Cream Puff

by Demaree Iles

  Divorce was out. Every fiber of his being wanted to leave her (maybe even leave Ransom behind forever) but they’d been together for more than two-thirds of his life. He sure wasn’t planning to start life over again as a swinging bachelor in his seventies.

  But Pearl’s days of ruling the roost were over. Starting tomorrow, he was going to change a lot of things. He might even move into the guest bedroom.

  Right now, he had to focus on Ruby’s cake. He was a baker, after all, and took great pride in his work. Folks could say what they liked about him, but no one would ever discredit the attention Charlie gave to his craft. Not if he could help it.

  His daughter had made it clear that she didn’t want anyone else making her wedding cake, but in true Ruby fashion, she pouted at the idea of the cake doubling as her wedding present. Surely her successful father could afford to provide her with a cake and get her a nice gift. She’d even hinted at a trip. To Hawaii, of all places.

  Well, that was another family relationship about to see a major overhaul.

  His cell phone vibrated in the console. Speak of the devil…

  “Morning, Punkin.”

  Silence. Then, “Dad?”

  “Yeah, hun. What’s going on?”

  “Just checking to make sure you were up.” Her words were jittery, as if she’d been up all night and tanked on caffeine. “Is the cake ready?”

  “You should be sleeping, kid. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

  “Is it done?”

  “Couple of hours. Three, tops. I’ve told you not to worry about—”

  “Not worry? Dad, you had months! The dress, the ceremony—I’ve had to stay on top of everybody through this whole thing! I can’t even count on my own father!”

  “Ruby, there’s—”

  “No! I don’t want to hear it!”

  Charlie suddenly recalled a cute little trick he’d heard Kat talk about when handling unwanted phone calls. Many power station transformers served the lakefront properties along the route from his home to the bakery, creating plenty of dead spots.

  “—uby…you’re—eaking up…I’ll call—ater.—ove you.”

  Before Ruby had time to respond, he ended the call and tossed the phone over to the passenger’s seat. The sky had lightened and the sun was peeking at him when he pulled in behind the bakery.

  Charlie got out and realized there was no hurry now. He refilled the thermos cup and leaned against the car to watch the sunrise, feeling like a man for the first time in many years. Yeah, he thought, things were going to be just fine.

  ****

  Mixing and baking the small tier to crown Ruby’s wedding cake was as easy as pie (a joke that never got old for Tommy). Charlie still felt a twinge of pain at having to replace the one his son had worked so hard on a year ago. Tommy was proud of his little cake and intended it for a special occasion, but thanks to Pearl that would never happen.

  At least not with Tommy’s original.

  Charlie made one just like it. Whipped-up, baked, and cooling on a rack in no time flat, he went to work on the frosting. The buttercream recipe was already being slow-stirred in an enormous, stainless steel auto-mixer. Enough to cover all seven layers, he then added fresh raspberries and vanilla to match the cake in color and flavor. He stood back from the mixture and inhaled deeply as the machine worked.

  The divine aroma was suddenly interrupted by the familiar hammering that exploded at his temples. Harder than ever before, this one sent him reeling backward. He collided with pots and pans hanging on the wall and the ringing clatter became white-hot needles in his ears. Charlie staggered forward and reached out blindly, his hands finding the rim of the huge auto-mixer bowl. He strained to keep from falling forward into the mix, where the pneumatic steel paddle with skull-crushing capability pushed its way easily through sweet cream.

  The battering in his head reached a crescendo of sound and pain. Then, just when he thought his head would explode, all went black. Seconds later, he opened his eyes.

  There was no more sound, no more pain. He was afraid to question the violent headache’s quick departure for fear he would bring it back again. It was better not to think about it and just be grateful.

  In a stunned trance, Charlie turned away from the big mixer to combine a few special ingredients in a much smaller bowl. A special surprise, he thought, but the idea didn’t feel like his own. Weird thing was that it made perfect sense.

  One more ingredient. What’s the big deal, right?

  The particular item he needed was in a storage closet near the rear of the kitchen. By the time he returned to his work area, he’d read the precautions on the back of the box three times. Yes, that alien part of him thought, this will do just fine. Strange how the voice always sounded like his father who’d been dead for more than sixty years.

  The special powder had to be measured with care before being added to the huge mixer. It had been the small touches that had given Charlie’s creations such renown over the years, but until now he’d never used an ingredient that required such caution. If this was going to work, it had to be exact.

  Once blended, the entire kitchen smelled of sweet local raspberries and Mexican vanilla. Buttercream was the best kind of frosting as far as Charlie was concerned, so he had to fight his usual habit of sneaking a taste. With this special dessert, sampling was a major no-no.

  While the icing mixture was busy reaching new heights of creamy smoothness, he retrieved the cake from the walk-in cooler. The smaller cake went on top without a problem and once the frosting was ready it spread well and evenly. A flair for the artistic showed in Charlie’s talent with the knife, and as the last swirl was created he stood back and looked it over. He had never made a better-looking cake in his life. Aside from the tiny bride and groom to be placed on the very top, it was finished. Almost, anyway.

  When it came to wedding cakes, he’d always tried to make the design fit what he knew about the customer. Wild college kids getting hitched seemed to go for bold textures and bright colors. Should the bride and groom be religious, he would go more conservative with an emphasis on elegance. He’d once even made an all-black cake for a couple of lifelong horror movie fans. It came complete with chocolate spider webs and ‘blood’ made from a red glaze.

  Everyone’s cake had to be unique.

  His own daughter was an attention hound. Never had he known anyone who liked to be noticed more than his little girl. From clothes to hairstyles to the music she listened to, Ruby’s approach to life had always held firm to one theme: over the top.

  That gave him an idea and he went back to work.

  Chapter Twelve

  The day was going by faster than Charlie expected and he was feeling his age. He’d finished the cake, rolled it out to the van, and had made it to the reception in plenty of time, but had to admit it was wearing on him. He felt like a man running on fumes.

  In the service area behind the kitchen of the Bossier County Country Club, he began unloading the large plastic box containing the cake. Made specifically for transport, it came complete with custom handles that allowed it to be moved from a vehicle to a cart with relative ease. Still, it would have been easier with help.

  “Well, it’s about time,” a woman said as Charlie opened the rear doors of the van.

  He turned to find Susan Bailey closing in on him, accompanied by the click of expensive-looking shoes on asphalt.

  His brother-in-law once told him that Susan’s husband had been a high-ranking officer in the Navy who transitioned into a successful corporate executive in civilian life. During those years, Norman Bailey’s wife somehow felt that her station in life paralleled Norm’s position of authority. Of course, Grady had more of an opinion than that.

  “Uppity bitch,” Charlie remembered him saying between swigs of bourbon. “Nice piece a tail, though. Tap that m’self if my wife wasn’t so crazy about me.”

  As if someone like Susan Bailey would let Grady Granville anywhere near her.
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  She looked like sheʼd been up way too early—Charlie considered himself somewhat of an expert on the unrested—and had probably been at the club for a while, terrorizing the caterers and playing Almighty God. With a tight bun in her hair and tailored business skirt, Susan moved and spoke with the confidence of a three-star admiral.

  “Excuse me?” Charlie said, peeking from behind the box as he centered it onto the cart.

  “Oh, hello Charles,” she said. “I thought you were just a delivery person.”

  Just a delivery person? Good thing I didn’t send Kathy with the cake. And never in his life had anyone ever called him Charles with such disdain.

  “Susan,” he said. “Up bright and early, I see.”

  “Well, someone had to take charge of this mess.”

  Charlie happened to know that not a soul had asked her to handle the wedding. If he’d known how she was going to be, he would’ve hired a professional wedding planner just to avoid this. Never loose with money, he still had no compunction about spending money on a worthy cause.

  “You’re one heck of an organizer,” he said, trying to make the best of it, but Susan was already heading back up the steep sidewalk to the building.

  She stopped at the door, leaving him to push the cart up the incline by himself. To her credit, she held the door open for him, drumming her fingers against it the entire time as the cart made its way slowly up the walk. Of course, her face said that this whole thing was just eating up her valuable time.

  “Thank you,” Charlie said with heavy breath as the cart cleared the doorway, but Susan had moved on again—this time across the Country Club’s expansive kitchen to the door of their large cooler. She held this one open as well and stared at him, trading her drumming fingers for a tapping foot.

  At least the cart rolled easier across the level tile. Once through the doorway, Charlie wheeled the cake to the back. She followed him in.

  “So, are we ready for the big day?” he said over his shoulder, coming to a stop near the rear wall. Behind him, Susan rolled her eyes.

  “There’s still a ton of things left to do,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t know how I’m going to get it all done in time.”

  They stepped back out and Charlie closed the cooler door.

  “Don’t you have any help?” he said.

  “Oh, my nieces are pitching in along with a couple of your daughter’s friends,” she said, “but if it weren’t for me, this whole thing would’ve already fallen apart.”

  “Well, I’m personally very grateful,” Charlie said.

  Susan sniffed, gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile, and left the kitchen through the double-doors that led to the reception area. Charlie felt like a serf being dismissed by royalty. He walked back to the parking lot remembering a nugget from his mother from so long ago; wealth and power rarely translated into decency.

  He drove back to the bakery to drop off the van and get his own car. If he was lucky, there’d be time enough to get in a short nap before the day’s festivities. Traffic was still pretty light and he made it across town without delay.

  Back at the bakery with the van parked and locked, he was walking to the Chrysler a couple spaces away when he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. In one of the bakery’s windows that looked out onto the back lot, the small gray blur disappeared in a blink, but he’d have sworn on a stack of bibles it was a cat. The cat.

  Hallucinating, he thought. Now I know I need a nap.

  Charlie got into the car and glanced at his weary face in the rearview mirror. Too much work, too much stress, too little time since he lost his boy. When this day was over, he told himself, he was hanging it all up. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. Perhaps he really would take that vacation.

  ****

  The drive home was uneventful and Pearl didn’t even get on his case when he came in. There was a smell like old fruit in the air as Charlie walked through the kitchen and he figured Pearl had left pastries out too long. Regardless, he had no intention of finding out.

  The last thing he wanted was to get sucked into an argument right now. He wanted all his ducks in a row before having it out with her, but not yet, damn it. Not until this day was over.

  She had to have heard him enter the kitchen from the garage and walk into the living room, but she didn’t say a word.

  Maybe she feels guilty.

  He almost exploded with laughter at the thought. Pearl Granville LaRue had never shown remorse for anything in her life. Whatever the reason, she sat on the couch and ignored him. Another one of her favorite reality shows blared from the T.V. that never slept.

  “Pearl,” he said on his way to the bedroom. Nothing.

  He thought of continuing to the bedroom, but walked over to her anyway. Except for the glow from the television screen, the room was still mostly dark. Her face was turned away and she was still sleeping (or faking it).

  “Pearl,” he repeated.

  Still upset. Otherwise, she would have asked about more puffs. Maybe she was just disappointed about not being able attend the wedding. Either way, he didn’t care. Ignore me all you want. We’ll hash this out later.

  Charlie turned away.

  Another thought crossed his mind on the way to the bedroom. Had he not given up his career as a chemical engineer and become a baker in the first place, maybe she wouldn’t have put on the weight she had. The bakery had always provided them with a comfortable living, but it also supplied Pearl with all of the fresh bread and pastries she could stomach.

  With the pounds came the problems; first the knees and ankles, then the hips. Congestive heart trouble had arrived within months of the diabetes, and with each new medical problem she became more hateful. No matter what new malady she was diagnosed with, it was all his fault, the doctor’s fault—anyone’s fault but her own.

  He still couldn’t shake feeling at least partly responsible.

  Stop doing this to yourself. No one ever put a gun to her head and made her stuff her face. His father had always been far tougher than he’d ever been, and sometimes meaner. Charlie didn’t care for the ghost living in his brain, but the guy often had a point.

  Another time, he thought, and headed down the hall to the bedroom. Ruby’s wedding was at three o’clock, so he set the alarm for one, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on the bed.

  He wiped his face with both hands and ran them through his thinning hair, trying to get his brain to shut down and let him get some rest. There was no more reason to stress out. For all of the rushing around and worrying about an anniversary gift and a wedding cake, his part was done. Pearl wasn’t getting a gift at all and Ruby’s cake was waiting in the Country Club cooler. If Ruby wanted more, tough noogies.

  He took a deep breath and let it flow out on its own. He could ease up now. There was plenty of time to get ready for the big show and still time to get in a little more sleep.

  Seconds later, Charlie was out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For all of the buildup and worrying, the wedding ceremony went off without a hitch.

  Charlie had to give Susan Bailey credit; from the groomsmen’s boutonnières to the floral arrangements, everything was beautiful. Even the participants were flawless. Nobody screwed up their lines and Ruby wound up having the storybook wedding she’d always wanted.

  When the last of the photos had been taken and confetti thrown, Charlie was glad it was over. Now he just wanted to get through the reception. He had given all of the required hugs, shook a fair amount of hands, and made it out of the church only to be slapped in the back on his way out the door.

  “Whaddaya think, bro?” Grady said with a slur. “Your little girl’s gone now.”

  “She had to grow up sometime, Grady,” Charlie said, wincing from the blow.

  “Yeah, don’t they all?” Grady leaned in closer as if sharing a secret. “Thank God all mine are grown and gone.”

  Charlie was still stinging between the shoulder blades as he tri
ed to avoid his brother-in-law’s toxic breath. The ceremony was barely over, the reception hadn’t even started yet, and the guy was already half in the bag. Unbelievable.

  Grady draped an unwanted arm over Charlie’s sore shoulder and pulled him in close. “Ya know, Charlie, I been meanin’ to tell ya—you’re an all right guy. No, I mean that.”

  Gee, thanks.

  They continued together down the sidewalk; Grady trying hard not to fall and Charlie trying harder not to go down with him.

  “I’m serious,” Grady continued. “I used to think you were just some fly-by-night loser. Lord knows Pearl had her share of ʼem—”

  Stop charming me, Grady.

  “—and I really thought you were stupid quitting that engineer job—”

  Please, you’re far too kind.

  “—but you turned that baking thing into something. I mean, I don’t know if you can call that man’s work or not, but you did pretty good with it.”

  I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…

  “And you took care of my sister.”

  There it is.

  One of Grady’s knees buckled then and it took all of Charlie’s strength to keep them both on their feet. Together they wobbled, and Charlie’s back strained to keep them upright. He managed to keep the larger man from falling, but knew he’d pay for it tomorrow.

  “You were never very strong, though,” Grady said, breathing some of Kentucky’s finest right into his face. “Shoulda put some weight on…maybe played football.” He belched. “Ya know…like me.”

  The former football star’s next move was to fumble his car keys. They fell on the sidewalk at their feet.

  “I’ll get them,” Charlie said.

  He held out a hand to keep Grady steady as he bent over to grab the key ring. Something instinctual made him glance over his shoulder and he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself. His drunken brother-in-law was doing his best to balance on one foot with his other foot cocked behind him—apparently with the intent of kicking Charlie in the ass.

  Jesus Christ.

  Charlie stood up quick and turned. Grady dropped his foot to keep from falling, regained his balance, and made a pathetic attempt to look innocent, but his face revealed the truth. Charlie’d seen that look before—on the faces of other people—those with a seemingly-inborn lust for hurting others. It was ludicrous, insane, but there it was: his own brother-in-law had been about to kick him in the ass.