“Mary, can you see the wedding cake? It looks like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. I wonder where Jewels and John found their baker.”
Beaming from ear to ear I turned towards my arch rival, Andrea and stated, “I’m a little embarrassed but I have to tell you I am the one who created the master piece.”
“Wow Mary, you’ll have to give me your card for when Leo asks me to marry him.”
Our conversation was cut short when the master of ceremonies came over the loud speaker and announced the bride and groom were making their way over to cut their wedding cake.
Still beaming from Andrea’s compliment I watched as Jewels and John tried to cut into the cake I had spent hours preparing. I over heard someone behind me whispering, “It looks like they’d have better luck with a chisel, who ever made the cake must have used the meringue icing all over and didn’t know to use edible icing on the part you cut.”
Spinning on my heals like a top, I whipped around to find out who had said those words and found two older women giggling. Interrupting them I asked if they were the ones who mentioned you couldn’t eat meringue icing. In between fits of laughter they said they were and to add insult to my growing injury said, “We only hope for Jewels and John’s sake that the same person didn’t make the cake they’re to serve to their guests.”
Turning three shades of red in a matter of seconds my conversation with Jewels three months earlier flooded my memory.
“Mary,” Jewels squealed into the phone, “John just proposed to me and since we’re in the middle of getting our educations we were wondering if… seeing that you’re a cook and all… you’d make our wedding cake for us.”
“Oh Jewels, I’m so happy for you both. Of course I’ll make your wedding cake but I have to tell you, I’m a cook; not a baker.”
“Mary, will you at least try? We can’t afford all the fancy stuff. John and I are placing more emphases on our marriage then the wedding itself and I’m sure anything you can come up with will do just fine.”
I was reluctantly drawn back to the present when I heard the master of ceremonies ask for me to accompany the bride and groom. Hanging my head I made my way up to the front of the hall to stand beside the embarrassed bride and groom.
Taking the microphone from the M.C., Jewels introduced me and then told the guests I was the one who made the cakes but she was the one who made the mistake. She went on to tell them how today was special, and now because of her beautiful cakes, more then memorable and how it was her wish to have a marriage that lasts as long as her wedding cakes will; a life time.
“Oh Jewels, John, I’m so sorry about the mistake. How will you ever forgive me?”
“We don’t need to forgive you for anything. I will however listen the next time someone tells me they’re a cook not a baker. Besides something always goes wrong at weddings and I do believe we’re the lucky ones if this is all that goes wrong at ours.”
Catching Andrea’s penetrating blue eyes I stated, “Well, not only am I not a baker; apparently I’m no Martha Stewart either.”
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