Page 33 of Only Time Will Tell

“Freaking genius!” That made me feel like less of a social pariah. “I’ll let Mom know tomorrow. Now back to the list, did you sort out how many invites you’ll need?”

“I’ll have seventeen. So that brings us to twenty-seven. Mom will need the rest, I’m sure, for family and friends. But don’t let her go over the fifty, Charlie. There isn’t enough room in the area the museum is letting us use for any more than that,” he reminded me.

“Crap, who’s going to be our witnesses?” Back to feeling panicked.

“Hmm, that’s a bit tougher. What about asking Mom and Dad? Can we do that?”

He seemed excited about that possibility. “I don’t see why not. Oh, I forgot, Mom wants me to go home with her tomorrow after cake tasting and have you meet me there after work for dinner. She’s picking me up in the morning, so then I can ride home with you. Want to ask them then if they’ll stand up for us too? And walks with us?” Truly a family event and I couldn’t wait.

After dinner, Alex went into the home office to email the people at work he was inviting and get their mailing addresses. He was tired, so we showered and went to bed early, but I was too wound up to sleep. I grabbed my iPad off the nightstand and dove into the latest novel I’d recently purchased by one of my favorite authors.

Mom’s horn honked right as I’d finished putting my shoes on. I ran downstairs, grabbed my wallet and keys and locked the door behind me.

“Good morning, sweetie, everything alright?” she asked as I got into the car.

“Good morning, Mom. Yes, just got up a bit late. Stayed up far too late reading last night.”

The bakery was thankfully in Bothell, making the drive from our house short. A kind, grandmotherly woman greeted us as we entered the bakery. This was a major déjà vu from a time I’d never forget but wished I could. If I never heard another overhead bell chime, I’d be a happy man.

“Good morning, and welcome to Bothell Bakery. How can I help you today?”

She was adorable and I had an overwhelming urge to hug her. She reminded me of the Claymation Mrs. Claus from the old Christmas cartoon specials.

“Hello, I’m Anne and this is my son-in-law to-be, Charlie. We’re scheduled to have a tasting for their wedding cake,” Mom informed her.

“Yes, yes. I’m so happy to meet you both, I’m Beverly. Congratulations to you and Alex, Charlie.” She reached into the cooler behind her, pulling out a tray of samples. “Please, have a seat at the corner table.”

We sat at a quaint bistro set with a view out the front windows. She placed the tray on the table along with two small bottles of water. There were four different cake samples with two small pieces of each.

“The first sample is a chocolate cake with vanilla whipped cream frosting and a raspberry filling.”

When that first bite hit my tongue, my eyes rolled back and a salacious moan escaped. There was no helping that, I had a serious sweet tooth, and this chocolate was silky smooth. The raspberry puree in the center was divine and thankfully didn’t have the consistency of jam.

“The second sample is lemon cake with buttercream frosting and lemon filling.”

So far, Beverly was two for two. Her confectionary skills would make angels sing. The cake itself had a hint of lemon and literally melted in your mouth and the buttercream frosting perfectly offset the tart lemon filling.

“The third sample is a raspberry infused cake with a chocolate ganache filling and a vanilla buttercream frosting.”

Two samples in, and I was ready to beg her to adopt me. I’d be as big as a house, but it would be well worth it. I fully expected the ganache to be too much, but it was only a light smattering that didn’t overpower the velvety cake. The raspberry cake was the ideal companion to tone down the ganache.

“And the fourth and final sample was made especially for you, Charlie. This wonderful woman sitting across from you told me you have a penchant for lemon and raspberry combinations. The frosting is our standard buttercream. It took a bit of tweaking but based upon the euphoric sounds you emitted while eating the others, I think I may surprise you with this one.” She winked.

My mouth was watering before the bite even hit my palate. But as soon as it did…wow… The lemon wasn’t too tart, or too sweet. The cake was light and airy, and when the pureed raspberry filling hit you were transmitted to a baked goods heaven.

“Based upon those sexy noises he’s making, I think we have our cake, Beverly.” Mom teased me, so I stole her piece.

They laughed but I didn’t care. “Sorry, ladies, but Beverly, that was absolute cakegasm!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. How many will you be feeding?” Beverly asked.

“Can we do a three-tier cake? Two that will feed fifty with a one-inch, silver ribbon wrapped around the bottom one, a one-inch navy blue ribbon around the second tier, and one small cake on top with a one-inch silver ribbon wrapped around the base of it that we can freeze and save to eat for our first anniversary?” Sappy much? Abso-freaking-lutely!

“You bet your handsome head you can. Do you already have your cake topper, or would you like to look through our selection?” she asked, writing down our order on the form.

“We’d love to look at yours if we could,” Mom said.

She reached behind the counter and pulled out a pamphlet and opened it to the dual-groom topper page. It was an easy decision to make, there weren’t many to choose from, but the one I’d spotted online was available here. It was a flat, black metal silhouette of two men in tuxes holding hands. Simple yet perfect. I pointed it out to her, and she added it to the order form.