CHAPTER 36
They’d kept the rehearsal simple. No extra fuss.
Just good food, plenty of laughter, and everyone pitching in to make the evening feel like home.
It had gone smoother than Beth expected, and now—with dinner in full swing—everyone was relaxed and laughing as the sun dipped low over the backyard.
Plates were being filled for seconds, drinks clinked over retold stories, and kids ran barefoot through the grass while the adults kicked back in lawn chairs.
It was the kind of evening Beth had always imagined for this moment—simple, full of warmth, with people she loved all in one place.
That’s when Bryce leaned over to Brock, his words too soft for Beth to hear.
She tilted her head. “What’s that about?”
“Brotherly stuff,” Bryce said with a grin, pressing a kiss to her temple before slipping off.
She let it go—but a moment later, she noticed Lynn was missing too. Her coffee cup was still next to her chair, half-full, but her seat was empty.
Beth stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Anyone seen Lynn?” she asked, but no one had. A quiet flicker of apprehension stirred in her chest. Not worry—not exactly—but something.
As she stepped in through the back door, she caught sight of Pastor Ambrose at the front entry, clapping a hand on Brock’s shoulder.
“I want to talk shop with you in a minute,” he said. “But first—my wife would never forgive me if I didn’t hydrate properly.”
Brock laughed, letting the screen door fall shut behind him. Beth followed the pastor through the house, her footsteps soft against the hardwood. Then she heard Lynn cry out.
“Oh… oh my… No. No no no—you motherless, sugar-crusted hellspawn! Don’t you dare fall off that counter like a buttercream lemming. Don’t you—”
Lynn lunged forward, arms out, trying to steady the five-tier cake while carefully avoiding the delicate buttercream flowers.
“I spent a week talking to you like you were my frosting-coated baby!”
Just as her hands reached the sides, her fingers slipped between the soft layers and collided with their mirror images. The cake imploded. All over Lynn. All over the counter.
She froze for one breath.
Then the rant began.
“Oh, you smug, frosting-covered [CENSORED]! How. Could. You. You just tried to swan-dive off the counter like some suicidal pastry princess. After everything I did for you!”
A stomp of her wedge sandal punctuated every word.
“A week. A mother. [CENSORED]. week. I tempered chocolate like I was Amaury freaking Guichon. I piped rosettes until my fingers cramped into sugar-hook claws. I gave up sleep. I gave up hope.
I gave up… a date… with a guy… who owns a Ferrari!
A Ferrari, Lynnette!”
She said it like she was talking to her firstborn.
”And for whaaaat? So you could go full Humpty Dumpty and faceplant into the [CENSORED] tile like some Tim Burton reject on The Great British Bake Off?!”
She took a breath, eyes wild, buttercream in her curls.
”You listen to me, you gluten-laced Judas—I swear on Paul Hollywood’s silver fox head, if you so much as ooze another inch toward that floor, I will eat you. Right here. I will stab you with a fork and devour you on the floor like a gremlin who’s lost custody of her dignity.
Oh trust me, you [CENSORED]. I will drag your ganache-soaked corpse into a back alley, crouch behind a dumpster, and
shove fistfuls of your soggy bottom into my mouth whispering…”
She leaned in close to the crumbling wreckage, eyes narrowed, voice a low hiss.
”Poor choices, pastry. Poor choices.
Ace of Cakes, my censored!! You can take your whole ‘make it bigger, make it badder, make it awesome’—” She dropped her voice into a dramatic, mocking imitation. “—and shove it right up your ACE. Because look at the results!”
She flung her arms toward the ceiling in exasperation—and cake and frosting rained down from above like divine judgment.
“I’ve got frosting in places God never intended!” She gave a little shimmy, like it was stuck in her bra.
”The only dancing fingers Nancy Fuller’s gonna give you is the middle one—right in your face, you worthless, ugly, yella, no-good keister piece of [CENSORED]!”
Lynn stood there, breathing hard, chest rising and falling beneath her frosting-smeared shirt. Her hands shook—part fury, part adrenaline. She glared at the wreckage like it might still move.
“You’re lucky you’re not alive. Because if you were?” Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur.
“I’d ice you and this time…”
“Lynn…”
Beth’s voice cut through the frosting fog.
Lynn turned and froze.
Beth stood in the doorway… next to Pastor Ambrose.
Both stared, slack jawed.
One hand still steadying the carnage, Lynn turned slightly, voice dropping an octave. “Oh. Heeeeyyyy there.”
She offered a small wave with her other hand, sending pieces of cake and frosting arcing gracefully from her fingertips before splattering onto the floor.
“What happened?” Beth asked cautiously.
Glancing back at the cake, Lynn accepted the reality–nothing could help it now. She turned slowly to face them, a thick glob of cake sliding off her shoulder and plopping to the floor.
“What happened? Ya see… what had happened was…” She glanced behind her at the crime scene, then back again.
“Turns out your cake was a WWII fighter pilot in a former life. And went full kamikaze. On my—” She caught the pastor’s eye. —on me.”
Pastor Ambrose gave a long blink.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m not sure if that was a meltdown or a creative exorcism… but either way, I’ll be praying for the cake.”
Plop.
A chunk of cake fell from the ceiling and landed squarely on Lynn’s head.
“And you.”
Pastor Steve didn’t even bother to hide his laughter as he turned and walked out—his quest for water officially abandoned.
Beth hesitated—then burst into full-body laughter as Lynn’s eyes crossed, trying to see the blob of frosting stuck to the tip of her nose.
Beth looked up, then back at her sister. “I can help…”
“Nope.” Lynn waved her off with frosting-streaked fingers.
“You go enjoy the fire. I’ve got extra frosting in the fridge. I’ll throw something together before tomorrow.”
Beth backed out, still giggling. “I believe you.”
Raising one gooey hand in a solemn vow, Lynn said,
“By the power of Betty Crocker and all that is holy—I will deliver you a wedding cake.”
Beth’s laughter followed her out of the house.