Page 89 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

"She loved them."

"I told you they were beautiful lemons."

"They really were."

Bernice smiled to herself, then disappeared down the hallway, humming softly as she finished her afternoon chores.

I went upstairs to my bedroom and stood at the window, looking out over the cul-de-sac. From there, I could see Camille’s house clearly.

People often find comfort in how things look, even if it doesn’t last. I saw Camille through her dining room window across the street. She took the towel from the basket and arranged the lemons in a bowl on her kitchen island. Then she stepped back and smiled at them.

She smiled at the lemons, and I smiled at her. Neither of us knew how much the neighborhood would change before the week was over.

Chapter Fourteen

Maci

Thursday mornings belonged to the kitchen. While my neighbors went to yoga, ran errands, or kept their salon appointments, I stayed home. For me, Thursdays meant butter melting in a skillet, flour dusting the counters, and citrus scent filling the air.

I tied on my apron and glanced at the recipe I’d written, resting against the mixer.

"Let's try something different today," I murmured.

Instead of my usual lemon pound cake, I wanted to try something new. I hoped to show the ladies how creative I could be in the kitchen.

I dipped thick slices of buttery brioche in rich custard and cooked them in a hot skillet. The edges turned golden brown while a fresh lemon glaze simmered on the stove. I poured the glaze over the toast, then added powdered sugar, fresh berries, and lemon zest curls.

The smell was heavenly. Bernice walked into the kitchen and immediately stopped.

"My Lord."

I couldn’t help but laugh.

"What?"

"Girl, if you don't stop experimenting, this back of mine gone be wide."

She picked up a fork and took a small bite. Her growing smile told me everything before she even spoke.

"This right here?"

She pointed her fork at me.

"You better make extra."

"I figured the ladies might appreciate a change."

"They're going to tear this up."

"I hope so."

Bernice chuckled and reached for another bite.

"I bet money."

After she left for the dining room, I picked up the worn leather journal beside my phone. Another folded page slipped out. I unfolded it carefully. The handwriting was delicate.

Thursday