Disclaimer: Stephanie Plum and Joseph Morelli are property of Janet Evanovich, as are the remainder of the characters from the "Stephanie Plum" series. They are being used without permission, without profit. Please do not sue me—I am a poor librarian, still living at home with my parents.
A HUGE thank you to Julie for all of her help beta reading and encouragement with this fic. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate all of the time and insight you put into this.
If someone asked me how I planned to propose to Stephanie Plum six months ago, I probably would have told them I'd go the traditional route. It wasn't because I was all that traditional, but I just didn't think that being creative would work for me. The first time I proposed, it hadn't even been an actual proposal. My mother and grandmother had just stood outside my house, judging me and Steph for sleeping together, and then one of them—I forget who—had demanded to know if I was going to marry Steph. I'd said yes because it was true that, at some distant point, I figured that we'd go from being boyfriend and girlfriend to being engaged. Then, maybe after a year or two of waiting and our families handling the details, we'd walk down the aisle and end up as husband and wife.
I'd thought that Stephanie and I were thinking along the same lines when I'd agreed to marry her in front of my mother and grandmother. I assumed that she'd be happy with whatever kind of proposal I threw her way afterwards. Even if I didn't have an actual ring to match the proposal statement, details like this hadn't seemed to matter. It was all spur of the moment, forced on us by interfering relatives.
Our unspoken agreement was that just because we were engaged didn't mean a wedding would have to follow anytime soon. We were certainly committed to each other, and there would be a wedding at some point, but there was no need to hurry. Steph could still have kids if we waited a couple of years, and if something happened and she got pregnant beforehand, we could get married then. Or wait. The point was, neither of us saw much of a rush to set a date. To be honest, I think what caused the series of events leading to our temporary breakup was the fact that, several weeks after we'd gotten sort of engaged, I still hadn't been able to figure out what kind of ring would best suit my new fiancé. To this day, I'm not sure if it bothered Stephanie as much as it bothered the older females in our families.
Anyway, my point was that since the first proposal had not gone too well—to put it mildly—I wanted the second proposal, my real proposal, to be heartfelt and meaningful. I wanted it to be a special moment between myself and Stephanie, not something that could be ruined if I had an elaborate plan and something threw things off, like the fireworks going off at the wrong moment.
Also, I wasn't sure if Steph still wanted to get married. We'd been dating and breaking up for so long that it seemed like something as long term as marriage wasn't meant to be. I could see us in fifty years, everything going great with us living together and having hot sex, only to be interrupted by an argument over peanut butter. Or maybe it would be Vinnie's grandson bursting in, declaring there was an FTA that needed to be captured. I'd argue that Stephanie was too old to be doing this, and didn't she just have a hip replacement, and she'd yell at me for being too old fashioned and it was only a drunken wife abuser and she was old enough to be his mother. I could see myself yelling that I'd wanted kids but she'd always been too busy with her job, and she'd shoot back that it had been me who had been too busy, and it was only the bullet in my leg that had eventually forced me to retire.
The sad thing was that none of this seemed very far fetched. I'd spent ample amounts of time with Stephanie's family, and it felt like the older you got, the more crazy you became. Stephanie's mother may appear normal enough—aside from the drinking and ironing when things got too crazy—but Steph had told me that her grandmother seemed the relatively sane when her husband was around? Everyone always said that Stephanie took after her grandmother, so was it that unreasonable to think of Stephanie as an eighty year old woman, still involved in bounty hunting?
I'd long ago dismissed the idea that Stephanie's life would calm down if she quit her job and married me. Okay, so maybe I didn't have much experience in the "what would happen if Stephanie and Joe were husband and wife" department, but Stephanie had quit her job once and chaos continued to follow her. Each job she got left her worse off than the last, until she decided to do office work for Ranger. At some point, she'd decided to give bounty hunting another go, and I was so relieved that she wouldn't be under Ranger's eye for most of the day that I was very encouraging. That wasn't to say that Steph couldn't have a normal life if we made a drastic change like moving across the country, but this was unrealistic because our families were in Trenton.
Anyway, I'd been toying with the idea of proposing again to Stephanie for awhile, especially after her mother set her up on those dates with the male chef turned murderer. Okay, so being a chef wasn't his real job—I think he was unemployed—but it was a hobby turned obsession. That is, it was his obsession until he realized he had a knack for murdering people, but at least he was no longer in the running as a possible replacement for myself. I knew that if Stephanie's parents were setting out to replace me, I'd better make my intentions clear. Sure, Steph was rebellious and would never do anything just because her parents wanted it, but I had to make it clear that I wanted to "buy the cow", so to speak.
Not that I'd ever phrase it that way in front of Steph.
The thing was, even though I'd thought we were an unofficial married couple in the eyes of the Burg, it appeared that people's opinions changed over time when a marriage didn't happen.
My idea of proposing by making Steph's favorite dessert came at one of those weekly family dinners. Her mother had made the cake, and it had turned out especially well. Her father had made some comment that if the two of us ever actually tied the knot, her mother could save them a whole lot of money by making pineapple upside down cake as the wedding cake. Back when her sister was engaged to Albert Kloughn, the family had gone to numerous bakeries in search of the perfect cake. The cake they picked was great, but her sister and Kloughn ended up getting cold feet and exchanging the traditional wedding for a trip to Disney World. The family still had the cake, but from what Stephanie told me, most of it disappeared in a massive food fight between Stephanie, her mother, and her grandmother.
Once everyone got over the initial surprise at Steph's father making a comment at the dinner table that did not involve "pass the pot roast" or a muttered insult about Grandma Mazur, everyone laughed and commented that this wouldn't be a bad idea. I noticed that Stephanie's eyes had lit up at the suggestion.
"You'd have to buy a lot of pineapples," Grandma Mazur had commented. "Maybe hold up a few grocery stores. That'd be a pip of a plan!"
This elicited the traditional gruff response from Steph's father, and then the conversation moved onto other topics. I stopped paying attention midway through the discussion, started by Steph's grandmother, about an alleged documentary regarding "ancient aliens" and how they might want to substitute parts of their body for ours in order to infiltrate our planet. That part wasn't so bad, but when Grandma Mazur started talking about their reproductive organs and how they might try to capture a few humans and steal parts from us, I knew if I didn't start thinking about something else soon, I might end up losing my dinner as well as my piece of cake.
I ended up staring at the pineapple cake and thinking about Stephanie's father's comment. I'd known for ages that this was her favorite dessert, and while my experiences in cooking were more in the area of meals rather than desserts, I thought it might be fun to learn how to make this and surprise her with it. I knew that half of the reason she went to dinners with her family was because of the dessert, and there was always the chance that the dessert could be her favorite cake. She'd told me once that Plums would be willing to do just about anything for a good dessert. I found myself wondering if this included saying "yes" to a marriage proposal. I found myself wanting to bring that nice part of her family life back with us, so she could enjoy the food without having to deal with the craziness.
Then, her dad's thought kept going through my head. A pineapple upside down wedding cake would probably be perfect for our eventual wedding. Even if it turned out to be in twenty years. This led me to thinking about ways I could ask her to marry me, despite my resolve to stay traditional. I knew, for instance, that I wanted to have a ring present when I proposed.
As I finished the cake and waited for the discussion about aliens to conclude, it occurred to me that the best way to propose to Steph would involve food. Since I was already going to try and figure out how to make the cake, why not incorporate the proposal into that? Okay, so I couldn't write out "WILL YOU MARRY ME?" in whipped cream, and besides, I couldn't write legibly in icing to save my life. If I omitted the whipped cream for icing, the cake would look weird, and it would probably end up looking like "WOOL UYO MORRYE EEI?" But I could put the ring box on top of one of the piles of whipped cream, and then kneel down, ring in my hand, to give my proposal as soon as she noticed the box on top.
The idea seemed so perfect, it took a lot of effort to keep from grinning. Hell, it took a lot of effort not to interrupt the discussion on aliens and pretend everything was normal.
Another piece of cake and twenty minutes later, I began sending Stephanie looks asking if we could leave yet. She gave me a slight nod, and ten minutes later, we were packed up and sent on our way with leftovers.
As Mrs. Plum gave me the customary hug goodbye, I considered pulling her aside to ask for the recipe that night, but decided against it. I didn't want Steph to have any idea what I was up to, and I was sure her mother would give something away if I told her then and there.
I'd have to stop the Plum home the following morning to carry out my plan. Steph liked to sleep in on Sundays, so it would be the best time to talk to her mother without her finding out.
I called the Plum home a little after eight, knowing that the females always attended Sunday Mass and figuring I wouldn't be waking them. Stephanie had spent the night and was still out like a log when I'd gotten up around six. I probably could have called her mother at seven and scored an invitation to breakfast, but my Burg mentality warned me that seven was too early and would seem rude. Even with Steph, I rarely called before eight unless I thought she might be in danger. That day, I wasn't too concerned about waking her. We'd been up late the night before, and even when we went to bed at a reasonable hour, she was always groggy with sleep in the morning until she'd had two cups of coffee.
Mrs. Plum answered the phone, sounding distracted, and I felt the familiar wave of nervousness that Stephanie usually felt when she was talking with my Grandma Bella. Not because Mrs. Plum scared me—occasional antics aside, she was sweet enough—but I instantly felt like I was intruding when she clearly had other things on her mind. I wondered if my plan would bring forth an ironing and/or drinking binge later that day.
We made small talk for a couple of minutes, and then I asked if I could come over later that day regarding a project. I almost called it "something private", but my brain stopped me at the last minute, warning me that if I called it that, then the entire Burg would think me and Steph were engaged before noon that day. Calling what I wanted to do a "project" might sound odd, but it was actually pretty accurate. I mean, if you thought about it, wasn't that what learning how to make a cake was?
The truth was, I'd been too busy thinking over the idea of incorporating the proposal into a cake to worry much about what to call it. I'd decided earlier that day that I'd make dinner for Stephanie on the night I was going to propose, but I'd do everything casually so she wouldn't get suspicious. I didn't cook meals for Steph too often, but our first meal together had been one that I'd cooked for us. Generally, we ordered out or heated up leftovers or used a microwave for those precooked meals you found in stores. If Steph was having a really bad day, I'd make sure to have comfort food available in the form of peanut butter, bread, and those precooked macaroni and cheese meals she loved. Sometimes, I'd make us dessert from a mix, like brownies or blueberry muffins.
There were a ton of things I loved about Steph, but one of the things I think I loved about her was that she didn't need to go out to fancy restaurants or have lavish meals together in order to be happy. If I came home with pizza and/or meatball subs from Pinos, she was happy. She might get annoyed if I threw out an almost empty peanut butter jar, but otherwise, she was easygoing when it came to food. Once, she told me that with the exception of dessert, she considered most food to be more or less the same.
This was part of the reason I wanted to make the proposal special by including her favorite dessert. Sure, I could ask her mom to send me home with one of her pineapple upside down cakes, but I thought it would mean more to Steph if I made it.
Of course, this meant I had to figure out how to make it at least half as good as her mother, or else it really would, if not defeat the purpose, then at least cheapen the whole thing. I mean, when I thought about it, I hated the idea of her telling our future kids that I'd proposed with a half cooked cake that neither of us had been able to eat. What kind of a message would that send? Knowing us, it would probably end up in an argument.
Anyway, Mrs. Plum and I agreed to meet for lunch at noon. I hoped that I could get over there without Stephanie finding out. There was no chance that she'd still be asleep, and I wasn't going to resort to outright lying or faking a call from dispatch to prevent her from finding out. Especially since I'd used the latter to get us, and occasionally myself, out of embarrassing family meals on more than one occasion. On the other hand, Steph wasn't the jealous type, always asking where I was. Still, years of being a cop had taught me that it was better to be prepared for something that didn't happen than being unprepared for something that did happen. I decided that I'd go grocery shopping afterwards so I'd have a valid reason for being out for awhile. It occurred to me that if Mrs. Plum wanted to meet with me again after giving me the recipe, I'd need another covert way to get over to her house without Steph in order to avoid suspicion.
Stephanie complained about Burg gossip, but I hadn't considered how nosy neighbors could interfere with our relationship until now.
Fifteen minutes later, I'd poured myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal when I heard Steph emerge from upstairs. She was wearing one of her favorite flannel nightgowns, which was light blue, almost ankle length, and had yellow flowers all over it. She hadn't bothered to brush her hair, so it was mussed from sleep and—not that I'd ever tell her this—gave her the vague appearance of a mad scientist. Curls peaked out from under the top layer of mussed hair, and several strands fell in her, still sleepy, face. She poured herself a cup of coffee and retrieved a bowl and spoon from the overhead cabinets before heading my way.
Once she'd put everything down, I reached over to give her a kiss on the forehead. Steph gave me one of her warm smiles and, encouraged, I pulled her into a hug. She squeezed back, so I lifted her into my lap and began to run my fingers along her hair.
Steph kissed my neck and we cuddled for a few minutes. I was debating the likelihood of repeating some of our activities from the previous night when she abruptly got off my lap and took her seat next to me. I must have looked pretty discouraged, because Steph just smiled and rolled her eyes at me.
"I need my coffee before I can think of sex, Joe," she remarked, rather dryly.
I reached out and brushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "I can make you feel plenty awake without coffee, Cupcake."
She let out a snort. "That's you, Morelli. I become a blob of mush after sex."
"A very sexy blob of mush," I informed her.
I received another eye roll in response.
"Wait until tonight," she promised. "If you're good."
That earned a snort from me. "If I'm good?"
She just grinned and ate her cereal.
"Any plans for today?" I asked as I flipped through the paper.
"Two skips."
The way she said it made me think they weren't the regular run of the mill FTAs.
The truth was, even though I'd been pretty impressed with Steph for being able to take down the Rug, I still worried about her whenever she was out chasing criminals. Okay, so maybe the shoplifters and people wanted for credit card fraud weren't so bad, but it still gave me a queasy feeling whenever Steph was after someone wanted for a violent crime. I knew that she could handle herself, but she was by no means an expert, and I hated that Vinnie took her capture of the Rug to mean that she could handle some of the people who had once gone straight to Ranger.
I wasn't sure whose idea it had been to send her on some of the higher risk chases, but I also recognized that even the most simple capture had given Steph a lot of trouble in the past. Her job was supposed to be straight forward, with Ranger handling the more violent crimes, and her stopping the people who posed less of a risk. The key word here was "less". Someone wanted for murder would definitely try to shoot you a few times in the head, but a man wanted for domestic abuse was also likely to throw a few punches your way.
It hadn't helped much that Steph's partner was Lula, who was hands down the most incompetent bounty hunter in the east coast. I'd never tell Lula this to her face, but practically the only thing in her favor was her above average weight, and that only came in handy if she managed to sit on an FTA.
Not exactly a regular occurrence, but it had happened from time to time.
I'd long since stopped telling Steph to get a new job, but I was still concerned whenever she went to work. Fortunately, the bonds office had busy periods and slow periods, so I could usually rest easy—or easier—on the slow periods.
Additionally, after Steph had captured the Rug, I'd been able to get my Maalox intake down to less than half of what I previously considered to be my "normal" amount.
"High bonds?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound overly worried.
"Pretty high," she told me. "But not as much as I got for the Rug."
Steph had told me the exact figure she'd gotten for the Rug, and it had been impressive. She'd splurged a little on some new outfits, two very sexy pairs of shoes, and a couple new pieces of furniture for her apartment. One of the items had been a new couch, which we'd agreed had been a necessity regardless of her funds because her enemy Joyce had stayed at her apartment for several days. She'd slept on the couch and, as if that wasn't bad enough, Steph had caught her sleeping naked on the couch at least once. I'm hardly a prude when it comes to sleeping naked, but it goes beyond gross to sleep naked on another person's couch. No wonder Steph couldn't stand Joyce. After I'd heard the story, I'd made a mental note not to go anywhere near the couch until it could be fumigated. Steph's decision to purchase a new one—and it was infinitely more comfortable—had been a smart one.
Beyond those items, it sounded like most of the money had gone into paying her bills and feeding her bank account. We didn't talk too much about money so I wasn't sure of the exact amount that remained, but I knew that Steph would probably be okay for a few months even if she didn't catch any more FTAs. But Steph either had a strong work ethic, or Vinnie was relentless, because right after she'd gotten the check, she'd gone back to work. I knew that her financial situation was improving with the new high risk FTAs, but so was the danger. I wanted to be supportive, but I felt better when I knew she was safe beside me at night.
I gave her another kiss—this time on the mouth—and held her close. "Be careful."
She nodded. "I will."
At least her high risk captures would keep her busy that day. She'd probably be gone well before twelve, and I wouldn't need to make the excuse of shopping in order to get out of the house.
"Give me a call if you're going to be later than seven, okay?" I asked her.
Another nod, and I took our empty dishes to the sink. "I'll take care of these," I told Steph. In an effort to lighten the mood, I added, "Looking forward to tonight. Am I going to see you in one of those new outfits?"
This brought a smile. "Maybe. If you get lucky."
I rolled my eyes at her and gave her another peck on the forehead.
I headed to the Plum residence at ten to twelve and arrived promptly at twelve. Mrs. Plum opened the door with a smile and a confused look and ushered me into the kitchen. Mr. Plum was sitting in the living room, watching TV and munching on a jelly donut. A plate of donuts sat in front of him. I remembered that Steph had once told me that it was a Plum tradition for the females to pick up jelly donuts—only jelly ones—after going to Sunday mass. Her father participated in eating the jelly donuts, but bypassed the mass part of the tradition.
"Sit down, Joseph," she told me. "Are you hungry? Would you like a donut?"
I saw another plateful of donuts on the kitchen table. Grandma Mazur was seated at one of the seats, snacking on a donut and reading a magazine.
"Sure," I said, even though I'd already eaten.
"Something to drink?" Mrs. Plum pressed, retrieving a plate from one of the countertop cabinets.
"Anything's fine," I replied.
Mrs. Plum began taking various items out of cabinets and drawers, and five minutes later, she handed me a plate with two jelly donuts, a roast beef sandwich with a side of pickles and potato chips, and a glass of soda with ice cubes. Then, she sat down across from me.
Grandma Mazur looked up from her magazine. "What brings you here, Joe?" she asked.
I took a bite of the sandwich to give myself time to think. Mrs. Plum smiled and waited for me to finish chewing.
"I'd like to propose to Stephanie," I began, stopping as I heard the expected exclamations. Mrs. Plum surprised me by pulling me into a hug that was so forceful I half expected my ribs to crack.
"I'm so happy, Joseph!" she gushed. "You and Stephanie have been together for years, but I didn't think it would ever happen. You know how she is about marriage! Frank! Frank, you have to come over here! This is wonderful—I'll have to call your mother and we can start planning everything…"
To my horror, Mrs. Plum began walking towards the phone, and it was all I could do not to shout.
"Wait!" I raised my hands just as she picked up the receiver. "Steph doesn't know yet!"
Mrs. Plum put the phone down, the confused expression resuming. "Are you here to ask our permission, Joseph? Well, of course you have it!"
"It's not just that…"
This was harder than I'd expected. I wanted to come right out and say it, but with the two Plum women breathing down my neck, I felt like I was about to be accused of a crime.
"You can have kids, can't you?" Grandma Mazur asked. "Is that the problem?"
I reddened. "Yes, of course I can father kids!" I retorted, working hard at not shouting.
"Well, I know that Steph might not want them now, but I'm sure that she'll change her mind in a year or so," Mrs. Plum told me. "I wouldn't worry about that. That shouldn't keep you from proposing."
I tried to give them a reassuring smile while my mind was going a million miles per hour in an attempt to keep up with female logic. "I'm not worried about that, Mrs. Plum. Steph will love being a mom, even if our family won't be exactly traditional. We'll figure it out so that everyone will be happy."
"She's knocked up already?"
This was from Grandma Mazur.
This time, I really did yell. Or tried to. My voice came out a little higher than I'd intended and, while I couldn't see my face, I was sure that I was as red as the jelly donut on my plate. "N-no!" I cleared my throat. "Steph's not pregnant, yet, Mrs. Plum. You don't have to worry about that at all. We've been really careful."
Mrs. Plum raised her eyebrows, and I berated myself for having confessed that Stephanie and I had been having premarital sex since…well, pretty much since before we'd first became a couple the first time. I mean, sure, they knew, but it wasn't something that we were going to talk about at the dinner table.
Or the lunch table, for that matter.
I cleared my throat again. "This is what I'm trying to explain." I closed my eyes and prayed to God to let me get through this meeting without bodily harm, or too much humiliation. Somehow, the latter seemed like too great a miracle to ask from someone who hadn't been to mass in over a year. "I want the proposal to be really special, really meaningful for Steph."
Grandma Mazur nodded wisely. "You should do it in bed," she told me. "Right after sex." She turned to Mrs. Plum. "Or should it be right before sex?"
Mrs. Plum took a glance at the cabinets, where I knew she kept her liquor stash, and I could tell she was wondering if she'd need a few shots to get through this meeting.
I was wondering the same thing.
"Steph's favorite dessert is pineapple upside down cake," I began again. "I thought I would propose to her with that."
All right, so it wasn't the most well thought out statement in the world, but at least I'd gotten the idea out there.
Grandma Mazur's eyes widened. "That's a pip of an idea!" she told me. "When are you going to do it? Helen could have the cake ready tonight if you want to stop by again…"
Mrs. Plum was nodding. "It would be no trouble at all, and what a perfect way to propose to my daughter!"
She began sniffling, and I realized that she was holding back tears.
"Well," I began again.
"Out with it, Hottie!" Grandma Mazur ordered. "Did you want a design in the whipped cream? Maybe a penis?"
Mrs. Plum looked aghast. "I'm not going to draw a penis on my daughter's proposal cake!"
"Fine, then I will," Grandma Mazur retorted. "It's not that hard, Helen. Whipped cream isn't as easy to work with as icing, but I could still do a hell of a job."
I exhaled deeply. If I didn't watch it, I would end up going home carrying an X rated cake…
"That's really nice of you to offer, Mrs. Plum, but I was hoping that you could lend me your recipe so I could make the cake."
Mrs. Plum drew herself up. "I'm afraid that's impossible."
"B-but…" I tried to formulate the words to ask why, but they wouldn't seem to come out. I was crushed. Heartbroken, even. I cleared my throat again. Damn, I was doing a lot of that today. "But why?" I begged. "I won't give it to anyone. Hell, I can even destroy it after I'm done!"
"No." Mrs. Plum glared at me. "You men, you all think alike. Just hand over the recipe, and you can recreate a cake that I've been perfecting for over twenty years. Do you have any idea why that cake is Stephanie's favorite dessert? It's not just any pineapple upside down cake. If you ordered it from a restaurant or a store, she could tell the difference. My mother gave me her recipe, and I've used that for the first ten years of marriage, but then I started making small changes, and I've created the—the best damn pineapple upside down cake in the Burg!"
Grandma Mazur nodded sagely. "It's true."
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry."
What Mrs. Plum said next surprised me.
"If you're going to make it for Stephanie, you need to learn how to make it exactly the way I do. It's not going to be easy," she cautioned. "It's going to take weeks to make it just right. Do you have any baking experience?" I shook my head and she sighed. "It could take months!" she practically wailed. Then, her face turned rigid. "All right, Joseph, if you're serious about this, I'll teach you to make the cake. But it will require a lot of baking lessons, and hours of practice on your own." I must have sputtered at this, because Mrs. Plum gave me a truly cold stare. "Joseph, you cannot learn how to make this cake without hours of practice. I'll give you as much help as I can, and we'll have to make it a crash course, but you must be willing to do a tremendous amount of work on your own."
Figuring that Mrs. Plum was exaggerating, I figured it would be best to nod and pretend that she knew what she was talking about.
"I promise," I told her. "I'll do whatever is necessary."
At least I'd have plenty of stories to entertain Stephanie with after the proposal. I perked up a little at that. Okay, so I'd spend a few afternoons with Mrs. Plum—and Grandma Mazur—and then I'd be all set. Sure, it wouldn't be a fun way to spend my time, but it was ultimately for Stephanie, and wasn't that what really mattered?
Besides, once I knew how to make the cake, I could make it for her more than once. It would be the perfect make up gift for fights.
I just hoped that Grandma Mazur's presence in the kitchen wouldn't hinder my progress. The woman was hilarious, but I'd never be able to remember all of the steps if she was always there, interrupting and making helpful suggestions about our love life.
"I'd like that," I told Mrs. Plum. "I'd really appreciate that."
Mrs. Plum nodded gravely. "All right. I suppose you'll have to learn how to make it sooner or later, since I won't always be around to make it for Stephanie."
She and Grandma Mazur made the sign of the cross. A moment too late, I added my own sign of the cross.
"Maybe he'll be able to teach it to Stephanie," Grandma Mazur suggested.
Mrs. Plum sniffed. "I hope so." She turned to me. "As I said, it will take a lot of work. Are you very sure that you want to do this?"
I nodded again. Oddly enough, being able to create this dessert felt sort of like a rite of passage. Like I'd only be good enough for Steph—at least in her family's eyes—if I could make her favorite dessert.
"We should start immediately," Mrs. Plum told me, eying my mostly uneaten plate of food. "Finish eating, and I'll get the ingredients."
It was going to be a long afternoon.
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