Cake on a Hot Tin Roof Read Online Free PDF

said without looking up. “Big tradition in these parts.”
    “I know what a King Cake is,” Uncle Nestor said. “But so many?”
    I explained what Ox and I had discussed earlier about the bulk of our business coming from these flaky cakes, which earned a surprised grunt. “Right now we’re making around two hundred a day,” I explained. “We’ll be making at least that many every day for the next week or so.”
    Aunt Yolanda moved closer and touched my arm. “We’ve come at a bad time. I knew we should have called first.”
    I didn’t want her to feel guilty, so I grinned, trying for a carefree effect. “It’s fine. Really! I’m so glad to see you nothing else matters.”
    She grimaced. Hard. Which told me I’d gone a little over the top with that last bit.
    Uncle Nestor completed his inspection and turned back toward me with his hands on his hips. “So, this is what you left us for.”
    I shifted a little under the weight of his stare and Aunt Yolanda’s scowl and wished they’d chosen to show up on a day when the work proceeded in an orderly and controlled fashion. A day when I looked competent and organized and when dirty dishes weren’t piled everywhere waiting for Estelle’s nieces to come in after school and load the dishwashers.
    “You know why I stayed here,” I said. “Miss Frankie needed me.” It was a cop-out. I knew it, and so did he. I squared my shoulders and took a more adult approach. “And it was a good chance to strike out on my own. All that money you spent on my education would have been wasted if I’d stayed in Albuquerque.”
    “Ha!” he said to Aunt Yolanda. “There we have it.” Irritation settled like a storm cloud in his dark eyes. “If there was something wrong with working for me, I’d like to know what it was.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with it,” I assured him. “Agave is a wonderful restaurant. But if that’s what you wanted for me, why did you send me to pastry school?”
    “So you could use those skills in my kitchen.”
    “I worked at Agave for two years after Philippe and I separated. I was still doing prep work for other chefs when I left.”
    He waved off my argument with a flick of his wrist. “Patience, mija . Everything doesn’t have to happen at once.” As if he’d settled that, he put his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels, and changed the subject. “Where is Miss Frankie anyway? I’d like to say hello.”
    “She’s at home,” I told him, “but I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you again.” Relieved that we’d moved on, I gave him an affectionate nudge with one shoulder. “Come on. Admit it. You’re impressed by what you see here.”
    Uncle Nestor snorted and turned away. “I suppose it’s all right.” Which in Uncle Nestor–speak is the equivalent of “It’s fabulous!” from anyone else. “You’re making a mistake to let your people leave so much clutter lying around,” he said. “Organization is the key to success.”
    “Nestor…” Aunt Yolanda warned. “You promised.”
    He growled, but when he spoke again, his voice was a little less brusque. “Your aunt missed you at Christmas. So did the boys.”
    Meaning my four burly cousins, all of whom were grown and could hardly be considered “boys.”
    “I missed you, too,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t rehash the arguments we’d had over my decision to stay in New Orleans with Miss Frankie.
    “We could have done with a few more pictures.”
    “I’ll be better about that from now on,” I promised. “What are your plans for this evening? Are you free? There’s a party I have to go to…” I wasn’t sure that I wanted Uncle Nestor grumpy-facing it at the Captain’s Court, but surely he’d snap out of his mood before then. Besides, not inviting them would be rude, and I liked the idea of having two more people I actually knew among the guests.
    Uncle Nestor looked at me as if I’d lost my sense. “We’re here to see you, mija . We’re