Sweet Little Lies

Chapter 44

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

SIX MONTHS LATER

I pause from frosting the two-tiered cake in front of me and stare at the wedding band on my finger. The crystal-clear diamonds sparkle under the ceiling lights. It’s been two months since Tucker and I finally walked down the aisle, and I’m still getting used to it.

Being Mrs. Tucker Harding.

I can’t believe it finally happened. After all the drama, the threats, the near-death experiences—we actually did it. And you know what? It was perfect.

After everything that went down, Tucker and I decided the best way to get married was to elope. We organized a quick beach wedding in Cabo San Lucas, just the two of us, saying our vows with the ocean waves rolling in and out behind us. No crazed almost-mothers-in-law, no arsonist ex-boyfriends, no family drama.

Just us, the sand, and the setting sun.

“Reese? Are you ready for the fondant?” I hear Bernie call from across the room.

We’re working at a commissary kitchen about three blocks away from the bakery. I’m relieved to say that we’ll only be here for a few more weeks. The insurance settlement that came in after the fire was more than I expected. In fact, I don’t even know why I hesitated and tried to put the flames out when I was wrestling with Amanda. I’ll be able to rebuild the shop even better than it was before. No flea market finds or hand-me-down ovens.

Although that flea market chair did come in handy.

The bell above the kitchen door chimes, and I look up from where I’m working to see Monica striding in. My face breaks into a genuine smile when I see her carrying two paper cups.

“Monica! What a surprise,” I say, wiping my hands on my apron.

She grins, her perfectly styled hair bouncing as she walks. “I was just down the road at Marla’s and thought I’d drop by with some caffeine. Latte, extra hot, right?”

I wince slightly. Afternoon lattes at Marla’s was something I used to share with… I catch myself. Not a good time to think about him.

“You remembered,” I say, forcing a smile. “Thank you. This is exactly what I needed.”

Monica leans against the counter, her eyes scanning the kitchen. “The bakery looks like it’s coming along nicely. Any updates on when you will reopen?”

“A few weeks.”

“Wonderful,” she says. A comfortable silence falls between us as we sip our drinks. It’s a far cry from the tension-filled moments we used to share. At least for me. I don’t think Monica has ever felt uncomfortable in her life.

When our original wedding was postponed, Monica stepped in and worked wonders. There was no way Tucker and I could have managed the investigation and the wedding vendors at the same time. I was right when I assumed that she’d be able to handle things with a deft touch. She, along with Elsa, managed to rework arrangements with each of the vendors—the food, the band, everything. And after we returned from Cabo, she threw us a surprise wedding reception. It was tasteful and small, just perfect. Monica takes a little getting used to, but I am so grateful for everything she did.

“You know,” I say, breaking the silence, “I never properly thanked you for that surprise reception you threw us when we got back from Cabo.”

Monica waves her hand dismissively, but I can see the pleasure in her eyes. “Oh, please. After everything you two have been through? It was the least I could do.”

“It meant so much to us, Monica. Really. I know we didn’t always see eye to eye, but that reception…it meant a lot to me.”

Monica’s eyes soften. “Well, you’re one of us now, Reese. Whether you like it or not,” she adds with a wink. She takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “I have to admit something. When you and Tucker first got together, I was…skeptical.”

Gee, Monica, I couldn’t tell .

“Really?” I say, feigning surprise.

“It wasn’t just because of how quickly it happened,” Monica continues. “Tucker’s my cousin, and I’ve always felt protective of him. After Charlotte…well, I was scared he was rushing into something he wasn’t ready for.”

“I understand,” I say softly. “I had my own doubts too in the beginning.”

Monica reaches out and squeezes my hand. “But, Reese, you proved me wrong. You proved everyone wrong. The way you stood by Tucker through everything, how you’ve integrated into the family, how you two support each other…it’s clear how much you love him.”

I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I do love him. So much.”

“I know that now,” Monica says, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’m so glad you’re a part of our family. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unwelcome.”

I shake my head, squeezing her hand back. “That’s all in the past. What matters is where we are now.”

Monica smiles, raising her latte. “To family?”

I clink my cup against hers. “To family.”

“I should get going,” she says, standing up. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I say. “Looking forward to it.”

If you would have told me a year ago I’d be playing tennis every week with Monica and her country club crew, I wouldn’t have believed it. But here we are, and times have indeed changed. Word is, Monica’s a beast on the court—all fierce backhands and killer serves. Little does she know I was on the all-star tennis team in high school. Guess we’ll see who’s queen of the court now.

I sigh, and return to the cake in front of me. The shock of everything has settled, for the most part. Tucker has insisted I go and talk to someone—a therapist—to help me work through what happened. I’ve found that seeing someone has really helped me process all of it.

Thankfully, I’ll never have to see Amanda Spencer or Zach Caldwell ever again. Amanda was initially charged with arson and attempted first-degree murder, which could have meant life in prison. But the case took an unexpected turn.

During the pre-trial proceedings, Amanda’s lawyer argued for an insanity plea, citing the profound trauma of her daughter’s suicide as the catalyst for her actions. Psychiatric evaluations revealed the extent of her mental breakdown.

In the end, the prosecution agreed to a plea deal. Instead of prison time, Amanda was sentenced to involuntary commitment in a high-security psychiatric facility. She’ll undergo intensive therapy and treatment for an indefinite period, with regular evaluations to determine if she’s ever fit to re-enter society. It’s not the outcome I expected, but in a way, it feels right. Amanda needs help more than punishment. And while part of me still fears her, I hope she finds peace and healing.

As for Zach? I haven’t seen him since the night he broke into my shop. Once his involvement in the plot to burn down my shop and the rest came to light, Tucker insisted the police put a restraining order in place. Of course, I’d love to punch him in the face after everything he did to me, but knowing he’ll go to prison is enough for now.

The police are still gathering evidence for his trial. Amanda confessed everything as part of her plea deal, but Zach has been more defiant. Forensic analysts have combed through his electronic devices, uncovering deleted messages and location data that contradict his alibi the night of the suicide. Not to mention the fact that he had logged into Charlotte’s social media accounts several times to post on her behalf after she died. From what I’ve heard, they are still tracking down witnesses who might have seen Zach in areas near the coast where he’s suspected of disposing of the body in the ocean.

The thought still gives me shivers.

I’ve already given my testimony—which is basically what Amanda told me—so I should be minimally involved from here on out. I had no idea that Zach had ever been engaged to Charlotte, much less covered up her suicide. It’s chilling to think about how little we know about the people in our lives.

Sometimes I still think about Charlotte. It seems profoundly sad that she died the way she did and no one will even memorialize her loss. She was a person with dreams, fears, people who loved her. She deserves to be remembered as more than just a victim in a tragic story. I hope her mother does something for her, but given Amanda’s mental state, I’m not sure that will happen.

My phone buzzes, and I see my mother’s name on the caller ID. A warm feeling spreads through my chest as I answer.

“Hi, Mom. How are you doing?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m doing just fine,” she replies, her voice sounding stronger than it has in years. “This place you set me up in is really something. The staff here is wonderful.”

I smile to myself. After everything that happened, I decided to move her closer to me here in Somerville. I subleased her my old apartment, which she’ll be moving into after she gets through rehab. Tucker helped me throughout the process, even hired movers to have her belongings delivered to her new place.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” I say, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear. “How’s your treatment going?”

“It’s challenging, but I’m making progress every day.” There’s a pause, and then she continues, her voice softer. “Reese, I…I just wanted to thank you again. For everything. I know I haven’t always been there for you, but?—”

“Mom, I’m the one who should be thanking you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up at my shop during the fire. I don’t know how you knew…”

“A mother always knows,” she says. I can almost hear her smile over the phone. “I also know how much you love that bakery and how hard you worked to make your dream a reality. So if there was a reason you’d miss out on your wedding, I figured it had to be something to do with Couture Cakes.”

I open my mouth to thank her as my eyes well up with tears. But before I can answer, my mother interrupts.

“Oops, I have to run. We have a yoga class at three. Call you next week?”

“Of course. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too.”

I drop the phone back on the work table, refocusing my energy on what’s in front of me. My therapist says dwelling on the past isn’t going to help me focus on the future, and that’s where I’m most excited.

After everything that happened, I’ve decided that when I do reopen the shop, I’m going to try to take a more balanced approach. Bernie and I have already interviewed some new staff members to help manage the workload. I want to take a step back and focus on the family that Tucker and I will be building together soon.

“I’m ready for the fondant!” I call after Bernie.

But in the meantime, I’ve got a wedding cake to finish.