Page 79 of Royal Icing

Emma probably didn’t need his help, and maybe she wouldn’t even want him there. But he couldn’t stand the thought of her all alone in the kitchen, slaving away with piping bags and gingerbread.

He pressed an ear to the door and heard nothing. He bumped it open an inch and saw Emma looking frazzled, staring at giant pieces of gingerbread on the island in front of her.

“Hey,” he whispered, and she jumped. Flour dusted her cheek.

“All clear?” he asked.

She surveyed the kitchen and nodded. Her expression was still stormy, but it seemed to have softened a bit.

“What’s wrong?” He sidled up next to her. She was like a radiant heater, exuding warmth. And stress.

“There’s something wrong with my icing,” she blurted. “It’s not stabilizing enough to hold the big pieces. It’s going to fall apart in the middle of the dinner, and your mom will never give me the second half of the money, and then I won’t be able to afford my mom’s medication and I’ll have to run Maya’s business for five more years. I’ll never escape.”

He took her by both arms and steered her away from the kitchen island.

“Take a deep breath. Now take another one,” he said when she complied. “We’re going to figure this out together. Are you sure the problem is the frosting?”

Emma waved a hand at a miniature version of the castle sitting on the drying rack. “It worked on the cardboard version.”

“What if we make some supports to hold the pieces in place?”

“Supports? What kind of supports? I don’t have time to measure and bake something that might not even turn out.”

“No. Like wooden supports.”

Emma bit her lip. “They’re not edible. It’s cheating.”

He leaned closer to her. “Who in their right mind is going to dismantle this masterpiece? No one is going to eat this. It’s too beautiful. That’s why you made all the tarts and pastries and chocolates. No one will know. And no one would care.”

She seemed to make up her mind. “Okay. How do we do it?”

“Let me get my tools.” He kissed her on the cheek and hustled to his workshop.

Hours later, a partially constructed gingerbread castle stood before them. They had left it in pieces so it could fit through the door, but it was now considerably more stable. The walls and gatehouse stood sentry, waiting to surround the castle. The turrets were shaped, the roofs were affixed. Emma had insisted on obscuring the wooden supports with frosting—just in case.

“What now?” Leo asked.

Emma took a deep breath. “The pipework and decorating. Then the croquembouche tomorrow. It’s going to take all night.”

“I’ll be here. I’m going to help you. We’ve got this.”

“I’ve seen your handwriting. Put the piping bag down,” she fired in warning.

He backed away with his hands in the air.

“I still can’t believe you made this,” he said, inspecting a curved piece of gingerbread that had candy glass windows. “How?”

“That’s nothing. Check this one out.” She pointed to another piece.

She had somehow exactly recreated the stained glass dome in the solarium. It was breathtaking.

“This is incredible.You’reincredible.”

“Thank you. And thank you for your help with the supports.”

He brushed a hair off her face. He longed to kiss her, to convince her that everything was going to be okay. But that wasn’t what she needed right now.

A survey of the kitchen revealed a sink full of dishes. “I think I figured out how I can help.”