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“Fine,” Raylene said, her voice flat as she concentrated on cutting the ribbon without fraying it.
“Just fine?” Jolene asked. “I mean, it’s got to be fun, right?”
Raylene shrugged. “Sure.”
“Well, you seen one, you seen ‘em all, right, Raylene?” Angelene asked slyly.
“Angelene,” Mimi growled. (Yes, literally.)
“I just started as a cake decorator at the Sweet Tooth,” Raylene explained. “I specialize in adult cakes.”
“Like Black Forest?” I asked. “That always seemed pretty grown-up to me.”
I really missed Black Forest cake, or any kind of cake. I missed chocolate. Bah! I still can’t believe the last food I ate was potato skins.
“No, Raylene makes cakes that look like”—Aunt Tammy looked around as if there were spies lurking behind the lace curtains—”sex parts.”
Raylene sighed. “I make penis cakes.”
Well, at least I knew what we were serving at the bachelorette party.
“How does one get into the penis-cake field?” I asked. “Where do you buy the cake pans for that?”
Raylene stared at me, unsure whether I was teasing her or honestly interested. Sensing a lull in the conversation, Aunt Lola—Raylene’s own mother—changed the subject back to Jolene.
“We’re all just so excited about Jolene’s wedding.” Lola sighed. “We’ve all waited for this, for just years now. And Zeb’s such an … he’s a sweet boy. Tell us again how he popped the question?”
Arlene muttered, “‘Cause we haven’t heard this story in almost an hour now.”
Jolene obviously heard her cousin but ignored her. To be fair, I had heard the story a few times myself.
“Zeb had this big plan with a restaurant and hidin’ the ring in a soufflé,” Jolene said, smiling dreamily. “And then I stepped out my front door, he saw me all dressed up, and he blurted out ‘Willyoumarryme?’ and shoved the ring at me. It was so cute!” Jolene cooed, looking down at the little diamond ring for which Zeb had plunked down two months of his teaching salary. “He almost shouted at me when he proposed. He was supposed to have the waiters at Julian’s sing this cute little ‘Will You Marry Me?’ song. Most of them are in the high-school swing chorus, and when we got to the restaurant and they found out we were already engaged, they were so mad they had missed their chance to perform! After that, Zeb was afraid to order the soufflé. Who knows what they might have done to it?”
“Did he cry?” Lurlene asked. “I heard that human males cry at the drop of a hat.”
The amazing thing about werewolves, who spend half their lives behind a human mask, is that they have terrible poker faces. It’s part of that canine earnestness thing. For a brief second, a look of pure annoyance flashed over Jolene’s perfect features. Lurlene smirked.
“How’s it goin’ with Roy?” Jolene asked. “Isn’t he the one who drives the ice cream truck?”
There was that annoyed flash again, only on Lurlene’s face.
“That was Ray,” Lurlene said, glaring. “Roy and I aren’t dating anymore.”
“Wait, didn’t I see his name in the paper for somethin’?” Jolene said.
“Oh, he got busted for trying to sneak a brisket out of the Super Saver in his jacket,” Tammy said in the most helpful tone I’d heard in a while. “He would have gotten away with it if he hadn’t dropped the brisket.”
“Oh! Is he the one who yelled, ‘Who threw this meat at me?’ and then tried to run out of the store?” I giggled. “Didn’t it take three Taser shots to get him down? Knowing that he’s a werewolf now, well, that makes a lot more sense … I’m not helping, am I?”
I ducked my head and pretended that measuring ribbons exactly was the most important thing in the world.
“So, Jolene, tell us all about your dress,” Aunt DeeDee squealed. “I haven’t seen it yet, but Vonnie said it’s just gorgeous.”
Cue another eye roll from the cousins.
“It is,” I volunteered. “Really gorgeous.”
Cue another eye roll. Sensing the shift in the tide, Jolene generously switched subjects to Braylene’s son. “Mama finished Jake’s little captain’s outfit.”
