If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. ―J.R.R. Tolkien
Scarlett
What started out as the best day in my life, sure turned into a shit show real quick.
It started early. We had barely started serving the lunch crowd when Fred called out to me.
“Scarlett, someone is here to see you.”
“Is it Guy?”
“Nope.”
I move toward her to glance out the order window.
It’s definitely not Guy. It’s Marie.
She’s wearing big sunglasses and a large fur coat.
“I’ll meet you in the back.” I point.
She nods and her heels clickety clack to the back of the truck.
“You know the diva?” Fred asks.
“It’s Guy’s ex.”
Her lips twist. “Yikes.”
“Something like that.”
I brace myself, and then open the back door and step out onto the sidewalk. “Can I help you?”
“Look, I know I was a total bitch the other night, but I wanted to warn you.”
Oh boy. I relax a little. This is classic school yard nonsense. Guy was her shiny toy she didn’t want, but now that someone else has him and he’s happy, she wants the toy back.
I decide right away I won’t believe anything she says, no matter how convincing she is.
“Oh?” I feign interest.
“I thought you should know, from one woman to another. He acts like he’s for real, but he’s a user. All men are. He always says I’m manipulative, and I guess I can be, but he’s the real mastermind and I don’t want you to fall into his trap.” She sniffs and a delicately manicured hand slides a perfectly pressed handkerchief from her pocket, and she dabs it under her sunglasses.
I want to laugh, but I manage to suppress the urge. “You’re good. I’ll give you that.”
She steps toward me and lifts the sunglasses to the top of her head.
I lean back, her appearance giving me a start. Her eyes are rimmed and red. She’s close enough that it’s obvious the grey smudges under her eyes are not a product of makeup or some kind of trickery. You can’t fake that level of exhaustion.
“I know that I messed up when I left Guy. I knew it right away. I’ve spent the last year wondering if I could return and pick things up like they were. But the thing is, if you want to be with him, you have to accept that he’ll always put you last. His sisters and his business, and basically everything else will come first. He doesn’t really care about anyone but himself.”
I search her eyes. She’s being sincere, I think. But this whole conversation is odd.
She pulls her shades down and slips the handkerchief back into her pocket with a shrug. “Anyway, to prove my point, he’s already bought this property. So, you aren’t any different from me, really. He was using you until the deal went through.” She waves a hand around. “You can go ask him if you don’t believe me. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
And she walks away, unconcerned.
I watch her go, and the old niggle of doubt intrudes. The one I thought Guy had banished forever, especially after last night and then this morning. I mean, he had someone bring me coffee. He left me a note about how much he enjoyed last night and he drew little silly stick figures in compromising positions. He cares about me. It wasn’t some elaborate hoax, there would be no reason for it.
I won’t call him in a panic. I won’t be someone who freaks out over nothing. I can get an answer to this very quickly and I won’t even have to see Guy to do it.
I call Bethany.
“Hello friend!” Bethany yells into my ear.
“Aren’t you at work?”
“Yeah,” she snorts, “I just freaked out my assistant. Sorry Todd!”
“Hey, quick question. Did Crawford and Company sell the lot where I’m parked?”
“No way.”
I knew it.
“But actually, I don’t know. I don’t think so. Let me double check for you, hold please.”
She puts me on hold and I listen to elevator music for about thirty seconds.
“Shit, Scarlett,” she says as soon as she clicks back onto the line.
My stomach drops to my toes.
No. No no no. It’s not true. It can’t be.
Black spots swim across my field of vision and I sit on the bumper of the truck and take deep breaths.
Bethany is still talking in my ear. Something about how the deal is final, but papers haven’t been signed, yet, everything still has to go through escrow. But I barely hear her. I feel sick. But maybe still, there’s something going on. He can explain it. I know it.
After everything we’ve done and everything he said, he wouldn’t do this to me, not without some kind of plan, like he said. But then why didn’t he tell me?
But the little voices in my head are buzzing in a chorus of “I told you so’s” because I always do this. I always believe in love and forever after and every time it’s a lie. Past experience is waving a red flag and telling me I’m the biggest moron in the history of idiots.
I don’t even know if I say goodbye to Bethany. Somehow, she’s not on the line anymore and I walk across the street in a daze.
“Scarlett?” Fred calls out behind me from the order window. “What’s going on?”
But I keep walking. Carson isn’t at his desk. I stop outside Guy’s office and the words hit me like bullets in my chest.
“If you tell me you’re changing all of our plans simply because you’re fucking the cupcake woman, I don’t care how cute she is, you’ve been compromised and this whole thing will be a disaster.”
And then Guy’s response. ““Fine. It’s not important. Just do what you need to, get the deal done, and we’ll talk after.”
I can’t breathe. This isn’t happening to me. Again.
“Guy?”
“Scarlett.” His eyes drop. Guiltily.
“You…you bought the…you did it. That thing you said you weren’t going to do.” I can’t even say it.
And now here I am staring into those stark green eyes. Confusion pierces into the fog of emotions roiling through me. He does appear sincerely contrite. His brows are down.
He walks around his desk to approach me, hands out.
“I didn’t know—"
“You didn’t know? You said it’s not important when that…man said you were fucking the cupcake woman.”
He winces. “Oliver is a dick. And that’s not what I meant.”
I want to believe him. I want it so bad I can taste it. But all my old insecurities and doubts are banging against my ribs, harder than my heart is pounding, beating me up from the inside out. I always make bad decisions with men. And this was a colossal mistake, from the beginning, and this time I knew it. And still, I thought, once again, that I would be enough to make someone care. I was wrong.
“Well it meant something to me. And now it means we’re done.” My voice cracks on the last work, but it doesn’t affect him.
The shutters fall over his eyes. He steps back, face impassive, the old emotionless mask I once knew. “You haven’t even let me explain. You’re really going to let this get between us?” The words aren’t a plea for forgiveness, they’re remote. Cold. He really doesn’t care.
No one ever does. How could I have expected more?
“I didn’t let anything get between us. You did,” I say.
“I told you I would find a mutually beneficial solution and I still intend to.”
How can I believe him? His other words are still ringing in my head. Not important.
I can’t stand here and gaze at his beautiful, distant face. It’s too much. And so, I do the thing I’ve been trying not to do all along.
I run.
Getting to Blue Falls, Texas from New York is quite a trip. All I could afford was a terrible flight on the worst airline ever with no snacks and three layovers on Christmas Day. And that’s not even the end, because once I got to the airport, I had to rent a car and drive an hour to get home. We’re only staying two days, including today, so in forty-eight hours we get to fly home in misery again.
Bah humbug.
“I’m so glad we’re both alone on Christmas.”
To top it all off, I have had to listen to Fred talk the entire time.
“We aren’t alone,” I say.
“I mean, we have each other. You’re right, I shouldn’t negate that. And our families. But you know, we don’t have men anymore. If this was, like Regency England, we would be total old spinster maids. On the shelf. Long in the tooth. Did you know, the phrase originally derived from horses? Their teeth never stop growing.”
I sigh and tune her out.
It’s been a week since I last saw Guy.
He tried to call me. Once. I didn’t answer, and he hasn’t tried again.
I haven’t been parking next to his restaurant, even though I could. I had some last-minute catering gigs before the holidays to take care of, which I did from my home and the commissary. I’ve spent a lot of time with Fred’s family, eating terrible vegan food and absorbing the warmth of a loving family like it might jolt me back to my former self.
But I don’t know if former Scarlett is ever coming back. It’s like a change in the Gregorian Calendar. There’s Before Guy and After Guy. But…whatever that would be in Latin. Fred’s family is really rubbing off on me.
At least now, I’ll get to see my actual family. I’m excited, but also exhausted and drained, wrung out like an old dish rag.
Pulling up the gravel drive, memories flood me. Images flickering in my mind like an old timey video. Riding bikes down the lane with Reese—who I would make bundle up in a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and any other kind of pad I could find. Playing in the sprinkler in the grass in the front yard. Granny yelling at us to wash our hands after catching toads in the pond over yonder, behind the house.
I can’t believe it’s been two years. I stop and stare up at the familiar, colorful monstrosity of my childhood home.
“Wow,” Fred says. “Are those shutters orange?”
“Yes.” I try to see the house from a stranger’s viewpoint, but I can’t. Yes, it’s colorful and kinda weird, from the bright yellow rocking chair on the porch to the red trim and blue shingles. But to me it’s just home.
I vaguely wonder what my parents are doing but then realize I don’t care. They aren’t really my family, not like Reese and Granny and…like I thought Guy would be. The family you choose.
The front door swings open and Reese comes running out, her smile so big it lights up the whole laneway. She’s wearing Christmas pajamas and a headband with reindeer antlers and they jiggle on her head as she runs toward me.
I open the car door and slide out to meet her halfway.
“Scarlett!” She throws herself into my arms and then we’re hugging like it’s been twenty years instead of two. “You’re here! We made pie,” she tells me.
And that’s when I burst into tears.
“Oh, dear.” Reese pats me on the back. “Are you okay?”
“Do I need to shoot someone?” Granny asks from behind her.
“No, no, it’s fine.” I wipe at my eyes and peek over Reese’s shoulder at Granny. She’s wearing a vibrant rainbow scarf around her neck over her own red and green long johns. And she’s not alone. There’s a whole crowd of people on the porch behind her, all wearing Christmas pajamas and watching the exchange with curiosity.
“Howdy y’all! I’m Fred,” Fred calls out from behind me.
I laugh wetly into Reese’s shoulder. “Fred, people don’t really talk like that here.”
“We sure as shit do,” Granny says. “Come on in, y’all, it’s getting mighty chilly out here. Beast made up some hot cocoa and it will keep you warm so you can explain why you’ve become a watering pot.” She turns away, mumbling under her breath, “Damn city folk probably ruined you for life.” Then louder, “Beast! Get out extra moonshine!” She leads us up to the porch and into the house.
Once we’re crowded in the kitchen, Reese introduces everyone, but I can’t quite focus on all the names she’s throwing out. Fitz is her boyfriend, so I keep that one close, but then there’s also his sister Annabel, her boyfriend Jude, and then Jude’s sister and brother—this part of the introduction gets convoluted because apparently, they’re all sort of siblings, but not really—Beast and Grace.
Beast hands me a steaming mug during this whole process.
“Thank you,” tell him, taking a long sip. Extra moonshine cocoa. I sure have missed Granny.
He gets Fred a cup, too and she doesn’t even thank him, just stares up at him like he might eat her. He’s a hulking mess of a man, with dark hair and inscrutable expression. Wide as a house.
He takes up position by the door while the rest of us are crowded around the kitchen.
“Tell me who I have to kill or maim or both,” Granny insists.
I glance around uncomfortably at the assembled crowd, and thankfully, Jude takes the hint.
“Why don’t we go pick out a Christmas movie for everyone to watch?” he says, rubbing his beard.
“I get to pick first!” Grace, his sort-of sister—a small wisp of a blonde who can’t be more than thirteen—scrambles out to the living room, sliding on the hardwood in her socks.
Jude and Annabel follow her, along with a rambling Beast. Fitz kisses Reese on the cheek and exits to the living room, offering me a handsome smile on his way out.
And then finally, Fred. “I’ve heard this story a thousand times,” she rolls her eyes, but then squeezes my shoulder before disappearing after the others.
Now it’s me and Granny and Reese. I take another sip of my spiked cocoa and scan Reese. Really getting an eyeful. She looks so happy. I mean, right now, she’s got a crease between her brows and she’s frowning at me with concern, but I can still see the change in her. Her whole stature is straight and open, not like she was before where it was like she was always trying to hide herself. The guilt I had felt for leaving her washes away now that I can witness her transformation with my own eyes. From caterpillar to butterfly.
I grab her hand. “I’m so happy you found your tribe. I can’t wait to get to know them more.”
“Me, too.” She squeezes my fingers. “But tell us what’s going on. Why all the tears?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“I do,” Granny says. She leans back and takes a sip out of her mug with a smirk. “It was the brooch, just like I told you.”
I gasp and then gape at her. “It was the brooch.”
Reese glances between us, a crease between her brows. “What?”
I fill them both in, starting with the night of the charity event, explaining everything that happened, including bits of what had gone before with the fire incident. I skim over the sexy bits, but they get the gist, anyway.
Toward the end, when I explain what I overheard, Granny stops me. “Eavesdroppers never hear anything good of themselves. And eavesdropping is a dick move.”
“Granny!”
“I’m telling you, girl, you should have let him explain.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I defend myself. “I was going to let him explain and then I heard the conversation. Besides, he didn’t want to explain.”
She puffs out a short laugh. “Of course not, not after you were ready to bolt at the first sign of conflict.”
I’m shocked into silence.
“I didn’t bolt at the first sign of conflict. There was the whole, oh yeah, I’m married thing, too.”
“He explained that, and you forgave him.”
“And?”
Granny taps my hand. “You can’t keep bringing it up if it’s forgiven. That’s not fair. You want to believe he’s like that Bruce Conway, but he’s not.”
I bite my lip. Is she right?
Reese takes a more diplomatic approach. “He said he was working on something else, right?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what it was. He never bothered telling me.”
Reese and Granny exchange a glance.
“You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“We are on your side,” Reese says. “Why don’t you just talk to him? And let him explain everything?”
My eyes fall shut and I lean forward, head in hands. “I’ve waited too long. He won’t talk to me.”
“You have to at least try,” Reese says. “Worst case scenario, you’re right, and then you will have lost nothing.”
Nerves flutter in my belly at the thought of reaching out to Guy. I don’t know if I could handle it if he gave me the cold shoulder or dismissed me out of hand.
Not to mention the one thing I should be more concerned about: my business and what I’m going to do with For Goodness Cakes after the holidays. What if it fails?
“What if I have to close down the truck?”
“No,” Reese’s denial is instantaneous. “You’ll think of something. You always do.”
Granny puts her hand over mine. “Every storm runs out of rain.”
“What if I’m too afraid to even get wet?”
Granny shakes her head. “You got soaked the second you walked out of this town and didn’t look back. The problem is you’re afraid of failure, but the real fear should be regret. You won’t fail. You can’t because you have everything you need inside you, and no one can take that away unless you let them.”
I blink at her. It’s like Guy said, I am enough. And they’re both right. I will find somewhere else to sell my cakes and make people smile. I will continue to grow my catering business. This isn’t the end, it’s the beginning.
Granny continues, “And you should listen to me because I’m old and ornery and if you don’t, I might shoot you.”
Reese and I laugh, but Granny doesn’t.
“Come on,” I stand up. “You’ve listened to me whine and complain long enough. Let’s go join the others.”
But I don’t go into the living room right away. They go, and I stay in the kitchen and try to call Guy before I chicken out.
The call goes straight to voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message. This doesn’t feel like something I want to get into with a recording. I power my phone off. I don’t want to be distracted when there’s not much I can do about the Guy situation. I’ll enjoy the limited time with my family and worry about Guy when I get back to New York tomorrow.