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Ruthie and Andrew’s reception is a blast. The liquor is flowing freely enough that even Baggy and Grandmother Rose tentatively make up and are slow dancing together on the lobby’s makeshift dance floor.
When the cake Baggy and I made is wheeled out and presented to the bride and groom, I snicker quietly as I watch Ruthie gawk at the lopsided concoction. She tries her best to be graceful about it, but it’s obvious that she is wondering what kind of loopy pastry chef made it.
Once she and Andrew cut into it and feed each other a bite, she immediately turns to Baggy. “This cake is delicious, like only you could make it. Did you have something to do with it?”
Baggy looks immensely proud of herself. “Maybe,” she admits, before adding, “and Lizzie helped.”
I nod to confirm before adding,
