On the next day the public school bus drove under a freshly painted sign and up the flawlessly groomed landscape to Crinkle Crankle. Ms. Gwen's students eagerly gathered behind her like a mother duck leading her ducklings. Welcome banners rocked like any granny at the entrance of the secluded confectionery. Delicious aromas wafted through the air. Local dignitaries posed for photos. Competitive eating hopefuls pregamed for a contest. An exaltation of doves were released above an ice sculpture leapfrog fountain. The old-growth redwood door that held decades' worth of crude drawings and initials of lovebirds carved into its surface now gleamed with a smooth finish so glossy the children could see their reflections in it. The thick door with all its ornate wrought-iron trimmings flung open just as the teacher/influencer wife with bangs reached out to knock.