Horrible Harry Takes the Cake by Suzy Kline

Author:Suzy Kline [Kline, Suzy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Schools, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure, Humorous stories, School & Education, Readers, Betrothal, Teachers, Chapter Books
ISBN: 9780756981587
Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
Published: 2007-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

*

I went inside and took a warm bath, all the while thinking of what I should be doing rather than soaking in the tub. I should be making Candy’s cake. I should be calling the Steins and asking them to drop their lawsuit against Violet. I should be calling Uncle Hal to ask him if he’s feeling better after having to go to the doctor during last week’s hunting trip. I should be at the police station asking them myself to test that stupid yellow stain in Yodel Watson’s living room. The stupid yellow stain that would hopefully exonerate me and Daphne’s Delectable Cakes in Mrs. Watson’s death. I should be in my mother’s face asking her if she was also Jonah March’s mother. And I should be calling her a hypocrite for deriding my decision to leave Todd, a man who’d abused me since our so-called honeymoon.

Daddy had never mistreated her. He’d loved her . . . and Violet and me . . . and he’d never been unfaithful to her or slapped her or shot at her or locked her in a bathroom. I know he hadn’t. He’d never been anything but a good husband and father. And she’d betrayed him. She’d betrayed us all. And she was still betraying me.

As I wept into my bath towel, the telephone rang. I almost expected it to be Mom, my thoughts were so focused on her. Instead, it was Dad. Mom had suffered a heart attack and was in intensive care.

After talking with Dad, I dressed in my favorite pajamas and went into the kitchen to await Violet’s call. Dad had called me first, which I found a bit odd—Violet and Mom were much closer than Mom and me. Maybe that’s why Dad called me first; he thought Violet would take it the hardest. She probably would.

I took my apron from its hook and dropped it over my head. I tied it as I walked over to the counter to retrieve my headset. I got out my baking essentials, recipe and ingredients, and I mixed up Candy’s Mocha Madeira cake.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t upset about my mother. I had an obligation to Candy, that’s all. Dad had asked that Violet and I not come up there until morning…which made sense. Mom was stable. There wasn’t anything we could do. Uncle Hal and Aunt Nancy were there to support Dad. Besides, baking was like therapy for me.

I was pouring cake batter into my painstakingly prepared square pan when the phone rang. When you’re doing therapeutic baking, you know, everything must be precise.

“Hello! Daphne’s Delectable Cakes!” I used my most professional, chipper voice when I answered the phone, even though I knew the caller was most probably Violet. It was, of course, and I wondered at myself, even became irritated at myself, for attempting to sound so nonchalant.

“It’s me,” Violet said.

I could tell she’d been crying, and I felt even lousier than I had to begin with.

“Dad said he called you,” she said.

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