"So you’ve been in prison before?" I asked while putting the dough in the oven.
I pressed the cook button on the electric oven which Mr. Cake instructed. Meanwhile, it was a bit difficult for him to tuck his black button shirt. Well, it's a bit strange even though the buttons aren't damaged or dislodged.
“Yeah, a once in a lifetime experience. Not too bad. At least get food rations.”
He wiped the splashes of dough near the electric oven that I accidentally made.
“Oops, sorry.”
"It's okay," he said, turning the fish on the grill machine. "So, what did you learn today, Feline?"
"Well, baking cookies. You have to pay attention to the right ingredients, pay attention when mixing the dough so that there are no holes, and keep memorizing the recipe.”
"Very good," he said, pointing to the dish rack.
I got some plates for him.
“Hm… I still don't get it at the end.”
He serves one by one the fish that have been grilled on a plate that I put nearby.
"You mean?"
“Memorizing recipes? I mean, you said-"
“Doing a lot of experimenting and experimenting?” said Mr. Cake continued what I was thinking.
I nod confidently.
After the plate was ready, I helped him place it on the neatly arranged table. Even before the shop closing, we mopped the floor first.
“That's because I can already predict the ingredients and some things to avoid. Of course I also memorized. After all, it's an experiment when you try a new recipe, right?” he added. "Please take a glass, Feline."
We then neatly arranged the glasses along with the glass dispenser for two liters of syrup. Then cover the food with Cloche, to keep the food warm and look like a banquet.
Today Mr. Cake will have guests. I could understand he was a bit nervous this morning. But when I asked if it was about Miss Flemming he shook his head in absolute certainty. Maybe it has something to do with the story.
“You will be reunited?”
He smiled a little.
“Small discussion, miss, and slightly revise something.”
Mr. Cake told me to sit and wait for the door, while he cleaned the kitchen utensils that had been used earlier. I opened a sheet of newspaper today. Some boring news. I'm not too interested in political affairs that always fill the headlines in the newspapers. The problem requires deeper understanding. Usually I argue with Mr. Cake but always end up losing. There are several aspects that must be considered.
I turned the page again, about fashion. To be honest, I'm not interested in glamor. But classic medieval clothes always make me curious. I mean they have a distinctive design that is less monotonous, more neat and closed.
Then I turned the page again, my eyes slightly squinted at the thing that interested me a little. The size of the title is quite striking, but the placement of the news is a bit angular.
'Pusscat?' I said to myself. That name always makes my stomach tingle from yesterday. Moreover, juxtaposed with 'Pussett'. I mean why does it have to start with 'Puss'? Are they cat lovers? Well, at least this news is a bit worrying. At least for Mr. Cake.
"You may worry already, Mr. Cakes.”
"About what?"
“Pusscat detectives, have solved a hundred cases in various places. It could just take over your job. The news has been rather interesting lately," I said with a chuckle.
"Is it true? What part intrigued you?”
“Well that…-”
I'm confused. The problem is that the name reminds me a little of a cartoon.
“The name is ridiculous. I thought serial puss in boots.” He added with a sigh. "I know they're trying to appeal to the market."
heard Mr. Cake said it was ridiculous to make my laugh harden a little.
"Yeah, I thought they were cat lovers," I added, folding up the newspaper again. "You should tighten your belt, I think."
"Why? More detailed people like them, less criminals, right?”
"Yeah, that's true anyway."
The bell rang as the door opened. I rushed to greet guests. Opening the front door of the store, an elderly customer physically. It seems that this customer is quite new. The problem is I'm not sure whether this old grandmother is really Mr. Cake’s guest.
"I-I see the light is still on, Does it still open?" asked the old woman wearing a white bonnet coat and hat a bit panting.
"Excuse me Madame, are you… uhh, on the guest list?”
“Is that the name of the owner of this place?”
Actually I could have allowed, but the thing is we're closed. Our shop, Moncake, is fully booked tonight by the owner himself for a private event. After all, the ingredients are running low. That's because tomorrow is the schedule for me and Mr. Cake prepare the ingredients.
Mr. Cakes approaching. I explained to him. Mr. Cake who saw this old woman panting and slightly sweating then held her hand. The old woman explained to us. I don't really understand what disease it is. Maybe I can ask Mr. Cake about about it later.
“You have Hyperglycemia? Hmm… that's not good…. Let me see what I have. Please come in!"
The old lady came in, Mr. Cake directs to a little corner.
“But Mr. Cake, isn't it-"
His finger covered my mouth with a pretentious facial expression.
“Sssst! Slice the cake and make some hot tea.” he said softly.
It's a bit uncomfortable to see his gentleman-style, romantic French behavior, but that's how it is when Mr. Cake is doing well. Without thinking futher, I did what Mr. Cake said. I cut the cake that was planned for Mr. Cake’s guest. Well, sometimes there are unexpected things. Besides, grandma looks like she needs to hurry up and the cake is still warm.
"Please." I put down a slice of vanilla cake, along with a warm pot and a cup. I also took her cellphone that ran out of battery to charge.
"How could you forget to bring insulin?"
“Y-yeah, I was on business to meet an old friend. When I arrived at the station, I realized that I didn't have insulin with me. So luckily there is a cake shop, wuhuha!”
Mr. Cake nodded politely.
"How old are you?"
"Um… 81 years."
I feel sorry for her. Seeing her smile like a child after being given the cake made the feeling even more relieved. I'm grateful Mr. Cake lets her in.
Not longer than five minutes, the bell rang again. This time it might just be as expected.
"Are you on the guest list of Mr. Cake?” I opened the shop door.
One of the bald haired representatives in explaining that they will meet with Mr. Cake.
"Please come in, sir!"
It turned out that quite a lot of people were invited. Before that, I heard the sound of a car engine stopping. But I didn't expect that after the bald man, there were quite a few people behind him.
"Ah! Mr. Fischenich,” Mr. Cake approached with a smile. He shook hands with the bald man who was called Fischenich then the person behind him. “You too James! Darren! Please!"
"Not bad, lad!" The slightly older bald man looked around before sitting down.
“Cool and relaxing, uh huh.” The man named James looked at his friend. "Right, Darren?"
"Yeah, minimalist but modern."
"You think so?"
Then came some women. As told by Mr. Cake, there is a woman whose face is a bit stiff and the other one is like an icebreaker type.
“Winfred! Ephey! Please!" Mr. Cake welcoming them with a smiling face.
"You've grown into a good man, Mark!" said the woman who was called Winfred, patting her back.
“Indeed, very… very… very Mark.” The woman named Ephey narrowed her eyes with a stiff face. I don't see any hatred, maybe just her natural attitude towards Mr. Cake.
“Hey, hey what does that mean, Ephey?”
After that, there is the woman based on Mr. Cake, the drill hair woman, in the black cotehardie dress with the white collar I saw in the papers. But I don't know the man next to him at all. Then through a woman who reminded me of Miss Flemming, very glamorous, young and intellectual.
“Ciao!” she said while holding my shoulder casually.
I just smiled nervously.
Then unexpectedly, the person whose name I said was funny. Her body was even as short as the one in the newspaper.
“Eh? Miss Pusscat?” I said very nervously. It's like I met an artist.
"You know me?" She smiled sweetly. Likewise, women with side ponytails with bodies that are inversely proportional. Rather tall and sexy. At least I judge like a guard. Who else but Miss Pussett?
After everyone entered, Mr. Cake opened the event. However, Miss Pusscat had asked one person who was not present yet.
Mr. Cake unlocked his smartphone.
"She's late."
"Who's that grandma, Mark?"
Mr. Cake explained to them. While I accompany the old woman.
“A-am I disturbing you?” the melancholic old woman asked me. She turned to everyone in embarrassment. Well, that's only natural, after all, grandma has nothing to do with the people. Like exiled. Well, that's why I accompanied her.
"Not at all, Grandma. You may chat with me.”
Then Mr. Cake opened the cloches one by one.
Everyone was shocked except for the bald man.
"What does this mean, Mark?" the drilled-haired woman protested as part of their opening act.
But if it's related to the story that Mr. Cake said, I'm not surprised that the drill lady looks worried and a little scared.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
