Fortunately, things at Torte were nowhere near as dramatic as they had been at the Ashland Springs Hotel. When Mom and I showed up with two large pizza boxes, Andy and Sterling both cheered.
“Pizza!” Andy hopped from a step stool and wiped his hands on a rag. “Awesome.”
Sterling stopped stacking plastic tubs of spices and walked to the front to help us. “Awesome is right, but what are you doing here?”
Mom handed him a cardboard box with the sweet sauce. “Come take a dinner break and we’ll fill you in.”
We gathered around the island. Mom opened a bottle of wine and I grabbed sparkling sodas from the walk-in. The team had made great progress in the short time that we’d been gone. All of the kitchen cupboards were emptied and I could tell by the way the white paint popped that they’d been wiped down as well. Baking supplies, dishes, coffee mugs, wine glasses, and utensils were piled around the countertops. Stephanie folded an inventory sheet and tucked it into a box filled with champagne flutes.
“You guys are rolling,” I said, offering her a blackberry soda.
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
Andy raised his hands in front of him. “Toss me a soda, boss.”
I threw a soda at him. He caught it in one easy motion. “I still got it. Even in the off-season I have to keep my skills fresh.”
Andy played college football for Southern Oregon University. He took the sport seriously. It always surprised me that his athletic hands could produce such delicate latte art.
Mom lifted the lid on the first pizza box and the smell of pepperoni and sausage quickly filled the kitchen. My stomach rumbled in response. “Who wants a slice of the meat combo?”
Sterling and Andy both reached for slices.
“Stephanie, we got a vegetarian option too,” Mom said as she opened the second pizza box revealing a Greek-style pizza with olive oil, sundried tomatoes, feta, artichokes, and three kinds of olives.
“Thanks.” Stephanie almost smiled as she took the paper plate from Mom.
“Jules?” Mom waved her hands over both boxes. “Do you have a preference?”
“I think I’ll go Greek.” I poured two glasses of red wine and traded Mom a glass for a slice.
“What’s the deal, Mrs. C.?” Andy asked. He had already scarfed the first piece of pizza down and was going in for number two.
Mom swirled her wineglass. “I’m afraid we have some bad news. There was an accident at the Chocolate Festival and they had to cancel it for tonight.”
“What kind of accident?” Sterling asked. He folded his pizza in half and ate it like a taco.
“One of the vendors, Evan Rowe, had an allergic reaction to something he ate.”
“You mean Evan Rowe of Confections Couture?” Stephanie asked. Last fall, when the Pastry Channel had come to town to film Take the Cake, a pastry competition, I had learned that Stephanie was a huge fan of cooking shows. Yet somehow I was still surprised at how much she knew about the world of pastry.
Mom nodded. “Yes, that Evan.”
“Is he okay?” Andy reached for another slice of pizza. Then he looked around. “Is it cool if I have another?’
“Of course. We bought extra-larges for that reason.” Mom slid the box closer to him. “Unfortunately, no. Evan died at the scene.”
“What?” Sterling almost choked on his pizza. His startling blue eyes locked on mine. “Jules.”
I shook my head. “I know. It was terrible.”
Sterling looked concerned. “So what’s the deal? Is the festival canceled?”
Mom cut a slice of the Greek pizza in half. “I don’t think so. Doug made it sound like we should be able to continue with the Chocolate Festival tomorrow, but we’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
“Speaking of that,” I said, putting my plate on the island. “The police think that Evan had a reaction to nuts. They are taking samples of everyone’s chocolate tastings to be tested tonight, but I need you guys to be honest with me. Is there a chance that any of you may have moved the flour canisters around?”
Andy shook his head. “No, boss. We follow your instructions. All of the nut products are over there.”
Sterling grabbed my arm and pulled me to the sink. “See. We were super careful. Just like you told us.” Indeed, there was a large cardboard box labeled “Nuts” on each side. It was packed with almonds, cashews, peanuts, walnuts, and canisters of nut flour.
“Nice work.” I gave them a thumbs-up. “But what about before today? I know things have been moved around as we were prepping. Could almond flour have accidentally gotten tossed into the wrong canister?”
Stephanie pointed to the flour canisters lined on the opposite countertop. “Jules, they are individually labeled. We know better.”
I felt validated that my staff agreed. We had labeled each canister with the type of flour since we use different flours in our baking. The canisters were lined up in neat rows with two-inch chalkboard stickers on the front reading whole wheat, cake, unbleached, corn meal and so on. The nut-based flours had the same labels but were contained in the box with the other nut products. Nut flour has a different consistency and color than cake flour. I knew that there was no way I had made that kind of mistake, but I felt relieved seeing that, even in the chaos of rearranging and painting, our safety procedures were intact.
“Good.” I sighed. “Thanks, you guys. That makes me feel better. Not that I doubted you. I was starting to doubt myself.”
Sterling laughed and caught Mom’s eye. “Yeah, right. We all know you run a tight ship, Jules. You may seem sweet to all of our customers, but all of us fear the wrath of Juliet Montague Capshaw in the kitchen.”
“Excellent.” I grabbed a spatula and waved it at them. “I’ve got you all exactly where I want you.”
Kidding around with the team helped relieve my internal tension, as did the two slices of pizza and glass of wine. After we had finished our gourmet dinner, Mom tossed the empty pizza boxes in the recycling bin. It was a good thing that we decided on two extra-large pizzas. There was nothing left by the time Sterling and Andy pushed back their barstools and tossed their paper plates in the trash. It was as if a swarm of locusts had devoured the pizza.
“Who’s ready for an ice-cream sundae?” Mom asked.
Everyone groaned. “Sorry, Mrs. C.,” Andy said, rubbing his belly. “I’ve got to take an eating break. I can’t fit anything else in yet.”
Mom laughed. “Well, put us to work then. Jules and I are here, so you might as well use us.”
“No way, Mrs. C.” Andy pushed her toward the front door. “My mom always says that the young ones should work while our elders rest. You go home. We’ve got this.”
“An elder?” Mom put her hand to her heart. “Am I an elder now? I don’t want to be an elder. I thought age was nothing more than a state of mind, and I assure you, in my mind I’m still quite young.”
Andy grinned. “You are, Mrs. C., but you do so much for us. Let us paint. We’ve got a plan. We’re going to blast our tunes and turn this place into a paint mosh pit.”
Mom frowned.
“He’s kidding.” I helped Andy move her toward the door. “But he’s right. You should go home. We’ll take it from here.”
“You’re going to stay?” Mom asked.
“You can’t hear when the music is loud anyway.”
She pretended to be hurt. “Fine, I know when I’m not wanted, but I’ll have you know that I’m going to go out on the town now that I have a night free.” She grinned. “Or maybe I’ll go home and take a long bubble bath.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Just wait, Mrs. C., when you see the space tomorrow it will be a brand-new Torte.” Andy held the door open for her.
“Okay. You kids have fun.” She squeezed my arm. “I’ll call you when I hear from Doug, and don’t stay too late, Juliet.”
“You got it, Mom.” I kissed her cheek and locked the door behind her. Time to get to work. I couldn’t wait to help transform Torte.