Margaret Peadley escorted me into the kitchen office at French's Handmade Bakery, ushering me into a chair as she sorted through a pile of paperwork on her desk. Vivian's right-hand woman grinned jovially while I relaxed in her happy company, her round, red cheeks and bright hazel eyes a huge relief.
"Vivian's out of state at another location," Margaret said, "but we're right on schedule with the cake and the catering support you asked for." She patted the pages in front of her, the design of Aundrea and Pamela's towering cake sketched out the way the couple requested. While the initial ask was theirs, it was up to me to ensure the bakery delivered. While I wasn't Vivian's biggest fan and wished Mom was in charge of the confections and the food in general, at least I knew my old rival was a professional.