Though the threats had died down, Quistis' knife felt heavy in her palm. For the past two years, the knife had been a comfortable companion on her early-morning walk to the bakery, a safeguard against trouble. But in the aftermath of the video, as the possibility that she would need to use it became very real, she became acutely aware of its weight, its shape, its terrible potential in her hand. She was glad to slip it into her purse as she locked the kitchen door behind her, glad to put it out of her mind for another day.
She removed her coat and hat, shaking off the early-December chill, and got to work. Qake had not fully recovered from the poor reviews and call to boycott, and, as a consequence, had missed out on the last surge of high-season tourists. Quistis hoped those who visited during the off-season would be calmer, more discerning, and not as easily swayed by online chatter as their summer counterparts. She still needed their business; her bookkeeping figures were not as healthy as she'd hoped.
She should have been more cutthroat, she admitted to herself as she poured batter into paper cups. She should have depersonalized her business interactions, and made her prices non-negotiable, regardless of customer loyalty or individual financial situations. It may have cost her a few points in the likeability department – which she lost anyway, thanks to that video – but it would have given her a larger margin for fluctuations in traffic. Instead, she'd tried to be both a professional baker and everybody's friend. A discount here, a twinge of sympathy there, a heaping scoop of hubris throughout, and Qake's safety net wasn't as sturdy as she'd believed it was. The wave of last-minute cancellations tore a hole through its center, and she was left scrambling to curb her losses.
Yet, she was determined to remain positive, and to keep as much of this troublesome information from her employees as possible. When Zell and Emmy expressed concern over the bakery's winter hours, she reminded them that she had made the same adjustment the year before. When she cut back on the more expensive recipes, she explained it as catering to the customers' tastes, since many of the best-selling cupcakes were relatively simple. And when they passed their third weekend in a row with no special order to prepare, she reminded them that birthdays and holidays come only once a year, and weddings far less frequently than that.
It seemed to work. Aside from the occasional worry or frustration with a rude customer, Zell and Emmy's spirits did not flag, and their enthusiasm strengthened Quistis' resolve to push forward. Now, they walked into the kitchen, in the midst of a lively debate over the latest episode of some TV show, cleaning up and putting on their aprons without missing a beat. They listened as Quistis rattled off the day's recipes and assigned them their duties, then resumed their discussion as they worked, trading analyses, barbs, and more than a few jokes.
Life returned to the kitchen, and Quistis brightened in its warmth. Whatever had happened and whatever lay ahead, they would persevere. Qake would not fail. And though she might stumble, Quistis would not stay down.
•o•o•o•o•o•o•
"Ooh, you have hot chocolate cupcakes!" Selphie bounced on her toes at the display case. "I'll take two, to go!"
"That seems to be your new routine," Quistis remarked, reaching for the cupcakes.
"Heh, I guess it is. I'm just so busy these days, I hardly have time to sit down to a full meal, let alone a cupcake, even though all your cupcakes are super delicious." Selphie glanced at Quistis, then let her gaze wander the bakery as she continued. "My Battle of the Bands was such a success, I wanna make it an annual event, and that means I've got to start planning right away! Plus, I've been busy with fundraising for the Moomba Rights Organization, and planning next year's Chocobo Trust Conference, and, oh yeah, I'm getting back into shooting!" She gave a strained chuckle. "So, yeah, super busy!"
"Indeed! Quistis smiled. "I suppose I should be glad you even have time for a takeout order."
Selphie's grin disappeared. "I'll always have time for Qake," she said, more solemnly than the conversation dictated. She widened her eyes and leaned toward Quistis, her hands leaving streaks on the display case. "Don't ever doubt that. You're my friend, and I would never abandon you. Besides," she went on, her expression brightening, "I don't think I could survive very long without one of your mega-tasty cupcakes!"
It was Quistis' turn to laugh uncomfortably. Selphie was behaving more oddly than usual, and had been since the day after the Battle of the Bands. Whatever might have happened at the event, she was unwilling to talk about it, and Quistis could only hope her situation would improve on its own.
"And just how many of these 'mega-tasty' cupcakes will you be needing for your big New Year's bash?" Quistis asked, trying to lighten the mood. "Or will you want a cake, instead?"
Selphie looked at the floor and chewed her lip. She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked from side to side, making a series of noncommittal noises. "Um … er, I'm not sure I'm gonna have a party for New Year's," she said.
"Are you serious? That's the biggest party time of the year."
"I know. And I want to celebrate, and celebrate big. But I also don't want to ask you for too much, especially with so little time left."
"Nonsense. New Year's is three weeks away. While that might be a tight window for procuring supplies, I'm sure we can fulfill your request if we start soon."
"Yeah, well, maybe it'd be better to have a smaller celebration a little bit later. Like, Happy Belated New Year! I can make a new holiday! I won't have to compete with other parties for guests, and you can have a decent rest."
Quistis narrowed her eyes. "Why the sudden concern for my well-being?"
"I realized something a while ago. My orders were super crazy, and really close together, and I think I was taking advantage of your business."
"Again, nonsense. That's what I'm here for."
"I don't want to overwork you."
"You wouldn't. Qake closes early for the holiday. It wouldn't be an imposition at all."
Selphie paid for her cupcake and smiled. "I guess it wouldn't be right not to have a party on the partiest night of the year. I'll think about it, and see if I can come up with anything that's not too outrageous, but still screams, 'Selphie Tilmitt!'"
"I'm looking forward to working with you again."
"Uh, yeah, me too. It'll be just like old times!" Selphie chuckled again, then bid Quistis goodbye and carried her cupcakes out of the bakery as carefully as if they were a pair of porcelain figurines.
•o•o•o•o•o•o•
After two weeks of waiting for Selphie's order, Quistis had to admit that, strange as it seemed, Selphie was serious about skipping a New Year's Eve party. She still visited Qake almost daily, to stock up on hot chocolate cupcakes, but she seemed to be in a hurry now more than ever before, and the amount of eye contact she maintained with Quistis during their brief conversations decreased each time. She was fidgety, and evasive in regard to personal questions. Quistis tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but with each visit, she felt more and more certain that Selphie was hiding something from her.
Late yesterday morning, however, Selphie appeared more relaxed, closer to her usual cheerful self than she'd been for the past month. She ordered a half-dozen cupcakes of different flavors and tossed a handsome tip into the jar, wishing Quistis a "booyaka kind of day," and telling her that very soon, everything would be better.
"Better than ever before!" she said, giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she exited the bakery.
Quistis shook her head and assumed that Selphie had spent the early part of the day sampling spirits for her own private New Year's Eve celebration. And since Selphie had yet to show up today, Quistis figured she must have been right.
She was preparing a batch of cupcakes for the lunchtime crowd when she heard Zell shout in surprise. She looked up as Emmy ushered him into the kitchen, then turned her task over to him when Emmy signaled for her assistance at the front of the store. Before Emmy could explain the situation, Quistis saw the doors of a black car open, and a trio of suited figures approach the bakery. She thanked Emmy for getting Zell out of their way, and steeled herself for another visit from Seifer.
He flung the door open with more force than was necessary, sending the little bell above it into a frenzy, then strode through, Fujin and Raijin trotting in behind him.
"Well, well, Ms. Trepe," he said. "What's this I hear about reduced hours?"
"Good morning, Mr. Almasy," Quistis replied calmly. "Qake is operating on winter hours right now. It's a seasonal adjustment, nothing more."
"Is that so? It wouldn't have anything to do with that unfortunate incident a couple months ago, would it? I know operating costs can be high, even for a rinky-dink little shop like this. A few cancelled orders, and it's hard to keep the lights on."
"An astute observation. But winter is traditionally a slow season for tourists in Dollet. Reducing open hours during this time is simply a good business practice." She crossed her arms. "Now, please state the purpose of your visit."
"Purpose?" Seifer appeared hurt. "Does one need a purpose to visit Qake, other than to peruse your goods and bask in your lovely presence?"
"Shove it, Almasy!" Zell called from the kitchen. Quistis heard rapid shuffling back there, followed by a muffled sound of pain from him.
"Ah, I see you've still got chicken-boy on your payroll. Maybe his offensive presence is keeping customers away."
"You want offensive? Gimme a sec, I show you offensi – ow! Emmy, what the heck?"
Quistis sighed. "Perusal of goods usually ends in a purchase," she said, "and flattery is not acceptable payment. Perhaps you'd like to let Raijin buy something. We have hot chocolate cupcakes now, topped with toasted marshmallow crème." She noticed Raijin's eyes light up, and smiled as he peered at the display case over Seifer's shoulder.
Seifer frowned. "Stop tempting my associate."
"Then state your business."
"A year-end check-up. Still got a few thorns in my side, apparently."
"Really. And what's the prognosis?"
He grinned and towered over her. Her muscles tensed and her stomach turned, but she did not lean away from him. "Clear by the new year," he said.
"I'd recommend seeking a second opinion."
Seifer's shoulders shook with quiet laughter. He shook his head and raised his hand as he began to laugh louder, eventually building into roar that his associates awkwardly parroted. He stopped suddenly, and slammed his hand on the counter. Quistis flinched.
"Ms. Trepe, you are hilarious. Why does no one ever mention that about you?" he said. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card. "Nevertheless, I'm sure you'll be thrilled to know that I do have a second opinion, though not from someone I'd have ever expected, and it confirms my results. This little wonder crossed my desk recently, courtesy of Hyperion's event planning department, and I thought you might like to see it, too."
He laid the card on the counter, face-down, and slid it toward Quistis. She picked it up and turned it over. As her mind registered the words printed there, her heart sank and her limbs went hot. It was an invitation made by Hyperion's in-house planning services, for a New Year's Eve party at the resort:
You are cordially invited to Selphie Tilmitt's
Sensational Super-Colossal New Year's Eve Soiree
December 31st, Seven to Whenever
Theia Ballroom, Hyperion Hotel & Resort
RSVP to Wimbly Donner, Event Planner
See you there!
Quistis read the invitation over twice more, blinking and swallowing hard. No wonder Selphie had been acting so strangely. How long had she planned to keep up her charade with Qake? Quistis set her jaw and looked up at Seifer, but for once, she was at a loss for words.
Seifer, on the other hand, was not. He smiled wider and tapped the invitation.
"Checkmate."
