The cake needs a closer look.

You sniff the piece of cake Mandy has just cut from the layer Hastings ruined. It's a light spice cake, as you ordered, but there's a little extra edge, you think. "This is from one of the bottom layers?" you ask.

"Yes, same recipe for all except the top," Mandy replies. "Is there anything wrong?"

You look at your slice of cake. Through the soft, velvety crumb of the spice cake you see tiny red-orange grains. Your heart does a little flip-flop. It's shot through with the special aphrodisiac you had ordered put in the bride's cake layer, next down from the top. It was part of your plan to ensure a happy, healthy honeymoon night. But if they gave cake to everyone at the reception, it could make the last dance, well, a little exciting.

You look at the beautiful five-tier wedding cake. Slipping by her question, you ask, "How long did it take to put that all together?"

"It took Hastings about four days, working like a demon," Mandy said, waving her hands to emphasize his maniacal effort. "Apparently the glazing and gilding were quite a nightmare. He swore he'd never do that again."

You swallow, trying to compose yourself. "Very impressive," you say. "He's done a wonderful job." It would just have to do, you think. It's not as if the special spice robbed people of their judgment. You could speak from experience on that. It's just that it made certain activities more appealing. It would probably be fine.

The bell on the front door jingles. "Mandy?" you hear a woman's voice calling.

"In back!" Mandy calls. "Martha's here to take over," she says. "I'm about to go on lunch break myself." She gets a paper plate and cuts a piece from the squashed section. "I try not to eat our little failures," Mandy says, "But it is a wedding cake, after all. I can't help myself." She picks up a white paper bag from a corner shelf of the cooler. The bag has her name and a heart drawn in green felt-tip.

You blink at Mandy with the cake in her hand, but you simply follow her out to the front of the shop.

Martha, the shorter and more sensible sister, to your mind, greets you with an even smile. "Mrs. Strong," she says. "You called earlier with some questions about the meal?"

You nod. You had been hoping to catch Martha and ensure provisions were made so that the people on the bride's side of the aisle would not feel too alienated by the menu. One had to be gracious about such things. "That's right, can you...?"

"Actually I have an order I need to get started," Martha says. "But Mandy is just going on lunch break. Perhaps you would like to discuss it with her?"

Mandy smiles. "Fine with me," she said. "We don't have to hurry right back, either."

You really do need to get the menu finalized, but you wonder what that cake might do to Mandy.