Cake Decor

Sarah's POV:

I swallowed hard and fidgeted with the hem of my nightgown. "Okay, so..." I stuttered because I didn't know what to say. I was so scared by the way he looked at me, and his aura was so frightening.

"You didn't get it," he chuckled, and I bit my lip. Now I had no excuse because Elma didn't give me one.

"What type of person are you, Elma?" he said angrily, and I bowed my head, ready to receive all the scoldings that were meant for Elma.

"They are your kids for crying out loud; can you stop being a bitch and be a mother?" he kept on yelling. How was a relationship ever going to work when he yells this much?

"I am tired of you; I keep counting the calendar every day. It was my mistake to have asked you to pick it up. What's wrong with you?"

Then he paused and scrutinized me with his eyes. "Why aren't you saying anything? Why aren't you talking back and being you, huh? You finally got tired."

"Anthony I am sorry I didn't get the reports; I will get them tomorrow unfailingly." I apologized with a sincere tone as tears threatened to rush down my cheeks. I hated being scolded because it made me want to cry.

"What's up with you?" He asked in disbelief. I had no reply, so he scoffed and left. And he was right in one thing: it was his mistake asking Elma to do something so important; doesn't he know the type of person his wife is?

Next morning at 6 a.m.

I woke up early and wore something more casual before going downstairs. The lights were on, and I could hear some giggling from the right side of the sitting room, it was coming from the kitchen.

So I walked there and heard the maids talking. "Well, tonight we will have the house to ourselves and we could watch the gala on TV. I am sure all cameras will be on Mrs. Wistold," one of them said.

"Of course, everyone knows she is going there to show off and not for her daughter." They kept talking, but I didn't feel bad; they weren't talking about me after all.

So I walked in, and they all looked shocked when they noticed me. "Good morning, ma'am." All four maids greeted me at once. I looked around and noticed they weren't making breakfast yet.

"What are you all doing?" I asked curiously when I noticed the oven was on.

"Ms. Kim asked us to bake a cake this morning."

"What's your name?" I asked one of the maids.

"Bernadette, ma'am," she answered, and her colleagues looked surprised by my question.

"Bernadette, why aren't you guys making breakfast as well?" The kids and Anthony will be up soon; won't they want to eat breakfast or something?

"It's Saturday, ma'am; the kids won't be up until 10," she replied.

Was I also supposed to wake up at 10? All my life, I have been used to waking up at 6 a.m. and doing the morning chores before going to the market to sell some corn or assist in cutting fabrics.

"Oh," Elma skipped a lot of details; what else don't I know?

*ding

The oven signaled before stopping, and a maid wore gloves before taking out the cake.

I could see an ipad in front of them; it had the photo of a cake designed in a heart shape and chained. What will Kim be doing with such a cake?

"Have you called the cake décor already?" Bernadette asked one of the maids, and I frowned.

"Why will you need cake décor? You already baked the cake."

"Yes, ma'am, but the design Ms. Kim wants is a little hard for us to come up with," she explained, and I smiled.

I loved decorating cakes. I worked part-time in a bakery when I was fifteen. I worked there till I was nineteen before I decided to sell corn.

"Where is the fondant?" I asked before walking to the tap. I washed my hand and took a kitchen towel before wiping it.

"Ma'am," they all looked at me in disbelief. Was there something on my face?

"Get the fondant," I said, and they nodded before placing bowls of mixed fondant in front of me. The texture wasn't so good and needed to be rolled again.

I fixed the fondant, cut out the shapes needed for the cake, and started decorating it once it had cooled.

"Pass the cuter." I extended my hand, and the maid handed the cutter to me. After forty minutes, I was finally done.

I looked at the cake on the tablet and the one in front of me.

"Woah, ma'am, you succeeded," Bernadette said, and I smiled.

"Is my cake ready?" Kim walked in, and she stopped on her track when she spotted me. Now I could see her face clearly, and she was so beautiful.

Her beauty reminded me of when I was a teenager; it attracted a lot of bad company.

"Mom," she called in disbelief.

"Dad!!!" Kim yelled at the top of her voice, and I got confused. Did I do anything wrong?

It wasn't long before Anthony joined us in the kitchen. "I told you about your yelling," he was saying when he paused after seeing me.

"Elma," he called in disbelief as well. What did I do wrong?

"Sir, ma'am decorated the cake," Bernadette said, and they looked at me as if I were some dead person who just came back to life.

"You can design a cake?" Anthony asked, and I nodded. Did Elma not design a cake?

"Wrong question, Dad; the question is, You got your hands dirty in the kitchen, why?" Kim questioned me, and I was confused.

"Don't you like the design?" I asked, and she looked at her dad, and they both looked at me. Elma doesn't come into the kitchen?