The loud whir died away as the blades slowed and then stopped, caught in the thick batter filling the bowl. Scraping in elegant swirls, the creamy mix flows into the round pan on the counter.
“Yep.” She doesn’t pause, moving the cake pan into the oven.
“Can I have some of the strawberries?”
Closing the door, she turns and shakes her head. “Hungry already? Didn’t you just eat lunch?”
“No, wait,” she calls, following him around the corner. Reaching out she tries to take hold of his shoulder, but he shakes her off.
Her heart sinks. Something has changed. He used to talk to her, help her bake, smile. Now he seemed constantly down in the mouth.
Trying not to be discouraged, she trims the fruit that had tempted him. She whips up cream and plucks a few leaves to place on top. When the oven time dings, she is ready, despite the fact that she will have to wait two hours before decorating.
“David,” she calls, setting her completed confectionery on the table. “David, come here, please.”
With a heavy sigh he rounds the corner. “What is it?”
The hug is all she had hoped for.
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