Thirty minutes later, I pulled in front of the hotel where we were dropping off the cake. I’d been to Cutthroat before. While it was bigger than The Bend, I knew my way around. Two women, clearly a mother and daughter pair, stood in matching poses of arms crossed and tapping right feet.

I tapped her on the shoulder and her eyes opened.

“Sorry. I can fall asleep anywhere.”

“No worries,” I replied, then tipped my chin out the front window. “I assume you know them.”

“My mother and sister,” she replied, her voice grim.

The welcome wagon didn’t look all that welcome. They looked… put out. We were bringing the prettiest wedding cake I’d ever seen. I blew out a breath and realized this was probably going to get far, far worse. A kiss wasn’t going to be enough. For either of us.

8

ASTRID

“It’s lovely, dear,” my mother said.

I’d kissed her and Amy on their cheeks, then opened the back of the van so they could see the cake. They were way more interested in that than me. I took in their summer dresses and high heels, their styled hair and artfully applied makeup.

I wasn’t a schlump, but I felt like one whenever we were together. Weight and height aside, my dress was from a secondhand store in The Bend. I’d chosen cowgirl boots instead of teetering on toothpicks. I wasn’t skilled at hairstyles. Working with food made braiding my hair a daily requirement and found leaving it down was a treat. As for makeup, I spent ten minutes on a good day “putting on my face” but preferred colored lip gloss over the more potent shades Amy preferred.

“I expected it to be larger,” Amy commented, breaking me from my thoughts.

Bigger?

“It’s a four-tier cake that can feed two hundred. How much bigger should it be?” I countered.

Hours had been spent on this cake. First were the drawings, the back and forth with Amy on everything from shape to flavor to decorations. I’d baked the layers last weekend, kept them chilled in the fridge and began the decorating on Monday. There were over twenty sticks of butter in the thing between the batter and the frosting. I had a feeling if either of them knew that, they wouldn’t take a bite. I’d hand made over one hundred roses, lilac, and lily of the valley accents. I’d texted her pictures of the work-in-progress.

“I just wanted it to make a grand statement, just like me,” Amy added.