I furrowed my brow at Lulu Millwood’s grandson, who was holding a big white cake box in one hand and tapping on his phone with the other. “Yeah? So?” I sighed. “This is the wrong cake. It’s supposed to be a wedding cake. And it’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.” “Oh.” He nodded without looking up from his phone. “Tomorrow. My bad. I’m at the wrong place. Happens all the time.” Fantastic. “It’s okay.” I forced myself to stay calm. “You’ll be back with our cake tomorrow, then?” He looked confused for a second, but then his face registered a hint of recognition. “Oh, yeah. Tomorrow. Sure.” “Good. Because it’s important. Really, really important.” “Really important. Right.” “Right. Well… see you tomorrow.” I reached out to close the lid on the box and waited for him to leave.
