Grandma peered over our shoulders.

“Both of you looked perfect to me.”

She had made the cake the day before, pacing herself and using the new icing tools Brandon had brought her.

Now she placed two small bowls of blue frosting on the table.

“For old times’ sake,” she said.

My brother picked up a piping bag.

He had grown better since the lesson she’d given him after the wedding, but he deliberately made the first star crooked.

I added an even messier one beside it.