“Don’t be silly, Bernarda. We’ve got to seat her somewhere.”

“Better be safe than sorry, is all I’m saying.”

* * *

They walked in silence down the stairs. Daniel led the way. When he reached the ground floor, he stepped ahead and held the front door open for Alicia.

“The cake shop is right here, near the corner,” he said, as if it weren’t obvious; the shop’s neon sign was clearly visible, just a few steps away.

Inside the shop, the woman in charge raised her hands to the heavens with relief. “Thank goodness. I thought you weren’t coming, and we’d have to eat the cake ourselves . . .” Her voice trailed off as she became aware of Alicia. “How can I help you, miss?”

“We’re together, thanks,” said Alicia.

The shop owner’s eyebrows catapulted halfway up her forehead. Her look, brimming with mischief, was mirrored on the faces of her two assistants, who had peeped over the counter for the occasion.

“Look at Danielito,” murmured one of them in a flattering tone. “And there we were, thinking he was born yesterday.”

“Shut your trap, Gloria, and bring out Señor Sempere’s cake,” the boss cut in, letting her underlings know that even the use of slander had to observe proper seniority in her establishment.

The other assistant, a catlike creature with a chubby figure—no doubt the result of eating too many leftover sponge fingers and custard tarts—watched Daniel with delight, enjoying his embarrassment.

“Felisa, have you nothing better to do?” the boss asked her.

“No.”

By then Daniel’s blush had turned the color of a ripe raspberry, and he couldn’t wait to get out of there, with or without the cake. The two confectioners didn’t stop shooting glances at Alicia and Daniel—sizzling glances that could have fried doughnuts in midair. At last Gloria appeared with the cake, a prize-entry exhibit, which the confectionary trinity proceeded to protect with cardboard arches before carefully placing it in a large pink box.

“Cream, strawberry, and lots of chocolate,” said the cake maker. “I’ve put the candles in the box.”

“My father loves chocolate,” Daniel told Alicia, as if it needed an explanation.

“Mind the chocolate, Daniel, it can make you blush,” said Gloria, still poking fun at him.

“And get you all excited,” Felisa finished off.

“How much is that?” Alicia stepped forward and placed a twenty-five-peseta note on the counter.

“And on top of it, she’s paying . . . ,” murmured Gloria.

The manageress dawdled over the counting of the change, giving it to Alicia a coin at a time. Daniel picked up the box and walked over to the door.

“Say hello to Bea,” was Gloria’s parting shot.

The cake-makers’ giggles followed them as they stepped out into the street, their eyes glued to them like soft fruit on an Easter cake.

“Tomorrow you’ll be the talk of the entire neighborhood,” Daniel predicted.

“I hope I haven’t got you into trouble, Daniel.”

“Don’t worry. Generally speaking, I’m quite good at getting into trouble on my own. Pay no attention to the Medusa trio. Fermín says the meringue has gone to their heads.”