Maybe you and Kenneth can make it together.”

I thanked her, but I had a better idea.

That evening Kenneth let the boys mix the batter.

Mason spilled flour on the counter.

Owen insisted that a proper cake needed more cinnamon than the recipe allowed.

Kenneth followed the instructions as if they were a sacred document.

When the cake came out, its top was uneven and its edges too dark.

The boys ate warm slices and talked about Madeline’s laugh.