Marjory was in the kitchen. That wasn’t all that surprising. Once she got something in her head — like making up with her son — it was impossible to shake her. What was surprising was the person sitting at the table as she served him.
“Booker?” I pulled up short. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating cake for breakfast apparently,” Booker replied.
“Cake?” Galen strode forward, frowning at the huge box in the center of the table. “Why are we having cake for breakfast?” The look he pinned his mother with brimmed with suspicion.
“Don’t look at me that way.” Marjory waved off his annoyance as if swatting at a gnat. “These are samples from the bakery. It’s timeyou pick your flavors so we can decide on a design. The wedding is only six weeks away. You’re cutting it close.”
Was I suspicious that she was here in the middle of a catastrophe with cake? Absolutely. Did I hate the idea of having cake for breakfast? Not even a little.
“Awesome.” I edged around Galen and looked over the offerings. “What do we have?”
“Well, this is my favorite,” Marjory said. Her smile was warm, but I knew the woman well enough to understand that she had ulterior motives. “It’s white cake with Chantilly lace frosting.”
“Pass.” I waved my hand.
Marjory frowned at me. “Pass?”
“Pass,” I repeated.
“White cake is a classic.”
“I don’t like white cake. I’ll eat it if I have no other options, but it’s not my go-to.” I pointed to a chocolate cake with a yellow frosting. “What’s that?”
“Chocolate with buttercream.”
I grabbed the plate and a fork and dug in. “Oh, man.” I groaned in such a way that Galen’s eyebrow winged up.
“You’re only supposed to make that noise for me,” he complained. “We had an agreement.”
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t really sorry. “This is what Heaven tastes like.”
He left me to my foodgasm and looked over the other offerings. He chose red velvet and sat next to me, essentially locking me between him and Booker. It was a strategic move that wasn’t lost on me.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, Mother,” he started.
Marjory shot him a warning look.
“I don’t believe we were expecting you,” Galen continued. “Didn’t we talk about you at least texting before you visit?”
“I did text,” Marjory shot back. “I texted saying that I had cakesamples and was having a real breakfast delivered because I didn’t have time to cook this morning.”
Galen’s brow creased as he dug for his phone. The look on his face when he pulled it out and stared at the screen told me all I needed to know. Marjoryhadtexted. Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.
“That will be breakfast.” Marjory left to accept the delivery before Galen could think of anything to say.
He watched her disappear from the room. “She’s up to something,” he muttered.
“Maybe she just wants us to have a fabulous wedding cake,” I argued.
I finished my piece. “That was good. I like buttercream frosting, but I don’t like white cake.”
“We’re not having white cake.” Galen scowled. “White cake has always been her thing. We’re having something else.”
I gestured to the red velvet he’d all but devoured. “Is that what you want?”
He considered it. “I like red velvet, but it doesn’t seem appropriate for a wedding cake. If you like the chocolate and buttercream, I’m good with that.”
