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I was about to fall asleep, dreaming about all the things I'd love to do with my mother, when I heard her shouting at my dad. I hopped out of bed and went to investigate.
"But there were four of them. How was I supposed to know they were for a client?"
"Isn't it obvious? Who bakes four cakes for their husband?!"
Dad had a huge slice of cake in his hand that had several bite-sized chunks missing. There were crumbs all over his shirt. He had helped himself to a cake without asking and mom was furious.
"What am I supposed to tell Nora?"
"Don't be so dramatic," said my father. "You can always bake another."
Dad stormed out of the room, taking the rest cake with him, and mom looked at me with that same pleading look in her eyes. Dad was right and I could tell what she was thinking. Everything was going to be okay. She just needed more ingredients.
