Early the next morning while I clambered down the stairs to Sunray's garage, my stomach rumbled loudly. One of Studmuffin's concoctions teased my nose. It smelled vaguely fruity, but when I checked the waiting area, it was empty of desserts.

"Studmuffin," I called, hoping the sound of my voice would hurry him up. "It smells like heaven. Are you finished with it yet?"

The door with postage-stamp windows that separated the waiting area from the garage opened. In stepped Boxy ...