Chapter 10 - The Anonymous Review
Six months later, spring had returned to Ohio, painting the trees in vibrant shades of green and washing away the last lingering memories of winter.
My freelance graphic design business had doubled in size. Freed from the emotional drain of catering to the Carter family’s endless social obligations, I had poured my creative energy into rebranding boutique bakeries and artisanal coffee shops across the Midwest.
One Tuesday morning in May, my phone rang while I was sitting on the back patio with my laptop, sketching out a logo concept for a new patisserie in German Village.
It was an unknown local number.
"Hello, this is Emily," I answered, adjusting my sunglasses.
"Hi, Emily? Is this Emily Carter?" a hesitant, unfamiliar female voice asked on the other end.
"Yes, this is Emily. Who’s this?"
"My name is Brenda Vance. I... well, I’m a friend of Melissa’s. Or, I used to be, before she moved across town and stopped returning everyone's calls."
My fingers froze over the trackpad. I sat up straight in my patio chair. "Okay. How can I help you, Brenda?"
"Well, I know this is super awkward," Brenda rushed out, her voice dropping to a nervous whisper. "And please don't tell Melissa I called you, but... she’s trying to start a local lifestyle and catering blog over here in her new neighborhood. She’s posting all these pictures of baked goods and dinner parties, claiming she’s some kind of domestic guru and culinary expert."
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. "Is that right?"
"Yes! But the funny thing is—well, everyone who knows her from the Dublin country club remembers how she used to brag about her sister-in-law doing all the work, or how she’d criticize every meal she was ever served. And now she’s trying to launch a food blog?" Brenda scoffed over the line. "Anyway, some of the girls in our old book club found her new Instagram page, and... well, we saw her latest post about hosting a 'flawless family Sunday roast.'"
"Did she?" I asked innocently. "How was the roast?"
"According to her caption, it was 'divine,'" Brenda laughed dryly. "Except one of our mutual friends recognized the gravy boat in the background. It’s the exact same vintage ironstone gravy boat your mother-in-law uses. Melissa bought a cheap knockoff online trying to copy it, but it looked terrible. Someone left a comment asking if she stole her mother-in-law's aesthetic, and Melissa deleted the entire post within ten minutes."
I leaned back against the patio cushion, looking out across my green lawn, where the tulips Diane and I had planted together were finally blooming in brilliant shades of red and yellow.
"Well, Brenda," I said smoothly, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Tell the book club not to worry. Some people spend their whole lives trying to look like chefs. And others actually learn how to cook."
"Oh, I love that," Brenda giggled. "Thanks for chatting, Emily. So glad you’re doing well!"
"You too, Brenda. Take care."
I hung up the phone, placed it face down on the patio table, and turned back to my laptop.
The screen glowed with clean lines, beautiful typography, and vibrant colors—all created by me, for me, on my own terms. Inside the house, I could hear Daniel moving around in the kitchen, humming quietly to himself while brewing a fresh pot of coffee, entirely focused on our life right here, right now.
My phone buzzed one last time with a notification from the family group chat—just Diane sharing a picture of a lemon meringue pie she had just baked from scratch, asking if Daniel and I wanted to swing by after work.
I typed back a single-word reply with a smiley face:
May you like
“On our way.”
Melissa could keep her blog, her knockoff gravy boats, and her filtered pictures. As for me? I finally had the recipe right.
