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“I think the ability to heal people is a true talent,” I correct him, hearing the door chime in the background.
“Being able to satisfy the sweet cravings of Rustic Ridge is definitely a useful skillset,” he counters with a smile.
Missy bursts into the kitchen. “You won’t believe what just happened,” she exclaims.
I look up to see Caleb’s eyes widen as he takes in my sister’s disheveled appearance. Her hair is teased upwards but only halfway done, and mascara is running down her face. She looks flushed and blotchy, likely from crying. I take a deep breath, knowing how close we are to the wedding; this is not going to be good.
“Missy, where’s mom?” I ask, trying to remain calm.
The doorbell chimes again as I hear my mother and Olivia come into the store, loudly discussing something. I feel my stomach drop. The last thing I need is for all three of them in here pacing around the cake panicking.
“That simply won’t work,” my mother says sternly into her phone.
“Missy, you need to finish with the hair trial,” Olivia says to my sister.
“What happened? And why is everyone in the bakery when I’m trying to work on the cake?” I try to redirect their attention to the half-finished creation on the table.
“The florist didn’t get the shipment, and now all she has left are pink flowers,” Missy wails, letting out an ear-piercing cry that I’ve never heard before.
“I’m sure we can come up with—”
My mother interrupts, “Caleb? What are you doing here? You can’t be helping out with the cake! It’s bad luck for a man to do the wedding cake.”
“Wait, what? We don’t believe in luck. And that’s about the groom seeing the bride, not a man baking a cake,” I tell her, wrinkling my face at the craziness of the trio. “Why are y’all in my bakery? This sounds like a florist concern.”
“No, seriously, he shouldn’t be working on the cake,” Missy suddenly says as she glances at Caleb and me.
“I’m just here for moral support,” Caleb assures us, raising his hands in surrender. “I promise, your sister has everything under control.
“Mom, why are y’all here?” I ask, feeling exasperated.
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady,” she responds sternly.
I feel Caleb’s warm hand intertwine with mine, and he squeezes my hand in support. His small gesture helps to ground me as my family’s presence threatens to stir up a storm of emotions. I take a deep breath and push back lightly on the table, making sure the cake is stable before turning to figure out how to diffuse the tension in the room.
“Missy, I’m sorry about the florist. What’s plan B?” I say calmly.
“We need you to drive to the city tonight and get flowers. You can go to a grocery store or one of those big box places and find something that will work,” Missy says urgently.
I stare at her, wondering if she’s serious. Can’t she see the cake in front of me? The one she’ll be upset about if it’s not done in time for her big day? I struggle to find the right words, taking an extra moment to compose myself.
“I don’t think that’s a solution,” Caleb speaks up gently. “I know you’re upset and stressed, but who will finish the cake if Piper goes on this errand? It will take hours, especially this time of the day.”
Missy turns to Olivia, then back to my mother with furrowed brows.
“I guess we could all go,” she suggests, patting her hair before tears start to well up in her eyes. “But my hair…”
“Flowers or hair?” Olivia chimes in. “Cause I think Caleb has a point.”
“This is a disaster!” Missy wails loudly.
“What flowers do you need?” Caleb asks, confusing me for a moment before I realize he’s trying to help defuse the situation.
“I have the vision board with the bouquets on it,” Olivia offers, showing him the picture on her phone.
“Okay, what if I can guarantee we have flowers,” Caleb says with a reassuring tone as he takes a photo of the bouquets on Olivia’s phone, “in time for the wedding and in the colors you’ve shown me here.”
My mother and sisters all turn to stare at him as if he has suddenly grown an extra head. I am incredibly grateful for his ability to handle the chaos of my family—it’s a skill that not many possess, including myself. Three against one is not a game I like to play.
