22
Fourfeet
The note attached to the chocolate cake with iced roses in the bakery box read: “Your beautiful chocolate-colored dress adorned with rosebuds was not lost on me. Because of you, Pietermaritzburg is already feeling like home. Thank you and enjoy. PSC.”
Iris’s cheeks were on fire.
“What on earth?” Her mother was flabbergasted.
“Do you know who it’s from, Mom?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Her mother tried to sound dismissive, but Iris could see her face flushed with pleasure.
Go for it, Iris. Now’s your chance. “Lena, get over here. Let’s put our heads together.”
The three women huddled around the kitchen table, the edible work of art in the center of the solid pine surface. Buffer circumvented the table on the off chance that someone would eventually eat the thing and the odd crumb
