She walked twelve blocks in the rain to the tallest glass tower in the city. The receptionist told her Mr. Biggs didn’t see “unscheduled visitors.” Cupcake smiled, set the box on the counter, and said, “Tell him the girl from 142 Mulberry has a proposition. And a pastry.”

“Ms. Melrose,” he said, steepling his fingers. “I admire the hustle. But sentiment doesn’t pay interest. Your lease is up.”

“Good,” Cupcake replied. “Because this isn’t a child’s dessert. That’s a Humble Pie . It’s for people who’ve forgotten what it feels like to stop fighting the world for five minutes.”