Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(54)

“Alix,” Jacqueline said in the same tone of voice she used when speaking to three-year-old Amelia. “I don’t think you recognize the pressure you’re putting on yourself.” She shook her head. “Susan and I aren’t saying you can’t bake your cake.”

“Thank you.” Alix felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She reached for her coffee and sipped from the edge of the cup. She didn’t usually drink coffee from anything other than a mug, but Jacqueline didn’t own one. Everything was top-of-the-line china for her.

Now that her friend was a grandmother twice over, she’d compromised her standards—to a degree. The kitchen was a good example; the cupboards were still stacked with the finest dinnerware, while the bottom drawers contained an assortment of toys and children’s eating utensils.

“That’s not a good plan,” Susan challenged, sitting back and regarding the two of them.

“Why don’t we discuss the cake itself,” Alix said, hurriedly changing the subject. She might still end up attending those diplomacy classes at the rate this was going.

“All right,” Susan reluctantly agreed.

“I was at a wedding a couple of years ago,” Jacqueline piped up enthusiastically. “And the wedding cake was in-cred-ib-le.” Eyes closed, she enunciated each syllable. “I was surprised to find out it was cheesecake.”

“Cheesecake?” Susan repeated.

“I don’t think—”

Jacqueline broke in. “Cheesecake would be perfect for the wedding dinner at the country club. It would be such an elegant finishing touch.”

Susan shook her head, dismissing the idea. “Since my husband’s a pastor, we’ve had the opportunity to attend a large number of weddings. So I can tell you that the huge wedding cake isn’t how it’s done anymore.”

“Really?” This came from Jacqueline, who looked somewhat taken aback.

“Oh, there’s a formal cake, but not one of those three-tiered monstrosities that so often dominated a reception table. My heavens,” she said, warming to the subject, “I remember a wedding where there was a larger cake—” she held her hands a distance apart to indicate the size “—and then five or six smaller ones surrounding it. I must say it was all cleverly done. I learned later that the cakes cost—well,” she said, mildly embarrassed. “None of that’s important.”

“I want the very best for Alix,” Jacqueline insisted proudly.

“I was thinking of baking a traditional white cake,” Alix inserted, seeing that the conversation was rapidly getting away from her.

The room went silent as both women stared at her. Her suggestions seemed to be neither wanted nor appreciated.

Susan picked up her coffee, and after clearing her throat, said, “What I started to explain is that a lot of brides are opting for a variety of flavors. Not everyone enjoys white cake.”

“It’s my favorite,” Alix said, although it was plain no one heard her.

“The last wedding I attended served carrot cake and lemon cake and the most delicious chocolate one with a mousse filling,” Susan continued. “I meant to ask what bakery they used but I got sidetracked.”

“Carrot cake,” Jacqueline repeated, sounding astonished. “How…unique.”

“It was wonderful with the cream cheese frosting.”

Jacqueline nodded excitedly. “The cheesecake I mentioned was beautifully decorated. I remember wondering what they’d used for frosting and it was a sweetened cream cheese, too. It would be perfect for Alix and Jordan.”

“How about a traditional white cake?” Alix asked.

Both women frowned at her as if they’d grown irritated with her interruptions.

“We want this to be a wedding everyone remembers,” Jacqueline said kindly. “I’m afraid white cake is just so—” She paused, apparently searching for the right word.

“Ordinary,” Susan supplied.

“Yes, ordinary,” Jacqueline echoed.

“Jordan and I would prefer an ‘ordinary’ wedding and an ‘ordinary’ cake baked by me.” The only way to get either woman to listen was to speak loudly. She didn’t want to be rude but Alix had taken about all she could stand.

Not entirely to her surprise, their immediate reaction was silence. Her words seemed to fall like large stones onto the table, startling Jacqueline and Susan.

“I see,” Jacqueline murmured, looking crestfallen.

Despite her exasperation with them, Alix felt contrite. She didn’t want to hurt Jacqueline’s feelings, or Susan’s, either. She just wanted them to hear her. “I don’t mean to sound unappreciative,” she said earnestly, “but—”

“Maybe we should ask Jordan,” his mother suggested as if it was necessary to bring in reinforcements.

Alix hated to drag her fiancé into this, and yet it might be the only way to settle the matter once and for all. Jordan knew how badly Alix wanted to bake her own cake. They’d discussed that very subject the night before. True, Jordan had seemed distracted and tired, but he’d agreed she should be able to do this. Alix knew he couldn’t care less if the cake was white, yellow or purple. Like her, he just wanted this affair over with.

“He’s at the church,” Susan pulled her cell phone from her purse and hit speed dial. “Jordan Turner, please,” she said, smiling over at Alix.