“They look beautiful together, don’t they?” My mother hovers over my right shoulder while I stand at the kitchen sink looking out the window.
An ache radiates across my chest and I press the heel of my hand against it to relieve the pressure.
Mitch and Lucinda stand together on the back patio of my parents’ house. The sun makes a halo of light around their bent heads.
Yes, they’re two extraordinarily good-looking people.
What is he doing here?
“Like a painting. They would make such gorgeous children together.” She plucks a drooping leaf from the plant on the windowsill and stuffs it down the garbage disposal.
I give her a sideways glance. “I’m not sure Mark would agree with you, Mother.”
“If you had been home last night for your sister’s arrival you would have heard that she left him.”
Inhaling sharply, I grip the edge of the granite counter. Her bedroom door had been closed when I got home last night so I had retreated into my room.
I should have knocked on her door.
Instead, I jumped on the excuse to revel privately that the building would soon be mine and my original plan was back on track.
Selfishly, I was making plans for moving out while Lucinda is having her life turned upside down.
Mother taps her manicured nails on the counter. “For the best really. I never cared for him.”
Really? Since when? You couldn’t have been more thrilled to show him off to all your friends when they started dating and you threw them a lavish engagement party and wedding to which you invited hundreds of your closest friends. I can remember many conversations on Mark and his wonderful background and prospects. Now she claims she never cared for him?
I wince when their shared laughter reaches my ears. I’m transfixed by the sight of the two of them together even as the pain lashes my insides. It’s like people who stare at a car accident and can’t look away. I’ve never understood it before. Now I do.
“I can imagine the headlines now: Celebrity Finds Hidden Gem in Small Town and Falls in Love.”
“You don’t think you’re getting ahead of yourself a little? If she just separated from Mark, I doubt she’s ready to dive into a new relationship.”
“Nonsense. That’s exactly what she needs. Besides, the chemistry between the two of them is electric. When Lucinda opened the front door this morning and Mitch was standing there, I instantly knew her pending divorce was perfect timing. You’ll see, it’s undeniable.”
Mitch must have stopped by to see me, not Lucinda. They didn’t know each other. I always made sure of that.
The one time Mitch and I ran into Lucinda and her friends during one of our many teenage escapades was when we were getting ice cream at Billings creamery. I had been rambling on to Mitch about my latest epic dream to buy a sailboat and sail around the world. While describing all the exotic countries I intended to visit, I looked down to see Mitch’s ice cream was becoming a melted puddle on the ground. About to tease him for wasting his ice cream, I finally noticed what had captured his rapt attention.
My sister reclined on one of the picnic benches surrounded by a group of boys coveting her attention. Itty bitty white shorts topped her long, tan legs. A baby blue halter top allowed her flat, tanned midriff to show. I was sure she chose it to accentuate her blue eyes and of course, her generous cup size. I flounced away without a word, tossing my unfinished cone in the garbage can. Mitch caught up a block away as I morosely meandered along the sidewalk. I brushed him off with a tale of a stomachache and avoided any chance encounters with my sister during my precious time with Mitch.
Maybe it was fate.
I interrupted the start of their fairy tale love story by keeping them apart all those years ago and now whatever cosmic entity which rules our destinies has thrown them back together.
I play with the tiny gold cross on my necklace.
Should I go out on the patio?
“I spoke to your friend Vanessa. She’s looking to hire a new realtor because her business is doing so well.”
“She’s not my friend Mother, nor has she ever been.”
“Don’t be melodramatic Francine. The two of you grew up together, went to the same school.” She waves her hand, the light reflecting from the diamonds in her rings bounces around the room. “Regardless, I did a little research and you can take classes at the community college and take a test to get your realtor’s license.”
“You want to be a real estate agent? That’s great Mother.”
“Don’t be obtuse! Not me, you.”
There is no doubt how little she thinks of my chosen career path.
Swallowing, my gaze bounces off the pair on the patio and out to the lake. I should have gone straight to my kayak once I got home, but instead I lingered to visit with my sister since I bailed last night. A white sail unfurls and fills from the wind and the sailboat skims across the top of the water in front of the house.
“I have a job.”
“You need a career. Something that will provide for your future. Something you can build upon. You don’t seriously intend to live with your father and I the rest of your days, do you?”
Bitterness fills my mouth.
I wrap my arms around my waist and grip the bony knot of my elbows in my hands. I shift to walk away but stop.
How can she not understand how important my bakery is to me? How can she carelessly discard the hours I devote to making it succeed?
“My bakery is my career. I work very hard to ensure I will have a future there. Why can’t you see that? Why do you act like me owning a bakery is an embarrassment to you? Do you not care how that hurts me?”
Huffing out a harsh breath, she stands impossibly straighter. “Always the dramatics! I try to help you and instead of being thankful I’m looking out for you, you whine and attack me with accusations. You’re ungrateful and selfish. You expect your father and I to support your whims. When are you going to grow up and be like your sister?”
“I’m not Lucinda and I never will be.”
Shaking her head, she whirls away and leaves the kitchen to join Mitch and Lucinda on the patio.
I shove through the door and head for the stairs. If I were wearing shoes, I would have run out the front door.
After working at the bakery all day one of the first things I like to do is take my shoes off and wiggle my toes in the thick carpet by my bed. Of course, Mother has trained me well, so my shoes are in my closet upstairs not left by the front door.
Tears are pressing at my eyes and I’m shaking. Why did I think confronting her would solve anything?
Before I touch the banister, my father walks in the front door.
“Hi sweetheart.” He moves forward to kiss me on the cheek. “What’s this emergency your mother left me a message about? She told me I needed to come home right away. I’m never sure if I’ll find the house on fire or simply a change in dinner plans.”
“The later I think.”
“Ah, so what’s new with you? You’ve been scarce lately.”
“Just work.”
My mother’s voice trails out of the living room. I fervently hope she’s alone, but the soft murmur of Mitch’s voice follows before the trio appears in my line of vision.
“Oh good, Grant, you’re home. Look who has decided to join us for dinner. I’ve already made arrangements at the Country Club for the four of us.”
My father glances at me.
“Francine has plans.”
I stare at my mother for a moment. I don’t have plans but it’s clear she doesn’t want me messing up the dinner dynamic or her matchmaking efforts between Mitch and Lucinda. That’s fine, I certainly don’t care to witness it.
“Enjoy.” I kiss my father on the cheek and smile towards the group without meeting anyone’s gaze and then I jog up the stairs to my room.
Plopping down on my bed, I’m not sure whether to scream or cry. Both, maybe.
I listen while the front door opens and closes, and the car starts and drives away. A plop of moisture splashes on my hand.
I guess crying wins.
A sleepless night spent tossing and turning resulted in a nightmare about being a bridesmaid at Mitch and Lucinda’s wedding. I hit the snooze button on my alarm four times this morning.
Luckily, I can bake in my sleep.
I heard and ignored Lucinda’s tentative knock on my bedroom door late last night. I’m mired in guilt once again, but I couldn’t face her. My emotions were too raw. Hearing her marvel over Mitch would have sent me over the edge.
Sally taps the bell that signals she needs help, so I grab the layered cake I decorated this morning from the cooler and carry it to the front.
Customers pack the bakery. Why did Sally wait to call me for help? Had I missed an earlier appeal ruminating over my sister and Mitch?
Vanessa stands next to one of the glass cases drumming her purple rhinestone polished fingernails on the top of the glass. Bobby Calvert stands behind her. That, combined with the satisfied expression on Vanessa’s face, stops me in my tracks.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the cake’s momentum.
My hands wobble in an attempt to balance it.
I lose the battle and it somersaults toward the floor.
Lurching forward in a last-ditch effort to grab the cake, I watch with widened eyes and my mouth hanging open as it smashes into the floor and explodes over the tile.
I might have mourned the loss of the three-layer cake decorated with roses and the time to make it if it wasn’t for the fact that I was following it down.
Grabbing for the counter, I step in frosting.
I miss the counter when my foot slides sideways and down I go.
Hitting the floor with a jarring thud, I land on my hands and knees.
Cold, sticky frosting smooshes against my chest. The sugary smell overwhelms my nose and throat and I choke.
Or it could be humiliation.
There’s a snicker of laughter among the gasps of shock. I can easily identify its owner as my nemesis. She is always there to witness and broadcast my most embarrassing moments. Why should this one be any different?
Wanting to crawl into the back of the bakery, I debate my options.
Slink off in defeat and humiliation leaving behind pity and satisfied glee?
Or, accept I’m a born klutz and laugh it off. Thereby laughing at myself and allowing everyone to join in with me instead of laughing at me.
“Well, I guess cake juggling isn’t a thing for a reason.”
The chuckles spread and the tension lifts. I shove off the floor and stand, dusting my hands together. A glop of cake and frosting slide off my chest and plummet to the floor. A perfect rose remains stuck on the top edge of my apron. I scoop it onto my finger and peer at it. “You’re all that’s left of your brethren little guy.”
I curtsy to the crowd and laughter ensues once again followed by a smattering of applause.
After grabbing paper towels I clean up the mess quickly before any more accidents can occur. Then I wash my hands and tug on a pair of plastic gloves to help Sally clear out the customers.
There is additional ribbing from a few of the customers which I respond to with a smile. I make sure Sally is the one to wait on Vanessa. I don’t want to endure any nasty comments she may have ready for me.
Once most of the customers are taken care of, I disappear into the back to clean up and change into a different apron and shirt.
My lips twitch and a smile blooms on my face.
Normally, I might have slunk off to hide in humiliation spending hours if not full days lamenting over the incident and worrying if people were talking about it. Now, in a few moments time I brushed it off and laughed. Sure, a couple people might gossip over it, but who cares? Most likely, it will evolve into an amusing tale to share. I took control of the situation and made a choice to have fun with it.
Score one for me.
An hour or so later, Sally pops her head in the kitchen. “There’s someone here to see you about ordering a special cake.”
“I’ll be right there.”
After grabbing a pad of paper and pencil from my desk, I walk through the archway. A man with dark blond hair is waiting by the counter. He stands eye to eye with me, so approximately five foot ten. His polo shirt and shorts are carefully pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. I don’t recognize him, but I can guess he’s one of the summer people.
I stride forward with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Hello, I’m Franny. What can I do for you today?”
He flashes me a megawatt smile and grasps my hand covering it with his other hand and holding onto it. “Hi Franny. My name is Tom Keys.”
I glance down at my hand still held in both of his and back up to his smiling face. “It’s nice to meet you.” Is he planning on letting it go any time soon?
“The pleasure is definitely mine. If I had known such a pretty baker was the proprietor, I would have been in much earlier.”
The flattery is nice. I’m only human, but I’m not naïve enough to believe he is overtaken by my ordinary looks. This guy has an agenda.
“My parents have a special anniversary coming up and my siblings and I are planning a surprise party for them. I got tasked with handling the cake, but I’m in a bit of a bind. See, the party is this weekend. Is there any chance you could save me from my own ruin?”
Ah, and there it is. He waited until the last minute and now he’s hoping charm will get him what he wants.
Is this what Charlie Roberts had been like?
Tugging my hand from his, I put my pencil and pad of paper on top of the counter. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll let you know if I can deliver.”
“Something special.”
I look up from the paper waiting for him to elaborate, but he only smiles at me in return. Okay then. Some people come in knowing exactly what they want, or believe they do, others want me to do it all for them with minimal input from them. Tom here is obviously one of the later. Good in some ways, but not necessarily easy. I need guidance to make sure the cake I design fits the occasion and who I’m designing it for. It’s my reputation which will suffer if it isn’t.
“What anniversary is it?”
“Thirtieth.”
“How many people will attend the party?”
“Not too many. Fifty or so, I imagine.”
So a full-blown event, not a casual get together, and I bet it’s over fifty. “How about favorite flavors of your parents and is there any allergies I need to be aware of?”
“Chocolate is always good, and no allergies. Make it pretty. My mother loves her gardens. Flowers might be nice.”
“Does she have a favorite flower?”
“Uh, roses?”
His answers to the remaining questions are just as vague. I can do the cake, but it will cost him. He doesn’t flinch at the number. I’m probably undercharging for such a last-minute order. Either that, or money isn’t a concern to him.
That must be a nice feeling.
“I will have it ready for pickup at twelve o’clock.” I had already told him the time, but I wanted to make sure he understood I was not delivering it. It requires more time to arrange delivery and coverage for the bakery.
“I promise to be prompt.” He writes a check for the full amount and lays it on the counter. “There, now that business is complete, why don’t you allow me to take you out to dinner?”
So his flirting wasn’t just to get me to make the cake at the last minute? He really is interested in me?
“Sorry, she’s spoken for.”
I spin towards the archway. Mitch is standing in the opening. He must’ve come in the back.
Tom glances up and then back. “My loss.” He takes my hand resting on the counter and kisses the back of it. I stare at it hoping I eliminated all traces of the earlier cake mishap. “You’ve saved me from disaster. My siblings would have murdered me if I didn’t show up with a cake. Perhaps my timing will be better in the future.”
Mitch steps to the side to let me pass into the kitchen.
My mind is spinning. Spoken for? He isn’t perpetuating the dating myth, is he? I thought that was finished. He hasn’t mentioned it lately and after he went out with my sister and parents last night everyone in town will believe they are an item.
Wait a minute, how did he know that wasn’t Bobby that I had my supposed crush on?
“You’re welcome.” He wanders over and pops one of the cookies on the counter into his mouth.
“Exactly what am I supposed to be thanking you for?”
“Saving you from the prepster.” He jerks a thumb in the direction Tom had disappeared and stares at my face. “Please tell me that wasn’t Barney. You have to have better taste than that.”
“No, that wasn’t him.”
“Damn, these are addictive.” He puts another cookie into his mouth.
I couldn’t blame him, could I? As far as he knew I am interested in Bobby, and that’s who he was trying to help me with. It’s not like he could know that Tom is the first guy to ask me out in more than a year, other than Mitch that is for our fake date.
And how is he going to explain our fake relationship to my sister? Had he done so already? Please, no.
If he is continuing the charade, did that mean he isn’t planning on dating Lucinda?
“How did dinner go last night?”
He peers at me over another cookie. “Fine, I like your family. Your father has a lot of funny stories.”
“Yes, he does.”
“What were your plans you couldn’t join us? You didn’t snag a date with Benji without telling me, did you?”
“No.” What am I supposed to say I had no plans and my mother lied because she didn’t want me along? “It was a long day. I had a headache.” Both true. After my crying jag, my head had pulsed with agony.
Mitch leans on the counter next to me and crosses his arms over his chest. “So, I figure it’s time to discuss the art of flirting and letting the guy know you’re interested, and he has a chance with you.”