“I’m the bride’s mother.”
“I understand.”
She looked uncomfortable now.
“But I was specifically told not to release it to Laura.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“That’s right, Ma’am. I was told not to give it to you.”
She turned the monitor slightly, reread something, then glanced at me.
“There’s a note here from yesterday. It says the bride requested that the cake not be released to Laura.”
For a few seconds, I honestly wondered whether Emma was playing some strange prank on me.
Then I called her.
She answered on the second ring.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
“Did you tell the bakery not to give me your cake?”
“What? Of course not.”
The baker frowned at her screen again.
“That’s strange,” she said. “The note was added after someone called yesterday claiming to be the bride.”
Emma went quiet.
“Emma?”
“Mom, put her on the phone.”
