Epilogue
A year later
Thursday mornings still belonged to us. The cemetery was quiet, with just the leaves rustling overhead and birds singing far away. I carried the cake box carefully as I walked down the familiar path.
Before I left home, Bernice placed fresh lemons around the handle.
"She would've liked that," she said.
I hoped she was right.
When I reached Mari's headstone, I sat on the cool grass and let out a quiet sigh.
"I know," I said softly as I brushed away a few fallen leaves. "I'm late."
I smiled. "You always hated when I was late."
I opened the cake carrier and took out the lemon pound cake I baked before sunrise. It was the same recipe we used to make together on Thursday mornings, back when everything felt right.
I cut two slices and set her piece gently at the base of her headstone.
"There."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"That glaze is is better than yours."
A breeze brushed past me. For a second, it seemed like she was laughing along with me. I looked at her name carved into the granite.
MARI CALLOWAY.
Beloved Daughter.
Beloved Friend.
Gone too soon.
"They reopened your case."
My voice was just a whisper. I swallowed hard.
"They know you didn't deserve any of it."
A tear rolled down my cheek.
"I kept my promise." My words hung in the morning air.
"I just wish I didn't have to."
"You should've been here."
Another tear slipped down my face.
"You should've had your baby and grown old. You should've been sitting at the head of that table."
I laughed even as I cried.
"You would've bossed us around, too."
I almost heard her voice answering me.
"Because somebody has to."
I wiped my cheeks.
"I miss you."
It's the kind of missing that catches you at the grocery store, or when you grab your phone to share something funny and then remember they're gone.
"I still talk to you."
I smiled.
"I know you know that."
I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't have to look to know who it was. Zaire knelt beside me and quietly handed me a napkin.
"I figured I'd find you here."
"I wasn't ready to leave."
He nodded.
"They're waiting."
I glanced back at Mari's headstone.
"I know."
I ran my fingertips over the cool granite one last time.
"Come on."
I smiled, even though I was crying.
By six o'clock, every seat at my table was filled. Danielle laughed at something Jade said. Nia set out the wine glasses. Simone placed fresh flowers in the center. The room felt alive again.
Miss Evelyn arrived last, carrying Mari's old recipe box under her arm. She placed it in front of me without a word. This was our Thursday tradition now. I opened the lid.
Under the recipe cards inside, I found Mari's handwritten note.
I didn't need to read it anymore. I knew every word by heart. I looked around at the women at my table, who had become sisters through choice, survival, and honesty.
I cut the first slice of lemon pound cake and, instead of taking it for myself, set it on the empty chair beside me.
No one asked about it. No one ever did.
A gentle knock came from the front of the house.
I opened the front door and saw the little girl from across the street. She was holding a lemon that was almost as big as both her hands.
She smiled, and her braids bounced.
"Miss Maci?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"My mama said this came from our tree."
She held up the lemon with pride.
"I wanted to ask you something." Her eyes were bright. "Will you teach me how to make lemon pound cake one day?"
For a moment, I couldn't speak. I looked past her at the house across the street. The porch that once hid secrets now had wind chimes. The backyard that used to feel sad was now filled with children's laughter. Life had returned.
I smiled and knelt so we could see eye to eye.
"I'd love to."
She grinned and ran back across the street, holding the lemon carefully in her arms. I watched her go inside.
I turned back to the women at my table. Some people thought the Lemon Pound Cake Club was just about recipes, but they were wrong. It was created by women who refused to let another woman's story be forgotten.
Every Thursday, as long as we baked a cake, Mari still had a place at the table.
And those who tried to hide her truth were already suffering under its weight.
THE END