She spent three full days baking and meticulously decorating each layer.

I stayed overnight at her house so I could drive her to the rustic wedding venue over in Lexington early the next morning.

Brittany was coming to pick up the completed cake in her SUV around eight o’clock.

I woke up early to the rich smell of brewing coffee and the muffled sound of tense voices in the front hallway.

Brittany had already arrived with two heavy set men to load the cake.

She stood by the table like a demanding customer evaluating a car at a dealership, arms folded tightly, phone out, taking rapid photos without saying a single word about how stunning it looked.

Then I heard Grandma’s voice, remarkably small and careful.

“Honey, could you please pay for the cake now?

I spent quite a lot on the ingredients, and I am embarrassed to admit this, but I need to buy my prescription medication soon because every dollar matters to me right now.”

Brittany laughed right in Grandma’s face without a second of hesitation.

“Oh, Grandma, why on earth should I pay you?

We are family now, so can you not just do this for free as a gift?” Grandma blinked, completely stunned by the cold response.

“I do not mind doing things for you, dear, but I just did not expect to pay for all of this out of my own pocket,” Rose murmured gently.

“Every single dollar of my pension is already strictly budgeted, so I am really sorry.” “Stop acting so poor,” Brittany snapped back with utter contempt.