The Bad Luck Wedding Cake by Geralyn Dawson

you sir, are the Most Eligible Bachelor in Texas.”

To end a run of bad luck, throw three shakes of salt over your left shoulder during a full moon.

    CHAPTER 4

    THE WOMEN BEGAN ARRIVING shortly after daybreak.
    Accustomed to a baker’s early hours, Claire was halfway through her day and hard at work washing the storefront window when the first female bearing gifts appeared. Muffins, she decided, her experienced nose detecting the aroma of cinnamon and baked blueberries wafting from the napkin-covered basket that dangled from the woman’s arms. Possibly a coffee cake.
    “Good morning.” Claire beamed a friendly smile. “It looks to be a beautiful day.”
    “Yes, I have high hopes for it.” The woman paused, fiddled with the strings on her bonnet then lifted her chin. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the Rankin Building vestibule and rapped on Tye McBride’s door.
    Claire polished her way closer, making certain to work quietly. She didn’t want to miss a word.
    Inside the building, a door swished open. Katrina McBride spoke in a sleepy voice. “Hello. May I help you?”
    “I’d like to speak with Lord McBride.”
    After a pause, the littlest Menace replied, “Oh. If you’re looking for the Lord, you should try across the street at the church. Ask for Sister Gonzaga. I think she’s got an extra good connection to Him.”
    “Your uncle, child,” the visitor replied, her voice tight. “I wish to speak with your uncle.”
    “Well you should have said so.” With every word the girl’s voice grew stronger, as though she were shaking off the effects of sleep, preparing herself to launch into the mischief of the day. “Wait here. I’ll go get him. Unless he’s still asleep, and then you’ll have to come back later. Uncle Tye gets really grumpy when we wake him up before he’s ready, and after the trouble during supper at Miss Loretta’s, my sisters and I need to be extra good today. Part of that is letting him sleep as long as he wants. What do you have in the basket? It smells good. Maybe I should take it upstairs with me now.”
    The woman protested, but little Kat must have gotten her way because the basket was gone when Claire stepped into the vestibule and then into her shop, pausing to prop her door open with a decorative stop made of cast iron and shaped like a butter churn.
    Claire couldn’t help but wonder what kind of devilment the girls had contrived the night before at the Davis’s supper table. Not that it was any business of Claire’s, but she couldn’t help being curious. It was in her nature.
    The predilection to snoop wasn’t the most flattering of traits, but Claire had come by it honestly. She’d learned early on that if she wanted to know any of the juicier secrets her family shared, she’d need to listen at keyholes and spy in windows. Her parents never told her anything, and her brothers were just as bad. After all, they said, Claire was a girl. She need not trouble herself with troubles. So, barred from family meetings of one sort or another, she had learned to adapt. Such ingrained habits were hard to leave behind.
    Claire ducked into the back of the shop for her recipe books, then grabbed a pencil and paper for a grocery list. She could pretend she chose that spot because the light was better or the chair more comfortable. But in fact, when she poured herself a cup of coffee and took her seat, Claire Donovan was settling in to eavesdrop. She felt only slightly guilty for doing so.
    Within minutes, she heard Tye’s scratchy rumble. “Uh, hello.”
    In a simpering tone the visitor said, “Lord McBride, my name is Eliza Ledbetter. I wanted to welcome you to Fort Worth with a basket of blueberry muffins, but your niece already took them upstairs.”
    Blueberry. I knew it , Claire thought smugly, marking flour down on her list.
    “Well, ah, thank you, Miss Ledbetter. It’s nice to meet you. And please, just call me Tye. I appreciate the welcome. Kat showed me the