Page 115 of The Best Kind of Bad

Maybe it was because I heard him playing in her flower shop and said he had a special gift. Maybe it’s because she and my mother went to school together, but Glenna Henry called me asking if I’d make the cake for his funeral.

I poured my heart into it. And still, that wasn’t enough to soothe the ache in my heart. I only met Maddox once, but funerals like these are hard for me. And the fact that Maddox drowned strikes a melancholy chord, too similar to my mother’s death.

Dusty helps me carry the cake into the church basement and I put the final touches on it. He wraps an arm around my waist, and we stand back, looking at it.

He kisses the top of my head. “It’s beautiful, Marnie. You did Maddox proud.”

There are sheet cakes, too. Lemon poppyseed, because the bright tone in the citrus reminded me of his clear, sweet violin notes.

I made a two-tiered cake, wrapped in fondant painted music sheets. A white and gold violin rests on top. Two soft, white angel wings made from feathered rice paper hug the base of the cake.

I know it might look like flour and honey and butter. But that cake is a prayer. My sympathies and my heart wrapped up in sugar.

Dusty runs his thumb up and down the stiff fabric of my black dress. “You doing okay, Marnie?”

“Yeah.” My voice is too bright. “I’m fine.”

But I’m not.

You never really get over the loss of a loved one. You just keep moving because what else can you do? There are good days and bad days. This is one of those bad days.

Dusty’s friend, Skyler, comes in with his mom. I’m not sure how they knew Maddox, but Skyler’s mom is a complete mess. Dusty excuses himself to talk to them.

I’m putting the final touches on the cake, fluffing the feathers to make them look softer, when a tiny old lady stops by the table. “Oh, my land. This cake is absolutely lovely, dear.”

I turn to smile at her. She’s pint-sized, with her white hair in a soft chignon. Her husband leans on a polished wood cane. But even stooped with age, he towers over us both.

She offers me her delicate hand. “I’m Julietta Lind.”

“Oh.” Great. Another Lind. I recover quickly, smiling as best I can. “Marnie Black.”

Julietta nods, glancing up at her husband. “Hear that, Jim? I told you this was Naomi’s daughter.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Any man with two eyes in his head can see that this young lady is a Novak.”

“Now he says so.” Julietta gives her head a little shake. “We knew your mother, dear. She went to school with our boy, Jerry.”

“Yeah… I’ve met him.”

“Have you now?” Julietta smiles, but it falters. Her lip wavers. “Jim… just look at her. Do you think the baby might have looked like her?”

“Judging by the stamp the Novak gene leaves on their kin, I’d say it’s a safe bet.” He wraps a hand around Julietta’s frail arm. “Now, let’s get a move on before you start saying more than you ought.”

She digs her heels in. “And just why do you think I wanted to talk to the girl in the first place?”

Jim sighs. Resigned. “Not everything in that head of yours needs to come out.”

Julietta shakes her head, squinting at him. “I’m almost ninety years old. If I want to talk about the price of tea in China, that’s what I’ll do.” She turns back to me. “Our son lost a baby. This was before Steven was even a twinkle in his eye.”

Jim sighs. “Oh, lord. Here we go.”

She frowns at him. “You go on and wait over there if you don’t want to hear it. But I’m tired of the secrets, Jim Lind.”

If I had a sock I could shove into Jim’s mouth, I would do it. I take a tiny step closer. “Is this about the baby my mom lost?”

Julietta and Jim look at me. She puts her hand on my forearm. “You knew about it? Did she tell you about that?”

“No.” I admit, feeling a barb of loss snagging in my chest. “I found some old medical paperwork.”

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