Chapter 9 — An Apoxy in Red and Pink
Clara took a slow, agonizing step forward.
She looked down at the golden retriever.
Then she looked back up at Harper.
Her shoulders slumped visibly under the crushing weight of her own mistake.
I am so sorry, Harper.
Clara’s voice was barely a whisper.
She forced the words out past her tight throat.
I should not have yelled at you.
I jumped to conclusions way too fast.
Harper just stared up at her.
She didn’t say anything right away.
Her little chest still hitched with the tail end of her quiet sobs.
Samantha kept a protective arm wrapped gently around her daughter’s shoulders.
She didn’t rush to accept the apology.
She simply waited, letting the silence do its work.
Clara swallowed hard, her face burning with heat.
Can you ever forgive me for being so harsh?
Clara asked, looking entirely miserable.
Harper looked at her mother.
Samantha gave her a soft, encouraging nod.
It’s okay, Harper whispered softly.
A wave of visible relief washed over Clara’s face.
She let out a long, shaky breath that rattled in her chest.
Samantha couldn’t help the small smile that started at the corner of her mouth.
She looked down at the mess on the floor.
She looked at Barnaby’s happy, frosting-coated face.
The absurdity of the entire situation finally broke through the heavy tension in the kitchen.
Samantha let out a sudden, bright laugh.
She shook her head, walking over to grab a roll of paper towels from the counter.
We have a massive cleanup on aisle one, Samantha said, her voice light and teasing.
Harper let out a small giggle, wiping away her very last tear with her palm.
Samantha knelt down beside the golden retriever.
She pulled a warm, damp paper towel from the roll.
Barnaby wagged his tail harder at the attention, completely oblivious to the drama he had caused.
Samantha gently wiped the sticky pink frosting from his white muzzle.
She scrubbed away the bright red filling that had stained his fur.
Harper leaned down beside her mother.
She reached out a cautious hand to pet the dog’s soft head.
Barnaby leaned straight into her touch, letting out a contented sigh.
The kitchen finally felt warm and peaceful again.
Clara stood off to the side, clutching the empty cake box like a shield.
She watched the mother and daughter clean up the paw prints together.
Samantha sprayed a bit of cleaner onto the hardwood floor.
She wiped away the tiny pink stamps one by one.
The floor was finally returning to its normal polished shine.
Samantha reached the very edge of the hallway where the trail originated.
She wiped up the last stray smudge of frosting near the baseboard.
As the paper towel scraped across a dark groove in the wood, it caught on something hard.
Samantha paused, lifting the paper towel to inspect the edge.
Lodged deep within the narrow gap between two floorboards was a small, tightly folded piece of paper.