Let Them Eat Cake

by Sandra Byrd

  The birds called to me as I left the house before even Dad was moving around. I got into the Jetta, turned over the engine twice before it started, and spurted down the road, toward the bridge and toward L’Esperance.

  He probably won’t even show, I thought. It’s been several weeks. Maybe he was seeing someone else and it didn’t work out, so he decided I was worth a second look. Or maybe I was right and he simply wants to place a new order and to make sure things are comfortable between us. You know, live at peace with everyone.

  I hated that my self-talk sounded like that so often. I looked up at my blood donor card on the rearview mirror.

  Be positive, Lexi.

  Quiet hopefulness was the most I could muster.

  I arrived a little before five. Jacques was already rolling croissant dough so the morning delivery could go out by eight. Auguste tossed a toque blanche at me. Normally, I’d have goofed with him and put it on, but today I didn’t want to mess up my French braid.

  Just before five, a light tap came on the glass bakery doors. Dan.

  I looked at him, hair not at all tousled at this time of day, pants neatly pressed. Suspenders. He smiled, and I felt a surge of joy inside me, unlike, honestly, anything I had felt with Luc. Maybe our time together had been personal.

  Auguste raised his eyebrows at me, and Jacques whistled under his breath. I shot them a warning look and unlocked the bakery door.

  “Hi,” Dan said. “Sophie said you’d be here early, so I hope this is okay.”

  I nodded. “Come into the café. No one is there yet, and I can make you a cup of coffee.”

  He looked longingly at the racks of almond croissants as we walked by.

  “Have you eaten breakfast?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  I took one of the warm croissants off the rack and put it on a plate. I turned the café lights on, warmed up the coffee machine, and drew two cups of coffee. Sophie wouldn’t be here for another half hour.

  We sat across from each other at a small table.

  “Your coffee is great,” he said. “So is the crescent roll.”

  “Croissant,” I corrected. “I’m glad you like it.” I wasn’t going to let him off too easy. I mean, he had ignored me for weeks.

  “Well, Lexi, I guess it’s my turn to apologize. I had a really good time with you at the U gardens and at that sushi place.”

  “Me too,” I answered quietly. I tucked a strand of hair back into my braid, but it fell forward again, so I just let it stay there.

  “The week afterward, I spent some time getting my truck fixed,” Dan continued. “I planned to call you after a few days, but my boss sent me on a business trip that lasted for over a week.”

  “In the African bush?” I asked.

  “No,” he admitted. “I had phone service, of course. But, well, honestly, I’m not used to splitting my time with anything other than business. New lawyers get all the dirty work, and if they want to work their way up in the firm, they have to buckle down, shut up, and get their work done.”

  At least I understood where he was coming from. “Yeah, I know all about that. My brother is a new lawyer.” I paused. “I did stop by your office once,” I admitted. “You were working with a woman.”

  I had no reason to be jealous. We’d been on one date. He owed me nothing. But he was here at five in the morning, and I wanted to make sure everything was clear and upfront.

  “A new attorney in our firm,” he said. “We’re working on a copyright infringement together. I hardly know her.”

  “My brother is marrying another lawyer in a couple weeks,” I said. “I think they enjoy talking shop together.”

  He was no idiot. He caught my vibe.

  “I don’t like to talk shop after work,” he said emphatically. “In fact, I know I need to balance my time better. I’ve been jogging. In fact, after I…uh…saw you drive by my house the other day when I was jogging—”

  “I was coming home from church,” I said quickly, not caring if I interrupted. I didn’t want him to think I was stalking him.

  “Oh yeah, of course…” His mind seemed to wander for a minute. “Well, anyway, I stopped in here later, just, you know, to see if you were here. But then I thought you’d probably be mad, so I left. I almost called you maybe a hundred times, but it’s been so long that I thought it would be better to talk in person. Later, I decided I really wanted to see you again no matter what. I’m sorry for all that. I feel like a jerk. If you’ll accept my apology, I’d like to take you out again this weekend. I’ll drive.”

  He offered a tentative smile. Cute dimples. I hadn’t noticed before.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “My future sister-in-law’s shower is Friday night.”

  “How about Saturday?” he asked. He reached into his leather briefcase and drew something out, then handed it to me.

  It was a menu for Tango, a very cool Spanish tapas restaurant in town. I’d been dying to go, but it’s a date place, and I’d had no date. I knew he’d chosen something he thought I would enjoy. I took the bait.

  “All right,” I said, forgiving him. After all, he’d been gracious enough to forgive me once.

  “See you at seven,” he said. He looked back at me as he walked out the door and flashed a foil-on smile, dimples and all. I thought I felt my heart skip.

  I went back to the bakery whistling.

  II ne pleut jomais mais il verse.

  It never rains but it pours.

  Friday I left work early, and so did Leah. We met at the other bakery to pick up the cake for her shower. We’d decided to have the shower at Leah’s mom’s house since my mom’s house was nearly all packed. It looked a little forlorn. Everything personal had been taken down, and we were eating on paper plates. Even my stuff was mostly packed.

  I’d thought it through. First, I would talk with Sophie, then with Luc. Then I was calling Allrecipes back to accept the job.

  We entered her mom’s house, me carrying the cake, Leah opening the doors. Her cheeks were the pink of a happy bride. I was happy for her.

  Nonna met us at the door. Leah’s mom stood behind her, unsure, I think, what to do about Nonna taking over.

  “My girls!” Nonna said, reaching a big arm around us and around the cake.

  “Le mie figlie!” My mom echoed Nonna in her shiny new Italian.

  “Listen to her,” Nonna snorted. “She’s more Italian than the pope now.”

  We bustled into the house. “Nonna,” I said. “The pope is German.”

  “Yes, well, the other pope.”

  “The last pope was Polish.”

  Nonna waved her hand. “Yes, yes…that just proves my point!

  I winked at my mother, who beamed. She didn’t seem to mind. She was enjoying her life.

  We set everything up, arranging lots of peonies in vases. Peonies were Leah’s wedding flower. I loved them. Several crowded together in each of the crystal vases looked like Petticoat Junction with their frilly crush of petals. Their delicate perfume smelled best up close—light, inviting, but not pushy. Just like Leah.

  I went to the living room in enough time to greet Tanya, who arrived well in advance of any of Leah’s friends.

  “I’m not too early, am I?” she asked a little worriedly. “I didn’t want to risk going against the traffic and being late.”

  “Not at all.” Leah embraced her. Because Tanya was my best friend and Leah my almost-sister, they saw each other quite a lot. I looked at the two of them hugging, both settled in jobs and in love, and I knew it wouldn’t be long until we were all gathered again for Tanya’s wedding shower.

  “I think I’ll get the cake ready,” I said, excusing myself.

  I walked into the kitchen, dodging caterers, and lifted the cake out of the box—three lovely layers of almond cake with delicate apricot mousse spread between each layer and enrobed in apricot-tinted marzipan. On top were delicate, peach-colored flowers and tiny ivy. I put it on an antique crystal plate and li
t some tea lights around it, then arranged a few flowers and greenery at the base. Nearby was the translucent bone china Leah’s mother had set out to serve on. Nonna’s silver service was there too. I knew Nonna planned to give it to Leah for a wedding gift. I loved her generosity. I knew she had special things set aside for me too, if I ever get married.

  As I sat down in the semicircle around Leah, I began to daydream about my wedding and what it would be like to be the bride.

  “You next, Lexi.” I snapped out of it. Oh—she meant my gift, not my marriage! The shower had progressed to the gift-opening stage, and Leah opened my present, a gift certificate for newlywed massage lessons.

  “Oh! How perfect!” she said, grinning at me. I knew I was the only person she’d told about her secret dream to be a massage therapist.

  After lots of talking and laughing and eating the terrific meal—and cake!—the women began to drift out one by one. Nonna, my mom, and I stayed to pick up. Nonna snoozed in the recliner in the family room while my mom ran the vacuum. I packed up the leftover cake in the kitchen.

  Leah came in, swiped some mousse, and licked her finger. “You do know how to pick a cake,” she said. “I suppose that’s only natural.” She broke off a piece of baguette leftover from the dinner.

  “This bread’s not as good as at your bakery,” she noted. “So how are things between you and Luc, anyway?”

  “You mean since I found out he’s engaged?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I guess I misinterpreted his flirting to mean what I wanted it to mean. Although… I don’t know. I might have misinterpreted the degree, but maybe there was something there. Loneliness? I think maybe being away from his fiancée for a long time wasn’t good. Maybe once he saw her again, though, it all came back to him. I hope they get married soon. Too much absence makes the fond heart wander.”

  “So are you over him?”

  “Oh, I think so,” I said, swiping my own finger into the frosting and licking it. “Almost. For me, I think he was like…cake. Fun. Dessert. But I think I’ve come to realize that you couldn’t live off it long term, you know? Maybe I liked the idea of being with a Frenchman. Maybe, subconsciously, I thought I’d get to France that way.”

  Leah looked thoughtful. “No more cake for you, then?”

  I tilted my head. “I’ve been thinking about it. Really, his fiancée being here saved me from making a big mistake. I think wanting to date your boss is the grown-up equivalent of having a crush on your teacher. I’ve got to move past that now. I need to think about my future and get serious. No more cake jobs, no more cake men. I liked what you said about settling in your groove, buckling down, and making a commitment. No more fluff. I need bread.”

  Leah chewed another bite of baguette and swallowed. “You don’t think you can have your cake and eat your bread, too? I mean, in a guy? in a job?”

  I packed up the last of the cake and put it into her mother’s stainless steel fridge. “I don’t know.” I grinned. “Maybe French bread?”

  Late that night, long after everyone else was asleep, I headed out to the back patio on my own. It was sad, in a way. The patio furniture had already been moved to the garage of the new place, and Dad had thrown my hammock away. Moldy edges, he’d said. Time to move on.

  Yeah, time to move on.

  I sat on the grass with a blanket and my Bible, remembering the campouts Tanya and I had here growing up and the secrets we’d shared. I thought about the birthday party where I’d eaten too much cake and thrown up in the bushes. I remembered talking with Mom and Dad on this patio about failing my first class. I remembered Nate and Leah’s first date and my high school graduation party.

  After a minute, I cracked the Bible open to Matthew 25 and read.

  Partway through, I got to something that stopped me in my tracks, because it seemed to talk so very much to me, exactly where I was. What had God given me, Lexi Stuart? And how was I supposed to use those talents, for his pleasure and mine?

  Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more. So also, the one with the two talents gained two more. But the man who had received the one talent went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his masters money.

  What had God given me, Lexi Stuart? And how was I supposed to use those talents for His pleasure and mine?

  The next day was Saturday. To be more specific, the next day was “I Have a Date at Tango” Saturday. I’d made up my mind to talk with Sophie and Luc tomorrow too. I needed to get back to Cameron about the job offer.

  I sat in my room and tossed darts. Allrecipes. L’Esperance. All-recipes. L’Esperance. Most of the time it came up Allrecipes. The last throw, I promised myself I’d get the right answer and live with it no matter what.

  The dart fell to the floor. What did that mean?

  “Are you going to be home tonight?” I asked my mom before leaving for work.

  “For a little while, yes,” Mom said. “Then we’re going to dinner with a few of Dad’s old marine friends who are in town. Why?”

  “Well, someone is picking me up for dinner, and I just wondered,” I said. “A date?”

  I nodded. “I guess you could call it that.”

  “With…”

  “Dan,” I said. “The guy I went out with a few weeks ago.”

  She looked pleased. I’d told her before about my believing that Dan was a Christian. “We’ll try to be here to meet him,” she said.

  It still mattered to me what they thought, but maybe, in doses, that was okay.

  I headed to L’Esperance in a good mood and got right to work. Sophie was already behind the counter; we were busier than usual this morning. With blue sky, people ventured outside much earlier on the weekends than when they had to curl up against the rain.

  After a couple of hours, the rush was over, and Patricia was shouting at Margot in the bakery room about the proper way to prepare pastry crisps with orange-caramel sauce.

  I helped the Trois Amis prep the raspberry filling for the croissants and then manned the café while Sophie ordered supplies for the next week.

  “Alexandra?” Luc asked.

  “Oui?” I turned to face him.

  “May I speak with you privately?”

  I nodded, blood pressure soaring into the blue sky.

  Luc led me into his office and closed the door behind us.

  I sat across the desk from him, where he’d bandaged my arm and where I’d proposed our dinner date. There was still a warm sense of camaraderie between us, and I’d noticed that he still flirted with the women customers, though lightly. But something had changed. He was more subdued, and I was too. I think he was more aware of what was good for him now that Marianne was in town. And I knew what was more appropriate now that I knew Marianne existed.

  The temperature had definitely dialed down between us. He felt almost brotherly, and I was pretty much fine with that.

  “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk since your wonderful dinner last week,” he said. “The food—c’est délicieux!”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I enjoyed getting to know Marianne. And,” I said with a bit less enthusiasm, “Margot.”

  He laughed out loud, knowing what I meant, and I laughed too.

  “Well, as I mentioned at the time, when La Sophie was made manager, I thought I saw another future for you.”

  I blushed a little, remembering my interpretation that maybe he’d meant something personal. Just like Nate had said. Women often assumed the guy was talking about them.

  “Oui, merci,” I answered.

  “Do you still like your job here?” he asked.

  “Mais oui,” I said. “I enjoy it, but…” Before I could say anything else, he c
ontinued.

  “What if you had to do more dishes or prep work or even kitchen laundry?”

  Laundry?

  “I’m a hard worker,” I said, noncommittally and slightly confused. Maybe adding laundry duties was just what I needed to get out of my six-month commitment.

  “Bon. Here is what I am thinking, Alexandra,” Luc continued. “My sister is going to come to the United States next month, in July. She’s going to work at La Couronne for a little bit, and perhaps do some scouting with me as we look at a new shop. My family likes to rotate us between France, where we get a solid education in baking and cooking, and the U.S.A., where we’d like to continue to do business.”

  “Oh, that’s a good plan,” I said. “I’d like to meet your sister when she’s here.”

  Luc held his finger up. “Un moment, I am not finished.”

  I tried to focus on what he was saying.

  “So, when my sister comes here, that will leave our family bakery short-handed for a few months. Six months, until she returns home. Would you like to take her place there?”

  Involuntarily, I stood up and shrieked with joy. “In France?”

  Luc smiled. “Oui.”

  I sat down again and tried to gather my thoughts. Had he really just offered me a chance to work in France? Paid for? Cooking? Baking? In a bakery?

  After a minute, I stopped hyperventilating, looked at Luc, who was obviously bemused, and asked, “So, exactly how would it work? When would I go? For how long?”

  “Ah yes, The Ever-Questioning Alexandra. You’d travel this summer, perhaps after your brother’s wedding, to our village outside Paris. That is where my family’s main bakery, café, and hotel are, although we have one other nearby. You’d stay with my family, but technically in a small stone cottage behind the main house. That’s where my sister lives, usually, but she’ll be here, rooming with Margot or Patricia, whoever stays in the U.S. You’d have to be the everything girl. You’d help out anyone and everyone. But you’d also get time to work in the bakery and to go to the training school in the nearby town. It would be like…uh…how do American’s say it…uh…work study. Some days in the school, some days at the bakery. But we’d be training you for a future with us.”