The mixture looked disgusting and smelled amazing. 

“What are you making?” 

Gretchen smiled as her teenage stepsons ambled into the kitchen. Trust them to follow their noses to food. “It’s some sort of chocolate cake recipe your Aunt Marcia suggested I try.” 

She looked down at the mess in the mixing bowl. “Unless baking makes some pretty radical changes though, we’re going to have to eat it blindfolded.” 

Tim peered over her shoulder at the mixture, then the food-stained notebook propped up against the fruit bowl. “I think that’s Great Grandma’s recipe.” 

Andrew put out his hand for a high five. “Nice work Gretchen!” 

She slapped the offered hand as required and asked. “What am I missing?” 

“Great Grandma’s chocolate cake is a family legend. Grandma says there’s only one person in every generation, who can ever make it. Something about woo-woo vibe stuff and love in the baking.” 

Tim nodded, still peering at the recipe. “It was Great Uncle Freddy who was the ‘chosen one’ in her generation, and they’ve yet to find someone in yours. Pretty cool they’ve decided you’re worthy of the test.” 

“But I’ve only married in, and only two years ago.” 

Andrew shrugged. “Like I said, it’s vibes, and you are kind of good at this cooking stuff. They never suggested Mum try.” 

Tim elbowed him. “Bet you ten quid I’m the chosen baker in our cohort.” 

“You burn toast! It’s totally going to be Bex. That’s probably why Aunt Marica gave Gretchen the recipe. You know, so once she’s got it nailed, Bex has someone to teach her.” 

“That’s cheating.” 

Gretchen interrupted the increasingly lively discussion, complete with increasingly large pokes and shoves. “If it ends up on the floor, I’m not re-making it. I’ve been at it for half the day.” 

The boys backed away, hands in the air, expressions only half-pretending to be alarmed. 

Tim said. “We’ll be good. Please try to make it. It’s honestly the best cake ever and we’ve not been able to have any since Great Uncle Freddy moved to Tenerife.” 

Andrew scowled. “It’s so not fair. I bet his grandkids get it all the time when they visit. The one time we went, he was ‘too busy’, and it was ‘too hot to bake’. In winter!” 

Clearly this cake had far more history, and emotion around it than Marcia had let on. Gretchen smiled at the boys. “We’ll taste test after dinner, so keep your fingers crossed for me during homework.” 

“Can’t type with crossed fingers but I’ll cross my toes.” Tim gave her a rare hug and vanished. 

Andrew lingered. “I hope it is you.” 

She gave him a one-armed hug, it was a stretch to reach his shoulders, they’d both shot up in the past couple of years. “If I don’t succeed at the family cake, we’ll come up with another thing that’s just ours – you, Tim, Dad, and me – and it’ll be even better.” 

He smiled and leaned into her hug. “That’d be cool.” 

He loped out of the kitchen and Gretchen pulled the cake tins towards her. They were such gorgeous kids. Not always easy, especially as the step-mum, but moments like this made everything worth the effort. 

 Hopefully the cake would work…