“Mmmm, buttercream! I simply adore buttercream! Don’t you, Bradley?”
Bradley looks up from his phone, completely disinterested, and shrugs at my mom, who is sampling a spoonful of frosting from the girl behind the counter. She’s obviously a small-town girl and is doing her best to hide the fact that she clearly knows that we’re from out of town…
…and from money.
“Come here and try this, sweetie,” she tells me, motioning to me like I’m a Pomeranian wearing a pink fluffy collar. I try not to mope as I walk over to her. I try to take the spoon, but she shakes her head and moves it toward my mouth like she’s feeding a toddler.
“Really?” I frown.
“Open wide!” she smiles. It’s probably better just to go along with it than start an argument in the shop, so I do, and she clinks the spoon agai
