“But a good man,” she adds with a wink, “is like a perfect buttercream frosting. Sweet, smooth, and makes everything better. Of course, finding one of those is about as rare as finding a unicorn in your backyard.”
“Amen, sister!” Georgie shouts from the audience, raising her churro bouquet in salute. “Though I’d settle for one who can make decent coffee at this point!”
“Honey, at our age, we’d settle for one who can still make coffee without instructions,” Savvy shoots back, earning another round of laughter.
My phone buzzes against my hip with the persistence of a small earthquake. The family group chat has exploded with messages, and I can already feel the migraine forming.
McKenna: Mom! We’ve been thinking about the park improvements!
Riley: We need daily parades, not just Sunday! More merch stations! And no offense, but the food needs a major upgrade.
I frown at the screen. What’s wrong with corn dogs, churros, popcorn, and cotton candy? We’ve got a few bakeries, a zillion restaurants, and enough sugar to fuel a small army.
Josie: The food is fine.We have variety.
McKenna: Mom, it’s all just medium. So-so. People expect better now.
Riley: Even the restaurants serve food that’s just... okay. We need signature dishes! Insta Pictures-worthy plates!
Before I can defend my perfectly adequate food empire, Clyde’s name appears on the screen with a message that makes my blood pressure spike.
Clyde: I knew you’d botch this, Josie. You should have stuck to PTA bake sales.
The response is immediate and fierce.
McKenna: DAD. NOT HELPING.
Riley: Seriously? She’s been running this place for like five minutes, and she’s already tripled attendance!
McKenna: Mom is doing amazing. Maybe focus on your own life choices.
Riley: Yeah, like your yoga instructor girlfriend who’s probably half your age.
Another message from Clyde pops up.
Clyde: At least I’m not stumbling into dead bodies every other day. Maybe stick to what you know, Jo—organizing charity drives and making mediocre brownies.
I stare at the screen, torn between pride in my daughters’ defense and horror at the family drama playing out in digital form. Nothing says successful business owner like having yourpersonal life dissected via group text during a professional conference.
Savvy’s voice pulls me back to the present as she wraps up her presentation with a finale that would make a Vegas showgirl proud.
“And remember, ladies,” she concludes. “Life is like baking a cake. Sometimes you follow the recipe perfectly and it still falls flat. But sometimes you wing it, throw in whatever you’ve got, and create something beautiful.”
The applause is thunderous, and I realize I’ve just witnessed a master class in Southern charm and business acumen.
McKenna: Seriously, the food needs to go.
Riley: Yeah, even the corn dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy need some serious game. Step it up.
Clyde: Ha! Knew you’d bungle this.
McKenna: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!
Riley: Dad, I will fight you with a churro.
I sigh, stare at my phone, then glance out at the crowd, the cats, the chaos.
If I make it through the week without being smothered in fondant or tripping over a killer, I’m buying myself a throne. Preferably one that comes with a panic button and heated seat.
