The air conditioning in Elettra's van had died three streets from the bakery. By the time she reached the wedding venue, the four-tier cake had been sitting in thirty-degree heat for forty minutes. She carried it in on its board, one slow step at a time, and set it down on the table in the hall.
埃莱特拉的面包车空调，在离面包房三条街的地方坏了。等她赶到婚礼场地时，那个四层的蛋糕已经在三十度的高温里待了四十分钟。她把蛋糕连底板一起端进去，一步一步慢慢走，放到了大厅的桌子上。
For a few seconds it looked perfect. Then, as she straightened up, the second tier began to lean. It tilted gently toward the head table, like a person bending to hear a whisper.
有那么几秒钟，它看起来完美无缺。随后，她刚直起身，第二层就开始倾斜。它朝主桌的方向轻轻歪过去，像一个人弯下腰去听悄悄话。
"It's the buttercream," Elettra said aloud, to nobody. "It's melting under the weight."
“是奶油霜，”埃莱特拉大声说，对着空气，“它被重量压得化了。”
The reception would begin in an hour. The bride's mother was already arranging flowers at the far end of the hall. Elettra decided, quickly, that she would not be mentioning this to anyone. If the cake fell, she thought, she would never bake again. If it stood, nobody needed to know.
宴会一小时后就要开始。新娘的母亲已经在大厅另一头插花了。埃莱特拉很快做了决定：这件事她不会告诉任何人。她想，如果蛋糕塌了，她这辈子再也不做蛋糕了。如果它立住了，就没必要让谁知道。
She dragged the cake into the venue's kitchen, where a startled cook let her borrow the walk-in fridge. Together, they lifted off the top two tiers and slid them in to chill. The bottom two tiers were still solid. However, the dowels she had used inside them had been too short, and the sponge had begun to sink.
她把蛋糕拖进场地的厨房，一位吃了一惊的厨师让她借用了大冷藏间。他们一起把上面两层抬下来，推进去冷却。下面两层还很结实。可是她放在里面的支撑棒太短了，海绵蛋糕已经开始塌陷。
She had brought almost nothing with her except a piping bag and a small knife. So she searched the kitchen. In a cupboard, she found a box of uncooked spaghetti, and she pushed a dozen strands down through each tier, like hidden pillars. Then she cut a round of thick cardboard from a pizza box with the kitchen scissors and slid it between the levels.
她身上几乎什么都没带，只有一个裱花袋和一把小刀。于是她在厨房里四处翻找。在一个柜子里，她找到一盒没煮过的意大利面，每层里面往下插了十几根，像藏起来的柱子。接着她用厨房剪刀，从一个披萨盒上剪下一块厚纸板圆片，塞进层与层之间。
"Is that allowed?" the cook asked, watching with open fascination.
“这样可以吗？”厨师问，一脸着迷地看着。
"It's structural engineering," Elettra said. "Fix the frosting, and no one will ever ask."
“这叫结构工程，”埃莱特拉说，“把糖霜补好，就没人会问。”
She whipped fresh buttercream in a steel bowl and smoothed the cracks with the back of a warm spoon. After twenty minutes, the top tiers came out of the fridge firm and cold. She stacked them one by one, holding her breath at each level. Then she hid the join lines under berries and a few sprigs of mint from the bowl by the window.
她在一只不锈钢盆里打发了新的奶油霜，用温热的勺背把裂缝抹平。二十分钟后，上面两层从冷藏室里拿出来，又硬又冰。她把它们一层一层叠上去，每叠一层都屏住呼吸。然后她用浆果，还有从窗边那盆里摘的几枝薄荷，盖住了接缝线。
The cake stood straight. It was, if anything, a little more elaborate than she had planned.
蛋糕立得笔直。要说有什么不同，就是比她原来设计的还要精致一点。
When the guests arrived, the bride walked slowly around the table, studying every layer. She did not seem to notice the faint slope in the highest tier. Nor did she see the strand of spaghetti sticking out near the base like a lonely antenna.
宾客到场后，新娘绕着桌子慢慢走了一圈，细细打量每一层。她似乎没有注意到最高那一层那一点点斜度。她也没看到靠近底部那根探出来的意大利面，像一根孤零零的天线。
"It's beautiful," the bride said at last. "But it looks like it's bowing to us."
“真漂亮，”新娘最后说，“不过它看起来像是在向我们鞠躬。”
"That's the new design," Elettra said. "It's meant to greet the guests."
“这是新的设计，”埃莱特拉说，“它是用来迎接宾客的。”
