they are respected enough to geteverythingfrom you in that moment.

I suppress a shiver, briefly wondering what it’s like to be on the other end of such intensity. For scientific purposes, of course.

I also wonder if Luke really is a cultural vulture. It’s as if these past few weeks of being inside his apartment have made me forget about the business behind the man. A highly stocked, most excellent kitchen, and the steady routine of meal prepping and baking have softened my reaction to the whole situation. I’ve been bribed into complacency by nice things, forgetting certain parts of the outside world hate Abbot Industries and what they stand for.

“You saidwas,” says Luke. “That it isn’t possiblewasgoing to be your answer. But I’m betting you are starting to see it. How serious I am about making this chess move.”

“Or I’ll come along for the ride because I want to watch you death-spiral,” says Mr. Duncan with an uncaring shrug.

“That’s fine. Pretend. As long as you are onboard. So tell me, will you be there?”

What is he trying to do? Who is the white whale? What are they talking about?

Mr. Duncan doesn’t answer Luke, but shocks me with a question.

“Ms. Singh, I am interested in your opinion. Do you think Luke Abbot is a bad person?”