A contractor handled the paperwork.
Both of us had assumed everything was complete.
It wasn’t.
“I thought it was done,” Irvin said, staring at the letter.
“I know.”
That was what made Vanessa dangerous.
She hadn’t invented the problem.
She had found a real one.
I had a wedding cake for sixty guests due in nine days.
A corporate order for two hundred cookies right after that.
Ingredients were already purchased.
Deposits had already been used for supplies.
And suddenly, my ovens were useless.
That evening, Vanessa appeared on our porch carrying a bottle of wine.
“I’ve come to make you an offer.”
Irvin folded his arms.
“Get to the point.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Tell everyone you lied.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Tell the neighborhood you misunderstood an innocent friendship. Admit you humiliated me because you were jealous. Then apologize publicly.”
“No.”
Irvin stepped forward.
