“Of course I’ll cover the ingredients and pay you for your time,” Ashley promised during Sunday lunch.
I heard every word.
Grandma survived on a modest pension, but she trusted Ashley’s promise and purchased everything herself. For three days, she worked almost nonstop, baking layers of sponge cake, preparing frosting, and shaping intricate sugar roses.
When I visited, her kitchen table was covered with flowers waiting to be attached. She rubbed her aching wrist before carefully lifting one of the roses to show me.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” she asked.
“It’s incredible, Grandma. Daniel and Ashley are going to love it.”
She smiled proudly and returned to work, determined to make their wedding unforgettable.
I stayed overnight so I could drive Grandma to the venue the following day. Ashley was supposed to collect the finished cake that morning, and I assumed she’d settle the payment before leaving.
