The Icing on the Cake by Elodia Strain Page A

them, were the cakes. Three of them. Mom and I placed our cake on the large table decorated with fresh flowers and greenery, and I stared longingly at the other cakes. One was a fancy chocolate confection complete with perfectly placed red raspberries. The other appeared to be a simple white cake.
    Just as I was looking, and wondering if it would be rude to ask if we could stay long enough to have cake, a woman dressed in a sky blue suit whizzed by and placed cards written in calligraphy in front of the cakes.
    I read the cards. The one in front of Mom’s cake read: Classic White with Buttercream Icing. The chocolate cake was labeled: Double Raspberry Mousse with Swiss Chocolate Icing. And the label for the third cake read: Low-Cal Vanilla with Low-Cal Icing. Low-calorie cake? It just didn’t seem right to me.
    I should take notes , I thought suddenly. But since I hadn’t brought anything to write on, I had to resort to the mess of receipts that had accumulated in my bag. I took out the receipt for Today’s Bride magazine and wrote: have a variety of cakes.
    “Hi,” I heard a woman’s voice behind me. I shoved the receipt back into my bag.
    “Hi,” I said back.
    “I’m Olivia.”
    “Annabelle,” I said as I looked into Olivia’s nearly purple eyes.
    “Are you Elise’s friend?”
    “Uh, actually, my mom made one of the cakes, so I’m just here to help her.”
    Olivia looked around as if trying to find someone else to talk to. “Well I think I’m going to go take a seat,” she began, “though I hate to sit alone.”
    “I’ll sit with you,” I said. Mom was chatting with Bev, so I could sit for a while.
    “So, how do you know Elise?” I asked Olivia as we sat down. That was always a good question because it usually led to a long story, thus filling in the moments of otherwise awkward silence.
    “I met her in . . . EEEEE!” Olivia let out an ear piercing screech as she looked at something over my shoulder. I followed her line of vision to the entrance of the room and saw two women—one petite with glossy brown hair, the other extremely tall and skinny—rushing toward the table. Olivia stood up to hug them. The three women sort of jumped up and down all talking at once. What I picked up from the conversation went something like this:
    “You look so . . .” Tall and Skinny said.
    “I know, I love your . . .” Petite and Glossy interrupted.
    “Oh, no, you’re the ones who . . .” Olivia began.
    “Have you seen the rock on Elise’s . . .” Tall and Skinny started to ask.
    “My gosh, it’s like a . . .” Olivia tried to finish.
    “I know, I saw it and just about . . .” Petite and Glossy said.
    “Totally,” Tall and Skinny and Olivia said in unison.
    “Totally,” Petite and Glossy added.
    “Come sit with us,” Tall and Skinny said to Olivia. With a little wave in my direction, Olivia was off.
    I peered over at the buffet table. Large china platters held fancy-looking food. I saw the back of the woman who had whizzed past me while I looked at the cakes. She was putting labels written in calligraphy in front of the platters. I waited until the woman was gone and then pulled another receipt out of my bag, making my way over to the buffet table.
    I copied down the cards, well, minus the calligraphy. Beef Tenderloin with Garlic and Rosemary. Roast Duck with Port Wine Glaze. Steamed Leeks with Mustard Vinaigrette. Roasted Mushrooms with Thyme. Ancient Grains Bread. Whole Wheat Bread. And, of course, Low-Cal Asian Salad.
    With my list tucked in my bag, I made my way back to my seat. I glanced around the room in search of Mom and noticed that the room was filling up quickly with chatting, giggling women. Three such women had taken seats at the table I had been sitting at. I smiled at them and lowered myself into my seat.
    Just then, Olivia, who was standing in the front of the room, clanked a silver spoon against a crystal glass and the chatter in the room came to a hush.
    “Before Elise