I can’t stop the bubble of laughter that fights its way past my lips. The café owner joins me, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. ‘Such a big head that woman; I’m surprised she fits through the door sometimes.’ Her smile softens into a wry, defeated look. ‘The worst part about it is that she’s right. No one can out bake Delia, not even me.’
I chuckle, and give a little shrug of my shoulders. ‘I have to say that she’s the best baker, she is my mum,’ I admit. ‘But know that you are a very close second in my eyes, I love your cakes.’
Mrs Emery giggles as she taps my order into the register. She takes my cash and presses the change into my palm with a theatrical sigh. ‘Like I said before, ‘you always were a charming one. Now, go and take a seat and I bring over your order in a minute.’
I
