along her arm impatiently.
“Ellie has decided on the almond cake. And—”
“Perfect. What else?” Mom interrupts.
“Fondant icing in that white.” Cassidy points at the smooth cake on the sample tray.
“
Mmm-hmmm
. Elegant choice.”
“Ribbons cascading down the layers. Lacelike embellishments.” She leaves out the gold and blue, which I know for a fact Mom would nix.
Smart, Cassidy. You’re a quick study.
“Details, Ms. Beck. I don’t have all day.”
“Right. As my time and Ellie’s is equally important.”
Mom whips her glare on Cassidy.
Maybe not so smart.
“As we have other appointments,” she adds.
I lift an eyebrow in amusement and try to flatline the grin forming on my face.
“The sketch.” Cassidy directs me to hand her the drawing.
I slip it off my lap and hand it over.
It feels like eons pass before Mom speaks. “No.”
Ellie’s eyes flare. “I love it. It’s so elegant. Look. Victorian.” She points out the lace. “And indigo.”
“And gold. How does that fit into the selections
I’ve
already approved?” She drops the pad on the table. “There is no gold. The cutlery is silver, the ribbon accents, silver. There is no gold.”
“I like the gold. It’s royal and bright. Like sunshine. Daddy loved the sun. He said I was his bouncing ball of golden light. I want the gold.” She nods as if she’s made up her mind and won’t take anything else. “And this.”
She turns her plate around. The inside of the last sample brought out, the one she’d clapped and squealed over. Bold as a midnight sea, the cake is truly indigo.
“Wow. That’s wow.” Cassidy leans toward the table and picks up a large crumb with her fingers. “And we can do this almond flavored?” She looks at the chef.
“Excuse me, Ms. Beck. I hate to interrupt your appraisal, but I believe serving guests that horrid color would be a disaster. Eleanor, think of your dress. What if you drop crumbs? And think of the photographs. It will look like something died in your cake. Go with white.” She shakes her head and pulls her shirttails down under her belt.
Ellie’s lips pull down in the corners.
“It’s great,” I try to add my two cents. “It would photograph fine, if that’s your concern.”
“You photograph scenery,” Mom blurts.
“I still use a camera.”
“Then?” Ellie looks hopeful.
I glance at the cake, Ellie and then Cassidy. “I’d say . . . delicious.” I cock my chin toward her and scan her plump, kissable lips. “The cake will be delicious.”
“See, it’s perfect.” Ellie gathers her things.
Cassidy presses her water bottle against her cheek and rolls it across her lips.
Mrs. Covington pokes the blue cake with the knife. “Eleanor, I—”
“I’ll take the cake in the sketch, dark blue”—she points at the dyed cake— “and tasting like almonds. I’ll meet y’all at the dress shop.” And then she bolts, leaving me and Cassidy to deal with Mom’s consternation.
I quickly rise and suggest Cassidy do the same with a tap. I offer my hand and gesture toward the door. “Got your armor on?” I whisper.
“Not enough.” She pushes back from the table but doesn’t take my hand.
“Sit, Ms. Beck,” Mom belches. “Quincy, darling make yourself scarce. Give Annabeth a call; she’s eager to see you.”
I pull out Cassidy’s chair, allowing her to fall back into it, then scoot into the seat next to her. “I’m good right here.”
Mom huffs, giving me the same evil eyes she gave whenever I snuck out of the house and stayed out way beyond curfew. “I believe, Ms. Beck, we discussed at length that I’m to approve any such propositions before it’s given as an option. Maybe I wasn’t clear. This is
my
event,
my
wedding, with
my
name at stake.” Mom thrusts the sketchbook at the chef. “You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through in planning this wedding.”
Cassidy blinks rapidly. Her cheeks marble under the fluorescent lights making
“Ellie has decided on the almond cake. And—”
“Perfect. What else?” Mom interrupts.
“Fondant icing in that white.” Cassidy points at the smooth cake on the sample tray.
“
Mmm-hmmm
. Elegant choice.”
“Ribbons cascading down the layers. Lacelike embellishments.” She leaves out the gold and blue, which I know for a fact Mom would nix.
Smart, Cassidy. You’re a quick study.
“Details, Ms. Beck. I don’t have all day.”
“Right. As my time and Ellie’s is equally important.”
Mom whips her glare on Cassidy.
Maybe not so smart.
“As we have other appointments,” she adds.
I lift an eyebrow in amusement and try to flatline the grin forming on my face.
“The sketch.” Cassidy directs me to hand her the drawing.
I slip it off my lap and hand it over.
It feels like eons pass before Mom speaks. “No.”
Ellie’s eyes flare. “I love it. It’s so elegant. Look. Victorian.” She points out the lace. “And indigo.”
“And gold. How does that fit into the selections
I’ve
already approved?” She drops the pad on the table. “There is no gold. The cutlery is silver, the ribbon accents, silver. There is no gold.”
“I like the gold. It’s royal and bright. Like sunshine. Daddy loved the sun. He said I was his bouncing ball of golden light. I want the gold.” She nods as if she’s made up her mind and won’t take anything else. “And this.”
She turns her plate around. The inside of the last sample brought out, the one she’d clapped and squealed over. Bold as a midnight sea, the cake is truly indigo.
“Wow. That’s wow.” Cassidy leans toward the table and picks up a large crumb with her fingers. “And we can do this almond flavored?” She looks at the chef.
“Excuse me, Ms. Beck. I hate to interrupt your appraisal, but I believe serving guests that horrid color would be a disaster. Eleanor, think of your dress. What if you drop crumbs? And think of the photographs. It will look like something died in your cake. Go with white.” She shakes her head and pulls her shirttails down under her belt.
Ellie’s lips pull down in the corners.
“It’s great,” I try to add my two cents. “It would photograph fine, if that’s your concern.”
“You photograph scenery,” Mom blurts.
“I still use a camera.”
“Then?” Ellie looks hopeful.
I glance at the cake, Ellie and then Cassidy. “I’d say . . . delicious.” I cock my chin toward her and scan her plump, kissable lips. “The cake will be delicious.”
“See, it’s perfect.” Ellie gathers her things.
Cassidy presses her water bottle against her cheek and rolls it across her lips.
Mrs. Covington pokes the blue cake with the knife. “Eleanor, I—”
“I’ll take the cake in the sketch, dark blue”—she points at the dyed cake— “and tasting like almonds. I’ll meet y’all at the dress shop.” And then she bolts, leaving me and Cassidy to deal with Mom’s consternation.
I quickly rise and suggest Cassidy do the same with a tap. I offer my hand and gesture toward the door. “Got your armor on?” I whisper.
“Not enough.” She pushes back from the table but doesn’t take my hand.
“Sit, Ms. Beck,” Mom belches. “Quincy, darling make yourself scarce. Give Annabeth a call; she’s eager to see you.”
I pull out Cassidy’s chair, allowing her to fall back into it, then scoot into the seat next to her. “I’m good right here.”
Mom huffs, giving me the same evil eyes she gave whenever I snuck out of the house and stayed out way beyond curfew. “I believe, Ms. Beck, we discussed at length that I’m to approve any such propositions before it’s given as an option. Maybe I wasn’t clear. This is
my
event,
my
wedding, with
my
name at stake.” Mom thrusts the sketchbook at the chef. “You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through in planning this wedding.”
Cassidy blinks rapidly. Her cheeks marble under the fluorescent lights making
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