As soon as the door closed, Pearl asked, "What was that about?"

I jumped. Pearl had evidently moved from behind the counter to right behind me while I was watching Missy leave, when I had thought he was still ringing up another customer's purchase. But no, there weren't any customers left in the store now. (And Pearl almost never comes out from behind the counter when we have customers.)

I wasn't sure if Pearl was waiting for an answer or not, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to give him one. "She wants to talk to me," I said. "I don't know why."

Pearl scowled. "Typical rich girl. Never gives any more information than she has to because she thinks the lowly commoners can't comprehend it."

(Oh, I think Missy is anything but typical.)

"Let me know what she says after your talk. And, let me offer you a piece of advice," Pearl added, putting a hand on my shoulder. "If she tries to make some kind of deal with you, wait to accept it until you've had the chance to talk with me about it first. Rich people will see people like you and me as expendable pawns – just a means to an end. I don't want you to be used like that, Dia."

"Missy wouldn't do that," I protested.

"You've spoken to her for all of five minutes," Pearl said. "You can't know what she would or wouldn't do just from that."

"I'm not twelve years old, Pearl," I retorted, trying not to pout. (That'll kind of undermine my point, won't it?) "I can make decisions for myself."

"I'm just looking out for you, buddy. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Pearl nodded and squeezed my shoulder before heading back to the counter. I lagged behind him but continued into the kitchen when he split away towards the register. Whitley was cleaning up the supplies I had left out after decorating Missy's cake. I quickly apologized for leaving the mess, thanked her for cleaning it up, and started to help her finish.

The next hour seemed to crawl by like a wounded Slowpoke. We weren't getting any more orders coming in, so Whitley offered to start preparing the apple pie that we needed to make tomorrow. The crust would get soggy if she left the filling in it overnight, but she could at least prepare the crust and filling to expedite the process tomorrow.

I was perfectly happy to let her handle that, because my mind was far away from baking; I couldn't stop thinking about Missy and wondering what she might want to talk to me about. Whatever Pearl said, I was confident in my assessment of Missy's character – that she wouldn't try to use me like a pawn in some elaborate real-life chess game. Pearl hadn't seen the look in those golden eyes of hers when she smiled at me – something like sorrow, sincerity, and softness all at once. Anyone with truly malicious intent wouldn't show their emotions that transparently.

Yet, what was her true purpose? I suspected that it didn't have anything to do with the cake, at least. She may have been focused on the cake at first, but once she really started talking to me she didn't even spare it a glance. However, beyond that, I didn't have any idea what she wanted.

I sighed. Eight-thirty couldn't come fast enough.

Well, that was what I thought, anyways. But when the agreed-upon time finally arrived, I was knee-deep with Whitley in a pile of cake pans, cookie trays, and other baking dishes that we were attempting to organize. The noise we were making drowned out the gentle rapping on the door at first, and it was only by some divine intervention that Whitley managed to hear the knocking and alert me to it.

"Do you hear that sound, Diamond?" she asked, putting out a hand to halt my progress in stacking a pile of similarly-shaped pans together. "I think someone's knocking on the back door."

It took me a few moments to remember why I had been eagerly awaiting those knocks half an hour before. "Oh, no! I completely forgot about my meeting with Missy!" I cried, scrambling to my feet and ruining all the progress we'd made organizing the baking dishes in the process.

Missy jerked back quickly when I flung the door open. (I must have startled her by how suddenly I answered it.) "Missy! You're here," I said eagerly. "Come in, come in!"

I ushered her inside and closed the door gently behind her, then gestured to one of the chairs at the table. She pursed her lips together pensively as she sat down. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I sat down across from her, but she wouldn't meet my eyes. "I tried a slice of the cake after I got home," she said. "It's…incredibly delicious."

My usual thrill of gratitude at the praise was shafted by confusion at her comment. "What about your friend? Didn't you want them to see it first?" I asked.

Missy sighed and, instead of answering me, reached into a pocket of her thin pink jacket and pulled out a crisply folded note. She unfolded the note and glanced over it. "It's easiest for me to organize my thoughts when I have them written down," she said by way of explanation.

Then, having remembered what exactly she wanted to say, she looked back up at me and explained, "I did not order that cake to give to anyone. I was asked by a friend to order a complicated cake so that you would not be able to complete it on time."

I blinked. "Why would he do that?"

"She recently started up a bakery of her own," Missy corrected me, "after an acquaintance bet her that she could not successfully run a business. But she has not been able to turn a profit, so she thought that it would be easier if she could…discourage some of her competitors. So, she asked a few other friends and me to come and give you bad business, to lower your morale and your overall customer satisfaction, too."

"But that's…not right," I said fervently, for lack of a better word.

"I realize that now," Missy replied, glancing down at the note again. "However, she is my friend, and I thought it might be…thrilling, in a sense, particularly considering what she wanted me to do. In the event that you managed to finish the cake in time, I was supposed to find some fault with it and then throw it at you before storming out of the bakery. We liked the irony of you baking your own 'Get Well Soon' cake." Her gaze flickered back up to me to gauge my reaction.

Honestly, I was appalled that someone would even think about doing that to someone else. Wasting my time and resources, and then making a big scene out of it…that'd just be cruel. And all because she was envious of our success? There are much nicer and much more effective ways to make a business more successful. (Pearl can explain them much better than I can. He understands all that economics stuff.)

But – Missy hadn't gone through with it. She'd even sampled some of the cake before she came back here. That's the important part, right? Everybody thinks about doing bad things sometimes, but that doesn't automatically make them bad. What they do determines that.

"I'm glad that you didn't," I finally said.

"How could I, when I realized just what I had made you do?" Missy said with a sigh. "You made a beautiful cake that I intended to immediately destroy, you were apologetic about being delayed in completing a cake that was meant to be incompletable, and you sincerely hoped the recipient would enjoy the cake that I was about to throw in your face. To follow through with my instructions then would be absolutely despicable."

She looked back down at the paper and sighed again. "My parents did raise me to treat others with at least some level of civility, regardless of their social status," she said. "However, I lose sight of that sometimes when I interact with my friends. Really, it is I who should be apologizing to you for taking time away from other, more important tasks and putting you under unnecessary pressure. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course!" I replied immediately.

"Thank you," she said, giving me another one of those soft smiles that I was growing to like so much.

She made to get up from the table, but I wasn't finished yet. "Hold on," I said, placing a hand over hers. My skin tingled at the contact, and I pulled my hand back, but I kept my eyes firmly locked on hers until I was certain that she wasn't going to leave. "I know you're not going to do this again, but what about your friends? Are they still going to try to sabotage us?"

"I…well." She pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. "I can talk to them, but I cannot guarantee anything. You must understand, they are not like you. They cannot be easily persuaded to change their thoughts on the matter."

I flinched slightly at her comparison, but she seemed not to notice. "Well, I would appreciate it a lot if you tried," I said. On an impulse, I added, "And you'll tell me how it goes after you talk to them, won't you?"

She hesitated to reply, and for a few heart-pounding moments I was afraid that she would say no – that a beautiful, rich girl like her wouldn't want anything more to do with an ordinary baker like me. Finally, she said, "I suppose that can be arranged."

I smiled broadly. "Thank you. Really. For everything!"

A mischievous grin suddenly slid onto her face. "I would certainly return for another taste of one of those delicious sweets of yours," she said.

"I suppose that can be arranged," I chuckled.

With the conversation just about finished, I didn't stop Missy from standing up this time. In fact, I stood up with her, and walked with her to the door. I would have walked her to the sidewalk, too, if she hadn't stopped me. "I will be fine, Dia. I have Pokémon with me. They will protect me."

"It's Diamond," I said suddenly. (I'm not sure if she knew that already, but I felt compelled to make sure she did.) "Dia's my nickname, but my full name is Diamond."

Missy nodded, and after a moment's pause, she added, "Likewise, I am Platinum."

My brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Missy is the name that I give to commoners – to strangers. To people I do not know," she explained. "But my real name is Platinum Berlitz, and I would prefer that you call me by that name."

(I'll admit, I was surprised to learn that Missy isn't her real name. But her real name…Platinum Berlitz…such a refined name for a refined girl like her. It suits her perfectly.)

"Then, I'll see you tomorrow, Platinum," I said with a smile.

"I will see you tomorrow, Diamond," she echoed softly, before gracefully breezing out the door.