Chapter 24: CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

December 9 to December 24, 1989.

Layne is far more excited than me about the cake tasting.

Apparently, Layne has always had a very specific idea for the design of the bridal cake, and he Ra’Shelle to draw it.

He paid her. She originally told him that she’d do it for free, but after the fifteenth redraw, she agreed to be compensated for her time.

When I tell him that 2-D mediums don’t always translate well to 3-D mediums, he tells me that he found one of the best cake designers in the world, and rents us a plane to go to Naples, Italy. We take Ra’Shelle with us, since she’s fluent in Italian, and Kari tags along to eat.

Layne has decided that the traditional “groom’s cake” can be anything I want including tortes, flans, tarts, and similar items. Therefore, this “cake” tasting also includes numerous other desserts.

Naples is gorgeous, and the shop smells like nostalgia and happiness. Three tables are lined with dozens of samples.

Ra’Shelle laughs. “I’m not sure if we can eat all of this, even just one bite each.”

“I just wanted the best selection,” Layne says.

“Well, I think you got it,” Kari says.

The owner greets us, and his English is perfect, but Ra’Shelle still speaks in Italian. As we sit, he asks, “Have you given any thought to actual design?”

I can’t help but guffaw.

Layne takes Ra’Shelle’s sketch from a portfolio, and the man raises his eyebrows. “You drew this?”

“No,” Layne says and points at Ra’Shelle.

“Lei?” he asks Ra’Shelle.

Ra’Shelle sheepishly nods. “Sì.”

“Molto bello!”

Ra’Shelle bites her lip. “Grazie.”

The owner turns back to Layne. “This design will take time. When is the wedding?”

Kari laughs. “Is two and half years enough time?”

The man chuckles. “Should be plenty.”

Ra’Shelle points at the design and at the cakes and asks the man something. He starts sorting through the cakes.

“These would be best for the bottom cakes, but you might want to choose lighter cakes for the upper tiers.”

“Oh right,” I say. “We’ll need multiple types of cakes.”

“It is good that your fiance asked for such a selection,” the man says.

“Vindication!” Layne says with an enormous grin.

The man scampers away with the sketch, and returns with water and coffee.

The four of us slowly eat, share, and eliminate cakes and desserts, and by the end, we’re wired on sugar and caffeine.

For my dessert, I choose the tiramisu, and we’ve chosen seven additional flavors (which I’m not actually sure go together) for Layne’s elaborate monstrosity; we may need signage to inform guests about their choices.

“Which one do you smear on each other’s faces?” Ra’Shelle asks.

“I’d avoid the carrot cake,” Kari quips.

The owner is thrilled. “Of course, we’ll need to discuss a deposit,” he says to Layne.

“About that,” Layne says, and he and Ra’Shelle sit at another table with the owner.

“What’s happening?” Kari asks me.

“Layne has some insane plan that he won’t share with me, and he wanted Ra’Shelle to help avoid miscommunication.”

“It’s hard to believe this is your life now, Sam.”

“Tell me about it. In a couple of weeks, we’re going to be volunteering at a homeless shelter, and right now, we’re renting a private jet. Is that cognitive dissonance or hypocrisy?”

“It’s the only wedding either of you will likely ever have,” Kari says. “Maybe just enjoy it.”

I take another sip of coffee. “We spent Thanksgiving with Layne’s family, and it went terribly.”

“Tom filled me in a little.”

“Yesterday, Layne asked me who my family is. I was thinking about it on the way here, and… Kari, what do you think about Layne and I spending Christmas with you and Tom?”

Kari grins and claps. “Absolutely! Ra’Shelle and her family are joining us too. Oh, it’ll be so wonderful to have all our people under one roof. Tom will love it! Oh, yay!”

I laugh. “Easy, Kari, I haven’t talked to Layne about it yet. Also, you may want to talk to Tom before you commit.”

She waves her hand. “No need.”

“No, it’s not that you need to…” I rub the back of my neck. “Do you all serve turkey at Christmas? Ham? Something that needs carving?”

“Nope. Timothy recently decided that he’s a pescatarian, so we’re rolling with that for now. Since Christmas and Hanukkah overlap this year, Ra’Shelle’s going to make some traditional Jewish foods, and those will complement all sides. No carving necessary.”

I sigh, and my shoulders drop. “Okay. Then if Layne’s okay with it, we’ll be there.”

She furrows her brow, but she doesn’t ask questions. Kari was around six years ago, but clearly Tom didn’t share the details with her. The man is my secret keeper, and I suspect he’s Ra’Shelle’s secret keeper too.

Layne and Ra’Shelle return, and I can practically see lira signs flashing in the owner’s eyes.

“Your fiance is nuts,” Ra’Shelle says. “Instead of figuring out how to ship the cake from Italy, he’s just flying the chefs–plural–to Hawaii to create the cake on-site.”

“Ra’Shelle!” Layne hisses with a laugh.

“Was that supposed to be a secret?” Ra’Shelle asks. “I don’t know how you would have kept that one under wraps, dude. ‘Who are those guys in the kitchen speaking Italian who have been holding an icing bag for the last three days?’ ‘Oh, just some tourists.’ Gimme a break.”

I laugh. “This is why we are friends.” I turn to Layne. “How would you feel about us spending Christmas Day with Kari, Ra’Shelle, and their families?”

“Also Hanukkah,” Ra’Shelle adds.

“I love it,” Layne says, kissing my cheek. “I absolutely love it.”

“Rad!” Ra’Shelle says, then looks at Layne. “You haven’t met any of the kids yet, have you?”

“I saw Alex once or twice when you were still at the college. That’s it.”

“Baptism by chaos!” Ra’Shelle yells. Then she laughs. “I may have had too much sugar.”

***

Layne and I spend Christmas Eve at the homeless shelter, serving food–including food that we brought. By seven, the temperature is below freezing, and the night is even busier than the afternoon.

We were here the morning of Thanksgiving, but I didn’t notice how adored Layne is by staff and people from the community. When we arrived, Layne carried in a sizable box, containing our pies, casserole, and fruit salad, but the box reappears at the end of the line, and someone has taped a note that reads: 'From Layne. One per person.'

After people collect their food, they reach into the box and pull out… a white envelope? Adults who come in with kids take two or more.

Several times, someone comes up to Layne and says some version of “Bless you, Layne,” or “Merry Christmas, Layne”, and Layne almost always answers the person by name.

We help with cleanup and collect our dishes. It’s almost midnight when a supervisor looks in the box. She’s an older woman with terracotta skin and snow-white hair, which is wrapped in a tight bun. “We did a lot of good tonight, Layne.”

“How many are left, Dorothy?”

“Eleven. You put in a thousand?”

“As always.”

“We did a lot of good.”

“How many were left after Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Almost a hundred. Wasn’t quite as cold.”

“I already brought in the box for tomorrow. It’s ready for you. We may be gone on New Year's Eve and New Year's day, so I’ll drop the boxes before we leave.”

“What’s in the envelopes?” I ask.

Dorothy’s jaw drops. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No, but you can if you want. I’m going to take our dishes to the truck,” he says before heading outside.

“Your fiance,” Dorothy says, placing her arms on the counter, “is a saint.” She hands me an envelope. “See for yourself.”

“Layne,” I whisper when I open the envelope.

“In November, he goes to the hotel up the street and he buys vouchers.” She points. “Those are the little yellow cards. Each of those entitles the person to one free night. Then, he purchases monthly bus passes for December and January and buys hundred-dollar gift cards from a few fast food places. Every envelope gets one gift card, one bus pass for each month, five hotel vouchers, and three hundred dollars in cash. We hand them out five times between Thanksgiving and New Year's.”

“Holy–”

“The biggest fear is people getting mugged on the way out of here, but the community has so much respect for Layne that it’s not a problem.”

“What happens to the leftover envelopes?”

“We take the cash as a donation and give the other items to one of the schools that has a lot of homeless students.”

Layne joins Dorothy at the counter. “You finished telling her?”

I hand the envelope back to Dorothy. “Why didn’t you tell me, Layne?”

“Most of the staff don’t even know,” Dorothy says. “They think that Layne has a big volunteer group that solicits all of this stuff and takes up a year-round collection. Evelyn and I are the only ones who know it’s all Layne, and that’s because we both knew Layne’s grandparents.”

“They did this too?” I ask.

“No, but they volunteered and wrote a check every year. We knew they left Layne some money.”

I’ve been doing mental math, and I whisper, “Layne, we’re talking about what? Four million dollars?”

“Sounds about right.”

Dorothy looks unfazed.

Layne shrugs. “It’s just money, Sam.”

“Speaking of,” Dorothy says, “your animal shelter isn’t doing so great. Kathleen told me they’ve been having some trouble the last couple of months.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Layne asks.

“I think she’s a little ashamed. They spend it fast over there, but I told her that they’re spending money on the right stuff, and she should be embarrassed.”

“She shouldn’t.” Layne takes his checkbook out of his coat pocket. “If I give you a check, can you get it to her in the next few days?”

“Sure.”

Layne scribbles a check for a hundred thousand dollars and hands it to Dorothy. “You tell her to call me if she needs more.”

“I will.” Dorothy gives Layne a tight squeeze. “It was good seeing you, kiddo.”

“You too, Dorothy.”

“Take care, Sam. Feel free to volunteer with us anytime.”

I smile, despite still being in shock. “I will.”

When we get in the truck, Layne says, “You know, the biggest pain is stuffing all the envelopes.”

“Have you done the ones for New Year's Eve yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I think you should bring some of them tomorrow.”

He furrows his brow. “To Kari’s?”

It amuses me that he calls the house “Kari’s” instead of “Tom’s”; she really has grown on him and vice versa. “Yeah. Maybe not the cash, but all the vouchers and stuff. The kids can stuff envelopes while the adults cook. Alex and Tina are so young, they’d think it was a game, and Kari would convince the boys to help. It’d be a good lesson in generosity and humility too.”

“It’s a good idea, Sam.”

The guilt I had at the cake tasting has evaporated. So what if he wants to spend a few thousand on cakes? Maybe that’s the reward for spending millions on people in his community.

This is the man I love.

This is the man I’ll marry.