Chapter 14: Your Rule, Mitch

Nikki listened to the recording in the bakery's back lot, sitting on an upturned flour crate with her apron still on.

She heard Dr. Keene say "short, light, easy to remove."

She heard him say "in every way that counts."

Then she handed me back my phone and kicked the dumpster so hard the lid rang.

"I'm going to kill her," she said. "Not your mom. The cardigan guy. Then your mom."

"You're going to bake a cake."

"What?"

"Your boss has the order for the anniversary party. A three-tier cake, forty guests. You'll be there, in a black apron, and nobody will look at you."

Nikki stopped kicking.

"I'll be there with a cake knife," she said slowly.

"You'll be there with the speaker cable."

Her whole face lit up.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. Tell me everything."

I told her the plan.

My mother would give a toast in front of forty people, because my mother liked a toast.

At some point the music would need to be plugged in, and someone had to be standing near the speaker.

"Who else is coming?" I asked.

Nikki pulled the order sheet out of her apron and smoothed it on her knee.

It had forty names, with a tick beside each.

I saw the neighbour who was a lawyer, and my mother's sister, who had driven in from Ohio, and Mitch's biggest client.

I saw Dr. Ansel Keene, with a star.

"Keep that," I said. "Text me anything that changes."

"Marin." She grabbed my wrist. "Are you okay?"

I thought about it honestly.

"I'm in love with my stepfather," I said. "And I'm going to ruin my mother in front of her friends. I'm better than I've been in six years."

Nikki let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Okay," she said. "That's a lot. But okay."

I walked home the long way.

The workshop door was shut, and the saw had stopped.

Mitch was alone at the big bench with a plank of cherry in the vise, running a plane along it.

Pale curls of wood lay around his boots.

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