100 Days of Cake by Shari Goldhagen Read Free Book Online

for To Catch a Predator ?” Elle asks by way of a greeting.
    V offers the withering glance to end all withering glances. “Actually, I’m going to a pool party at Chris Partridge’s—you know, the president of your class,” V says. “If you weren’t so busy harassing people to save the dolphins, maybe he would have invited you again.”
    For a moment Elle looks upset; I wonder if Alex will be there with Meredith Hoffman.
    â€œWell, don’t wait until you’re twenty-five to get your first PAP smear. Remember, HPV kills,” Elle snaps. I’m not sure if she means this as an insult or as legitimate advice.
    â€œWhat-ever!” V says as a Mini Cooper full of the Jaclyn’s Attic girls pulls into our driveway.
    And then V turns to me, as if she just remembered that I’m there, that I’m her actual sister and the one who should probably be giving her a hard time about her kiddie-porn ensemble. Her tone is kind of sad and serious. “You don’t want to go, do you, Mol? Chris said it’s totally cool to bring whoever.”
    Unadulterated relief floods her face when I shake my head, and she climbs into the backseat.
    Watching the car disappear around the corner, I feel that pull of sadness. Veronica used to follow Elle and me around everywhere and do everything I did; she was practically my minion. Now she’s the one inviting me places. The irony is not lost.
    Inside, the house smells sweet again.
    Sure enough, Mom has every piece of kitchen equipment on the center island and is holding a plate with a giant piece of unnaturally orange cake with cream cheese icing.
    â€œHi, Mrs. Byrne,” Elle says, and takes the plate right out of my mom’s hands.
    Mom’s Baker’s Journey challenge might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to Elle. Since I’m too bummed and Veronica is too weight-conscious to make any real headway on each baked blunder, Mom just boxes up the leftovers for Elle and her brother. With all the butter and eggs, nothing about the cakes is remotely vegan. And none of the ingredients are locally sourced or organic or anything good for the planet, but when I pointed this out to Elle, she said that she’s a “consumption environmentalist” and that it isn’t hurting the world to eat the cakes, because the damage was already done. You gotta give her points for creativity.
    Between forkfuls, she gushes to my mom, “Ohmygod, this is your best work to date.”
    â€œGlad you like it, hon.” Mom smiles. “What about you, Molly? You like this one?”
    I tell her it’s really nice, even though it’s cloyingly sugary and I can’t force myself to take more than a few bites. Mom sighs and says she’s got “high hopes” for tomorrow’s cake.
    â€œHot date tonight, Mrs. Byrne?” Elle asks, and I notice that Mom is wearing a flowing yellow maxi dress and has her hair tied in a knot on her head.
    â€œYou seeing Thom?” I ask. About two years ago Mom started dating this divorced divorce attorney with an office in the same building as her salon. He’s actually one of FishTopia’s few regular clients, so, you know, not the world’shippest guy. But other than his horrible blond hairpiece (we’re talking so bad that it’s probably not good for business for Mom to be seen with him in public), he’s pretty nice, and he is always taking V and me on these cheesy activities—bowling, an aviation show—to try to get to know us better.
    Mom says that she’s just meeting one of her clients-turned-girlfriends for a quick coffee. Her eyes flutter to the right, and I get the sense that she wants to say something else, but doesn’t.
    â€œI shouldn’t be gone more than an hour or so,” she says, pauses, then adds, “unless you girls want me to stay.” Because clearly ADF me can’t be trusted to be