deemoyza_archive | Special Order - Part One (Ch. 1-8) (Bakery AU) (Final Fantasy VIII fanfiction)

Title: Special Order (52,557 words)
Chapters: 15
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Rating/Warnings: General Audiences / No warnings apply
Character(s): Quistis Trepe, Selphie Tilmitt
Relationships: Quistis & Selphie
Summary: It’s only been two years since Quistis opened Qake, a boutique bakery in Dollet. But with the development of a megaresort nearby, business at the bakery has slowed down considerably, and Quistis’ livelihood is in danger. The arrival of a quirky, energetic heiress in town might just turn things around – if she doesn’t drive Quistis crazy first!
Notes: Bakery AU

Chapters

Chapter 1: Qake
Chapter 2: Heiress
Chapter 3: Almasy
Chapter 4: Debut
Chapter 5: Aftermath
Chapter 6: Storytime
Chapter 7: Chocobo
Chapter 8: Bellwether
Part Two (Chapters 9-15)

Chapter 1: Qake

The streets of Dollet were deserted at this early hour, the streetlights wrapped in a mantle of fog. Quistis covered the half-mile between her home and the bakery at a brisk pace, alert to movements in the shadows, a small folding knife nestled in her palm. She'd never had to use it, thank goodness; Dollet was a relatively peaceful town, but she'd heard enough horror stories about other cities to take extra precautions regarding her safety. On this morning, the only other living creatures she saw were the stray cats prowling the alleys, searching for food and enforcing their territorial boundaries.

Nevertheless, she was relieved to enter the bakery and lock the heavy door behind her. She turned on the lights and surveyed the kitchen, the stainless-steel surfaces shining in the fluorescent glow, the bowls and utensils standing ready in their respective storage spaces. She put away her belongings and got to work, cleaning and sanitizing the worktops and supplies before starting on the day's first batch of cupcakes.

Growing up, no one would have figured her for a baker. Even she hadn't envisioned this future for herself. But, in taking on kitchen duties during her final years at the home for orphaned girls in which she was raised, she discovered not only that cooking was its own science, and thus appealed to her logical mind, but also that she had a knack for it. Released from the orphanage when she turned eighteen, she pursued her newly-found passion, funding her culinary and business studies by working in kitchens at various restaurants and hotels in the area.

Two years ago, armed only with a modest amount of savings, an abundance of cautious optimism, and a solid business plan, she opened her own bakery. She called it Qake, a play on her first initial that had seemed very clever at the time. Though she cringed now at this testament to her youthful narcissism, she had amassed a sizable enough clientele in the meantime to make a name change counterproductive. Qake it remained, then, and she could look forward to explaining its pronunciation to some confused tourist at least twice a week, almost all of whom insisted on pronouncing an absent "u".

But perplexing names did not matter in the kitchen, in these small hours of the morning. Each day, she arrived several hours before her employees to bake the first batches of cupcakes on her own, quietly measuring ingredients with precision, mixing batters and fillings and frostings, and timing the baking process to the second. These hours passed quickly, and soon she heard her employees approaching, opening the door and shuffling in a few minutes before five.

"Mornin', Quistis," said Zell, his loud voice echoing off the walls. "What do you need me to get started on? Need any heavy lifting done?"

Zell had grown up across the sea in Balamb, and learned to cook at his mother's side. A stocky, energetic young man, he was surprisingly intuitive in the kitchen, and the delicacy with which he decorated cakes and cupcakes was matched only by the effortlessness with which he slung massive bags of flour over his shoulder.

"No heavy lifting right now, Zell," Quistis answered, "but I will need you to get started on today's cakes: Coffee Crumble, Triple Lemon, Dollet Decadence, and Sweet Dream. Start with the Coffee Crumble, and leave the Decadence for later; it's usually too rich for the early-morning crowd."

"I'm on it!"

Quistis nodded and looked up at the young lady who'd followed Zell inside. Emmy was very quiet, with a background in library science rather than food preparation. She'd applied to work at the bakery on the recommendation of the owner of the bookstore down the street, who couldn't afford to hire her at the time, but assured Quistis that Emmy was hardworking and a quick learner. Emmy immediately demonstrated these qualities by becoming a deft decorator and chief arranger of the display case, as well as tending to the customers. She was lighthearted and courteous, and had a unique talent for gauging customer tastes, suggesting several seasonal flavors that ended up being very well-received.

She also seemed to harbor a secret attraction to Zell, to which – thankfully, for the operation of the bakery – Zell seemed oblivious. Emmy pulled her apron over her head and smiled shyly at Quistis, asking what she needed to do this morning.

"You can get started on the toppings and fillings for the cakes. We'll need vanilla and raspberry buttercreams, lemon curd filling, coconut-pecan filling, and chocolate ganache. As soon as I finish frosting these cupcakes, I'll help you out."

"All right." Emmy finished tying her apron and headed toward the refrigerator.

At seven o'clock, Quistis flipped the sign on the door and took up her station at the counter. She looked around the shop, at the pale pink wallpaper and the shiny tile floor, at the handful of tables and chairs arranged throughout, then put on her friendliest smile, ready to greet the first customers of the day.

* * *

The morning rush began around eight o'clock, as people stopped in for sweets and coffee on their way to work. Quistis noticed dour looks and grumbling among her regulars, particularly those who worked or owned businesses along the main street through town, and asked why.

"Main street's closed off for a few hours this morning," one of them told her, "for some kind of special event. It's all fine and dandy for whoever is celebrating, but that'll cut down on our business for the day."

"Besides," said another, "who in the world holds a special event on a Thursday morning?"

"That does seem incredibly odd," Quistis replied. "This is the first I've even heard about it."

"I didn't find out about it until yesterday evening, when a crew was setting up the barricades."

"Hopefully, it will be a short event. I can't imagine it will have many attendees."

"Yeah." The customer handed Quistis his money and picked up his order. "As long as it's over before noon, I don't think it'll do too much damage. But if I have to wade through crowds to go to lunch, someone's gonna get an earful."

Quistis turned to Emmy, who was refilling one of the coffee urns. "What about you?" she asked. "Have you heard anything about this celebration?"

"A little." Emmy finished her task, then fished her phone from the pocket of her apron. She tapped on the screen several times, swiped a few times more, then turned it toward Quistis. The image on the screen was a bright yellow flyer ringed with flowers, bearing the words "Hello Dollet!" in bold, curly script.

"Her name is Selphie Tilmitt," Emmy went on, "and she's really popular online. Her family owns some big corporation, but she didn't even know she was related to them until a little while ago. I think she mentioned that she bought a house here. I guess she just wants make her entrance in style."

"Narcissism knows no bounds," Quistis muttered, suddenly feeling much better about the self-indulgent name of her business. "I suppose she invited her online audience to this special event, as well."

"That's what this post says. The parade is set to begin at ten."

"Parade? Who in the world does she think –" Quistis broke off her sentence and turned around at the sound of the bell above the door. She smiled when she recognized Rinoa, the owner of the neighboring bookstore, and wished her good morning.

"Have you seen this?" Rinoa asked, shoving a newspaper toward Quistis, clearly not in the mood for pleasantries. "How dare she think she can just sweep in, with all that money built on pain, and expect this town to welcome her. Dollet is peaceful! We don't need someone here who caters to warmongers!"

As Rinoa stalked to the display case to look over the day's offerings, Quistis read the short article on page four of the Dollet Daily Herald. Apparently, Selphie Tilmitt was related to Rendel Barton, the founder and CEO of the Blue Dragon Munitions Manufacturing Corporation, who passed away several months ago. Mr. Barton had no children of his own to whom to bequeath his estate, and mentioned in his will a dear niece, with whom he had lost contact after having a falling-out with her mother. Based on the information Mr. Barton had gathered on her whereabouts, private investigators eventually tracked down the young woman, and awarded her a handsome inheritance that included homes in Deling City, Winhill, and Balamb, and enough money to support the population of those towns for over a decade.

"You see?" said Rinoa, pointing out her cupcake of choice to Emmy. "She can live wherever she wants to. Why does she have to come here?"

"I don't see what's so bad about that," Quistis said. "She's a popular online personality with some influence. Her arrival might be good for business. Since the Hyperion opened last summer, business has been very slow. I'm down to pretty much only my regulars, and as much as I appreciate them, I'm having trouble making a profit without the tourists."

"It's not her, specifically. It's what she stands for."

"Has she made that explicit?"

Rinoa slid the paper toward herself, scanned the article and pointed to a paragraph, in which Selphie was quoted as saying that finding out she was related to the founder of Blue Dragon felt like finding a missing piece to her personality. "It just makes sense," Selphie said. "All my life, I've been fascinated with stuff like that: the power, the explosions, the spectacle of it all. Of course I'm a Blue Dragon! It's in my blood!"

"I still don't see the problem," Quistis said.

"The problem is her attitude. 'Guns are cool, bullets are awesome!' It's like she doesn't understand how many people are killed or hurt or kept under dictatorial control by these things she loves so much." Rinoa pointed to the paper again. "The problem is right there: blood. Selphie Tilmitt's money is blood-stained money."

"As long as she doesn't establish dictatorial control here, we should be fine. Besides, Selphie Tilmitt's money is legal tender that is perfectly acceptable in exchange for cake."

"I know you're joking, but this is a serious subject." Rinoa accepted a cup of coffee from Emmy and waited for Quistis to ring up her order. "So I'm going to protest. Someone has to stand up for what is good and decent."

"Protest? What about your bookstore?"

"Oh, Watts is in today. He'll keep things running smoothly until I get back. It'll only be a couple of hours, and if he needs help, Rosalie is on-call."

"I suppose you know what you're doing."

"Of course I do!" Rinoa turned to leave, but doubled back. "By the way, have you taken my suggestion into consideration? Angelo would love to get her morning snack here, too." She angled her head toward the window, through which a fluffy, friendly dog watched the activity inside, its leash tied to the large planter beside the door.

"Rinoa, you know I'd love to incorporate pet-friendly treats into the menu, but I simply can't justify the cost right now."

"People would buy them! I'm not the only dog owner who patronizes your bakery. You could call them 'pupcakes', and decorate them with little doggie treats! At least put out a survey, to see who might be interested."

Quistis smiled. "Now that I can do. But I can't promise you'll like the results."

"I'm pretty sure I will. Don't underestimate the things people will buy for their pets."

Quistis sighed and shook her head. Rinoa was impulsive, but her heart was often in the right place. Regarding Selphie, however, Quistis disagreed with her stance. She hoped Selphie would not be swayed by Rinoa's tiny protest and the grumblings of the business owners along the parade route. An heiress with money to burn and a sizable online following would be a boon for the bakery, if Quistis could find some way to attract her attention. She briefly entertained the notion of sending Zell or Emmy to greet Selphie with a selection of cupcakes, but dismissed it as desperate. She had time to think, after all. If Selphie really was moving into a home in Dollet, and it wasn't all a publicity stunt, Quistis had plenty of time to push Qake into Selphie's peripheral vision.

* * *

Quistis collected plates and wiped down the tables, while Emmy stocked the display case in preparation for the lunchtime customers and Zell took his break in the kitchen. Quistis thought she heard Zell say something, but since he had a habit of arguing with the news anchors on television, she ignored it. He called her name again, louder this time, and she walked into the kitchen to see what he wanted.

"Yo, check this out," he said, pointing to the TV in the corner. The local news station was covering Selphie's arrival, which really did include a parade. A band in white uniforms was marching out of the shot, just as a small float covered with flowers and papier-mâché fairies rolled into view. Quistis crossed her arms and watched the spectacle unfold, feeling as if she had stumbled into a child's fever dream.

A troupe of dancers disappeared down the street, and the parade went quiet for a few moments. Then, the reporter's eyes widened, and she gestured to the other end of the road. The camera panned over, and Quistis let her arms fall to her sides and her mouth fall slack when she saw the tank approaching.

It was an authentic, decommissioned tank, as evidenced by the insignia of the Dollet army peeking through a shoddy – probably rushed – paint job. A Blue Dragon was painted near the front, and the entire vehicle had been festooned with fresh flowers. A young woman wearing a flower crown poked through the hatch at the top, alternately waving and flinging candy to the crowd below.

"Hello, Dollet!" she shouted. "I'm happy to be here! We're gonna have a blast! Booyaka!"

"Booyaka, indeed!" The reporter chuckled, catching a piece of candy. "This certainly is the most excitement Dollet has had in a while. Ms. Tilmitt seems to be a gregarious young lady who –" The reporter stopped and frowned, and sounds of a struggle could be heard behind the tank. The camera operator turned once more and zoomed in on a disturbance in the crowd.

At first, all the camera picked up was a placard bouncing through the crowd, but when it reached the curb, Rinoa broke through with it and carried it to the middle of the street.

"Blood-stained money, blood-stained money," Rinoa chanted, echoing the words painted on her placard. "We don't need your blood-stained money!"

"Well," said the reporter, an undercurrent of amusement in her voice, "I suppose not everyone was impressed. Perhaps that young woman didn't get a piece of candy. Oh, what's this? Law enforcement appears to be approaching..."

Indeed, a policeman who had been patrolling the crowd was now walking toward Rinoa, one arm outstretched, his lips moving in what Quistis assumed was an attempt to get Rinoa's attention. Rinoa, however was too wrapped up in her chanting to hear him.

Then he reached her and placed a hand on her shoulder, and everything went south.

Rinoa visibly jumped, then spun around, placard and all, striking him on the side of the head with it. He fell to the ground and Rinoa immediately dropped her sign and knelt beside him, where she was promptly handcuffed.

The camera stayed on them as they rose and Rinoa followed the officer, cooperative, but staring daggers at his back all the while.

"Well, this certainly has been an interesting morning! We hope those two get everything settled soon. Reporting live from downtown Dollet, this is –"

Zell turned off the television, and he, Quistis, and Emmy stared at its darkened screen.

"Oh dear," Quistis sighed.

Qake menu, spring/summer

Chapter 2: Heiress

Who was Selphie Tilmitt?

Quistis sat in her apartment at the end of her peculiarly eventful day and asked that question of the online world. She was inundated with answers, most of them the same, echoing what she'd read in the newspaper. After some scrolling, she found Selphie's personal website, Taiga Chick, and clicked on the link.

"Taiga Chick is moving!"a banner across the homepage read, followed by a short article explaining why.

Booyaka, everybody! If you are a regular visitor to Taiga Chick, you probably already know what's up, but for those of you who don't, I'm moving to Dollet! Why Dollet? Because! It's so pretty, and there are these really cool attractions and shops there, and it's WARM! Plus, it's just fun to say … is it Doll-et or Doe-lay? What are the people there called? Will I be a Dolletician? Hehe, vote for Selphie!
Anyway, even though I'm changing locations (and biomes – I guess I'm Temperate Deciduous Forest Chick now XD), I'm not leaving this website. You can still count on the quality content you're used to, and I'll never run out of stories about my Trabia. The only difference is, now I'll have stories from another place, too! Things will only get better around here!
Stay tuned!
Selphie :-)

Quistis smiled. Selphie seemed pleasant and friendly, hardly the warmonger Rinoa feared she was. Still, Quistis felt a bit more investigating would be prudent, and clicked through to the content on Selphie's site. Taiga Chick was appropriately named, as it chronicled Selphie's life in the Trabia region. There was information about the area – its ecosystem, its history, and its people – some casual information about Selphie, and a sizable collection of videos and articles, many of which were humorous and no doubt accounted for Selphie's large following. There were sledding races, snowman-building contests, and an amusing little series called "Will It Sled?", in which Selphie tested out various items for their utility as a sled and offered her rating and comments on each.

Satisfied that Selphie was not a megalomaniacal heiress bent on establishing rule in Dollet, Quistis decided to close out of the webpage. But as she moved the cursor toward the corner of the screen, something caught her eye. It was a picture of young Selphie grinning at the camera, a thin braid hanging over each shoulder, a medal around her neck, and a rifle in her arms. "Throwback to when I won the under-16s at the Trabia Nationals!" the caption read. Quistis clicked on the picture and found it was filed under, among other terms, "guns".

This was getting interesting.

Pulling up all posts under that term, Quistis discovered that Selphie was a competitive shooter, with several awards and titles to her name. In addition to photos and videos from competitions, Selphie offered reviews of firearms and ammunition, tips for better shooting, instructions for cleaning and maintaining a variety of guns, and basic safety procedures. The final post in the list was a video titled "Welcome to Trabia," which appeared to have been recorded years ago. Quistis clicked "Play."

A younger-looking Selphie, bundled in a coat, hat, and scarf, bounced into view and introduced herself. She gave a quick tour of her village and the surrounding area, and then the video cut to Selphie shooting tin cans off of fence posts a good distance away. She turned to the camera with a wide smile.

"You're surprised I can shoot, right?" she asked. "Well, it's a Trabian thing! We learn to shoot almost right after we learn to walk. It's for survival.

"You see, even though we're connected online, it's still super-duper expensive to deliver things up here, so we Trabians just get our own food. One Snow Lion can feed a village for months! We need to protect ourselves, too. There are Snow Lions in the forests and Blue Dragons in the mountains, and if you've never seen an angry Mesmerize, you're really, reeeallylucky!

"But you have to be super-duper careful with guns, too. I'm going to make a video later showing how to stay safe, but don't go playing with these things, okay? Guns are tools, not toys! It's a Trabian rule. Now, let's go visit Mrs. Englemann. She makes the kee-yutest jewelry out of Mesmerize hair!"

Quistis stopped the video. That explained a lot. Selphie liked guns because she had grown up around them. To her, they were tools of survival, dangerous but necessary, and fun to operate, to boot. In this context, her excitement over tanks and military-grade weapons was similar to Quistis' excitement over top-of-the-line industrial ovens. Selphie wasn't necessarily violent, just familiar with firearms in a different way than most people.

Rinoa, on the other hand, had grown up in Deling City, the daughter of a high-ranking army officer. It was only natural that she would associate guns with violence and oppression. Quistis hoped that, if Selphie and Rinoa ever met face-to-face, they could find common ground through another topic, because the chasm between their stances on firearms was not easily bridged.

Quistis copied the link to the video and sent it to Rinoa, with a note stating it was for context. She wasn't sure whether Rinoa was even out of police custody yet, but Quistis hoped that when Rinoa saw this, she might soften her views on Selphie, and maybe even welcome her to Dollet. It was a long shot, but one worth taking. None of them could afford to alienate a potential customer. Not even Rinoa.

* * *

"Good morning!" Rinoa breezed into the bakery, a dreamy smile on her lips, any trace of yesterday's agitation vanished. "What delectable treats do you have for me – and not Angelo – today?"

"Well, aren't you chipper?" Quistis said, pointing to the day's menu. "I figured after the way your little demonstration ended yesterday, you'd be pretty upset."

"Oh, you saw that?" Rinoa studied the menu, then moved to the display case. "I don't suppose you also saw the officer who arrested me?"

"I must admit, that's not where my attention was focused."

"Then you missed out! He is handsome, a little uptight, but the best-looking guy in Dollet! He's got this unruly brown hair that just won't stay under his hat, and the loveliest blue eyes I've ever seen." Rinoa sighed and pointed out her cupcake selection.

"Uh-oh," said Emmy, placing the cupcake in a box, "has the long arm of the law snatched your heart?"

"I don't know about arms, but this guy has legs for days. The long legs of the law."

"Did any part of the law actually end up charging you?" Quistis asked. She rang up Rinoa's order, then looked her in the eyes, frowning. "A criminal record could have major ramifications for your business."

"It was an accident! Everybody saw it, except for that officer. Well, he was probably seeing stars at the time. Anyway, Xu reviewed the video and said even arresting me had been a waste of time and resources, so – "

"Xu?"

"The police sergeant."

"You're on a first-name basis with the police sergeant?"

"Well, not exactly. But it was right there on her nameplate, and I was trying to be friendly, so … You know who's first name I'd really like to know? That officer's." Rinoa smiled again. "His last name's Leonhart, and Xu says he's new to the force and a stickler for rules. She even apologized for him arresting me. Xu's such a nice lady."

"You think so only because things went your way. A person doesn't become a police sergeant by being nice."

"Oh, Quistis, what are you so worried about?"

"The state of the neighborhood." Quistis brushed an errant crumb from the cash register. "This little business district is like its own ecosystem. If one of us goes under, traffic slows down even more, and then we're all in very real trouble. We have to take care of each other. And ourselves."

Rinoa nodded. "I understand. But I would never do anything that would put Sant'Angelo Books in any real danger." She brightened. "Oh, that reminds me, I have a promotional idea I'd like to run by you. I'll give you the details at lunchtime."

"I'm looking forward to it. By the way, did you get around to watching the video I sent you?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Rinoa winced and looked away. "I guess I see where she's coming from. But that still isn't the whole issue. Right now, she's living like some kind of princess on money that was made largely from wars. I don't know if she even realizes that. Until I know how she spends it – if she tries to do some good, or just hogs it all – it's going to be real hard to change my mind."

"If you do see her around town, please try not to be confrontational," Quistis warned, then gave her a conspiratorial grin. "I know you're eager to see Officer Leonhart again, but I don't think causing trouble is going to endear you to him."

"Quistis is right," Emmy chimed in. "Stand-up guys don't like troublemakers." She ignored the other women's curious gazes and straightened the takeout containers on the counter. "If only they noticed us straight-arrow types, too," she added quietly.

"Well, I'm off!" Rinoa announced. "It's delivery day, and Zone will be in to help, so I've got to get there before he tears through the boxes looking for naughty magazines. He knows I don't sell that stuff!"

"Perhaps a cupcake might ease his inevitable disappointment," Quistis offered.

"Hah! Zone's kinda insecure about things. I think the pink wallpaper here would be enough to send him running."

"His loss."

"Absolutely! See you at lunchtime."

As the door closed behind Rinoa, Zell wandered in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. "Kitchen's ready to go for the midday batches," he said. "And what the heck was Rinoa so chirpy about?"

"She took a liking to the policeman who arrested her," Quistis explained, then thanked Zell for prepping the kitchen and headed back to start on the next batch of cupcakes.

"Now that would be an unlikely couple," Zell muttered, then turned to Emmy. "Right?"

Quistis didn't catch Emmy's reply, but grinned to herself as she heard Emmy and Zell begin a lively conversation, punctuated by laughter. She tied her apron around her waist, readied her materials, and began baking, letting the rest of the world – with its heiresses and policemen and bottom lines – drop away for a little while.

* * *

"Why do I give twenty percent off when you only give fifteen?" Quistis looked at the coupons Rinoa presented her as part of a cross-promotional proposal.

"Because my items cost more," Rinoa said. "If you give fifteen percent off a cupcake, that's a negligible discount. And if I give twenty percent off of every book bought with this coupon, I'll never make a profit."

"But what about my profits? Every gil counts, even with the bulk discount I get from the suppliers."

"You won't be selling every cupcake at a discount. This can be a limited-time promotion. Or a limited-time recurring promotion. Like, the first Saturday of each month, and the customers have to use the coupons within a week."

"That would be easier to handle, and to prepare for." A customer approached the counter, returning her plate and cup. Quistis thanked her and wished her a good day, then turned back to Rinoa. "But the issue remains: how will you get customers into either of our shops on that day?"

"I'm still thinking about that part. I've considered themed events, especially geared toward families. 'Summer Reading Made Fun,' 'Campfire Stories,' 'Make Your Own Picture Book.' Stuff like that." Rinoa's eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe I can order some of your cupcakes to draw people in!"

"I like that idea very much."

"At a discount?"

"The standard business discount."

"There's no 'really good friend' discount?"

"Sorry, but no."

Rinoa laughed. "It was worth a try. But really, this will be a great promotion for both of us! Now, what kind of cupcakes do I want?" She propped her chin on her hand to think, and Quistis began wiping down the vacant tables.

The little bell above the door tinkled, and before Quistis or Rinoa could turn around to acknowledge the customer, the customer announced herself by talking loudly into her phone.

"Okay, so here we are, Day Two in Dollet and I'm in the mood for something sweet!" she said. "I just stumbled across this cute little bakery called Quake, and it smells super delicious in here. I'll get back to you all to let you know what I find! 'Til later!"

Quistis' shoulders spasmed at the mispronunciation of her bakery's name, and the rest of her body tensed when she recognized Selphie Tilmitt. She smiled politely. "It's pronounced 'cake'," she said, as gently as she could.

"But it's spelled with a 'q'."

"Which is not followed by a 'u.' Welcome to Qake. How can I help you?" Quistis glanced at Rinoa, and saw her glaring at Selphie, tracking Selphie's movement from the door to the counter, probably looking for an indication of violence in every step.

"Let's see … what do you have here?" Selphie peered into the display case, leaning close and fogging up the glass with her breath. "These all look really good! I can't decide. What do you recommend?"

Quistis looked toward the kitchen. Emmy was very good at pairing customers with flavors they enjoyed, but she had just stepped out for her break. So Quistis recalled what she'd seen of Selphie's website, and combined this with the cheerful energy Selphie exuded now to hazard a recommendation.

"Our lemon-raspberry cupcake is very good," she said at last. "It's tangy, but with a hint of sweetness, thanks to a vanilla cream filling. It's perfect for a sunny day like today."

"Sounds good! I'll try that one, then."

"For here, or to go?"

"Here, definitely. I wanna get a feel for the place. Dollet is so different from where I grew up, it's like I've landed on another planet!"

"She probably has," Rinoa muttered, shrugging off Quistis' frantic gestures telling her to remain quiet. "So," Rinoa continued, louder, "you say you're new to Dollet. You wouldn't happen to be Selphie Tilmitt?"

"The one and only!" Selphie beamed, settling into a chair.

"I've heard about you. Your inheritance –"

"And I know who you are, too! You're that protester from yesterday."

Quistis grimaced and assumed a white-knuckled grip on the plate she was carrying to Selphie. She hadn't expected these two women to jump right into the issue that divided them, and she certainly hadn't expected them to do so in her shop. She worried that she might end up meeting Officer Leonhart today, after all, and not in a way Rinoa would appreciate.

"Um, yes," Rinoa said. "How did you recognize me?"

"You were all over the news. Plus, some of my followers sent me videos of what happened." Selphie looked up and smiled as Quistis set down her cupcake, but immediately turned her attention back to Rinoa. "What did you mean by 'blood-stained money?'"

Rinoa blanched. Quistis hovered nearby, holding her breath, waiting for Rinoa's response and Selphie's reaction. Rinoa had really done it this time.

"Well," Rinoa said finally, setting her jaw and looking for the world like a captain prepared to go down with her ship, "look at the nature of your uncle's business. Yes, Blue Dragon supplies people like you, who use guns as daily tools. It also supplies criminals who use guns to bad ends. But that's not what made your uncle rich. The big money isn't in individuals, it's in military forces. Blue Dragon supplied anyone who asked, and the longer the wars went on, the more money the corporation made. That's what I meant by 'blood-stained money.'"

Selphie looked down at her cupcake. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. But that didn't have anything to do with me, and it still doesn't. Uncle Rendel only left me his money and his property, not his business. I have no say in what Blue Dragon does."

"Yet you enjoy the profits."

"What am I supposed to do? Renounce it all? That won't fix anything! The money still has to go somewhere, and it'll probably end up in the hands of people who won't do anygood with it."

Rinoa's eyebrows raised. "Good? I assume you're talking about more than flashy parades when you say that."

"Of course! It's true that I'm having lots of fun, now that I can afford to, but Uncle Rendel's fortune is way too much for me to spend in my lifetime. So, I'm finally able to give more than just pocket change to the people whose work I admire."

"Mm-hmm. And who might those people be?"

"The Moomba Rights Organization, the Snowflake Scouts, the International Orphans' Fund, the Chocobo Trust." Selphie counted each group off on her fingers. "Hold on, I have their cards in my wallet." She fished a bright yellow wallet decorated with chocobo silhouettes from her purse and produced a handful of colorful business cards, then fanned them out on the table, next to her yet-untouched cupcake.

Rinoa's eyes widened, and she picked up an orange card. "The Moomba Rights Organization," she read.

"Moombas are native to an island north of Trabia," Selphie explained, "but a lot of them get caught by trappers and sold as slave labor. The MRO investigates reports of Moomba abuse, rescues them when they can, and rehabilitates the rescues. They're very popular in Trabia, and the kids in school hold craft fairs to raise money for them. Now, I can give them a thousand times that much every month, and still have plenty left over!" She shrugged. "Buuut … if my blood-stained moneyis really that bad, I might have to reconsider."

"Wait, that's not what I –"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Selphie laughed. "I honestly don't care what you think about me, or my money. I'm gonna enjoy myself, and help out people when I can, and I think that's a pretty good way to live."

"I agree," said Quistis, smirking at Rinoa over Selphie's head. "It's your money, after all, and you seem to have found a balance between personal enjoyment and social responsibility."

Rinoa made a face at Quistis, then looked at Selphie. "Perhaps I may have judged you too harshly," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

Selphie grinned. "Don't worry about it!"

"But this had better be more than a game to you. Doing good is a commitment, and I hope you stick to it. I've got my eyes on you, Selphie Tilmitt."

"Great! I love attention."

Rinoa gaped at Selphie for a moment, then laughed nervously and excused herself.

"Wow," said Selphie, after she'd left. "Is she always that intense?"

"Not usually," Quistis answered. "But she has a passion for justice and empathy, and a few personal issues to sort out. She's actually very nice, but I think right now, you've confounded her. Give her a while, and she'll eventually settle down."

"No problem. I don't let stuff like that get to me, anyway."

"That's good to hear. Enjoy your cupcake." Quistis took her leave, but had not even made it to the register when Selphie let out a squeal.

"Ooh! Flippin' fudge muffins!" Selphie cried. "Where is that baker? Get them out here, now!"

Oh, dear. Now what? Quistis took a deep breath and approached Selphie. "I'm the baker," she said. "How can I help you?"

"This cupcake is amazing! I've never tasted anything so tangy and fluffy and sweet all at the same time. How many more do you have in the case? I'll take them all!"

Quistis' eyes widened, and she let out a surprised chuckle as she glanced over her shoulder to survey the display case. "We've got three left," she said, "and I'll certainly sell them all to you, but how about making it a half-dozen with some of our other flavors?"

"Great idea! Let me see what else you've got." She sprung up from her seat and started toward the case, but paused. "Oh, by the way, I don't think we had a proper introduction. Both you and your friend knew who I was – naturally – but I never got your names."

"The woman you were talking to is Rinoa. She owns the bookstore a few doors down."

"Neato! I hope she doesn't mind me checking it out sometime. And you?"

"I'm Quistis Trepe." Quistis extended her hand.

"Pleased to meet you!" Selphie shook her hand and repeated her name several times. "Say, is that where the 'q' in Qake comes from? Very clever; I like it!"

Strawberry, caramel, and chocolate cupcakes rounded out Selphie's half-dozen, and she bounced up and down as she accepted the box from Quistis. "I'm sure I'm gonna love these," she said, then became serious. "Um, Quisty, I was wondering … I saw you also have some cakes here, and … um, do you take special requests?"

"It's Quistis. And yes, I do. Special orders must be submitted at least seventy-two hours in advance and agreed upon by both parties. Within those requirements, I'm happy to fulfill your request."

"Whoo-hoo! Next weekend, I'm having a party at my house. It'll be my official debut, with lots of music, fun, and, of course, sweets. And I think I've just found my go-to baker. I'll drop by with my request tomorrow. Thanks, Quisty, you're the best!"

Quistis began to correct her again, but thought the better of it and simply smiled and waved as Selphie left the bakery. She hadn't expected to attract Selphie's patronage so soon, and she certainly didn't foresee Selphie being so impressed with her offerings. Perhaps cupcakes were a rarity in Trabia, or perhaps the range of available flavors was limited there. Whatever the reason, Quistis had just landed the most lucrative client in Dollet without even trying. She began humming to herself as she wiped down the table Selphie had left, and wondered vaguely what kind of request she had in mind.

It was probably going to be something ostentatious, Quistis figured, coming from the woman who'd arrived in Dollet by tank. That was not Quistis' usual style, but it might be a fun change for the bakery. She was confident that she and her team could handle the request.

After all, just how eccentric could a single cake be?

Coupons from Qake's cross-promotion

Chapter 3: Almasy

“And the Dollet arch goes over here,” Selphie said, pointing to a section of the large drawing she had unrolled across the counter in Qake. "A cluster of buildings, then a little winding road to my new house. And there’s a teeny-tiny version of me, standing outside with my arms open, ready to give all my new neighbors a hug!“

Quistis blinked. She spread her hands across the drawing and looked at it once more. From a stand of fondant evergreens dusted with confectioner’s sugar, to the sparkling rainbow bridge made out of sour fruit candy and flanked on each end by a pair of Blue Dragons, to a miniature version of Dollet, Selphie’s cake design was extravagant, an edible – and embellished – recreation of her journey from Trabia. Quistis laughed nervously.

“This is an elaborate design,” she said. "Very colorful, very creative.“

"Thanks! I want this cake to honor where I come from and where I’m headed. I want this cake to jump out at people at my party. I want this cake to scream, ‘Selphie Tilmitt!’”

“It certainly does. What are the dimensions of the cake?”

“Well, in order for everything to fit on here, and still be recognizable, I was thinking about … uh, ten feet long?”

“Ten feet! Selphie, how many people are you expecting at this party?”

“However many show up! I’ve issued an open invitation to my followers, and to everybody in Dollet. I want to get to know my neighbors.”

Quistis sighed and rubbed her temples. "Selphie,“ she said slowly, struggling to keep her tone genial, "it’s very hard for me to make a cake when I don’t know how many people might want a slice. Can you give me a rough estimate of the number of people you expect to accept your invitation?”

“Hmm. My followers are scattered all over the world, so most of them can’t come. And I’m positive not everyone in town will show up. Most people probably didn’t even see the invitation on my website.” Selphie chewed her lip, mentally calculating an estimate. “I think it’s safe to say about five hundred guests, then.”

“That’s still a lot, but I can work with that. But a ten-foot-long sheet cake would be extremely difficult to transport. Do you mind if I suggest a slight alteration to your design, for that purpose?”

“… I guess.”

“Great.” Quistis grabbed a napkin from the dispenser at her elbow and a pen from the top of the register and sketched out a quick design, then turned the napkin around to show Selphie. "We have two four-tiered square cakes here, going from a sixteen-inch base to a ten-inch upper layer, with a twelve-inch sheet cake in between. This will serve five hundred people, and preserve the original intent of your design.“

"Oh, I get it! One cake will be Trabia, the other Dollet, and the one in the middle is the bridge.”

“Exactly.”

“Quisty, you’re a genius! This will look even better than I imagined. Hey, now we can even include mountains on the Trabia side, and maybe the communication tower on the Dollet side, and maybe –”

“I think the original design is lovely,” Quistis quickly assured her. "You don’t want to overcrowd the cake; then nobody will be able to see the little details you’ve already requested.“

Selphie sighed. "Maybe you’re right. Sometimes, I can get a little carried away.”

Quistis only smiled. “You haven’t told me what flavor you want, yet,” she said.

“Lemon-raspberry,” Selphie said without hesitation. "Those other cupcakes I bought yesterday were great, but lemon-raspberry is super-duper-mega-yummy! It’s like eating sunshine!“

Quistis clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle at Selphie’s superlatives, and played it off as a dainty cough. She and Selphie discussed pricing and scheduling, and Selphie skipped out of Qake smiling and humming to herself. Quistis rolled up Selphie’s drawing, took it into the kitchen, then taped it along one wall.

"What in the world?” Emmy asked, tilting her head to look at the design. Zell joined her to investigate.

“Yo, what the …? Is this some kind of joke?” he turned to Quistis. "You can’t be serious!“

Quistis crossed her arms and regarded them calmly. "Don’t worry, I’ve made alterations to the design,” she said, and watched Zell and Emmy relax. "But the decorations remain the same. This cake is due for delivery to Selphie’s party one week from today, so we’ll need to get started right now. We’re going to make this happen.“

"That Selphie lady’s a hot dog short of a combo plate,” Zell muttered.

“Perhaps, but we need her business. This order will give Qake a significant financial safety net for the off-season. So, don’t think of it as catering to a silly heiress, think of it as investing in the future of the bakery, and in the future of your paychecks.”

“Heh. Understood.” Zell squinted at the drawing. "Now, if only I could understand these scribbles!“

* * *

Zell tended the register during the mid-morning slump, while Emmy replenished the display case, and Quistis painted scales on a Blue Dragon made of fondant. Selphie’s party was three days away, and most of the fondant figures were complete. The real challenge lay in putting everything together, however, and Quistis had budgeted for overtime pay for both Zell and Emmy for the coming Saturday.

She heard the bell above the door ring, followed by a disgusted grunt from Zell.

"Ugh. What are you doing here?” he asked the person who’d entered. "I thought you were too good for this place.“

"I am,” a man answered. "But I’m also intrigued by some rumors floating around. Aww, don’t make that face, chicken-boy. I heard you guys actually had a good week, for once.“

"I am not a chicken!”

“Could’ve fooled me. I mean, that hair …”

“Can it, Almasy!”

Upon hearing the name, Quistis’ stomach tightened. She set down the fondant and hurried to the front, removing her gloves along the way and stuffing them into the pocket of her apron.

“Ah, here she is!” the man said. "The lovely queen of Quake.“

"You know very well how it’s pronounced, Seifer,” Quistis said, giving him her coldest stare. “You’re not that stupid.”

Seifer flinched. “I don’t recall establishing a first-name basis between us, Ms. Trepe.” His expression lightened. "And I don’t understand why you people are all so gloomy. No wonder your business is failing.“

"Is there a reason for your visit, or did you simply decide to grace us with your insults?”

“You know I like to keep abreast of the com – ahem, I almost called you ‘competition’ – the community of small-business owners in Dollet. You all have your fingers on the pulse of the locals, and that’s very handy information for my marketing team.” He grinned. "And speaking of 'team,’ allow me to introduce my associates, Raijin –” Seifer gestured behind himself to a large, tanned man holding a clipboard, then nodded to a petite woman with silver hair combed over one eye – “and Fujin. They are my directors of security and marketing, respectively.”

Quistis offered Seifer’s associates a curt nod each, then turned back to him. "Well, we’re still operating,“ she said. “Now that you’ve seen that, I ask that you either state further business or leave. You’re upsetting my employee.”

“Your employee needs to grow a thicker skin. He had too many holes poked in this one to get that ugly tattoo.”

“That’s it!” Zell tore off his apron and flung it to the floor. "You want a fight, you got one! You’re goin’ down!“

Quistis grabbed Zell by the arm and pulled him back, inserting herself between him and Seifer. "Zell,” she said quietly, “why don’t you help Emmy with the fondant figures? We just have the Blue Dragons, and some of the buildings, left.” She gently pushed him backwards toward the kitchen, listening to the air whistle through his flared nostrils. He finally relented, but not before making an obscene gesture toward Seifer.

“You got lucky today, Almasy,” he said, then stalked into the kitchen. Quistis crossed her arms and set her jaw, then faced Seifer again.

“That guy’s unstable,” Seifer said. "How can you feel safe around him?“

"Zell is a very nice person and a hard worker, who doesn’t take kindly to people antagonizing him,” Quistis replied, “as I’m sure is the case for almost everyone. Now, tell me, Mr. Almasy, why are you really here?”

“Well, you know I’ve got my little birdies all over the place, and one of them whispered something very interesting to me the other day. Something about a celebrity in Dollet.”

“Yes, Selphie Tilmitt. You must have seen her arrival; it was picked up by every news outlet in the area.”

“Oh, I know who she is. I just didn’t know what she liked. Apparently, she’s fond of sweets, and parties, and … sweets.”

“You’re repeating yourself. I suppose you’ve said all you had to, then.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ms. Trepe. You know what I’m getting at.”

“Then stop wasting my time and say it.”

Seifer cocked an eyebrow. “Feisty, aren’t we? I’ve been informed that you picked up a new, high-profile client. One certain Selphie Tilmitt. Is that true?”

“I don’t see why that matters to you.”

“You’re getting defensive, so it must be true.” Seifer shrugged. "I guess I have to congratulate you, then, Ms. Trepe. Hyperion missed out on that one.“ He held out his hand.

Quistis stared at it. "That’s business,” she said. “I’m sure Hyperion will survive.”

“Of course we will. But now, things have gotten interesting around here. You’ve hooked a really big fish. But can you reel her in for good?”

“I’m sure I can.” Quistis noticed Raijin gazing longingly at the display case. "I’m confident in the quality of my product. In fact, it looks like your associate would like some. What can I get for you, Raijin?“

"Huh? Oh, uh, n-nothin’,” Raijin stammered under Seifer’s glare. "I was just lookin’ at these cupcakes, ya know, and – and how ugly they are. Yeah, that’s it. Ugly, ya know? Who’d wanna buy that?“

"Thank you for your critique. What would you suggest to make them more appealing?”

Raijin’s face lit up, and Quistis wondered whether he’d ever been asked for his opinion before. "Oh, there’s lots of stuff you could do,“ he said. "Maybe make some of 'em more manly, ya know, with little tanks and soldiers on 'em and stuff, and – yeeowch!” He bent down and rubbed his shin, and Quistis noticed Fujin wore a particularly satisfied smirk.

Seifer growled. “Enough of this. I’ll hand it to you for catching Tilmitt’s interest, but you can be sure you won’t hold onto it for long. This quaint little bakery can’t keep up with that heiress’ squirrel brain. Hyperion can.”

Quistis smiled politely. “So I guess you do see me as competition, after all.”

“No. Competitors put up a fight. After you lose Tilmitt’s money, I can just steamroll you.”

“But, for the time being, I have the upper hand. So, let the best among us win. Good luck, Mr. Almasy.”

“Ms. Trepe, I hate it when people wish me luck. Luck has nothing to do with my success. So, save those words for a dipstick who really needs them, eh?”

“Very well, then.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Good luck, Seifer.”

Raijin made a strange chortling sound, which became a cough, then a whine, as Fujin administered another swift kick to his shin.

Seifer scowled. “Raijin!”

Raijin rubbed his shin once more, then straightened. "Yeah, boss?“

"Add Ms. Trepe’s business to the list.”

“Sure thing!”

Fujin leaned toward Raijin, standing on tiptoes to peer over his arm at what he’d written. Then she turned to Seifer. "TIMETABLE?“ she asked loudly.

A malicious grin crept across Seifer’s face. "Three months,” he said, his cyan eyes boring into Quistis. "Good luck, Ms. Trepe. You’re going to need it.“ He straightened his tie, then turned and walked out of Qake, getting into a shiny black car that was idling at the curb. His associates followed.

Quistis cursed under her breath. She calmed the trembling in her hands, then cursed once more and headed into the kitchen. She ordered Zell back to the register, then resumed painting the Blue Dragon.

She couldn’t afford to be intimidated. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

"I don’t get it,” Rinoa mumbled, flipping through one of Dollet’s free weekly publications. A small stack of them awaited their turns next to her. "Lately, I can’t turn a page without seeing an ad for the Hyperion. See? Here’s another one.“

"They’ve always promoted themselves aggressively,” Quistis said, cleaning fingerprints and tiny nose prints from the front of the display case.

“I know, but these aren’t ads for the whole resort. They’re specifically for their nightclubs and party venues.”

“It is peak party season.”

“These things are everywhere, though, regardless of the publication’s target audience. One of my customers told me there was even one in the Thrift-E-Shopper. People who read the Thrift-E-Shopper can’t exactly afford to party at Wyldefire Nightclub. Why in the world would Hyperion target people so far outside of their usual demographic? Do you think this has anything to do with Selphie?”

“It has everything to do with Selphie.”

Rinoa swiveled around in her seat. "You sound suspiciously sure.“

"Seifer Almasy paid me a visit yesterday. As usual, he was all bluster and veiled threats, but he specifically mentioned luring Selphie to the Hyperion. He seems to believe that I can’t stay in business without her patronage.” Quistis gave a dry laugh. "I’ve been doing just that since I opened.“

"That guy’s always bad news. Even when we were kids. One summer, he staged a hostile takeover of my lemonade stand.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. But now I am curious. Your family has money; what were you doing running a lemonade stand?”

“I wanted a pony, and my father said the only way I’d get one was if I bought it myself. He did offer to buy me a racehorse, but that idea lost its shine when I realized I wouldn’t be the one racing it.” Rinoa shook her head. "But that’s not important. My point is, Seifer has always been a cutthroat bully. He probably slashed his way out of the womb. If only he’d stayed in Deling.“

"But he didn’t, and as much as I’d love to, I can’t change that. Just like I can’t stop Selphie from taking her business to the Hyperion, if she wishes to. What I can do is focus on delivering one of the more unique cakes Dollet has seen, and hope the exposure from Selphie’s party translates into a few new customers.”

“So, two more days, huh? Are you nervous?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I feel so silly, though. This order is nothing I haven’t done before, only on a much larger scale. I’ll be closing early on Saturday to give us enough time to put everything together.”

“Ouch.”

“I figured an estimate of lost revenue into the price, as well as the cost of Zell and Emmy’s overtime.”

Rinoa tapped the side of her head. "Smart lady.“

"We’ll close at noon,” Quistis went on, as much to herself as to Rinoa, “and have the cake ready by four o'clock, and be at Selphie’s by five.”

“What time does the party start?”

“Seven. Are you going? Selphie says she invited everyone in town.”

“I might swing by after I close up. I’m curious to see what kind of lifestyle an heiress leads. Also –” Rinoa leaned forward and dropped her voice – “do you think she’ll have private security, or will the Dollet Police be there for crowd control?”

“I should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

“If you’d seen Officer Leonhart, you wouldn’t blame me one bit.” Rinoa looked at her watch, and her eyes widened. "Gosh, how’d it get so late? I’ve got to get back to the store. See you later, Quistis!“ She gathered up the publications and jogged out the door, stopping to untie Angelo before waving and heading down the street.

Quistis returned the wave, then looked down, where one of the publications had slid to the floor, unnoticed. She picked it up and thumbed through it until she came to one of the Hyperion’s ads. It featured one of their nightclubs and promised nights of debauchery and desire. Quistis chuckled. Judging from her website, her cake design and her general personality, this didn’t seem like Selphie’s style at all.

Hyperion didn’t know Selphie Tilmitt.

The resort had massive amounts of money and resources, but it lacked a personal connection to its clientele. Regarding Selphie, Quistis knew the person behind the fortune, at least a little bit, and right now, that was the most powerful tool in her possession.

She tossed the publication into the trash can and wiped down Rinoa’s table. When the door opened and several customers walked in, she greeted them cheerfully, her spirits and resolve buoyed by her realization.

She was looking forward to Saturday night.

Hyperion nightclub ad

Chapter 4: Debut

Quistis nestled a tiny fondant Selphie on a bed of bubble wrap, in between two Blue Dragons, then loosely closed the flaps of the small cardboard box in which the trio lay. She surveyed the other boxes in the bakery, making sure she had all of the elements of Selphie's cake, and the necessary tools to assemble it once she and her team arrived at Selphie's house. Zell had gone to fetch the van Quistis had rented for the day, while Emmy finished packing the Trabian evergreens.

When Zell arrived, they carefully loaded the boxes into the van, drawing curious glances from passersby, whom Zell promptly invited to Selphie's party to see the finished product. Most of the onlookers simply laughed nervously before continuing on their way. Emmy volunteered to ride in the back to ensure that the cakes did not get jostled, Quistis locked up the bakery, and they departed for Selphie's home.

Selphie's villa was impressive, its white walls beautifully offset by the red-tile roofs common in the region. Bright, column-like trees lined the road leading to a paved drive and a porte-cochère. Quistis scanned the area, but did not see Selphie, or any member of the household staff Quistis assumed she had. She instructed Zell to keep the van, and its air-conditioner, running, and approached the front door. She rang the bell several times, but when no one answered, she turned back and followed a flagstone path that branched off the main walkway. She came upon a courtyard with a fountain in the center, and what looked like the beginnings of a DJ booth at one end. She called Selphie's name and wandered farther in.

"Well, hello," a man's voice said. Quistis spun around and saw a tall, lanky man leaning against a pillar under the portico. He tipped his hat at her and began to advance. Quistis backed away, positioning herself for a quick escape, if necessary.

"Who do we have here?" the man continued. "Sefie didn't tell me there were such pretty ladies in Dollet."

"I'm Quistis Trepe, from Qake bakery. Is Selphie home? I've brought her cake."

"Ah, an exquisite name for an exquisite beauty! It is a pleasure to meet you, Quistis. Sefie's gone inside to fetch more decorations, but go ahead and bring the cake through. And, if you need any help, I'm all yours."

Quistis laughed weakly. "No, thank you. My associates and I can handle it."

The man grinned. "The offer still stands."

Quistis grimaced and continued to back away. She heard a pop, like thin plastic parts striking one another, and the man's hat flew off his head, the victim of a orange foam bolt.

"Irvy, leave Quisty alone!" Selphie approached, twirling a toy gun in her hands. She shoved it into Irvy's arms, and he staggered backwards. "Galloping gumdrops, why do you have to be such a sleazeball? Sorry, Quisty. This is Irvine. He can be a terrible flirt, but don't worry, he's harmless."

"Harmless?" Irvine looked offended, as if that was the worst insult he'd ever been dealt.

Selphie gave his arm a light punch, then leaned against him. "Yeah. He's not the stud he thinks he is."

Quistis relaxed and glanced from Irvine to Selphie. "Your boyfriend?" she asked.

"Oh, gosh, no! We're just friends. We go way back. Irvy lived in Trabia for a while when we were both little, and that's how we met. We ran into each other again a few years ago at a shooting competition, and we've been super friends ever since. Just real good buds!"

Irvine's expression said otherwise.

"Anyhow," Selphie went on, "let's get that cake inside before the toppings melt. I can hardly wait to see it!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little bit longer," Quistis said. "We need to assemble it first."

"What?"

"Oh, it's all baked and iced, but I didn't want to risk the cake being damaged on the ride here, so we brought it in sections. We just have to put it all together and attach the decorations. It shouldn't take us long at all."

"Whew! You had me worried there, Quisty! That cake is the star of the show tonight … well, after me." Selphie smiled. "No pressure, of course."

"No pressure."

Selphie followed Quistis to the van, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands like a child as the parts of her cake were unloaded, and then led everyone to the kitchen. She watched as Quistis, Zell, and Emmy set the cake up on the cart she provided, but when they brought out the fondant figures, she said she wanted to be surprised and excused herself to finish decorating.

"It looks really good," said Emmy, sitting on a kitchen stool and appraising the competed cake. "To be honest, when I first saw that drawing, I didn't think we could pull it off."

"Yeah," Zell agreed, sitting down beside her, "I didn't think so, either."

Quistis frowned. "And I didn't think either of you had so little confidence," she said. "In yourselves and in me."

"Hey, you gotta understand. This was the battiest design we've ever received. Just look at how many fondant pieces it's got! And then, running the shop on top of it all –"

"That's what this business is all about."

"Heh. You're right. But it was still crazy!"

"I won't deny that it was difficult, but this order was a good confidence-builder for all of us. If we can handle something like this, a traditional wedding cake should be nothing, and our daily offerings will be even easier, in comparison." Quistis smiled. "So, good work, you two. You're both real, seasoned bakers now!"

Emmy smiled shyly. "Thank you."

The kitchen door opened a crack, and a swath of bright yellow tulle peeked through. "Is it finished?" Selphie called from the other side.

"Yes, come in."

Selphie walked into the kitchen, already dressed for her party in a yellow dress and sparkly tiara, and gasped when she saw the cake. She smiled wide and walked around it, pointing at each fondant element and naming it, as if running through a mental checklist.

"And there I am!" she said at last. "Quisty, this is perfect. Thank you so much!" She launched herself at Quistis and hugged her tightly. Quistis stumbled backwards and caught herself against a countertop, then awkwardly patted Selphie's back.

"You're very welcome. I'm happy we delivered on your vision."

"Did you ever! And now everybody will know it, too. I'm gonna tell all my followers about this, but I think I'll wait until the cake is wheeled out to take the picture. Until then, why don't you all join the party? We've got music, snacks, and some really fun games. Come on!"

Zell brightened at the mention of food, and he started after Selphie, but hesitated and looked at Quistis.

"Oh, why not?" Quistis said. "We've earned it."

It was about a quarter past seven, and so far, only a few small groups had gathered in the courtyard. Peppy pop music blared from the speakers, and a long table covered with trays of party food ran beneath the portico along one side of the courtyard. At the opposite end, a group of targets, stationary and moving, had been set up, along with a selection of toy guns. A brightly-colored sign advertised the existence of a pool behind the house, but Selphie had apparently neglected to mention it in her invitation, since no one looked prepared to go swimming.

By about eight o'clock, the fashionably late crowd trickled in, including several families, and the party took on a lively atmosphere, though attendance remained well below the five hundred people Selphie had predicted would show. With an hour remaining before they were due to present the cake, Zell and Emmy sampled the party food, then tried their hands at the games, laughing and competing with one another. Quistis remained by the entrance to the house, and made small talk with partygoers she recognized. Selphie flitted from group to group, welcoming guests, introducing herself, and documenting it all with the camera on her phone.

Though Irvine had abandoned his attempts at seduction, he continued to try to engage Quistis in conversation, bobbing to the music in the background each time the conversation inevitably died out. After several awkward rounds of this, he began dancing, and was trying to get Quistis to join him, when Selphie arrived and zoomed her camera in on Quistis.

"And this is Quistis Trepe," she said, "owner of Qake, and the baker of my cake, which you guys will see in just a bit. It's amazing! Hi, Quistis! Wave to my follow—Irvy! Irvy, get out of the shot! You've ruined it!"

Irvine had crept into the frame as Quistis was waving to the camera, and now sulked at Selphie's rebuke.

"You'll get your own shot," Selphie reassured him, "but right now, I wanna make sure everybody knows the best baker in Dollet!" She sighed and tapped on her phone's screen. "Okay, let's try this again."

Selphie repeated her spiel, Quistis waved to the camera, and Selphie moved on, Irvine at her heels. Quistis chuckled at the dynamic between the two, and continued to watch the party from the sidelines. She was so absorbed in doing so that she didn't notice Rinoa approach, and was startled when Rinoa heaved a disheartened sigh.

"I should've known she'd have her own security," she muttered, then turned to Quistis. "So, this is the big debut? It looks like a kid's birthday party."

"I'll admit, it does. But the people here seem to enjoy it. Those looking for something else left soon after they arrived."

"So, where's the cake? I want to see how you handled that wacky request."

"It's in the kitchen. We'll be presenting it at nine o'clock. In the meantime, there's some food over there, and a few games."

Rinoa went to investigate the food table, and returned with a plate stacked high with a variety of bite-sized treats. "I'll say this: Selphie knows the key to a good party is good food." She smiled and crammed a savory pastry in her mouth.

"Rinnie! You came!" Selphie ran across the courtyard to hug Rinoa. "I was worried you wouldn't. I was worried you hated me!"

"Hated?" Rinoa looked uncomfortable in Selphie's friendly embrace, her arms pinned to her sides, her plate of food hanging at a dangerous angle until Quistis took it from her. "I never said that. You confused me, that's all. I didn't expect someone like you to be so conscious of social issues."

"I'm not stupid." Selphie released her and smiled. "I can see what's wrong in the world, and I want to help out, even if it's just a little. So, you and me have that in common. We can be friends! We can raise awareness and money and really make an impact!"

"I … hadn't thought of that."

"Well, then, think about it! We can be unstoppable, and have loads and loads of fun while doing good." Something caught Selphie's eye, and she took off in the direction of whatever it was. "Enjoy yourself, Rinnie," she called over her shoulder, "and thanks for showing up!"

"I'm glad you two have made your peace," Quistis said, handing Rinoa's plate back to her.

Rinoa blinked. "I didn't have a chance to. But she really does seem like a nice person, and with her connections, we can help more people than ever before. We might just get along, after all."

Quistis and Rinoa chatted, and as Rinoa relaxed, she began to move with the music, singing along with the songs she recognized. Suddenly, however, she froze. Her eyes grew wide and the plate dipped in her hand, spilling the remainder of its contents on the ground. She grabbed Quistis by the arm, pulled her close, then turned her head toward the front of the property.

"Oh, my gosh," she hissed. "Look who just pulled up."

Quistis squinted through the shrubs and saw a black-and-white vehicle pull up to the front of the house. The doors opened, and two uniformed policemen exited. Quistis tensed, and Rinoa's fingers dug deeper into her arm.

"Do you think it's him?"

"I'm more concerned about why they're here," Quistis whispered. Nobody at the party had done anything wild, and the nearest neighbors were too far away for the music to be much of a nuisance. She couldn't imagine what might have happened, unless Irvine … Of course, Irvine. Maybe he'd gotten a bit too flirtatious with somebody. She scanned the crowd for an upset woman, or an angry boyfriend or husband, but saw only happy people socializing on a pleasant summer evening.

"We shouldn't be here," one of the policemen said as they came within earshot. "We should be working."

"We are working," his partner assured him. "We're ambassadors of the department, here to honor Tilmitt's invitation. You really need to lighten up. Even Xu said so. I think that's why she sent us."

Rinoa gasped, shaking Quistis' arm up and down. "It is him! The grumpy one, on the left."

The grumpy one, indeed. He sulked and stalked across the courtyard. Quistis looked at him closely, but the brim of his hat and the lighting of the courtyard made it difficult to see his features.

"Besides," the second policeman went on, in response to his partner's grumbling, "the night shift came in at seven. They'll take care of the town. Just relax. Eat, mingle –"

"Whatever." The surly policeman leaned against a pillar. His body language indicated that insofar as he had come to this party, he felt he had fulfilled his obligations to the department. No one said he had to enjoy it.

"Good evening, ladies." The other policeman approached Quistis and Rinoa and flashed a smile. He was pleasant-looking, if a bit bland. "Enjoying the party?"

"Eh, it's okay," Rinoa replied, craning her neck to look at the policeman against the pillar. "Is that Officer Leonhart, by any chance?"

"Why, yes, how did you— wait a minute, you're that protester he arrested! Allow me to apologize, ma'am, the situation never should have escalated to that point."

"It's fine, really. I think his dedication to his job is admirable."

The officer snorted. "His dedication is costing the department. Most of the offenses that he takes people in for don't carry enough of a fine to recoup the processing costs. It's driving the higher-ups nuts, but he's extremely qualified for more severe tasks, so they're hesitant to let him go."

"What's his first name? I didn't see it anywhere on my documents after I was released."

"Squall. Squall Leonhart."

"Fitting," Quistis said. "His face is like a storm cloud."

The officer laughed. "That's what I've said all along! You're the only other person to make that connection." He held out his hand. "I'm Nida, by the way."

Quistis shook his hand and introduced herself, but Rinoa simply handed him her empty plate, already on her way to talk to Squall.

"I've gotta hand it to her," Nida said. "That's one brave lady."

Quistis and Nida watched the interaction. Rinoa approached Squall coyly, placing her arms behind her back and leaning forward with a smile. He responded in brief sentences, and she giggled. She spoke some more, swaying with the music, then grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him toward the center of the courtyard to dance. He stumbled after her, glaring at Nida as he passed, and was quickly lost in the crowd.

"Wow," said Quistis. She'd heard Rinoa could be persuasive, but she'd never seen her in action before. She wondered whether she reserved this energy for charming men, or whether she could apply it to promoting her business, as well.

"Indeed," Nida said. Then, he turned to Quistis and gestured to the makeshift dancefloor. "Shall we join them?"

"Thank you, but no. I'll be serving the cake soon, and I need to go make sure everything is in order. Don't worry, it seems that there are plenty more women than men here tonight. I'm sure you'll find a partner."

Soon afterward, as if drawn by Nida's request, Selphie bounded over. "Irvy found some pretty little thing who actually likes his sweet talk," she said, making a face, "so I need a partner." She looked Nida up and down, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. "And you will definitely do!"

She grasped Nida's wrist and led him toward the dancefloor. He looked back, wide-eyed, and Quistis waved to him before heading into the house.

The kitchen was cool and quiet, a haven from the energy outside. Quistis looked at the cake, checking for cracks in the fondant, lopsided decorations, anything that might mar the presentation. Finding nothing of the sort, she sat on a stool and looked at the clock. Eight forty-five.

Zell and Emmy walked in a few minutes later, laughing and discussing something that had happened earlier in the evening.

"Could you believe that guy?" Zell said. "He was just asking every lady out there, like throwing noodles at a wall to see if they'll stick. Not that I do that."

"I appreciate you stepping up," said Emmy, blushing to the roots of her hair. "He really was convinced you were my boyfriend."

"You were pretty convincing, yourself. Where'd you pick up all those pet names and sweet nothings?"

"Oh, you know … books."

"I take it you enjoyed yourselves," Quistis said, handing them their aprons and motioning toward the sink.

"Yeah, surprisingly," Zell replied, lathering his hands with more vigor than necessary. "When I saw the setup, I thought it was gonna be lame. But it's got a pretty good vibe. I guess Selphie really does know how to throw a party."

At five minutes to nine, Quistis, Emmy, and Zell stood just inside the doorway to the courtyard, waiting for Selphie's signal. A flash of yellow caught Quistis' eye, and she watched Selphie scramble into the DJ booth and seize the microphone.

"Booyaka!" she shouted, as the DJ rushed to turn off the music. A few people in the crowd returned her unusual greeting. She nodded and pointed them out. "These people get it. They're super-duper cool beans. Anyway, listen up. This party is about to kick into high gear with the part you've all been waiting for, but before that, I'd like to take a minute to thank some people.

"First of all, thank you, all of you, for coming out tonight. A party's not a party if nobody shows up, right? So, thank you for the warm welcome. And speaking of welcomes, I'd like to thank the Dollet Police Department for making sure my parade went off without a hitch. We've got a couple officers here tonight – um, Rinnie, can you let that one breathe, please? – so thank 'em when you see 'em. For me!" A round of applause went up among the crowd, and Selphie used this time to procure a long item from beneath the turntable. She took a deep breath, and began speaking again.

"All right, everybody!" she said. "This is the hour you've all been waiting for. Turn your attention to the west courtyard –" she angled a floodlight toward the door, and Quistis looked away from the glare "—and get ready to be wowed! It! Is! Cake time!" She raised the object she held and fired a blast of confetti into the air as Quistis and her associates rolled the cake outside and set it up next to the food table, where a line had already formed. Selphie followed them with the floodlight.

"Just look at that detail," she said. "The forests of Trabia, my homeland; the sparkling bridge of fate and opportunity; those fearsome Blue Dragons; the lovely town of Dollet; and, finally, my new home. And there I am, and here I am, welcoming you all to it! Hello, Dollet! I'm happy to be here. Booyaka, everybody! Let's eat!"

"Booyaka!" the crowd replied, in unison, and Selphie beamed.

"And just because I want everybody to know," she added, "our lovely dessert comes to us courtesy of Qake, the best bakery in Dollet! Which is run by my friend, Quistis Trepe, the best baker in the world! Thanks, Quisty!"

Quistis laughed. Selphie never seemed to run out of superlatives, and she seemed to mean every one. Quistis felt a surge of warmth at hearing Selphie refer to her as a "friend". Regardless of how casually Selphie tossed that word around, she had a knack for making its recipient feel special. Selphie's positivity was contagious, and Quistis wondered whether, in these uncertain times, it might be worth as much as to Dollet as her monetary fortune.

Quistis looked at Zell and Emmy, then drew her knife through the fondant and icing and cake to make the first slice. "You heard Selphie," she said to the guest who received it. "Let's eat!"

Booyaka.

* * *

"Thank you again, sooo much," Selphie said as Quistis loaded her equipment back into the van. "Are you sure you don't want to take some cake with you? There's plenty left, and you worked so hard on it."

"I'm sure," Quistis replied, then looked toward Zell and Emmy.

"Ah, what the heck, I'll take some," Zell said. "Want some, Em? I can get it for you."

"Yes, please." Emmy grinned. "Just a little slice."

Zell returned minutes later, carrying two paper plates sagging with the weight of large hunks of cake. He ignored Emmy's stare and placed them in a box for the ride back to Qake. After another round of hugs from Selphie, they departed.

It was past midnight when they finished cleaning Qake. Quistis had been awake for more than twenty-two hours, and she felt the effects of that rippling through her muscles and clouding her mind. With a sigh of relief, she turned off the lights and locked the bakery behind her. She thanked Zell and Emmy for their work, and, since Qake was closed on Sundays, suggested they all use the next day to recuperate.

"So, the van goes back in the morning, right?" Zell asked.

"Yes, nine o'clock," Quistis answered. "Please don't forget. There are significant late fees."

"No problem! How about I give you ladies a lift home?"

"Zell, I only live a half-mile away. I walk to work every morning."

"Yeah, but you're not dead tired when you do. Come on, don't be so stubborn. Emmy, you too. Hop in."

Quistis smiled and relented. "Thank you."

Zell was right; she was dead tired. She nearly nodded off during the short ride to her apartment, and, once inside, she decided that no chore was too important to not wait until tomorrow.

As she drifted off to sleep, snippets of the evening replayed in her mind. She smiled, despite her weary thoughts and sore muscles, and surrendered to dreams of confetti and bright yellow tulle.

Selphie's debut party flyer

Chapter 5: Aftermath

One day of rest was not enough. Quistis sat in the kitchen at Qake, laying her head on her arms and listening for the timer. She'd already burned one batch of cupcakes this morning, and the smell hung in air, a pungent accusation of having worked beyond her limits. She would air out the kitchen once Zell and Emmy arrived, but for now, she let the reminder of her misstep serve as motivation to get through the early hours.

The other cupcakes came out well, and she was piping strawberry buttercream onto one batch when her employees arrived.

"Ugh, what the heck happened in here?" Zell asked, fanning the air in front of him.

"A minor accident," Quistis replied, not looking up from her work. "I didn't want to prop the door open while I was alone in here."

"I understand. Want me to do it now?"

"Yes, please, for a few minutes. But let me get these cupcakes finished and covered first."

"So, what should I get started on?" asked Emmy, tying her apron around her waist.

"If you could melt some chocolate and make the accents for the Strawberry Delight cupcakes, that'd be great. And Zell, could you please get started on the Blueberry Breakfast Cake? After that, the Decadence, Citrus Kiss, and Double-Dipped Strawberry."

Zell gave her a thumbs-up. "Got it!"

Quistis yawned, then moved on to filling and decorating the peach cupcakes. "Neither of you seem tired," she said. "How do you do it?"

"For starters, we're not up as early as you are," Emmy said, stirring the chocolate.

"Yeah, and we also know how to relax on our days off," Zell added.

"You're implying that I don't?" Quistis asked, frowning.

"It sure doesn't seem like it. C'mon, I'll bet you spent all day yesterday working on menus and recipes and stuff."

"And going over the books and preparing orders for supplies." She sighed. "You're right, I don't know how to relax. I suppose I'm afraid that if I do, Qake will lose what little business it has left."

"Maybe business will pick up," Emmy offered, "after Selphie's party. She posted lots of pictures of the cake on her website, and linked each one back to our website."

"That was very kind of her, and I appreciate it, but I wouldn't pin my hopes on something like that. You saw the turnout at her party. She might be popular online, but she still doesn't have much influence here in Dollet."

Emmy and Zell went quiet, and a gloomy atmosphere descended in the kitchen. Quistis silently berated herself for airing her concerns. This was no way to start the week, especially after the enjoyable Saturday evening they'd all had. She gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"Oh, don't listen to me," she said. "I'm just tired and cranky. We'll do just fine, and, as long as we keep our regulars happy, Qake will survive. Dollet is independent and resilient, and we will reflect that in everything we do. We've got some fun recipes for today, so let's get ready to wow our customers!"

This seemed to work, and the gloominess slowly dissipated with the smell of burnt cupcakes. Quistis closed the door, wishing she could shut out the doubts in her own mind just as easily.

* * *

"Tropical Breeze? I've been waiting forever for you to bring these back!" Rinoa pointed to a selection on the menu. "I'll take two – no, three. I can't take the chance you'll be sold out by lunchtime."

"If everyone is as enthusiastic about this flavor as you are, I should have a pretty good day." Quistis boxed up the cupcakes. "So, if I may be so bold to ask, how did you make out with Officer Leonhart?"

"Funny you should phrase it like that …"

Quistis raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" Rinoa frowned. "Nothing happened. Nothing like that, anyway. We talked for a bit, and he really is an interesting guy once he drops that whole 'by the book' attitude. I guess he's just tightly wound. Not unlike someone else I know."

"That's the second time I've heard something to that effect today." Quistis rang up the order. "Did I do something at the party that I'm not aware of?"

"No, and that's the point. You didn't do anything. That Nida guy told me that he asked you to dance and you said no, you had to check on the cake."

"Well, I did."

"You had time for one measly little dance. You know, if you keep this up, you'll spend the rest of your life checking on cakes. Alone. In a dark little kitchen."

"With an oven fueled by wood I have to chop myself, I presume?" Quistis couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing. I knew when I started this business that it would require sacrifices. And especially right now, Qake demands all of my attention. This is my dream, and I'm not going to jeopardize it for some passing distraction."

Rinoa shrugged. "Okay. I only thought you might want to leave a little room in your life for fun."

"This is fun for me. Yes, it might be stressful, but when things go well, when I see how happy my customers become over a simple cupcake, it's incredibly satisfying. I wouldn't put myself through the worry and early mornings for something that I didn't truly enjoy." Quistis grinned. "Besides, if I abandoned my responsibilities to pursue a whirlwind romance, where would you get your Tropical Breeze cupcakes?"

A look of abject horror came over Rinoa's face, and she pulled the box of cupcakes to her chest, as if she was afraid they might vanish into thin air. "You're right," she said quietly. "Forget I said anything. You definitely know what you're doing." She nodded and smiled, then left the shop, holding her cupcake box like a miniature treasure chest.

The rest of the morning passed quickly, and Quistis was pleased to welcome several new customers who had discovered her bakery through Selphie's recommendation.

"I didn't know you made silly cakes," one woman said.

"Pardon?" Quistis was unsure whether to interpret this comment as criticism.

"Cute cakes, like the one you made for that Selphie lady. I thought you only made those high-class, frou-frou wedding cakes."

"Nobody had ever requested a whimsical design before."

"Well, I like it! My daughter's birthday is coming up in a couple of months, and I'd really like to get her something like that. Not as big, of course, but something fun."

"I can definitely help you with that. Do you have an idea for the design?"

"Not yet. I wanted to make sure you'd do it first, and that it wasn't a celebrity-only option."

Quistis smiled, then pulled out a brochure and handed it to the woman. "Qake welcomes unique orders from all of our customers. Here is a price guide, based on size. Fondant figures will cost extra, but we can negotiate that when we go over your design idea. Our special order policy requires an advance notice of at least seventy-two hours, agreement on the final design of the cake, and one-third of the total cost up-front, to cover ingredients and supplies."

"Sounds reasonable to me," the woman said, scanning the brochure. "I'll get back to you in a few days with my design. Thank you!"

"You're very welcome. Thank you for choosing Qake." Quistis reached below the counter and produced a stack of brochures. She was arranging them next to the cash register when another customer approached, saying he had overheard her conversation with the woman, and inquired about an order of his own. By the time Quistis returned to the kitchen to begin the next batch of cupcakes, she had handed out five brochures and discussed ideas for a cupcake display at an official Dollet function.

She placed chocolate accents on the strawberry cupcakes and handed the tray to Emmy to arrange in the display case. Zell straightened the brochures on the counter and greeted the customer who walked in, then launched into his recommendations from among the day's offerings. Quistis finished cleaning up and walked out of the kitchen, and was surprised to see Nida standing at the display case, trying to keep up with Zell's descriptions of the cupcakes within. He glanced up and smiled when he saw Quistis.

"Hello, Ms. Trepe," he said. "I tried some of your cake at Ms. Tilmitt's party, and it was delicious. She suggested I stop by to try the other flavors you have here."

"That was nice of her," Quistis said. "Have you made a decision yet?"

Nida shrugged. "They all look very good."

"And they are, I assure you. Our Strawberry Delight is a popular flavor, and this batch was just baked." She grinned playfully. "But I'm not sure what being seen eating a fluffy pink cupcake might do to your image."

"You're right, maybe I should get something else."

Quistis let her shoulders droop and fought a sigh. "Our other seasonal flavors include Tropical Breeze – pineapple with coconut buttercream – Peaches and Cream, and Iced Tea – a cupcake made with tea and topped with lemon buttercream." When he still hadn't decided, she pointed out the basic cupcakes. "We also have vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, with corresponding buttercreams."

"Oh, those look good. I think I'll take the chocolate."

"Excellent choice! For here, or to go?"

"To go, definitely." He leaned toward the counter and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'm not even on my break right now. I was just on patrol when I passed by the shop, and decided to drop in."

"Don't worry, I won't tell Xu."

"Thank you!"

A colorful figure slunk by the window as Quistis was boxing up Nida's cupcake. The bells above the door tinkled, and the figure rushed in.

"Booyaka!" Selphie said, slapping Nida on the back. "You finally got the guts to come, huh?"

"W-what are you talking about?" Nida asked weakly.

"Yes, Selphie," Quistis said, "what are you talking about?"

"I recommended this place to Nida." Selphie smiled impishly.

"He told me as much. What does that have to do with having guts?"

"Gah, you people are so dense! Can't you see why I did that?" Met with blank stares, Selphie shook her head violently. "I'm trying to set you guys up!"

"What?" Quistis and Nida asked in unison. Nida took several steps back from the counter.

"You two looked so cute together at the party, I figured there must be some sparks there."

"We were just talking."

"Nuh-uh. Rinnie said he asked you to dance."

"A friendly gesture!" Nida protested, panic in his eyes.

"Rinnie?" Quistis raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you and Rinoa close enough to share gossip?"

"Since Saturday night," Selphie answered. "We got to talking as the party wound down, and we have a lot more in common than we thought! It's gonna be so much fun here in Dollet! It'll be the three of us ladies and your two policemen, and –"

"Selphie. Selphie. Calm down. Please don't jump to conclusions. I'm very happy that you and Rinoa are on good terms with one another, but Nida and I are nothing more than vague acquaintances. We met at the party, had a conversation, and that was it. Now, he's here as a customer. A customer that I don't want to make uncomfortable."

Selphie deflated. "Really? There's nothing going on with you two?"

Quistis shook her head.

"I can't deny that Ms. Trepe is a pretty lady," Nida said. "But I'm not interested in her that way. Besides –" he grinned bashfully "— I already have someone."

"What?" Selphie stared at him. "Who?"

"Her name's Annabel, and she works at the Hotel Dollet. She's very lovely, and she has such a cute accent."

"Why didn't you – I wasted a dance on you!"

Nida's eyes grew wide, and Quistis began laughing. "Apparently, Selphie has quite the imagination," she said. "Please don't let it bother you, Nida. And please don't let it dissuade you from visiting Qake in the future. I assure you, Selphie will not continue to harass you."

"I sure as heck won't!" Selphie pouted. "I wasted a dance and my matchmaking talents."

"I'll definitely come back," Nida said, still bewildered. "The cakes and cupcakes are too good to pass up. I can even bring Annabel … Well, have a good day, ladies." He tipped his hat and left the shop, shaking his head.

"The nerve of some guys," Selphie grumbled. "Acting all silly and cute when they already have a girlfriend. Here I thought I was doing something good …"

"You are," Quistis told her, watching as she looked over the cupcakes in the display case.

"What do you mean? I was trying to set you up with a guy who's already taken. I feel so dumb, and –"

"No, I meant in terms of exposure. I've had six people inquire about special orders this morning alone, and each of them mentioned your cake as the reason. So, thank you."

Selphie brightened. "Oh, Quisty, I'm so happy for you!"

"Well, they haven't placed the orders yet."

"But they will! Just wait and see. I'm so glad that I was able to give Qake a little boost." She turned back to the cupcakes. "And I want to do it again. But first, I want to try these new flavors you have."

Selphie bought one cupcake of each flavor and tasted them, taking a generous sip of water between each bite. She made sounds of approval over the strawberry and peach flavors, slammed her hands on the table in excitement over the Tropical Breeze, and leapt to her feet when she tasted the iced tea cupcake.

"These are amazing!" she cried, spraying crumbs. "They are the perfect flavors for my happy birthday barbecue. I'd like to place an order."

"Happy birthday barbecue?"

"Yep! My birthday's coming up next month, and I'm getting ready to send out invitations to a barbecue at my place. I'm actually going to have a guest list this time, so we'll know how many people we need to feed."

"And what is your estimate so far?"

"Oh, about two hundred."

Quistis repeated the number and Selphie nodded. "I've gotten commitments from several groups of my followers, and even some other online personalities. Then, of course, I have to get my family out here, even though my mother doesn't want anything to do with Uncle Rendel's money. And I've sent invitations to all the people who signed the guestbook at my last party. Altogether, that makes one hundred and eighty-three people. So, I'm thinking that two hundred cupcakes is a nice round number to order, and you and your staff can have some, too!"

"Two hundred … cupcakes?"

Selphie sighed. "Is there something wrong with your ears today, Quisty? Yes, I'd like to order two hundred cupcakes, different flavors, with pretty decorations. I've already got some designs in mind; I'll bring them by tomorrow morning. In the meantime, load up a box of those iced tea cupcakes, and some Tropical Breeze, too! I think I've fallen in love!"

* * *

Two hundred cupcakes. The size of the order wasn't necessarily a problem, but Selphie's design ideas could be. As she cleaned the kitchen, Quistis tried to imagine what Selphie might request. Fanciful designs ran through her mind, everything from traditional sprinkles to individual fondant figures, and even some minor pyrotechnics. What if she decided to launch some of them like confetti? What if –

Quistis blinked, and shook her head to clear the thoughts. She was becoming as bad as Selphie. Is this what it felt like to live as Selphie Tilmitt? That little flight of fancy alone was exhausting, and Quistis wondered where Selphie found her seemingly endless energy. There was no way she would be able to outguess Selphie; she would just have to wait and see Selphie's idea, and try her best to keep it under control.

Qake menu, summer

Chapter 6: Storytime

Quistis never wanted to see a picnic basket again.

Selphie’s request had seemed oddly innocuous, at least for her – four flavors of cupcakes, fifty cupcakes each, each flavor decorated with a different fondant topper – until it came time to make the decorations. Emmy and Zell were a tremendous help in that regard. Emmy churned out diminutive pairs of sunglasses and tiny palm trees at an astonishing pace, and Zell assembled the prettiest bouquets of miniature flowers Dollet had seen. Quistis took it upon herself to make the picnic basket decorations for the peach cupcakes, but by the time she had completed the first dozen, she realized that had been a mistake. And she had only herself to blame.

She’d made the design far too detailed, from the weave of the basket to the tiny food that went inside. She knew that, outside of Selphie, most people wouldn’t spare the decoration a second glance, but she hoped to impress the people who did. She considered changing the design and scrapping the first baskets, but she couldn’t bear the thought that the hours spent on those would have been in vain. She had always been stubborn – though, until recently, those who remarked on it couched in more positive terms, like “tenacious,” or “driven"—and she was determined to finish what she’d begun, no matter the cost to her dexterity, or sanity.

With two weeks remaining until the party, Quistis worked long hours at Qake, staying well beyond closing, and often leaving after nightfall. She completed the final basket during a late-morning lull, then pulled off her gloves with a heavy sigh.

“Wow, you did it!” Zell said, abandoning his post at the register to investigate the sheet tray lined with baskets.

“You sound surprised.” Quistis rose and walked to the sink to wash her hands.

“I am, a little. There’s just so much to each basket, I definitely thought you’d go crazy making something like this over and over and over.” He frowned. “And then you refused help. Me and Emmy would’ve been happy to work on some of these. Why didn’t you let us?”

“Because the baskets were my job, as we agreed at the start of this project. Both of you did your respective jobs very well. It wouldn’t be fair for me not to do the same.”

“Yeah, but these baskets were insane! I wouldn’t have thought you were being unfair, and I don’t think Emmy would’ve, either. You know, it’s okay to admit when you’re in over your head.”

“Excuse me?”

Zell looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his head. "Ah, I mean … sometimes, you overestimate what you can do. We all do that. Heck, I was known for doing that back in Balamb! I got into so many stupid scrapes when I was a kid … But there’s nothing wrong with owning up to it. The way I see it, you can swallow your pride every now and then, or you can drown in it.“

“Or, you can learn to swim.” Quistis leaned against the sink and crossed her arms. "I appreciate your concern, Zell, and I know both you and Emmy are always willing to help when I need it, but I try very hard not to ask for more than what I need.“ She smiled and straightened. "At any rate, the picnic basket nightmare is behind us. Let’s get these decorations somewhere they can properly dry, and focus on running the shop, until it’s time to fill Selphie’s massive order!”

* * *

“Welcome back, Qake crew!” Selphie met the van as Zell pulled into the porte-cochère, and craned her neck to get a view of its contents. She was dressed more casually than the last time, in a polka-dot sundress and sandals, her characteristic flip pulled into a ponytail. "I’ve got this neato display stand ready in the great room,“ she went on. "The company I bought it from said it can hold up to two hundred and fifty cupcakes, so there should be plenty of space! And I’ve got some extra decorations to fill in any empty spots.”

She waited for Quistis and the others to unload the first batch of cupcakes, then led the way inside, humming to herself.

“Neato, indeed,” Quistis murmured, upon seeing the display stand. For once, Selphie’s superlatives had failed to adequately describe the object at hand. Quistis doubted any words could. The display stand was a massive, seven-tiered tower that stood taller than Quistis. Each tier had a border of yellow rope lights, which cut inward to snake around the central support, before culminating in a large circle at the top. Small clusters of fiber optic lights protruded from along the circumference of the circle, cycling through shades of yellow and orange, apparently meant to represent the rays of the sun. Meanwhile, a thin garland of artificial ivy was hung in festoons around each tier, and small bunches of flowers, also artificial, were tucked into the lights at even intervals. The whole thing stood on a massive, checkered picnic blanket.

“Yeah, it came Wednesday, and I’ve been decorating it ever since.” Selphie stepped back to survey her work proudly. "And don’t worry, I gave it a good wipe-down just this morning, so it’s ready to do its thing!“

Quistis, Zell, and Emmy arranged the cupcakes on the stand, with occasional input from Selphie. When they were finished, Selphie inspected the fondant decorations and smiled.

“This is exactly what I imagined,” she said. "They’re all so cute, and does the picnic basket actually have tiny food inside? Quisty! That is such a cool touch! Everyone’s gonna love these. They all just scream, ‘summer!’“

“I’m very glad you’re happy with how they turned out,” Quistis said, rearranging several cupcakes to fill in an empty space. "I hope your party goes well tonight.“

“What? You’re not staying?”

“One of the advantages of cupcakes is that they are self-service items. You don’t need us to stick around this time.”

“But I want you to stick around. All of you! What kind of party is it if your friends don’t show up? Come on, let’s go to the courtyard. The band I hired for tonight should be here any minute to run through their soundcheck, and the catering team is setting up. There’ll be so much food! Hamburgers, hot dogs, steaks, salads, chips – you name it, Selphie’s got it!”

Zell perked up at the mention of hot dogs. He looked from Selphie to Quistis several times, panic creeping into his features at the very real possibility of missing out on a serving of his favorite food. Once they reached the courtyard and the smell of warming charcoal wafted toward them, Emmy joined him, adding a longing gaze at the catering team to her silent appeal.

Selphie snickered. “It looks like you’re outnumbered, Quisty. You can’t let your employees down.”

“I suppose not, though I don’t want a repeat of last time.” Quistis motioned to Zell to hand over the keys to the van. "I’m going back to Qake to clean up, and I’ll be back here before the party really gets going. This way, we can all enjoy our evening, without work hanging over our heads.“

At the bakery, Quistis wiped down the counters and work surfaces, and swept and mopped the kitchen. As she moved to the front of the store to do the same, she noticed a black car pulling away from the curb, and a piece of paper wedged into the door frame. She unlocked the door to retrieve it, and unfolded it to find a note.

Closing early? That’s never a good sign. And I was going to let Raijin buy a cupcake this time, too!
Two months, Ms. Trepe.
– Almasy

Quistis crumpled the note in her hand, grinding the paper against her palm. Soon, however, her fury gave way to laughter as she realized the absurdity of the situation. Seifer truly felt threatened by her little shop, so much so that he had made a special trip into Dollet to check on its status. She’d never have guessed he was serious about the three-month timetable, but he apparently had so little else to think about that he was adhering strictly to it. Quistis ultimately took it as a compliment that she and her business frightened him so, and tossed the remains of the note in the trash. She turned on the radio behind the counter, and finished cleaning the shop to upbeat music, quietly singing along.

This was one time Seifer Almasy would not get his way.

* * *

The following Saturday, Quistis delivered an order of camping-themed cupcakes to Rinoa’s bookstore for a special event. Rinoa, wearing a scout leader’s hat, greeted Quistis and led her to the back area of the bookstore. Designed for workshops and readings by authors Rinoa could never seem to attract, the space had been transformed for the day into an indoor campsite. Potted plants lined the walls, jutting inward at unexpected angles; evergreen boughs made of wooden dowels and dark green pipe cleaners hung from the ceiling; a three-dimensional plastic campfire stood in the middle of the room, a hidden fan inside tossing around the thin “flames”; and a recording of crickets and frogs looped in the background, punctuated now and then by the howls of distant predators.

“I want the experience to be as authentic as possible,” Rinoa explained, helping Quistis arrange the cupcakes on the tabletop stand. "Selphie suggested I bring in a few insects – in cages, of course – but that’s where I drew the line.“

“And not at the sound of carnivorous creatures in search of their next meal?” Quistis asked with a grin.

“Children need to understand that the wilderness can be dangerous. Where else do you think spooky campfire stories come from? It can also be beautiful, though. Watch this.” Rinoa dimmed the lights in the room, and tiny stars began to glow on the ceiling.

“Very pretty. You have created quite the atmosphere back here.”

“Well, business has been kind of slow, so I’ve had a lot of time to work on this.”

Quistis frowned. "Will the store be okay?“

“We’ll be fine. We’re still bringing in enough to cover the cost of operation, and Watts’ wages. I’ve had to cut back Rosalie’s hours, but with fall comes school, and with school comes book reports, so I’m looking forward to increasing them again, soon.” She arranged a stack of thin paperbacks next to the cupcakes. "I’m also looking forward to selling a few of these today: The Hasberry Howler and Other Creepy Tales. Kids eat up scary legends and tall tales like candy. Or cupcakes. And, it’s illustrated!“

Misshapen figures and terrified townsfolk appeared every few pages as Quistis flipped through the book, but nothing was as frightening as hearing that her friend’s business was struggling, as well. “Did I mention that I got another visit from Seifer?” she said.

“No. When was this?”

“Last Saturday. I came back to clean the shop before heading to Selphie’s party for the night, and I saw his car driving away. He left a note in the door, saying that closing early was not a good sign for my business.”

“Hah! If he only knew why you closed early that day, he’d have blown steam out of his ears!”

“He also mentioned his timetable. He said three months, and he meant it.” Quistis chuckled dryly. "It’s so ridiculous, I couldn’t help but laugh. Though I can’t deny that knowing he’s watching Qake makes me uncomfortable. I realize that’s his intention, and I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I find I’ve been working harder to make sure the shop, and my employees, look happy and successful at all times. It’s tiring.“

“And that’s exactly what he wants. He’s trying to wear you down, and you’re right when you say you shouldn’t let it get to you.” Rinoa tapped a finger against her lips, thinking. "You need a little pick-me-up. Tell you what, why don’t you bring down any leftover cupcakes after you close, and I’ll see if I can get any of these kids’ parents to spring for some. And bring some business cards and brochures, too! Many locals simply have never gotten around to our shops, and offering them a taste is a good way to snag a few new customers.“

“That’s a good idea. I will. Thank you, Rinoa.”

“It’s nothing. Besides, you’ll be here just in time for our grand finale – Selphie’s dramatic telling of a campfire story of her own!”

“I’m intrigued. I’ll see you then.”

At three-thirty, with Qake cleaned and locked up until Monday, Quistis carried a tray of assorted cupcakes halfway down the block to Sant'Angelo Books. Angelo greeted her as soon as she stepped through the door, tail wagging, and retired to her bed beside the counter when she realized Quistis had no free arms with which to pet her. Watts offered a greeting of his own, and directed her to the workshop, from which giggles and the occasional shriek could be heard.

“And Bunny was mad ‘cause Kitty ate all her cookies, so Bunny was gonna scare Kitty,” a little girl said, her brow furrowed in concentration as she rattled off her own “scary” story. "So Bunny hided in Kitty’s closet, and Bunny put a blanky over herself so she would look like a ghost, and then Bunny waited. Kitty opened the closet and Bunny jumpeded out and Bunny said ‘Boo!’ Kitty fainted and Bunny was sad. But then Kitty waked up again and said ‘Sorry, Bunny. I won’t eat no more cookies, ‘less I share with you.’ And they were happy. The end.“

She sat back and smiled, satisfied with her effort.

“Thank you, Mirla,” Rinoa said. "I like happy endings. See? Scary stories can have happy endings, too, as long as they’re spooky along the way.“

“Pssh, that wasn’t scary,” a boy on the other side of the room said. "It was what, two fluffy animals fighting over cookies.“

“Different things are scary to different people, Galdan. I know I’m scared of having a fight with my friends, even if they don’t dress up like ghosts. I’ll bet you’re scared of something you don’t want to admit.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not scared of nothin’!”

“We’re all scared of something, and that’s okay. Now, who wants a cupcake? Everybody grab one – just one! – and then sit on this side of the story circle. Our guest will be arriving soon!”

As the children scrambled to the table, Rinoa walked over to Quistis and took the tray from her.

“You work really well with children,” Quistis said. "I wouldn’t have had any idea how to handle that situation.“

Rinoa shrugged. "Children are just tiny people. You treat them the way you would anyone else.”

“I’m not so sure. They seem far more unpredictable.”

“You say that, even knowing Selphie?”

“Good point. Where is she, anyway?”

“She’s in the stockroom, rehearsing. She’s taking her appearance here very seriously.” Rinoa turned back to the children, wrangling them into more or less one area, then glanced back at Quistis. "Stick around. This should be interesting.“

A soft whine behind Quistis alerted her to Angelo’s presence. She reached down and scratched behind Angelo’s ears, then gave her a firm pat. Angelo sat down, as if even she wanted to see Selphie’s performance.

“Psst!” A whisper cut through the chatter, and Selphie stuck her head through the doorway, making a slashing motion across her throat. “Cut the lights! Quisty, tell Rinnie to cut the lights!” Quistis relayed the message to Rinoa, and the workshop grew dim, lit only by the stars on the ceiling.

Suddenly, ominous music began to play, and a shriek startled everyone in the room. Angelo barked, and several children dropped their cupcakes, only to pick them up and continue eating. Another shriek, and this time, Selphie stumbled into the room, looking over her shoulder and shining a flashlight behind her. When the children recognized her, they began cheering and clapping. Selphie started and spun around, as if she hadn’t noticed them there before.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re all here!” she said, sitting in a chair across from them. “Something was chasing me through the woods, but with all of you and this nice warm campfire, that nasty monster knows he can’t mess with me anymore. Hi, I’m Selphie Tilmitt, and I’ve got loads and loads of stories to tell, from the frozen ground of Trabia to the Hasberry Plains on a full-moon night. Who wants to hear a story?”

Another round of cheers and applause.

“All right, now hold onto your cupcakes, ‘cause this is gonna be a wild ride.” Selphie took a deep breath, then continued in a low, sinister voice. "It was a dark and stormy night, and the moon was filled with blood …”

Even in the darkness, Quistis could see Rinoa grow pale. Rinoa cleared her throat. "Um, Selphie? Maybe tone it down a bit?“

Selphie frowned. “Oh, all right,” she said in her normal voice. “Everybody, forget about that story, okay? My boss wants me to tell you a different one. Hmm, let me think …”

“No!” shouted a little girl in the crowd. "We wanna hear the scary story!“

“Yeah,” cried a boy, “we want the one about the blood moon!”

“Uh-huh, spooky story!”

“Blood moon! Blood moon!” the children began to chant in unison. Selphie cast a panicked look at Rinoa, then laughed weakly.

“Heh, well you see,” she began, “it’s really not all that bloody. In fact, that line about the moon is the only blood in it.”

“But why?” one child asked. "Why is the moon full of blood?“

“Yeah, why?” another echoed.

“Oh, ahem, well actually,” Selphie went on, “the moon was full of blood because … because it was really a heart! Yeah, a giant monster heart! And all the people walking around under that moon, all the kids playing, and the boyfriends and girlfriends holding hands, and the old people and the mommies and daddies, they’re actually walking inside the monster’s stomach, and …”

Rinoa groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead.

“How did she manage to make it worse?” Quistis wondered aloud.

Rinoa simply shook her head and whimpered, drawing Angelo’s attention. Angelo wandered over, one step too close to the children. Mirla, cowering in the back row, reached out and flung her arms around Angelo’s neck. Angelo gave a quiet yelp, then, somehow sensing that Mirla meant no harm, relaxed.

“Good doggy,” Mirla cooed. "The story is scary. Good doggy will proteck me.“

Fueled by sugar and ignited by the possibility that they really were living in the bowels of a giant beast, the children erupted into a frenzy of hyperactive play and heated debates. Rinoa tried to contain them, but with each new theory they posited, Selphie expanded on the world she had created, driving them further into their cupcake-enhanced delirium.

Parents cast questioning glances at Rinoa as they collected their supercharged children, and helped themselves to cupcakes in compensation for the evening that lay ahead of them. While Rinoa could not get them to pay, she did manage to force business cards into their hands, along with a coupon for her store and a humble apology.

Rinoa looked around at the mess that remained, then pulled off her hat and let it drop to the floor. Quistis offered to help her clean up, and strongly suggested that Selphie do the same. Rinoa wasted no time in designating Selphie the trash collector, while she and Quistis set about folding chairs and wiping down tables. Angelo had made herself scarce during the ruckus, and now curled in her bed by the front counter, satisfied that all was right in her world once more.

Quistis was wandering the children’s section to reshelve the copies of The Hasberry Howler that had not become hopelessly coated in frosting, when a customer walked through the front door. Since Watts had stepped away from the register to help move the tables and chairs into the storage room, Angelo took it upon herself to greet this customer. She rose, stretched, and trotted to the door.

“What?” a man’s voice said. "What’s a dog doing in here? Hmph. You seem friendly enough.“

Quistis peered around a shelf and bit her lip to keep from laughing when she saw Squall Leonhart kneeling next to Angelo and scratching behind her ears.

“Sant'Angelo di Roma,” Squall read from Angelo’s tag. "Is that your name? Is this store named after you? You must be pretty important, then.“ He continued scratching, and Angelo nudged him with her nose. "Hey. Down, down. There’s a good boy.”

“Actually, Angelo’s a girl,” Rinoa said, walking up from between the shelves. "But she still appreciates your comments, don’t you, girl? You didn’t know Squall could be so friendly, did you?“

Squall shot to his feet, color rushing into his face. Quistis had heard the expression “deer in the headlights,” but she had never seen it on a real person until now. Squall stood, stiff-backed, his eyes wide and fixed on Rinoa.

“I didn’t know that, either,” Rinoa went on, looking at him. "I also didn’t know he was such a good dancer. Well, after he relaxes a bit.“

"Seamlessly integrate yourself into the world of your target,” Squall said, his voice constricted. "Undercover assignments require such levels of subterfuge.“

"So, it’s work-related, then? That’s too bad.”

Squall shrugged. Rinoa grinned.

“Welcome to Sant'Angelo Books. How can I help you?”

“Huh?”

“Were you looking for something in particular? Or did you come to ask me to dance, this time?”

Squall’s blush deepened. “No.”

“No, to which question?” A giggle rippled through Rinoa’s voice.

“The firs—the second. I’m here to buy a book. A magazine.”

“Just so you know, we don’t carry naughty magazines in this store. You can find those in the shop next to the Shining Bomber.”

Quistis wondered how many more shades of red Squall’s face could turn before he suffered some type of medical emergency.

“That’s not what I’m looking for at all,” he said. "I’m looking for the latest issue of Tactical Weapons Quarterly. Nida said you carried it.“

"Yes, we do. It’s in the shelf along the back wall with the rest of the periodicals, third section from the left.” Rinoa pointed toward the shelf. Squall didn’t move. She reached up and gently took hold of his shoulders, then turned him in the appropriate direction. "That way. Don’t worry, you won’t get lost. Even if you do, Angelo’s trained in search and rescue!“

Quistis watched Squall walk toward the magazine section, averting her eyes as he walked past. She finished shelving the books, then went up to Rinoa.

"Who’d ever think he’d just wander in here?” Rinoa said, smiling and biting her lower lip.

“You really flustered him,” said Quistis. "I’ve never seen anybody blush that deeply.“

"I know. Isn’t it cute?”

"You definitely got to him, but I’m not sure in what way.”

“Oh, I am. Though I think I’ll let him cool down a bit before making another move. And now I know what types of items to order.”

“Rinoa, you can’t reorganize your stock based on the likes of one man you hardly know.”

“I know that! But it can’t hurt to have a few copies of items he might like. Something to keep him coming back.”

Quistis raised an eyebrow. “And something for you to look forward to, right?”

“Exactly. Hey, you should find one for –”

“No.”

Selphie dragged herself to the front of the store, her face streaked with frosting. "That’s all the trash,“ she said. "Gosh, those kids were super messy!” She looked at the bemused expressions on Quistis and Rinoa, and drew her brows together. "What, what? Did I miss something?“

"Just a new customer for Rinoa,” Quistis answered, taking Selphie by the elbow and leading her toward the door. "And now, I think it’s about time we let her get back to work. She still has a few hours to go before closing.“

Rinoa nodded. "Thank you both for showing up, and for helping,” she said, “even if Selphie did bring her own brand of chaos to the afternoon.”

“That’s my trademark,” Selphie boasted, grinning and walking backwards out the door. Quistis bid Rinoa goodnight, and joined Selphie on the sidewalk.

“That was quite a performance,” she said.

“Thanks! I had tons of fun, and it seems like the kids did, too!”

“I feel sorry for their parents.”

“Eh, they’ll survive. This can’t be the first time their kids have been hyper. You can’t tell me that Galdan kid isn’t a regular troublemaker. It’s written all over his face!”

Quistis laughed, and she and Selphie chatted as they walked down the street. When they passed Qake, Selphie skipped a few steps ahead, then turned to face Quistis.

“I’m glad we have a chance to talk, Quisty,” she said, “because I just got an excellent idea for my next special order, and I can’t wait until Monday to tell you!”

Storytime flyer

Chapter 7: Chocobo

“Yo, what’s up with that black car?” Zell asked, perched on a stool behind the register. “That’s like, the third time it’s gone by in the last ten minutes. Think it’s Almasy?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Quistis replied, reaching around him to pull a planner out from a compartment beneath the counter. "We have outlasted his three-month prediction, after all.“

“Man, what’s his problem? We’re just a little bakery. I’ll bet they’ve got about five or six bakeries inside Hyperion.”

“It’s not about what we are, it’s about who we attract.”

“Huh?”

“I hate to admit it, but I think I understand where Seifer is coming from, at least in a business sense. Think of Hyperion as a closed ecosystem: it’s a massive resort that relies on internal business to recoup the costs of operation, not to mention, pay the wages of its entire staff. Qake will never challenge it directly, in terms of capital. However, our recent uptick in popularity draws in curious tourists, more and more of them from the Hyperion. They stop in for a cupcake, wander the town for a bit, and discover that they can get many of the same products and services – and even some of better quality – for far less than what they are paying at Hyperion. Every gil spent in Dollet is a net loss for the resort, and, over time, it can add up.”

“So? That’s business.”

“Indeed. And business can be ruthless.” Quistis flipped to the October pages in the planner and began looking over penciled-in orders.

Zell chuckled mischievously. “Hey, how about we start advertising for the Hotel Dollet here? That’ll really tick ‘im off.”

“I can’t lie, that is very tempting. But Seifer might take it as a direct challenge, and I’m not sure Qake could survive whatever he might do in retaliation.”

“Seifer’s just a royal pain in the – hey, how you doin’? Welcome back to Qake!” Zell immediately shifted into customer-service mode at the sound of the bell on the door. While he chatted with a regular customer, Quistis jotted down a list of ingredients, decorations, and hours of labor needed to fill an order due the following weekend.

The exposure gained from Selphie’s parties had translated into a significant increase in business for Qake. Quistis now had more regular customers than ever before, and most weekends, she had at least one special order to fulfill. For the first time since opening the bakery, Quistis had to work with customers to schedule orders based on availability of time, labor, and supplies. She’d even had to decline an order the week before on such grounds, but offered the customer a discount on a future order in compensation and appreciation.

In the midst of this, Selphie continued to host party after party, each of varying sizes and themes, and each featuring a creation from Qake. Quistis had hoped that Selphie’s relatively tame birthday order would represent a shift toward more subdued requests, but this was far from the case. In fact, Selphie’s requests seemed to be getting progressively more outlandish, from an octopus built from a large round cake and seventy-two cupcakes, to the massive Snow Lion she presented to a troop of Snowflake Scouts visiting from Trabia. When Qake had few orders, Quistis gladly took on such challenges, but now that business had picked up, Selphie’s wild imagination was beginning to overtax Quistis’ resources.

She’d hired a part-time employee, an older woman named Darla, whose sole duty it was to help decorate and transport the special requests. Quistis wouldn’t mind having extra help around the bakery on a daily basis, as well, but, as healthy as her finances had become, she was still unsure whether she could afford another full-time salary and the associated costs of bringing another employee on-board.

As a business, Qake was teetering on a delicate edge, no longer struggling, but not yet successful. In an effort to at least maintain this position, Quistis was mindful of every gil spent, every order fulfilled, every small detail of her daily offerings. Financial health had not brought her the peace of mind she believed it would; rather, it made her nervous, fearful that she’d make a single wrong move and slide back into relative obscurity and debt. The kitchen, especially in her early-morning solitude, was no longer her haven from the rest of the world, but instead, a war room. She chose or discarded recipes based on which might be most profitable, she dreamt up advertising campaigns to reach an ever-wider audience, and she kept a watchful eye on the demographics listed in the Dollet Visitor Bureau’s monthly report.

All of her work was paying off. Qake was doing well, better than it ever had.

So why did Quistis feel like she was drowning?

* * *

“Why is there no pumpkin?” Rinoa placed her hands on her hips and gave Quistis a level stare. Beside her, Selphie did the same. "Don’t you know that pumpkin is the fall flavor? Everyone has something pumpkin-themed right now!“

“Which is exactly why I don’t,” Quistis said. "Like you said, you can find pumpkin anywhere, but few places carry pear cakes with chocolate drizzle, or brown-butter pecan cupcakes with maple buttercream.“ She smiled and pointed to the items in the display case.

“You just have to swim against the current, don’t you?”

“It’s second nature. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and I don’t think I can live any other way. So, would you like anything from here today, or would you rather patronize a pumpkin-positive establishment for the season?”

Rinoa frowned. "Cranky, today, aren’t we?“ she muttered, but investigated the display case nonetheless, while Selphie perused the menu.

“Not cranky, just tired. We have two large orders due on Saturday, one in the morning, the other in the evening, and we’ve been working on the decorations for each. Emmy has been out sick for two days, so even with Darla’s help, I’m still transitioning from decorating to baking to running the shop, and back again. I’ve been alternating duties with Zell, but it’s exhausting.”

“So,” ventured Selphie, a finger on her chin, “I’m guessing this wouldn’t be a good time to show you my new design, huh?”

“Probably not. But I can start taking the details of your order now.” Quistis pulled out her planner. "When do you want it, and for how many?“

“This one will be for about 300 –”

“How do you know so many people?”

“I don’t. Not personally, anyway. This event is gonna be an afterparty for members of the Chocobo Trust. I helped set up a local chapter, and we’re having a conference at the Hotel Dollet next weekend! There’ll be tons of other members, some really great speakers, and a whole mess of –”

“When would you like the order?”

“A week from Saturday.”

Quistis looked at an order for a birthday cake for the same day and sighed. "It seems I’ll need to see your design, after all.“

“Great! I’ve got it with me.” Selphie dug around her purse and pulled out a tiny square of paper. She unfolded it multiple times, until Quistis found herself staring at five large sheet cakes laid side-by-side, each one with its own decorative theme, all tied together by a continuous winding path traversed by several chocobos.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Selphie asked. "Each cake represents an area where wild chocobos live. See, there’s the forests of Centra; southern Galbadia, near Winhill; Timber; Trabia; and a special place known as the Chocobo Sanctuary, deep in the Grandidi Forest of Esthar. I think the Chocobo Trust’s gonna love it! Hey, maybe you can run a promotion for them, someday.“

“One thing at a time, Selphie. This is a very labor-intensive design, and I’ve already got a special order to fulfill that afternoon. Would you consider alterations to your design?”

“Ehhh, I’d really like to keep it the way it is, if that’s at all possible. This is for an organization that’s very special to me. I’d like to show them as much love as I can.”

“Okay. In that case, can I ask what time you need the cake delivered?”

“Oh, that’s not until late! After the conference, there’s a cocktail hour, and then dinner, followed by a keynote speaker. We won’t get around to the afterparty until way later, like ten or eleven.”

Quistis relaxed. The late delivery would allow her more time to finish Selphie’s order after the other order had been finished. She nodded and wrote Selphie’s name in the planner. “That will work out fine, then. Will you be hosting the party at your villa?”

“Nope. The ballroom at the hotel.”

“Even better.” Quistis looked up at the sound of rhythmic tapping, and saw Rinoa repeatedly pointing to her cupcake of choice.

“This Berry Spice cupcake looks really good,” Rinoa said. "And the chocolate butterfly on top is adorable! Come on, Selphie, don’t you want anything?“

Selphie slid her design across the counter, then skipped to the display case. Quistis boxed up Rinoa’s cupcake, and cast an apprehensive glance at the rambling, colorful sketch.

* * *

Quistis closed out the register while Zell painted details on a row of half-timbered houses for the Winhill portion of Selphie’s design. He frowned in concentration with each brushstroke, then sat back and admired his work with a little grin. Emmy and Darla returned from delivering the birthday cake, laughing and talking with one another.

“Your Moogle cake was a hit!” Darla told Quistis, washing her hands and preparing to work on Selphie’s order. “The little boy was so excited to see it.”

“Oh, and the pompom,” Emmy piped up.

“Yes, the pompom! You should’ve seen the boy’s face when he realized the main cake didn’t have it –”

“And he just lit right up when we brought it out. He even wanted to put it on, himself!”

“We didn’t let him, of course. But I think seeing that pompom go on was the highlight of the boy’s afternoon.”

Quistis smiled. “It’s an amazing feeling, isn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely! You must be so proud, being able to deliver such happiness.”

“It’s not just me. Each of us has a hand in every creation we deliver, so we all should share in the feeling.” She cleaned up and joined Zell at the table. "And speaking of creations, we need to get this one finished. Let’s go!“

Presented together, the cakes gave a fun and playful impression that extended to Quistis’ employees, whom she could not dissuade from engaging in a bit of light chocobo jousting, using wooden skewers and being very careful to not damage the fondant birds. By seven o'clock, the cakes were finished and carefully put away, and the chocobos were boxed for transport. Emmy helped with the cleaning before saying goodnight, and the remaining members of Qake took the chance to rest before the final task of their day.

They put the finishing touches on the cakes in the kitchen of the Hotel Dollet, and, at a quarter past ten, Selphie traipsed in to greet them.

“Oh my gosh, Quisty, I am so sorry that I didn’t meet you guys when you got here,” she said. “It’s just been so hectic out there, and so productive! We’ve raised so much money for the Chocobo Trust already, and learned so many new things! Did you know that they’ve been able to discover the chocobos’ social hierarchy by tracking the tagged ones? Apparently, the females live together and raise the young while the males wander alone, and – super-double-sugar-cubes, that cake looks amazing!”

“Thank you,” Quistis said, then glanced at Darla and laughed. "This is Selphie Tilmitt,“ she told her. "She’s always like this.”

“You must be Quisty’s new employee. Pleased to meet you!” Selphie shook Darla’s hand, then turned back to Quistis. "Anyway, the keynote speaker just finished up – Dr. Heatherton, you should meet him. He’s an older guy, but a dandy one! – and they’re having a short Q and A session right now. After that, we’ll present the cakes. I’ll keep an eye on things out there, and let you know when it’s time. Thank you so much, Quisty! I know the Chocobo Trust will love the way these turned out, ‘cause I sure do!“

A stillness descended in Selphie’s wake. "You say she’s always like this?” Darla said, still looking toward the door Selphie exited through.

“Yup,” Zell replied. He leaned against a counter. "And you should see her when she’s describing an order to Quistis. That lady’s got a few screws loose.“

“Well, maybe one or two,” Quistis admitted. "But she is a genuinely nice person, if a bit hyperactive and naïve, and a loyal customer of Qake.“

“You forgot rich.”

“Yes, that too. Her orders are extravagant, but they’ve helped the bakery tremendously.”

“And they keep getting more extravagant. Quistis, when are you gonna tell her to tone it down? We’ve got plenty of business now; you don’t have to cater to her every whim.”

Quistis inspected the fondant forest of Centra. "I know that, but I like to try, out of appreciation.“ Out of indebtedness. The thought flashed through her mind, the shameful kernel of truth at the core of her relationship with Selphie. She shook it away and continued examining the cake for any need of last-minute fixes.

“Fine. But what happens when you can’t, anymore?”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, let’s enjoy our successes.”

The silence in the kitchen grew heavy, and was broken only when Selphie poked her head through the door and motioned for them to bring out the cake. Selphie had acquired a microphone, and as Quistis and her associates wheeled the cake out to a table where the hotel kitchen staff waited to cut and serve it, Selphie described it in detail, much as she had the cake at her debut. She introduced the Qake staff to a round of applause, and, with a hearty “Booyaka!”, encouraged everyone to get a slice.

Zell and Darla returned to the kitchen, and, after one final look at the cake her bakery had worked so hard on, Quistis was about to do the same, when Selphie grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she whispered.

“Home,” Quistis answered. "The hotel staff will take care of service.“

“What? No, you can’t! You’re the star of this segment.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Pssh. An excuse.”

“Selphie, I’ve been up for more than twenty hours. I completed two orders today in addition to my normal menu, I ran the store as I would on a regular day, and I don’t have any energy to spare.”

“Aww, come on, just for a little while. It’ll be a good promotion for your shop.”

“I’ve left business cards on the table.”

“That’s not good enough! Everybody picks up business cards and then forgets about them. I could wallpaper a room with the ones I have whose names I don’t recognize anymore.” Selphie shook her head. "No, you’re a local celebrity now. You’ve gotta connect with your potential clients – chat a little, press the flesh.“

Quistis grabbed Selphie’s wrist and removed it from her arm. "I’d wager that was all the flesh-pressing I need to do. Goodnight, Selph –”

“Excuse me, Ms. Tilmitt?” A man approached them and Selphie turned to face him. "You are the head of the Dollet chapter of the Chocobo Trust, correct?“

"That’s right!” Selphie smiled, and grabbed Quistis’ wrist again as she tried to slink away. Not wanting to cause a fuss in front of a stranger, Quistis relented.

“I’d like to commend you,” the man went on, “and the rest of your chapter, for putting together this conference. It’s very efficiently run and accessible, and the content you’ve curated perfectly demonstrates the spirit of the organization. Furthermore –” he held up a fondant chocobo “—you’ve included some very fun touches. That’s a clever way to introduce the organization to the general public.”

“Thank you very much, Dr. Heatherton,” Selphie said, “but I didn’t do it all alone. My fellow chapter members helped with reserving the spaces and booking the speakers, and that fun cake comes from a local bakery. And I’ve got the baker right here! Quistis Trepe, owner of Qake. Quistis, this is Dr. Heatherton, an acclaimed ornithologist and our keynote speaker!”

Dr. Heatherton turned toward Quistis and extended his hand. "How do you do?“

"Fine, thank you,” Quistis replied, smiling and shaking his hand. Dr. Heatherton was not exactly “dandy;” quite the opposite, in fact, possessing a certain ruggedness that Quistis assumed came from working in the elements to gather data for his studies. "Selphie has told me about your work, and how much she admires it.“

"Let me assure you, Ms. Trepe, that I don’t do my work for admiration. I do it to learn more about this highly visible but persistently enigmatic species, and to educate others on the preservation of chocobos and the environments they call home.”

“A noble pursuit. And I would love to learn more about it, Dr. Heatherton, but unfortunately, you will have to excuse me. My associates are waiting for me in the kitchen, and I have a few closing duties to attend to at the bakery. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She nodded at him, then made her escape as he turned his attention back to Selphie.

“What took you so long?” Zell asked, already at the door.

"Selphie,” she answered, pushing open the door and letting the cool autumn air stave off her tiredness for a while longer. “Thankfully, Dr. Heatherton had her attention, so I was able to slip away. It’s a bit of a shame, though, because I really was curious to hear some facts about chocobos.”

"I’m sure you’ll get another chance. I doubt this is Selphie’s last party for the Chocobo Trust.” Zell gave a dry laugh. “Wonder what she’ll want for the next one. It’s scary to even think about it!”

“Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Quistis said, but as exhaustion crept into her muscles, she began to doubt her own words.

Perhaps Zell was right. Maybe it was time to tell Selphie to tone down her requests. Quistis needed to work in the best interests of Qake, and of her own well-being. If she presented it in those terms, she was sure Selphie would understand.

Selphie would have to understand.

Qake fall menu

Chapter 8: Bellwether

Seifer Almasy did not admit to fear. To him, fear was a foreign, and frankly, useless, concept. It was just stress without results. But he did admit to frustration, and, looking over the report from Hyperion’s finance department, he felt it keenly now, mingled with rage.

The resort had underperformed in the previous quarter, a first in its short history, and it was on track to do so again this quarter, perhaps to a greater degree. A breakdown of the figures showed that the hotel sector of the resort continued to meet expectations, and even exceeded them in the final month of the quarter, and the nightclub and entertainment venues performed admirably. But the restaurant and retail sectors showed significant losses. Guests were checking in, but spending their money elsewhere.

And where else, but Dollet?

Seifer looked out his office window, across the Hasberry Plains, to the mountains that shielded Dollet from the rest of the continent. His enemies lay beyond. A town of cobblestone streets and tile roofs, luring his customers away with the siren’s call of sweet treats and quaint shops, the siren herself no more than an overgrown child with more influence than brains, nourished and abetted by a baker too stubborn to give up, even when her situation looked bleak. And now, they were all thriving, while he watched Hyperion’s earnings dwindle.

This would not stand.

He called for his associates and continued to glare at the town in the distance until they arrived. Fujin arrived first, as usual, and stood quietly before his desk until Raijin lumbered through the door, already spouting apologies. Seifer raised his hand to quiet him, then indicated the pair of chairs in front of him. They sat down and waited while he gave the financial report one last going-over.

“Have you seen the numbers?” he asked, then slid the papers across his desk for his associates to look at.

They apparently hadn’t, for they spent the next few minutes mulling over the report. Seifer watched their expressions. Though Fujin and Raijin held official positions at Hyperion, they were also, unofficially, Seifer’s personal counsel. He could always count on Fujin to come up with new ideas on the spot, and Raijin’s knee-jerk reactions to them helped Seifer gauge what those of the general public might be. Right now, the looks on their faces told him they understood the severity of the situation.

“NOT GOOD,” Fujin said, in the curt and loud manner she had adopted for speaking with the public.

“Fujin, speak normally. Raijin and I know already know how you sound.”

“Very well,” she said, in a raspy voice that seemed a register too low for someone so petite. "These figures are distressing.“

“Distressing? Is that all you can say?”

“Maybe it’s just a hiccup, ya know?” Raijin offered.

Seifer scowled at him. "A ‘hiccup’ is a bad sales day,“ he said. "What this report shows is a bad sales trend. One that’s gone on for months, and is still going.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing several short strands out of place. "When I envisioned Hyperion, I assured investors that we would turn a profit in three years, and I was giving myself plenty of room with that estimate. I figured a year-and-a-half, two years, tops. But here we are, one year and four months after opening, and we’re losing money. We are in the red and sinking fast. We have to stop the bleeding, and stop it now!“ He slammed his hand on the desk. Raijin jumped, but Fujin eyed him calmly.

“Have you isolated the cause?” she asked.

“We all know the cause. The report just confirms it. We have guests, but no customers. They check in, then they leave for the day, and spend all of their money in Dollet. And why Dollet? Because of that dinky little bakery. Some crazy heiress says she loves it, so everyone has to go try it. And then they see the other shops, and they go in, and they spend. By the time they get back here, they’ve only got enough left for a few meals, and maybe a night at the club.”

“What can we do?” Raijin asked. "We can’t just keep ‘em locked up here, ya know? I think that’s illegal.“

"I know that, you dimwit! And it’s not like they don’t know what we offer. Our ad department has taken care of that.” He looked to Fujin for confirmation.

She nodded. "We’ve covered every market in Dollet – radio, print, television, and targeted online advertisements – and we’re currently working toward expanding into Timber and Balamb.“

"Excellent. But that still doesn’t solve our problem. We attract guests, sure, but how do we keep them on the property once they check in?”

“Cupcakes!” Raijin shouted, evidently pleased with his quick answer.

“We have four bakeries on the property, as well as a top-tier kitchen. We have no shortage of baked goods –”

“Yeah, but they’re not fun, ya know? Qake’s cupcakes sound like they taste fun. Somethin’ different!”

“Whose side are you on, Raijin?”

“Y-yours, Seifer. Always will be, ya know? But ya gotta admit, Qake has somethin’ we don’t.”

“The heiress,” Fujin said quietly. She was frowning, apparently deep in thought.

“Tell me something I don’t know, already!” Seifer roared. "You two are like a couple of demented parrots, spewing the same rehashed, worn-out garbage I’ve been listening to for months. I don’t know why I keep you ar –”

“We need to influence her,” Fujin continued, unmoved by Seifer’s outburst.

“Haven’t we been doing that?”

“No. We’ve been targeting her with advertisements, but we can’t be certain she even pays attention to them. We need to personalize our approach.”

“What’s the big deal with that Selphie lady, anyway?” Raijin asked. "Yeah, she’s popular, but we’ve got lots of celebrities at our resort, too, ya know?“

“Ms. Tilmitt is a bellwether.”

“Bellwether?”

“The lead sheep in a flock. The rest follow its decision.” Fujin smiled. "Influence the bellwether, and the flock is all yours.“

"So if she leaves the bakery …”

“Exactly.”

“I’m assuming you’ve figured out how to lure her away,” Seifer said.

“I have, but it will require some expenditure on our part.”

“I don’t like that, but it might be worth the risk. Let’s hear it.”

“Wimbly Donner.”

Raijin began to laugh. "Wimpy Dumber? Come on, Fu, quit jokin’ around! Wimpy won’t do anything, he just walks around with a clipboard and yells at people, ya know?“

"I don’t follow you, Fujin,” Seifer said, after Raijin’s laughter faded.

Fujin sighed. "We all know that Ms. Tilmitt has a sweet tooth, but what does she like even more than cake?“

"I dunno,” Raijin said, “pie?”

“Parties.”

“Oh, yeah, totally my second guess.”

“She plans those parties herself, or so it seems. And each time, she requests a special order from Qake. These orders are what have been keeping the bakery alive, and they are what make customers curious about it, when they see the pictures she posts online.”

“So?” Seifer asked. "How does knowing that help us? And where does Donner fit in?“

"Ms. Tilmitt obviously loves throwing parties, and she loves having an online following. She would probably be thrilled to have a professional party planner on call, one who could not only fulfill her strange visions, but also steer her toward more ‘trendy’ bakeries.”

“Ah. And you think Donner is the right man for the job.”

“Precisely. He plans parties for many celebrities, and has suggested Hyperion to them on multiple occasions. He offers the visibility and trendiness that someone like Ms. Tilmitt can’t resist, and he can lead her away from Qake, straight to the resort.”

“I see. Influence the bellwether …”

“And the flock is all yours.”

“But how do we make sure Donner and Tilmitt … You mentioned expenditure. Is this what you meant?”

Fujin nodded. “We pay him to meet with her.”

Raijin shifted in his chair and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "I dunno, guys, that sounds kinda –”

“Brilliant!” Seifer slammed his hands onto his desk again, this time out of pure enthusiasm. "Fujin, that’s a great idea!“

“Uh, doesn’t he cost a lot of money, ya know?”

“Yeah, but we’ll make a lot of money with Tilmitt and her brain-dead cohorts! Those people don’t care where they are or what they do, as long as their idol is doing the same thing. Fujin, call Donner’s office, see if we can arrange a meeting. Raijin, go away. I don’t need you calling him 'Wimpy’ by mistake.” Seifer smiled and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, feet propped on his desk. Finally, he had a viable weapon against the threat Dollet was posing. One that self-satisfied baker wouldn’t see coming.

He looked toward Dollet once more. "Good luck, Ms. Trepe,“ he sneered.

* * *

It took Wimbly three hours to return Hyperion’s call.

"I was with a client,” he said, sounding bored already. "What’s this 'urgent matter’ your people called about?“

"Mr. Donner,” Seifer said, “Hyperion would like to offer you a role in a collaborative effort aimed at increasing the resort’s profits and your visibility.”

“I’m not interested.”

“But, Mr. Donner, you haven’t –”

“Mr. Almasy, I already highly recommend Hyperion to all my clients; your resort is at the top of my list. However, the last client I sent to you did complain that the crème brûlée was not caramelized to her satisfaction, so please do mention that to your kitchen staff. We will not tolerate such oversights in the future.”

“We have already addressed the issue, and rest assured, that employee is no longer a part of the Hyperion family.”

“Good. Now, as I was saying, I’ve already done plenty for your resort, far beyond my fair share.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Seifer blurted out, not caring how desperate he sounded. “Well worth your while.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Seifer looked at the telephone to make sure he hadn’t accidentally hung up on Wimbly. The screen still showed the call as active. Seifer waited.

“I’m listening,” Wimbly said at last.

“For the past four months, the Hyperion has be trying to secure a high-profile client from Dollet. However, she has not responded to our advertising campaigns –”

“That sounds like a problem with your ad team. Perhaps you should remove some of them from the Hyperion family, as well.”

“I didn’t call you for unsolicited advice. I know how to run my company.”

“Clearly. I’m sure those disappointing figures last quarter were just a little stumble.”

Seifer gritted his teeth. “Back to the point. Hyperion would like to hire you to interact with this potential client. Offer your services, influence her, bring her business to the resort.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about that heiress, would you? What’s her name, Tillman?”

“Tilmitt. And yes, that’s exactly who I’m talking about.”

Wimbly laughed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Almasy, but I can’t see myself working with her. She’s too flighty, and her idea of a party is far different from that of my other clients.” He sighed. “She may have loads of money, but, unlike certain individuals, I still have standards.”

Seifer cursed. Wimbly clucked.

“Temper, temper, Mr. Almasy. We mustn’t forget our public image.”

It was Seifer’s turn to remain silent. He fumed, staring across his office but seeing nothing. He’d forgotten how obnoxious Wimbly could be. But he could be just as bad, and more intimidating. He was thinking of an effective threat to make when Wimbly spoke again.

“You know what? I’ll do it,” he said. “I could use the challenge.”

“Thank you, Mr. Donner.”

“I’m also not devoid of sympathy. I hate the thought of a grown man having a tantrum in his office. Even if it was a quiet one.”

Seifer chose to ignore that statement and pulled up the file Fujin had sent him earlier. It contained all they currently knew about Selphie Tilmitt, culled from her online presence and public records. "I’m sending you a file on Tilmitt. See if you can use this info to get close to her.“

"You make this sound like espionage. Let me assure you, Mr. Almasy, that my social skills are far more effective in securing clients than any amount of trivial data.”

“Well, it’s already been sent. Do whatever you want with it.” Seifer relaxed. "And thank you again, Mr. Donner. The Hyperion –”

“Tut-tut. Aren’t we forgetting something?”

Seifer frowned.

“Payment,” Wimbly said. "Just how much is my while worth?“

Hyperion ad

Continue with Part TwoBack to Top

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Dee Moyza's Story Stash

Special Order - Part One (Ch. 1-8) (Bakery AU) (Final Fantasy VIII fanfiction)

Special Order - Part One (Ch. 1-8) (Bakery AU) (Final Fantasy VIII fanfiction)

Chapters

Chapter 1: Qake

Chapter 2: Heiress

Chapter 3: Almasy

Chapter 4: Debut

Chapter 5: Aftermath

Chapter 6: Storytime

Chapter 8: Bellwether

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March 2026

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