"These are exquisite," she said quietly. "Hand-pulled petals, gum paste, dusted with pearl powder. My grandmother used tomake flowers like these." She set it down gently. "She taught me on Sunday afternoons when I was a kid. I haven't done anything like this in years, but I remember."
Ruby and Pearl exchanged a look.
"Please," Ruby said, already pulling an apron from a hook. "We're running out of time."
For the next hour, I leaned against the counter and let myself get lost watching her work.
She started carefully, testing the piping bags, learning how the delicate flowers responded to pressure. Ruby and Pearl hovered at first, but within minutes they relaxed—the three of them falling into a rhythm like they'd been doing this together for years.
Her hands were steady. She worked like nothing else existed, placing each flower with care, building them into a waterfall of pink and white down the tiers. The piping bag moved smoothly, creating delicate vines and scrollwork that caught the light.
And I stood there thinking: this is who she is. Not the woman I was paying to smile at my family. This—the way she stilled when she worked, the way she couldn't hide the pride when a line of piping came out clean. This was Dixie Lane. And I'd almost walked right past it.
"Remarkable," Pearl whispered, watching Dixie add a delicate curl of icing. "Just remarkable."
The cake transformed. Dixie stepped back, studying it from every angle, then added final touches—small pearls, subtle gold details, a dusting of shimmer that made everything glow.
When she finally set down the piping bag, all three of us stared.
"That's beautiful," I said.
"Young man, you have a gift for understatement," Ruby said, eyes bright. Then she looked at the cake and dabbed at her eyes. "That's the most gorgeous wedding cake we've ever made."
"You did all the hard work," Dixie said, looking away.
"You're remarkably talented, dear," Pearl said. "Would you mind giving us your number? We'd love to talk with you about... well, perhaps we should discuss it later."
Ruby pulled out a business card. "Call us Monday."
Before we helped them transport the cake, Ruby cut a sliver from the back of the bottom tier—hidden from view by the cascade of flowers Dixie had placed—and held out two small forks.
"Here. You two need to try this. It's the almond champagne layer."
The cake was light, impossibly sweet without being cloying, with a whisper of champagne that dissolved on my tongue. I looked at Dixie. She'd gone wide-eyed, and she was making a small sound that I absolutely should not have found as distracting as I did.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "Ruby. Pearl. This is—"
"That's why people cry at weddings, honey," Ruby said with a wink. "It's not just the vows."
We carefully helped them transport the cake to the ballroom, then headed back to the room.
"That was amazing," I said in the elevator.
"It was fun." She smiled—really smiled, the kind that reached her eyes before she could stop it. "I forgot how much I love doing that."
"They were really impressed."
"They're just being nice."
"Dixie, they asked for your number. That's not just being nice."
She didn't argue, but she didn't look convinced either.
Back in the room, we had a couple of hours before the ceremony. The weight of what was coming settled over us both.
"Guess it's time," Dixie said, eyeing the closet where she'd buried her secret dress.
"Ladies first?" I offered.
