“You know a dipshit,” Leo muttered under his breath as he carried in the enormous cake. I wanted to laugh but kept my face placid since I didn’t think he’d meant for me to hear his words. Leo obviously knew something about Miranda’s “guy.” I didn’t allow myself too much curiosity. I had my own Davis sister to worry about.
Miranda pulled the plastic flute glasses out of the box as Leo set his burden on the stovetop. The cake had three layers, red-and-green-striped buttercream with wreath accents. Every sweet-smelling inch was beautiful, but the large spun sugar snow globe atop the cake stole the show. Inside it, two figures danced next to a Christmas tree. The baker had done an amazing job making the figures look remarkably like James and Marley.
Maureen laid a hand on her chest as she breathed out, “Oh, Leo. It’s beautiful. Marley is going to love it.”
“James too,” I piped in, thinking about what a softy my old friend was, especially with his bride-to-be. I chuckled, hoping he’d sobered up a bit from earlier in the afternoon so he could appreciate this masterpiece of a confection.
“I certainly hope so,” Leo said. “Going over the mountain pass and driving on the freeway with it made me so nervous. I must have set a record for most times getting flipped off in a five-hour drive.”
Miranda examined the cake. “I’m sorry you had to take a few middle fingers for the team, but you did a good thing here. They’ll never forget this. Look here.” She spun the cake around and pointed at the CONGRATULATIONS MARLEY AND JAMES written on the bottom layer, flanked by two dogs in Christmas bow ties and Santa hats, modeled after Oscar and Bambi. “The details on this are insane.”
All four of us took out our phones and began snapping pics. It was a shame this cake needed to be eaten. I hoped it tasted as good as it looked.
“Can you take the cake outside so everyone can see it while Maureen and I get the champagne into glasses?” Miranda asked Leo. “There’s an empty table to set it on near the buffet.”
Carrying the cake in from the garage had been easy enough, but the path from the kitchen to the patio was a gauntlet filled with Christmas decorations, errant folding chairs, and tipsy party guests. “I’ll walk in front of you and make sure no one accidentally dips a finger in the frosting,” I said to Leo.
“Thanks, man.”
We made it through the living room, briefly waylaid by two middle-aged guests who insisted onoohingandaahingover the cake, and out onto the patio. I thought we had a clear shot to thetable when a guest unexpectedly leaned back in his chair just as we walked behind him.
Several partygoers’ mouths dropped open in horror as Leo stumbled and took an awkward step sideways to avoid falling. Luckily, he managed to go down onto one knee as I turned around to help steady him, and we stabilized the circular aluminum dessert base about six inches above the ground.
The cake wobbled precariously, and for a moment, it seemed like the snow globe topper might tumble right off, but with a flick of my finger, I held it in place as we leveled the base. Leo’s knee and ankle remained at an awkward angle as two guests stepped forward to take the cake from us, depositing it safely on the table.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I rose and reached out a hand to Leo.
“Whew,” he said. “That could have been a disaster.”
“Could have been doesn’t count,” I said, laughing away the stress from our near miss.
Behind us, Miranda and Maureen stood at the patio door carrying trays of glasses.
“Well, that was exciting,” Maureen said dryly as she began distributing the champagne.
“I can’t believe how close that came to total catastrophe,” Miranda whispered without her usual good humor, emitting an anxious breath. “Sheesh.”
“No bigs, Panda. I had it all along.” Leo winked at her.
Maureen took charge, giving her sister’s shoulder a squeeze. “Will, can you and Leo pour more champagne in the kitchen while we pass these out? We uncorked all the bottles, so it shouldn’t take too long for everyone to have something in hand. There’s apple juice for the kids, but still put it in the fancy cups for funsies.”
Leo and I poured as quickly as the bubbles allowed. Miranda and Maureen returned five minutes later to grab round two,including the apple juices. With so many guests making the patio a tight squeeze, it was necessary to take the glasses out rather than fill them at the tables. From the laundry room window, I saw Marley and James admiring the cake, looking teary-eyed. Big, sentimental babies. I loved them both so much.
“Okay, I think this is it.” Miranda came in for the last of the drinks, slightly manic. “Then we can start the toasts and cut the cake.”
“You need to chill, little sis,” Maureen said. “We’ll get them out there soon enough. Relax.”
“I just want it to be perfect.”
“Don’t worry. This is Marley we’re talking about. She uses fast food napkins as tissues and feeds Oscar store-brand dog food. She’s not fussy. Why are you so worked up?”
“Sorry,” Miranda said. “Tired, I guess.” Leo looked at her with concern, and I again had the feeling he knew something her sisters didn’t. Whatever was going on, she was lucky to have him in her corner.
I wanted to be that person for Maureen. If she ever stopped scowling at me. “Let me help you get the last flutes on the trays,” I offered.
Maureen took one tray and delivered glasses to guests on the outer edges of the patio. Leo and I brought out the last few apple juices. Miranda carried champagne to the head table on the second tray, where Marley and James had re-seated themselves after ogling the cake. Travis, Vivienne, and their kids were also there, along with Katy Baumbeck, a woman who’d been introduced to me earlier as a member of Marley’s bridal party, and her two toddlers.
From beside the dance floor, I watched Katy attempt to wrangle her children into their seats. They wiggled and resisted, wearing identical stubborn expressions.