Cake on a Hot Tin Roof Read Online Free PDF Page B

doing whatever you’re doing.”
    Aunt Yolanda nodded. “We know you’re busy. Would you rather give us your key and let us take a cab to get settled in?”
    My key?
    It took a couple of seconds for her meaning to register. When it did, my stomach rolled over. Omigod, of course they planned to stay at my place. I’d told them all about my beautiful new home (which I’d inherited from Philippe), and had thrown out the invitation for them to come and stay with me anytime—never really imagining they’d take me up on it. At least not without notice.
    A mental image of the mound of dirty laundry on my bedroom floor raced through my head, along with the breakfast dishes piled in the sink. And the empty take-out containers from the Thai restaurant next door sitting on the table from last night’s dinner. What can I say? Lately I was home just long enough to make a mess, not long enough to clean it up.
    And now I had houseguests, one of whom would have a field day pointing out everything I was doing wrong. I spent a few seconds pondering my options. Stay and work like a responsible adult, or scurry home and hide my mess before Uncle Nestor spotted it. There really wasn’t any question. I’d rather face half a dozen angry pastry chefs than disappoint my uncle.
    As I unbuttoned my chef’s jacket, I sensed Dwight tensing with disapproval, but I ignored him and tossed my jacket over an empty chair. I delegated the most pressing jobs and promised to be back as soon as humanly possible, then rushed out the back door to make sure the car was clean before Uncle Nestor got into it.
    I almost wondered what else could go wrong today, but I stopped myself just in time. I was afraid I’d get an answer.

Five

    As soon as we arrived at the house, I hustled Aunt Yolanda and Uncle Nestor into my second-floor guest room, and while they unpacked their suitcases, I stuffed dishes into the dishwasher and carted trash outside to the bin. I used the Swiffer on the kitchen floor, put fresh towels in the guest bath, and hid dirty clothes in my closet.
    The rest of the clutter was almost tolerable, but I still couldn’t relax as I showed them through the place. It really is a magnificent house, and I was surprised by how much I wanted them to approve, even as I waited for Uncle Nestor to notice a dust bunny or spot a cobweb. Along with the house, I’d inherited Philippe’s substantial bank account and the Mercedes parked on the street. I was slowly getting used to my new lifestyle, but I worried that Uncle Nestor would think it all too ostentatious.
    Aunt Yolanda gushed over everything, but Uncle Nestor grumbled about the stairs he had to climb, the view from the guest bedroom, and the fact that the heater turned on twice while we were there. He’d forgotten batteries for the portable cassette player that lulled him to sleep at night, and apparently New Orleans didn’t have a radio station that would satisfy him. His earphones weren’t working properly, and the hangers in my closet would leave creases in his pants.
    Once I’d left them getting settled and was driving back to Zydeco, I found myself wondering whether time and distance had dulled my memory, or if Uncle Nestor really was grumpier than he used to be. Not that it mattered. Whatever had brought on this foul mood of his was beside the point. I reminded myself that I could tolerate anything for a weekend, and tried to feel optimistic about taking him to the party. Everything would be fine.
    Back at Zydeco, I put my family concerns on the back burner and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to work hard enough to make up for my absence. Ox got stuck in traffic trying to reach the birthday venue, so at least I didn’t have to take any grief from him. I felt so guilty about abandoning the staff, I changed my mind about closing up early, which went a long way toward gaining me points with them, even if it set us back further on orders. But Dwight was all sharp edges and disapproving