by Viragh, Brea
“I tried that and we see how it turned out.” I wanted to save my breath. Her mind was made up either way.
“No, you went in there to call it quits. Fight for what you want.” Fire sparked in Nell’s eyes.
She sounded too much like Hudson for my liking. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” I kicked at a stray twig floating downstream. “Give me a couple of days to feel sorry for myself.”
“Why do you think we’re here?”
“To literally drown my sorrows?”
“You know what—” Nell gave no warning before she reached out and propelled me off of the rock. The shock of being suddenly submerged in the cold water hit me hard, and I swallowed half the river before touching the bottom, sputtering to the surface and gasping for air.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I shoved hair out of my face, shivering.
Nell kept her leg straight to dissuade me from coming closer. “To knock some sense into you!”
“I could have gotten caught in the current.” My arms went around my chest to lock in the last of my body warmth.
“Weren’t you talking about drowning just a minute ago?”
I waded back to the rock, annoyed when Nell kept me away with her foot.
“Grow a sac.”
Eyes narrowed, I gave her a warning finger. “Leave me alone.”
“Are you going to walk away? Leave behind a great opportunity?”
“You’re crossing a line, Nell.” There was a flash of heat inside me, despite the cold. A thread of anger firing in my veins.
Nell crossed her arms as well to mimic me. “Stop trying to ruin your life with excuses. Oh, people think I’m a bad person.” Her voice took on an affected tone. “Oh, I’ve lost the love of my life. Well, you know what? Big fucking deal.”
My teeth chattered. “Let me back up on the rock so I can strangle you.”
“You let your fear of your mama turn you into a wimp. A wimp pretending she can run with the big boys. You don’t want to rock the boat because you’re too worried about what everyone else thinks. Be a man!”
“I can’t be a man. I have tits, in case you haven’t noticed. And they’re about to freeze off.”
Nell shook her head. “I’m your friend. Right?”
I hesitated. “I’m not so sure anymore.”
“Right? I can’t hear you.”
“Yes, you vile woman. Yes, you’re my friend.”
“Would I steer you wrong?”
“You pushed me off the rock, so I’m going to say yes again.”
“Talk to Duncan. Explain the situation and your fears. Don’t let this opportunity for happiness pass you by or you’ll regret it.” Finished with her speech, Nell extended a hand to help me up. I grabbed her wrist, leaping and knocking both knees against the rock in the process.
“I’m not coming to the river with you again,” I told her. “I know the games you play now.”
She looped an arm around my shoulder, uncaring about the wetness. “It’s what friends do for each other.” She shrugged. “We work with what we’re given. Deal with it.”
Was it so simple? I thought so at first, weeks ago when I thought I was helping August reconnect with the love of his life, find his happiness. An adventure, I’d called it, and a way to prove I’d learned my lesson. Family stuck together. Now I saw the experience as a mark, one destined to change a person forever. I was not the same woman I was the moment August first asked for my help.
Love, and betrayal, did work in bizarre ways beneath the surface of the skin, where no one could see.
**
I pushed aside my sorrows when customers still failed to keep their scheduled appointments. Chewed my inner lip to keep from crying when people who used to greet me in the street turned up their noses when I walked past. And kept my hands from reaching for the phone to call Duncan.
“Dealing with it” became my motto for the next few days.
In the true spirit of silver linings, I accepted the reality of the moment and focused on the things I couldn’t change. With time, the town would come to see I wasn’t the villain I’d been painted to be. I’d always tried to believe in fairytales, considered myself a romantic at heart. Now I’d discovered that romance caused cracks and crevices to form. I wasn’t sure if they could be filled again.
What I could do was focus. My cupcake business would happen, however long it took. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but it would come. I returned to Essie’s Confections to once more plead my case. And hoped she wasn’t taken in by the talk of the town.
I walked through the front door, surveying the dark gray walls and white bead board. “Hello again,” I called to the empty room. The sweet scent of baking chocolate and mint invaded my nostrils the moment I stepped inside. The scents I enjoyed in my own kitchen times ten. Melancholy clogged my throat and threatened to choke me.
“Help, please!” The plea came from behind a set of double doors. “She quit on me!”
Hurrying, I pushed my way through to the back room. “Essie?”
She was elbow-deep in cookie batter. Literally. “Never trust high school students, Leda. Never ever trust them. I’ve got to get these cupcakes made and I have no one to help me. No one to man the front, for poop’s sake. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m here.” I pushed my sorrow to the side, rolling up my proverbial sleeves. “What do you need from me?”
“Can you get the cupcakes out of the oven before they burn? I’m having an issue here.” Essie dragged her arms out of the batter with a slurp. “This is supposed to be chocolate chip mint in cookie form, but it looks more like glue. I don’t even have time to think, let alone breathe.”
Determined to help, I set my own troubles aside and made the bakery my priority. “Leave it to me.”
I performed best in these situations. Thrived when there were deadlines to be met. Instead of moaning about the loss of an opportunity, I went to work.
“I can’t believe she quit.” Essie ran a harried hand over her head, coming away with loose strands and gasping at the sight. Stripes of beige batter now adorned the area.
Snapping my fingers, I said, “Pay attention! What happened?”
“She said she had better things to do than flip cookies for a living. It wasn’t worth her while making minimum wage here.” Essie crossed to the sink and turned the water on, steam rising from the tap. Droplets hit the pans already there and splattered up to scald anyone in range. “I tried to call in my backup people but none of them answered their phones. I swear, I think people have a vendetta against me.”
Join the club.
“I’ve got half a dozen orders to fill and I haven’t stocked my own sale shelves.”
“I’m sorry to say, it probably won’t help your case having me here.” I grabbed a bottle of vanilla and, after a taste, poured a generous amount into the bowl. “If I you haven’t already heard, I’m on a lot of shit lists.”
Her hands fidgeted as she spun around the room in wild circles. “I don’t give a poop what other people have to say. Your life is your business. I just need help. Thank God you came when you did.”
“And here I was going to get down on my knees and beg you to hire me.”
“If you can get me through these orders and out the other side, the job is yours.” Essie screeched, grabbing thick chunks of her hair and pulling. “I can’t do this alone!”
I closed the oven door behind me, crossing to her and turning off the water. “Go get a cup of coffee and leave everything to me.” Holding her in place with one hand, I grabbed a towel with the other and wiped the gook from her hair. “You need to be out front in case there’s a rush.”
She nodded, her eyes refusing to focus. The downside of her youth. An adult took one look at the mess and got to work. The young lost their heads and let their frazzled nerves get the better of them.
“Coffee.”
“Yes. Coffee.” I gave Essie a swat on the back to send her on her way. “You�
��ll be of more use in the front than back here. I’ve got a system to deal with chaos.”
Only in the kitchen, sadly.
The instant she was out of sight I took a moment to take stock of the whole situation. The orders were printed on neat forms and pinned to a spinning wheel on the counter next to me. I perused the batch before making a plan of attack. Then I dove in without hesitation, rubbing my hands together and getting to work.
The cupcakes were moved to a cooling rack, and I turned to the huge bowl on the countertop. Thick batter clung tenaciously to the sides. I grabbed a wooden spatula hanging on the wall, attacking the batter with gusto and demanding it to obey my command. It was still too thick. In went a few eggs, cracked on the side of the bowl and dropped in for added liquid.
Taking a leap of faith, I snagged another tiny taste to try to isolate and identify the flavors. Vanilla, yes, but it could use more. Chocolate and mint, in the correct proportions. I added a couple of pinches of pink Himalayan salt to the batter and mixed it thoroughly before dropping dollops into a prepared pan.
The pan went into the oven and I moved to the next station. I lost track of time. Somewhere in the span of hours I spent catching up to the orders, Essie came in to attach the bowl to the industrial-sized KitchenAid mixer and got a meringue whipping. She left the rest of it to me, zipping back to the front of the shop to handle the customers.
I didn’t mind. Without talk we made the afternoon pass, listening to music crooning from a small stereo in the corner of the room. The tunes rolled onward and so did we. I didn’t need conversation to interrupt the rhythm of baking. It was all timing, a series of exact steps resulting in a superior product if followed properly. Once the cupcakes were cooled, I used the supplies in the refrigerator to create a quick ganache. Tuille for adornment went into the oven, and I focused my efforts on the meringue.
Recipes came from memory, and if that failed I used my phone to access the wealth of knowledge available on the Internet, adding my own flair whenever possible. The orders were completed in rapid succession and stacked on the shelves for packaging.
We worked swift and steady for the next three hours, until business slowed enough for me to step away from the oven for a drink of water. I recognized the last tinkle of the bell accompanied by a lock flipping. The final customer of the day leaving, and hopefully pleased with their purchases.
A moment later Essie returned through those swinging doors, pale and wan. She sank onto a nearby stool with trembling knees before reaching out for a mug of cool coffee on the counter.
The moment she sat, I shot her a shaky grin. “Were you serious about that job? I may need it if my own clients keep disappearing on me.”
Essie let her head drop back until it knocked against the wall. “Totally serious. It’s yours if you want it. Sure you’ll be able to fit me into your schedule?”
“I didn’t know you were a kidder.” I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm. “With everything that’s happened, I’ll have more than enough time to spare between here and my customers. Backlash and fallout tend to leave a person with a lot of extra time.”
Essie wiggled a finger. “People around here can have small minds. Give it a month and something else will take their attention away. I need you around more often, Leda. You work like a pack mule and keep me in line, which can be difficult, I know.”
“I told you I’m good to have around,” I joked. “Some people can’t handle the heat in the kitchen. It’s better your girl left now than alienate your customers with her bad attitude. And it’s not a matter of keeping you in line. Just keeping it organized here.” I glanced around at my handiwork. There was still enough cleaning left to do to last a lifetime. “We made it through the afternoon church crowd and got your custom orders ready to deliver.”
“Kitchen organization has never been my forte. I’m better at books and ledgers.” She let her arms flop to her lap. “I feel like I’m a joke with a piece of paper. My love for cooking doesn’t mean squat when I can’t run my shop. I have bullcrap to offer here, so why should my help stay by my side?”
I didn’t answer her right away, instead dragging a second stool over to where she sat. My muscles ached, wonderfully so, and despite my initial resentment toward Essie’s accomplishments, I had a sick feeling I’d found my place.
“We all feel like losers now and again. Trust me.”
Essie turned to stare at me. “You must think I’m too young for this. Don’t you?” She toyed with the ends of her apron strings, the pristine white now dotted with a variety of rainbow-colored stains. “I haven’t proven my mettle yet.”
“I believe I’m not in a position to judge anyone. Although maybe we can help prove our mettle together.”
The relief was evident on her face as her pale features warmed. Her knees trembled when she stood, reaching a hand out to help me to my feet. “Hear, hear.” She reached behind her for a chocolate bar and snapped off a piece large enough to share. “Have some. It will help wipe those shadows from your eyes.”
I bristled, swallowed. “Who said there are shadows?”
“I may be young, but I know. Nothing bruises like love.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
So. I had a job at a bakery. Go figure. Ask me if I believed it a week ago and I would have laughed myself into a fit of tears. Now I’d found a woman who didn’t take gossip into account. Who needed my skill and, at long last, did decide to take a chance on me. It felt great!
Broom in hand, I swept aside the last bit of hair from Miss T’s monthly visit when the screen door slapped against the wall. August hurried inside like a whirlwind with twice the bluster and just as much noise, still wearing his dirty work clothes covered with patches of wax and wood chips.
“I need to talk to you,” he stated, breath coming in heaving waves.
Taking my time, I brushed the hair into a pile, eyes rooted to the floor. There were a thousand things I would rather do than speak with August. “I’m busy. And you need a bath. If you get mud or wood stain on my walls, I’ll throw you out the door.”
“I said, we need to talk.”
“The text I sent you the other night should have covered all the bases. Be happy for what you have.” Though the floor was clean, I continued to sweep. “I have nothing more to say.”
It wasn’t right to blame him for my actions. Logically, I realized. However, I chose a more peevish direction and decided not to turn around.
August leaned back against the wall, leaving a smudge. “I told Isabel the truth.”
I used the chair to prop myself up, cocking a hip to the side and considering him. One look established we were twins in this matter. Deep bags dragged his face to the floor, bruised-looking dark circles rising from beneath his skin, a product of not sleeping. Without the wonders of makeup, I may have appeared his double. I still had a hard time facing myself in the mirror.
Eyes narrowed, I stepped away from the chair and moved toward August while I spoke. “Ah, so it’s just been broken heart and business as usual for you? No repercussions?” He leaned back from me as I crowded him, ending my sentence with a finger pointed inches from his face. I was breathing too fast, a product of the emotions I fought to swallow. They fell past my throat like day old oatmeal. Thick, gluey, sour.
He groaned, cracking his knuckles. “It’s been a nightmare. I told her everything, and she didn’t take it well. I’m pretty sure the whole town is turned against me and thinks I’m a jackass.”
“Yeah, I figured it would come out eventually. I can’t be the only one feeling the backlash here.” I mimed holding a gun, pulling the trigger, and blowing the smoke from the muzzle. “You and I are dead in the water.”
Once Isabel walked in on Duncan and me, it was only a matter of time before August felt the ripples on his end.
“It didn’t go well. Is that what you want to hear?” August kicked his shoes off once he caught his breath, heading to the bench in the corner and taking a seat. “She threw a pan o
f dirty floor water at me and threatened my manhood.”
I continued to avoid his gaze. “The guilty party at last comes clean.”
“It’s going to be a terrible uphill climb from here.” August dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Turn the blade right around and point it at your chest. In the end, what we did for love was not a nice thing. Definitely not worth the trouble.”
“You think I don’t know that? Like I’m some kind of mechanical monster who has no feelings? I’m in agony over what I’ve put you through, what I’ve put Isabel through.”
I winced. “No one asked you to ruin every one of Isabel’s relationships. Yet here we are.”
“Here we are. Picking up the pieces like two morons.” August snorted. “I’m paying for what I’ve done, okay? Just as much as you. I might have lost the woman I love because of the damage.”
“You won’t get any sympathy from me, August. I’ve gotten more nasty looks than I can count in the last couple of weeks. Worse since...” The night at the hotel. The near-intercourse. “I lost someone I loved as well, because of a stupid mistake. The difference here being I’ll admit to my wrong. What will you do?”
If he had a retort, he swallowed it. “I can only say I’m sorry.”
“What I did was wrong. If I could do it all over again, would I change anything?” At last I turned to him. “Sure, but it’s done now. We all deal with the consequences of our actions, and I am dealing to the best of my ability.”
He shook his head and bits of sawdust fell. “I can’t let her go, Leda. No matter what I did, how I hurt her. I want to make it better.”
“Then why are you here?”
“...I needed a friend.”
The damn candles were burning themselves out. I’d been trying to stay away from memories of Duncan and the smallest threads reminding me of our time together. What we should not have done. Now here came August, bringing me right back into the fray when I’d finally begun the process of forgiving myself.