Let Them Eat Cake

by Sandra Byrd

  One time Single Person was talking to a CUTE BAKER about her LACK OF personal life.

  “You think that’s bad?” the friend answered. “I have a friend who is dating a LAWYER.”

  It could be worse, Single Person admitted.

  Instead of constantly WORKING, Single Person decided to PRAY instead. Besides, Single Person thought, what I really want to do is GET TO KNOW SOMEONE BOTH DEEP AND FUN, WHO KNOWS HOW TO MAKE A NAPOLEON AND LAUGH.

  On my day off, I helped my parents box up nearly everything left in their house. I explained Luc’s offer to them. Mom was excited and a little nervous. Dad felt it would be unsafe for me to be there alone. Neither pushed their agenda, though. A great step, I thought, for all of us.

  I boxed up most of my stuff too. I’d e-mailed Cameron and asked if I could have one more week to decide on the job, and reluctantly, he’d agreed.

  Tuesday I went back to work. Sophie was there early running a cash report. She took to the business side of things with particular glee: coming up with new reports and order forms, and interviewing suppliers. Luc was in and out, and Marianne was often with him. On my lunch hour, I took Marianne for a walk down the street to do a little shopping. It was fun to chat with another woman in French. One didn’t chat with Patricia and Margot. One didn’t shop with Patricia and Margot. Mais non. Marianne was a lot like me—and Tanya and Sophie. Though she didn’t understand why anyone would chose to be a vegan.

  My phone rang while we walked. The number looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it, so I let it go to voicemail. When I got back to the shop, I listened to the message.

  “Hey, this is Dan, just checking on Saturday night. What time, what to wear, et cetera. Also, should I put your name down for softball? Give me a call back when you get a chance.”

  “Gotta make a call, boss,” I said to Sophie.

  She shook a finger at me. “Make it snappy, peon” I giggled and went back to the walk-in. No one was in the pastry room; Patricia had already left for La Couronne. The Trois Amis were prepping dough for tomorrow. I pulled the door shut behind me, sat on a closed crate of lemons, and dialed Dan’s number.

  The memory of my first call to him, in this very same place, brought back warm—and cold—memories. “Dan Larson,” he answered. “Hi, it’s Lexi.”

  “Hi, Lexi.” His voice softened.

  “About Saturday,” I said, “I’ll be at the church early to help decorate and to take pictures, but if you want to meet me there about five, the ceremony starts at five-thirty. Then there’s a dinner and dance reception afterward. Would that work for you?”

  “Definitely,” he said. “Dress code?”

  “Tie and jacket. Suspenders optional,” I teased. I hoped he’d wear them. They were different but stylish. “Taking it easy tonight?” I asked. “Relaxin’ Man Dan?”

  “No, not tonight. Got a lot to get through and no other plans anyway. I’ll be here late.”

  “Well, take it easy,” I said.

  “I’m looking forward to Saturday,” he said.

  “Me too.” I hung up and went out to the café to thaw.

  “Dan?” Sophie asked.

  “Yep,” I answered. I’d told her all about Saturday night. “I went to church on Sunday,” she said.

  “How was it?”

  “Nice. I liked being in a calm, peaceful place.”

  What I’d found boring, she’d found peaceful. Cool.

  “Once I move into the apartment, though, it’ll have to stop. I can’t take the bus there. I can’t afford the apartment, my living expenses, and a car payment quite yet. Maybe in six months. I have some debt I have to pay off that I accumulated when I lived with Roger,” she said sadly.

  “Did Michelle drive you on Sunday?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but she’s leaving for the summer to do a team project with Microsoft in Indonesia.”

  “Microsoft!” I said. “I had no idea she worked there.”

  The rest of the day flew by, and we closed the café together.

  “Got plans tonight?” I asked Sophie.

  “No.”

  “Want to learn how to make the vegan cookies? If you’re going to manage a bakery, you should know how to bake.”

  “Yes!” she said. “Would you teach me?”

  “Mais oui,” I said. “You taught me everything else in the café. It’s the least I can do.”

  I turned on the ovens and set out ingredients. Auguste rolled his eyes as Sophie blasted European techno pop on the music system, but hey—she was the boss now.

  I showed her how to make the dough, and she baked them up on her own, though I took them out of the oven. We didn’t have any jelly, so they were just peanut butter cookies. Sophie kept a supply of almond milk in the walk-in to drink during the day, and we had milk and cookies together.

  She packed the rest of the cookies to go, and I made a small, round mille-feuille. I was careful not to use too sweet of a crème pâtissèrie this time. I slicked a lemon glaze across the top, then zigzagged dark chocolate across that. I packed it into a mini catering box and taped it shut.

  On the way home, I stopped at the Davis, Marks office and took the elevator up. The receptionist wasn’t there that late, but the security guard recognized me from the time I’d delivered the catering and buzzed me in.

  This time, I confidently strode down the hallway. I stopped short when I saw the same woman was in Dan’s office. Should I go in?

  Dan saw me this time, though, and he came toward the door. He put his palm on the small of my back and ushered me into the office.

  “Lexi!” he said. “I’m so glad to see you.” He gestured toward the woman. “This is Nancy.”

  Nancy looked at me. She was brunette, with a sprinkle of tiny freckles across her nose that softened her professional demeanor. “Nice to meet you,” she said, betraying no emotion, positive or negative.

  “If you’ll excuse us, please,” Dan said to Nancy. “I’ll get back with you later.”

  He showed Nancy out, as a gentleman would, and then returned to me. I opened up my little brown bag and drew out two plastic forks and two napkins.

  “Sugar high to get you through the work,” I pronounced. We shared the mille-feuille.

  “Delicious! I could get used to this,” Dan said, looking at me meaningfully.

  I sighed into my pastry. So could I.

  Tel maître, tel valet.

  Like master, like servant.

  Wednesday night I drove down to The Ballroom to meet Tanya for a game of pool. When I got in, Tanya was waiting. Sometimes I hated that she was never late. I mean never.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to stalk someone for a parking spot.

  “No problem; I think our table is just now ready.” We walked over to the pool table and grabbed a couple of cue sticks. I rubbed the tip of mine in blue chalk and broke the balls. “Any decision yet?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Not yet. I had a good talk with Dan last night, though. I took him a mille-feuille at work and stayed long enough to share a bite.”

  She raised her eyebrows mischievously. “Sounds serious.”

  “Hmm,” I said, looking away before she could read my expression. “You, of anyone, sound serious.”

  She banked her shot and pocketed the ball. “I don’t know. I went back to my counselor for one more visit. I think I’m learning how to risk. I have to give up control of what I know in order to find out what’s there. With Steve.”

  We continued to play, and my mind continued to run wild with thoughts.

  “What if I go to France and I like it so much that I never come home?” I said.

  “Then I’ll visit you,” she answered. “Don’t worry about that.” She pocketed the last ball. “I won. What’s up with your game tonight?”

  “What if it’s not safe?”

  “Pool or France?” she asked, racking up another round. “Seriously, now you sound like me. Or your dad.”

  I pretended to be s
hocked, but she was right. Fear for personal safety had never been a big issue for me. “Well, there’s still the money.”

  “Now that’s serious,” she said. “You don’t get paid?”

  “I’ll get a stipend—not much, but they’ll pay for my training and certification. They pay for my uniforms and my room and board. I have to provide my own spending money and savings, and, of course, pay for flying there and home. I’ll probably get some service money—tips. In the French system, you don’t make much working your way up, but the training is invaluable.”

  “How much would the flight be?”

  “About a grand one way. Two and a half times that for an open round-trip ticket. I have it in savings, and even a little more, but I don’t want to touch too much of that if possible. I’ll have to live off something when I get back. The Allrecipes job is unlikely to be open again just then.”

  “What do you have that’s worth twenty-five hundred dollars?” Tanya asked.

  I sighed. “My vase go for that on eBay. I don’t know. But I don’t really want to sell that.”

  Tanya shot and missed. “I’ll pray for you.”

  “That’s what Dan said,” I said.

  “Cool. Though I bet he and I pray in different directions,” she said, smiling.

  I banked a shot, made a combination, and got two balls in at once. “I won,” I said.

  “You did,” Tanya agreed. “In more ways than one.”

  When I got home that night, my parents were already snoring. I got on the computer to, I’m sorry to admit, look up my reviews at Allrecipes.com. Hey, a little affirmation isn’t all bad.

  “Someone only gave me three stars!” I snorted in disgust and scrolled down to read the review.

  Well, maybe she was right. I should dry sauté the saffron next time.

  I listened to the increasing traffic outside on the street. Someone was drag racing. Again. I hope they didn’t hit my car.

  Suddenly, I had an idea of how I could earn my twenty-five hundred dollars. I searched for the site I needed.

  An hour before the wedding, I sat in the church, feet propped on the freshly waxed pew, while the photographer went through the roll call. Nate and Leah were up now. They’d decided to forgo tradition in favor of getting the pictures done before the reception. Peonies blushed throughout the church, and the pew ends were decorated with ecru and pale pink ribbons.

  Nate couldn’t take his eyes off Leah. She did look gorgeous. I bet Nate doesn’t have one of his headaches tonight!

  I checked my watch. We still had half an hour before anyone else arrived, including Dan. I felt a little dizzy. If I were Nate, I’d have been worrying about an attack of cardiac virus or perhaps an unreported medication side effect. But I wasn’t Nate. I knew why my heart kept skipping beats.

  I plucked a Bible out of the pew in front of me and started to read aimlessly, waiting for the bridesmaids’ turn with the photographer. I turned to Matthew 28, the last chapter. I was proud of myself for getting through a whole book without stopping.

  What do you want me to hear from you, Lord? I asked, grateful for the relative silence in the church due to the lack of Sesame Street Squawkers. Leah’s flower girl and ring bearer, her cousins children, were napping in the church nursery.

  With light bulbs flashing in the front and the low murmur of the photographer cooing encouraging direction to Leah’s high-strung mother, I read quietly.

  “Do not be afraid,” the angel had said to the woman, and she ran to tell the disciples what she had seen. What they had most feared had happened, and yet what lay ahead was a wonderful plan they could not have imagined on their own. God had things well under control.

  I kept reading, moved, but nothing pricked my spirit as being specifically for me. Until I got to the end.

  “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

  I closed the Bible and held on to it while I watched the groomsmen move forward for their photo session. Nate beamed.

  His buddies were all there. He had a new haircut, and I could see his ears glowing pink. When we were kids and he got excited— looking forward to a vacation or showing Mom and Dad a good grade—his ears always turned pink. I wiped a tear from my eye.

  I opened the Bible again and read the sentence that caught my eye. “Go and make disciples of all nations.”

  Is there work for me to do in France? I asked God. I felt a peace I couldn’t understand, at the same time, I felt a wrenching heartache.

  I closed the book just as someone slipped into the pew alongside me.

  “You look beautiful,” Dan said.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him either. “Well, you clean up good too,” I managed.

  He reached into his jacket and lightly snapped a pair of suspenders. “I know you like them,” he said.

  I blushed, and he laughed.

  “I’m glad I can make you blush,” he said.

  “I still have pictures to take,” I said, nodding toward the front.

  “It’s okay; I know I’m early. I’ll watch.”

  The bridesmaids’ turn for photos came, and I went forward, conscious of Dan’s eyes on me, although everyone else’s were on Leah.

  Leah’s mother smoothed the textured silk of the bridesmaids’ dresses. Leah had chosen antique rose as the dress color. I was glad she’d picked that one. The color her mother had originally chosen was more ashy, and I’d privately dubbed it Old Lady Lipstick or Dusty Pink, heavy on the dust.

  Each of us held a small bouquet of antique roses with little green euphorbia leaves tucked in here and there and a lovely spray of white bacopa instead of baby’s breath. I liked that Leah did her own thing. The wedding was sweet and chic and very Leah.

  When the photos were done, I rejoined Dan for just a minute. I had to disappear into the bridal room soon.

  Tanya and Steve had arrived and were sitting a few rows behind Dan. I’d asked her to come early and sit with Dan so he didn’t feel alone.

  As I walked down the aisle toward them, I motioned for her to follow me. I slid into the pew first, with Tanya and Steve behind me.

  “Dan, I’d like you to meet my best friend, Tanya, and her boyfriend, Steve,” I said.

  “Steve Dunn,” Steve said, sticking his hand out toward Dan. “Dan Larson.”

  Tanya beamed at me behind his back and winked.

  We chatted for a few minutes, and then I excused myself to help Leah for the final minutes before the ceremony.

  The bridal room was a frenzy of makeup touch-ups, but as soon as we heard the music start in the church, the mood became more subdued. I saw Leah’s mom tuck a blue-edged hankie into the hidden pocket sewn inside one of the folds of Leah’s beautiful petticoats.

  I kissed Leah’s cheek. “Welcome to our family, belle-soeur,” I said. Belle-soeur means “sister-in-law,” but if you translate it literally, it means “beautiful sister.” Leah was about to be both!

  We filed into the hallway to wait for the long walk down the aisle. I went last, just before Leah and her dad. As I walked down the aisle, I noticed neighbors who had bandaged Nate’s eternally scraped knees. Molly, my mom’s church buddy, sat in the same pew where they sat together week after week. Nate’s friends from high school, college, and law school. My aunt. Nonna and Stanley, who looked very happy. Tanya and Steve.

  And Dan.

  I took my place near the altar and waited with everyone else for Leah. When she came down the aisle, it was her perfect moment.

  After the ceremony, we had to drive to the country club for the reception. “Can I take you over?” Dan asked. Of course he could!

  I told my parents that I’d be riding with Dan. My dad nodded, pleased and distracted, I knew, for Nate. Not too distracted, though. He bent over to shine a nearly invisible smudge off his patent black shoes.


  Dan held the truck door open for me, and I gathered my full skirt in order to climb in. I liked the way the dress made me feel.

  We drove over to the reception, talking about nothing and everything, avoiding the one topic that was on both our minds: France. When we got to the country club, I ignored the long table in front for the bridal party and escorts, instead grabbing two seats next to Nonna and Stanley so I could sit next to Dan.

  Dear God, if you’ll keep Nonna on a leash tonight, I promise I will make sure the bread gets delivered every Saturday no matter what. For good measure, I’ll throw in a pastry whenever I can.

  “So,” Nonna said, eyeing Dan. “You’re Lexi’s new boyfriend. You’re a lawyer, I hear. That’s good. Some lawyers make a good living, and some do too much pro bono work. That’s not good. You don’t do too much pro bono work, do you?”

  Boyfriend? How much money does he make? Oh, Nonna!

  Deal’s off, God.

  “Come on, Nonna,” I said. “We need to use the restroom.”

  “I don’t need to use the restroom, dear.” Nonna sat in her chair, intransigent as a Yorkie avoiding the vet.

  I patted the top of my head, exactly where her balding patch lay, and looked at her pointedly.

  “Oh yes, yes,” she said, hurriedly standing up.

  “Dan is kind of shy,” I said to Nonna once we reached the bathroom, knowing he wasn’t. It was I who couldn’t handle the embarrassment. “And he’s not Italian, so he might not be ready for you to, you know, come on too strong.”

  “So he’s weak?” Nonna asked.

  “No,” I said. “Just behave yourself.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said. We touched up our makeup before returning to the table. On the way back, Nonna stopped a waiter and asked him to deliver two Monster Energy drinks for her and Stanley. Lovely.

  I got myself a glass of Cabernet, and one for Dan too. I suspected he’d like Cabernet, and when he sipped and relished it, I knew I’d made the right choice.

  After dinner, the lights dimmed and the band began to play.

  “Would you like to dance?” Dan asked me.