Page 53 of Threads of Kindness
“The flavor of cake we want. What else?”
“Frankly, I liked all three of them,” he said. “They were each delicious.”
“I agree. The Earl Grey cake is trendy, but I thought it might be too exotic. Amaretto is nice, but I loved the combination of coconut cake with lime filling. I was also drawn to the photos she showed us of decorations using coconut.” She glanced at him. “Do you think we’d be better off going with traditional piping and rosettes?”
“I have no idea what that is. We’re going to have a happy marriage, no matter what our cake looks or tastes like. Piece of advice?”
Sunday cut her eyes to his.
“We’ve made a good decision. Let’s not second-guess ourselves. We’ve got too many things to think about. You’ll drive yourself to exhaustion that way—especially since you’ve taken on these added research projects for Anita’s museum.”
Sunday was silent as they continued to walk.
“I know you’re right,” she finally said. “I need to let things go.”
They crossed the street and passed by Archer’s Bridal. Sunday slowed her pace.
“Do you mind if I pop in to see if Anita’s there?” she asked. “I’d like to tell her that I’m not done hunting through the archives, but so far I’ve found nothing that connects her new building with a bootleg operation.”
Josh checked his watch. “I don’t need to be back for another twenty-five minutes. We have time. It’s a nice day. I’ll go for a walk in the square and be back here in ten minutes.”
Sunday kissed him on the cheek and headed into Archer’s Bridal.
Anita was tying a large white box with a satin ribbon. She handed it to the young woman standing on the other side of the counter. “Your dress is clean and packed in archival tissue,” she said. “If your daughter wants to wear it to her wedding, it’ll be in perfect condition.”
The woman smiled her thanks and exited the shop.
Anita looked at Sunday. “Do you have news about your dress?”
“Not really,” Sunday said. “I check the tracking app every morning, and it keeps showing that it’s in transit.” Worry lines zigzagged across her forehead.
“That’s good,” Anita said, coming around the counter to place a reassuring hand on Sunday’s back. “Winter weather may cause delays. You’ve still got plenty of time before your wedding. Don’t worry about it.”
Sunday took a deep breath. “You’re right.”
“What brings you to the square today?”
“Josh and I were at Laura’s for a cake tasting.”
“Everything Laura makes is fabulous,” Anita said. “What did you choose?”
Sunday told her.
“It’s my very favorite,” Anita said. “That would have been my wedding cake if I’d ever gotten married.”
Sunday said, “That might still happen. I’ve seen how you and Gordon are together.”
Anita turned crimson from her collar to the top of her head. “What an idea,” she said. “I think I’m beyond all that.”
“Nonsense,” Sunday said. “No one is ever too old to be a bride. When you find your person—your soulmate—that’s the time to get married.”
Anita swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “Thanks for keeping me updated on the status of your dress,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Sunday replied. “But I stopped in for another reason. I wanted to let you know I’ve uncovered nothing about Candy Alley to connect it to a bootleg operation. I haven’t finished going through the archives at the college, but it appears your new building was home to a store calledCandy Alleystarting in 1903. It was owned and operated mainly by women. Charlotte’s grandparents started it, and her grandmother kept it going as a young widow. Her daughter took it over when she died. Charlotte was an only child and inherited the candy store from her mother in the late 1960s.”
“That’s disappointing,” Anita said. “I wanted something more spectacular and eye-catching.”
Sunday chuckled. “Me too. My hope was to find out that Al Capone was a regular midnight visitor.”
