Cake and Punishment

by Maymee Bell

  “I’m happy with the bag I’ve got.” I patted it as the thing overtook my lap.

  “You aren’t bringing that into the RCC, are you?” Mama asked. I didn’t need to look at her face to hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  Before we pulled up to the valet at the front of the clubhouse, Mama gave me instructions. “Now remember your manners. The ‘Yes, ma’ams’ and ‘Thank yous.’”

  “I’m not ten.” I shook my head and let the attendant open my door.

  While I waited for Mama to sign us in, I couldn’t help but let the comfort of the country club fill me with warmth. I’d spent many of my teenage days and nights here. Yellow daffodils curved along the sidewalk leading up to the front entrance of the Rumford Country Club house, a historic white brick mansion. Large brick stairways on both sides of the massive porch came together in the middle with an overlook at the entrance of the club.

  The flowers danced in the light breeze—so jovial, as if they were taunting me, reminding me of the last time I’d stood right here with Mama as I told her I wasn’t going back to college and instead was going to culinary school.

  Mama had lost her religion right there for all her country club friends to see. It hadn’t been pretty. She’d yelled that I’d forgotten my raising and that she’d never forgive me for shattering her dream of her only daughter growing up in Rumford and joining the Junior League.

  “Now don’t be going and getting no big ideas about me joining. I’m only here temporarily,” I reminded her after she signed us in.

  According to the RCC bylaws, everyone who came in and out of the club had to sign in or be signed in by a member. No riffraff were allowed.

  The chatter of the women who’d already gotten to the Junior League meeting floated out into the foyer of the clubhouse. A waitress took the cupcakes from me as soon as we walked in.

  The musty old smell that I recalled to be very potent as a child didn’t hit me like I’d remembered. Gone was the maroon carpet with yellow diamonds, and in its place were bamboo wood floors. The heavy drapes that had once made the clubhouse so dark had been replaced by new windows that let the light shine in. Even the midcentury furniture had been replaced with more modern leather pieces.

  “It can’t be!” The southern drawl screeched across the room as soon as Mama and I stepped in. “Hold my horses. Is that you, Sophia Cummings?”

  The hat that covered the five-foot-six-inch tall woman flapped with each stalking step that came toward me. A tall glass of iced tea with a lemon slice wedged on the rim was in her hand.

  “It’s me, Charlotte Harrington.” She dragged the hat off her head.

  Charlotte had a beautiful head full of ginger red hair. It was a warm color that perfectly matched her sweet disposition.

  She pulled me into a big hug, and we grabbed hands and jumped up and down like two little girls

  “I’d heard from some of the gals down at the Sassy and Classy Salon that you’d come back to town.” She pulled back and shot me a theatrical wink. “Of course, all the rest I heard is rumor, but I’m still glad to see that you are here in the flesh.” She stuck the hat back on her head, tugged the straw from her drink to her lips, and took a nice long drink. “I’m a bit sad you didn’t call me yourself.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time,” I said. The big solitaire diamond ring perched on her finger blinded my eyes. I grabbed her hand. “Don’t tell me you are engaged?”

  “I am.” A smile curled up on her face and put a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m getting married!” She bounced on the balls of her fancy heeled shoes and stuck her hand out for me to get a better look. “The wedding’s this weekend. And you have to come since you’re in town.”

  “I’d love to. Congratulations.” My voice rose. “Do I know the lucky guy?”

  “I doubt it. Brett Ponder.” She drew her hand to her chest. “Charlotte Ponder,” she sighed, but then picked right back up. “He didn’t grow up in Rumford. We met in college and he’s in real estate. We are livin’ in sin.” She curled her lips into a heavy grin, wiggling her brows. “I’m never leaving Rumford like you. Plus, he said that Rumford is growing so fast and he’d like to be part of it.” She smiled. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him. I’m so happy to see you. I thought I’d only be hanging out with Bitsy’s friends.” I took a deep breath and realized the Junior League now consisted of people my age as well as my Bitsy’s.

  “Did Charlotte tell you that she and her fiancé already live together?” Mama asked, walking up to us with a disapproving side-eye focused on Charlotte before darting off in another direction.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, apologizing for Bitsy’s behavior. “Old school.”

  Unfortunately, though time in the South had passed, not many moral codes had changed.

  “That Bitsy. She’s something else.” Charlotte cocked a brow.

  “Yes, she is,” I agreed, and looked over at Mama.

  She was talking to some of her friends. She pointed at me. They waved; I waved back. I scanned the room.

  “Is that Madison Quinn?” I asked, seeing another of our friends.

  “Yes.” Charlotte batted my hand. “Yoo-hoo! Madison.” Charlotte grabbed her hat and waved it in the air. Apparently, her hand wasn’t large enough to get someone’s attention.

  Madison was too busy sitting at a table talking to even hear Charlotte. That didn’t stop Charlotte from grabbing my hand and dragging me across the room.

  “Sophia Cummings?” Madison stood up. Right there, attached to her left boob, was her infant child. “What? You’ve never seen breastfeeding?” She balanced the baby with one hand and swiped one of the cupcakes off the tray as the waitress walked by.

  “I think I’m shocked you’re a mom.” I clearly remembered in high school that she’d sworn she’d never get married and settle down. Children had been a swear word to her.

  “Honey, there ain’t no one more surprised than me and Matthew.” Her lips pursed.

  “Matthew Ridge?” I asked. We’d gone to high school with Matthew, who’d thought he was hotter than a Laredo parking lot in the summertime.

  “The one and only. He took me out and it was all she wrote.” Madison sat back down and gestured for me to join her. Charlotte sat down at the open chair next to mine. “I was a goner. You and I both knew he was hot, but who knew he was so romantic?” She put her hand to her chest. “Mrs. Madison Ridge.”

  I looked between my two good friends from high school, and it was as if the last ten years haven’t hindered our friendship at all.

  “How are you?” Madison asked, and tapped my leg.

  She gave me the tilted head, drooping eyes, and sympathetic look that I was getting used to seeing. It was the ultimate bless-your-heart look without saying the words. She peeled back the wrapper on the cupcake and devoured it in two bites.

  “Other than catching my live-in boyfriend cheating on me with a coworker at my dream job, I’m good.” I laughed.

  “Sophia.” Her dark brows slanted into a frown. She put the half-eaten cupcake on the table. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? We can do?” Madison and Charlotte nodded at each other.

  “No, I’m fine,” I assured her.

  “We three must get together while you’re in town.” She gestured between Charlotte and me. “Outside of all the wedding stuff.” She ate the rest of the cupcake. “Maybe downtown for some shopping and food. You will love Peacocks and Pansies. They’ve got the cutest clothes.”

  Charlotte agreed with her.

  “I’d love that,” I said, hoping that we could make it happen. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when we drove through town. It’s so pretty and cozy. Not like it used to be.”

  “My gosh, Charlotte, these are amazing.” Madison pointed to the cupcakes. “Did your baker make these?” Madison looked at me. “Charlotte is in charge of today’s dessert. A preview of what’s being served at her fancy-shmancy wedding.”


  “Not from my baker.” Charlotte’s lips turned down. “That hussy—she up and canceled on me yesterday and canceled my wedding cakes. I have no idea who I can find to bake the cakes in a pinch.”

  Madison’s jaw dropped. “Oh, honey.” She paused. “Well, the Piggly Wiggly has some options.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said, putting my two cents in. It felt so good to be sitting here with them as we’d used to. Close friendships in Manhattan were hard to have. Everyone seemed to always be competing against each other. Especially in the restaurant industry.

  “Mm-hmm.” Charlotte took a bite of the banana chocolate cupcake. “Oh, my stars. You’re right. This is delicious.”

  “Thank you.” I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair. “I made those this morning.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Madison had a look of shock and awe.

  “Right? Mama had enough ingredients for me to throw those together,” I joked.

  “No, no, no.” Madison shook her head. “Kidding me as in you made these?”

  “I did.” I nodded. This was what made me love baking so much. It warmed the souls of everyone from the brokenhearted to the happiest of hearts.

  “Then you must do my wedding cake.” Charlotte smacked the table.

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head and sat back up. “I don’t have all the equipment I need to make a wedding cake.”

  “A wedding cake? You mean lots of wedding cakes.” Madison pointed across me to Charlotte. “She’s invited the entire town. No wonder your other baker quit,” she joked.

  Only I wasn’t joking. I didn’t have any equipment here to make the types of cakes and desserts I’d been used to making over the past few years.

  “I just knew that God had another plan.” Charlotte wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “My daddy pays enough money to this country club that I’ll see to it that you have all the stuff you need and their kitchen to make my cakes. You meet me here in the morning.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, but she was having none of it. “I do want to spend time with the two of you while I’m here. I’m more than willing to help out, but the big responsibility of making the perfect cake…”

  She still ignored me.

  “Aren’t those the best?” Charlotte asked one of the Junior League members who walked by with one of my cupcakes in her hand. She pointed to me. “My baker, all the way from a fancy restaurant in Manhattan, made them.” She smiled as her shoulders danced back and forth. “Just you wait until you taste my wedding cakes.”

  “Aren’t you Bitsy’s daughter?” the lady asked.

  “I am.” I nodded and smiled.

  “I’m Carol Bauer. I’m the president of the Garden Club. You’re going to have to come with Bitsy while you’re in town,” she said. “We’d love to have you.”

  “I’ll do that if I’m still here.” I kept reminding myself not to get sucked into staying in Rumford for too long or Mama would have me committed to all sort of things, including volunteer work.

  “Come on by the shop and I’ll give you the friends and family discount.” Carol spoke more with a southern twang by making her vowels more crisp than drawn out.

  “Shop?” I questioned.

  “I own Peacocks and Pansies downtown.” Her brown eyes drew up my body. “You’d look great in our boutique clothes.”

  “I saw your shop on our way here.” I recalled seeing the cute boutique and even thinking how much it resembled some of the Manhattan boutiques I loved to wander around in.

  “I have the perfect dress for you to wear to Charlotte’s wedding.” She nodded.

  “Wedding and rehearsal dinner,” Charlotte barged her way into our conversation.

  “Yes. I have a lovely dress that I can see you in right now for the rehearsal.” Carol and Charlotte nodded between each other.

  “You’re thinking the gray one, right?” Charlotte’s brows lifted.

  “Red.” Carol’s shoulders shivered with excitement. Little did she know, red wasn’t my color. “I’m excited to taste your wedding cake if Sophia is baking it.” Carol’s eyes squinted when she smiled. “We haven’t had a good baker in town since Ford’s shut down.”

  I chewed on the edge of my lips. What on earth had I gotten myself into?

  Charlotte’s eyes met mine.

  “I guess I am.” I shrugged.

  “It’s settled.” Charlotte clapped her hands together. “You are baking my cake.”

  A waitress walked by and I grabbed the only cupcake left on her tray.

  I peeled off the wrapper and took a bite. A little sense of giddiness swept through my stomach as the thought of making Charlotte’s wedding cake started to sink in. I was a baker, and seeing faces like my dearest high school friends enjoying something I’d made did make me happy. After all, you can’t be sad when holding a cupcake.

  Chapter Three

  All night long I tossed and turned. Duchess had laid on top of my head all night, which didn’t help, but it was the excitement bubbling up in me about baking Charlotte’s cake that really kept me awake. It was a much-needed distraction from my life. The blood pumping in my head woke my muse. If I recalled the items Mama had in her kitchen, I’d have just enough ingredients to make Red Velvet Crunchies, one of my favorite go-to cookies when I needed some comfort. One batch made a whole bunch of cookies, which was perfect for making ahead of time, freezing, and thawing as needed. I’d load Mama and Daddy’s freezer up with some.

  “Let’s go, girl.” I peeled the covers off of me and grabbed Duchess off the bed.

  We crept down the back stairs that were away from my parents’ bedroom and flipped on the kitchen lights. Bitsy’s pantry was a baker’s dream. It was a big walk-in with lights that automatically came on with a sensor. Mama had neatly stored the baking appliances I’d bought with my own money when I worked at the RCC.

  I grabbed the flour, baking powder, sugars, and salt along with the box of food coloring and gels, even though I wasn’t sure how old they were. I needed the red to make the classic chocolate chip cookie resemble red velvet. I was going to have to use both the red gel and the red food coloring since there wasn’t enough of either separately.

  I waited to turn the oven on because the dough needed to chill in the refrigerator for at least an hour. Filling the coffee pot and turning it on would make the coffee about ready when I was finished mixing the dough. Then I could enjoy a cup of coffee in the stillness of the early morning. Really early morning.

  I whisked and used the hand mixer instead of the stand mixer. The least amount of noise I could make was best. Mama would be all worried about me, and I didn’t want her hovering over me while I was here. The only thing that was going to get me through the grief was baking. It always helped.

  “Bitsy would die if she saw this kitchen at two AM.” I spoke to Duchess as if she completely understood. She picked her head up off the chair cushion and stared at me. There was flour all over the countertops and some dusting on the floor from when I’d set the mixer too high and created a plume of dust. The front of the pink two-piece pajama set Bitsy had neatly laid on the bed—and I’d put on to sleep in—was now dusty as well.

  “Mmm.” The hum of my father filled the silence I was so enjoying. “I thought I smelled coffee.”

  I had the bowl of dough in my hands to put in the refrigerator.

  “Hi, Dad.” My eyes dipped. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  He pulled the refrigerator door open and smiled.

  “Nah. I couldn’t sleep.” He winked. “Like you, I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  I stuck the bowl in the fridge and shut the door. When I turned around, Dad had already pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and filled them.

  “And I haven’t gotten to spend much time with you since you got back.” He pushed two chairs out from the table.

  “I know you’re busy. Mama said you’ve got some big case coming up.” I picked Duchess up and put her in my lap when I sat down. She pur
red under all that fancy fur of hers. “It seems like we are a lot alike in the sleep department.”

  “Yep.” He took a sip of coffee. “Is that the mess of Red Velvet Crunchies?”

  “You know it.” I smiled at the thought that my dad knew what ingredients I used for his favorite cookies. “I figured I’d take some with me to the RCC when I meet Charlotte.”

  “Your mama told me about you stepping up to bake Charlotte’s cake. Are you sure you’re up for that?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.

  “Yeah.” I pishposhed. “You know Charlotte. I’m sure what she had planned is some gaudy, over-the-top, sparkly thing.”

  “She’s definitely an over-the-top girl.” Dad laughed. “But don’t make excuses about why you’re up baking. You always carried cookies with you.”

  “Something I still do.” It was true. Ever since I’d discovered I was pretty good at baking, I’d started to carry examples around with me and get people’s opinions. “You know…” I gnawed on my thought to make sure it came out the way I wanted it to. “It was about getting other people’s opinions because you and Mama would’ve told me that my cookies were better than Mrs. Fields’.”

  “They are.” Dad cocked a brow.

  “Seriously, what was really my validation that my cookies were good was the look on people’s faces after they ate a cookie that I created from scratch, with these hands.” I lifted my hands in the air and rotated them in front of me. Duchess looked up and let out a soft meow. Dad and I let out a low chuckle. I went back to patting her. “I love how cookies make people feel better. It’s like a magic potion for people to talk their problems out with me.”