The cake was paid for, and I had all the order details. Yet when the baker checked her computer, she found an instruction: Do not release the cake to Laura.
“Just give them your name. Everything’s paid for.”
Those were Emma’s instructions when she asked me to collect her wedding cake.
The day before my daughter’s wedding, I was exhausted from errands and barely four hours of sleep. I expected the bakery to be an easy stop.
I gave the woman at the counter the order number.
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“Laura.”
Her smile vanished as she checked the screen.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t give you the cake.”
Assuming she was joking, I laughed.
“I’m the bride’s mother.”
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“I understand.”
“But I was specifically told not to release it to Laura.”
“What?”
“That’s right, ma’am. I was told not to give it to you.”
