by Demaree Iles
Charlie didn’t know whether to belt the bastard or walk away. Then Grady did something unexpected. The guy actually had the nerve to reach out for Charlie’s shoulder again as if nothing had happened.
Should’ve let him fall on his face, Charlie thought, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. They made it to Grady’s car and the bigger man leaned against the door. Charlie saw his break. He placed Grady’s keys into his hand and pulled away.
“See ya, Grady. Gotta help set up the cake over at the reception hall and all that. You gonna be okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” Grady said. “Wouldn’t miss the ʼception for the world.”
Charlie walked away, not really listening.
“Hey,” Grady added, pointing vaguely in Charlie’s direction, “you enjoy this day, Charlie-boy. You’ll remember it the rest of your life.”
So will you, Charlie thought. If you don’t kill yourself on the drive over there.
He watched Grady fall into his car. No way would Charlie have normally allowed anyone to drive-off in that condition, but he didn’t want to spend another second with the guy. Grady being killed in a crash on the way to the reception wouldn’t bring a single tear. Charlie was halfway to his own car, however, when he realized the idiot might just kill somebody else on the way over to the Country Club. He turned back toward Grady’s car.
“I’ll see ya there, bud!” Grady shouted, slamming the car door.
“Wait up!” Charlie yelled.
His walk became a quick-step as Grady leaned forward to find the ignition. The engine turned over. Charlie threw his hands in the air and waved. “Hey!”
He managed to catch his attention, for Grady turned and grinned. It took him a couple of tries to work the button for the driver’s window. “Forget sump’n, bro?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, leaning in. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “How’s about riding over there with me?”
Confusion on Grady’s face. “The hell for?”
Telling him the truth would just piss him off, but saying he wanted the man’s company would be an obvious lie—even to a hammered Grady.
Charlie thought fast. “I’m not sure how to get there.”
“Awright,” drunken Grady said. “Hop in.”
Uh, no.
“I’ve probably had…a little more sleep than you have,” Charlie said. “I was kinda hoping you’d ride along with me.”
Grady spit. “Phfft. Jess follow me.”
“Grady,” Charlie said, but the window was already closing. “C’mon, Grady.”
With the outside world closed-off, Grady muttered something, turned up the country station on the radio, and put the Cadillac in gear. Charlie had to step back quickly to keep from losing some toes as the big car lurched ahead and swung out into traffic. Before straightening out, it almost clipped a passing Honda that was headed in the same direction.
I tried.
On the way to the Chrysler, Charlie thought about the events yet to come. The reception would be over in a little while and he’d finally be able to get some serious rest. It sounded too good to be true.
Footsteps from behind broke his concentration. They were the light, quick steps of a woman. He put the key in the door anyway, hoping to make it out of the lot before someone else tried his patience.
“Charles…Charles, hold on. Please.”
Susan Bailey. So much for hoping, he thought. No doubt looking for one more sympathetic ear to shower her with praise for her endless sacrifices.
“Great wedding, Susan,” he said before turning around, “Absolutely perfect.”
“It was not perfect. It was practically a disaster.” She sighed and fished a cigarette from a tiny, expensive purse. “I’ll never do something like this again.”
Charlie didn’t believe that for a second (nor would anyone else who knew her). In fact, he was all too familiar with her Christ-on-the-cross routine. Being married to one drama queen and father to another, he felt Susan’s performance lacked Academy Award quality.
“Sure seemed fine to me,” he said.
She flipped her hand. “Yes, fine, I just wanted to make sure that all goes smoothly with the reception as well.”
She stared at him as if he should understand what that meant.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “is there something you need from me?”
“I was assuming you’d be helping with the serving of the cake, Cholls…I mean, you did a wonderful job making it, of course, but I’ve got all of the food and the wet bar to deal with, and then there’s the band, and—”
…And the Oscar for Most Overworked and Underappreciated Socialite goes to…
“You need help serving,” Charlie said, holding up his hands. “I was already planning to dish out the cake, Susan. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You understand I wouldn’t ask, but Ruby’s friends are bailing on me. I overheard them talking with the bridesmaids. Planning on getting drunk or laid or whatever.”
“Say no more,” Charlie said with a smile, “I’ll see you there.”
“Well, okay then.”
He slid behind the wheel and closed the door. Susan seemed satisfied with his response, but continued mumbling to herself about her woes as she walked away. Charlie rested his forearms on the steering wheel and sighed, grateful for the silence.
He really was glad to assist at the reception, but not because Susan needed help. The thought of retiring and taking some well-deserved time off was just sounding better to him and he felt that by seeing this thing through—an evening with the worst people he’d ever known—he would finally earn a reprieve from the life he’d been living.
Ruby wouldn’t be able to say that he hadn’t come through for her as promised, either. She would have her cake (the finest one he’d ever made, remember) and be able to eat it, too. Then he’d look at taking that permanent break.
Charlie put the car in gear and headed for the Country Club.
Chapter Fourteen
It became clear to him soon after arrival why Susan was so desperate to commission his help; she was out front playing hostess and socializing with cocktail in hand. Apparently, she figured her active participation had ended with the wedding ceremony and she was going to spend the reception bragging on her efforts and getting hammered. There was more kitchen help available than she had mentioned, too.
From the drinks and appetizers to the entrée, the whole thing was catered and the restaurant responsible sent a full serving staff. They were even providing a giant ice sculpture; a frozen unicorn that Susan said represented the uniqueness of Ruby and Randall’s love. Charlie thought it represented a dripping, cheesy waste of money. He watched as the icy atrocity was wheeled through the double doors followed by cart after cart of food and other accoutrements. Splendid as it all appeared, he was proud that his beautiful creation would be the highlight.
Time to bring out the masterpiece.
He wasn’t as young as he used to be, though, and didn’t want to risk dropping it. No mistakes today. Charlie realized that like it or not, he needed help.
“Say, do ya mind giving me a hand here, son?” he said to the capable-looking young man who was loading plates.
“Not at all, Mr. LaRue,” the boy said, walking over with a smile.
“Forget it, Jimmy,” a woman’s voice said. “I got this.”
It had to be Charlie’s day for people sneaking-up behind him. Either that, or old age really was beginning to get the better of him. The warm, husky tone was unmistakable: Kat.
She laid a hand on his back. “Hiya, boss.”
Though the bakery was closed today, he turned to find her dressed in her typical work clothes, replete with one of the country club aprons he’d seen hanging from hooks in the kitchen.
“Girl, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know, the usual—getting in some tennis and a round of golf. You?”
“Katherine, you are supposed to be enjoying a day off,” Charlie said, “and
a well-deserved one, I might add.”
“Yeah, well isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You barely get enough sleep to keep a bird alive and you’re here putting in a full day.”
It was useless, but he had to try anyway. “Don’t you have a lovesick boyfriend or a goldfish or something?”
“George would never stand for it.”
Gorgeous George was her Labrador. Her only roommate for five years, the loveable chocolate pooch adored three things in life: Gravy Train, cold pizza crusts, and Kathy Cable.
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
“Look, I’m just going to help you set it up,” she said. “Then I’ll take off.”
She saw his doubtful expression and raised her hand in a little salute, grabbing her pinky with her thumb. “Scout’s honor.”
He could never be disappointed in her and his smile gave him away. This is the daughter I should have had. His eyebrow lowered. “Brat.”
“Geezer.”
They grinned at each other and went to work. He had to admit removing the cooler box from the cake was much easier with two people. As Charlie set up the decorative red drape on another cart and tucked the corners, Kathy placed the miniature bride and groom on top. She thought the decorative scheme a bit much, but she also knew Charlie’s daughter and understood why.
Walking it over to the other cart would be too risky. Instead, they hefted the cake while the young caterer swapped the old cart underneath for the decorated one. It worked to perfection, and they placed the seven layer creation dead-center amidst a mass of fancy red crepe paper.
They both stepped back. With the affection of a father and a would-be daughter, they slung arms around each other and stepped back to view the work of art in all its glory. It was a pride only real bakers could appreciate. They both smiled at the cake and it returned their approval with bright red sparkles and a whiff of fruited vanilla.
Kathy suddenly stepped forward and reached a finger to steal a tiny sample of icing, but winced as Charlie smacked her hand. Her eyes were wounded and his eyes softened.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he said, meaning it. “Stress. Besides, wouldn’t wanna jinx the happy couple now, would we?”
Why did I do that? He and Kat always snuck a taste of the goods. Not to mention she was about the only person in his life that he enjoyed being around. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. Then why?
She must have seen the confusion in his face, for she shrugged it off. “Yeah, you just don’t want her moving back in with you and Pearl,” she said with a forgiving smile.
What a great gal, Charlie thought. That was why he had arranged to have her run the bakery once he retired. He hadn’t told her yet, and he hadn’t discussed it with Pearl, either.
Nor was he going to. Kathy was a good friend, a great human being, and she deserved it. Charlie had even gone so far as to change his will (again, without Pearl knowing) so that The Baker’s Dozen went to Kathy in the event of his death. The building and property—lock, stock, and barrel. All the rest went to Pearl per state law, but damn it, the bakery was Katherine’s.
“You got me,” he said, and smiled back.
****
The party was in full swing by the time they were ready to bring the cake out. Two of the caterers held open the double doors while Charlie and Kathy wheeled out the big red tower to rousing applause and a symphony of oohs and ahhs. Ruby, who hadn’t seen the cake until now, was almost floored. She’d seen enough of her father’s work over the years, but even she was impressed.
To those few in attendance who had good taste, however, the cake was an exhibit of overindulgence. Almost every inch of frosting was a swirl, pinwheel or flower. As an added touch, he had covered the entire cake in a red, cane sugar sprinkle that reflected the lights just right and cast a brilliant, fire engine-sparkle in every direction. The cake was little more than flour, water, sugar, and eggs, but looked like Las Vegas during the height of tourist season. No one would dare criticize the cake’s overdone intensity, though, for they understood.
They knew Ruby, too.
Everyone returned to their conversations over veal or prime rib, but Charlie’s cake—illuminated by golden track lighting from above—drew the attention of the entire room in between bites of food and sips of champagne. Ruby had chosen (with Susan’s guidance, of course) to hold off on the cake-cutting and save that for last, opting instead to have the traditional toasts and first dance beforehand. By Susan’s reasoning, it would give the guests a chance to dance off some of their food first.
Charlie and Kat stood off to the side and were admiring the glittering creation when he suddenly was overcome with the sinking feeling that something was wrong—really wrong. Had he missed something? Was there a step in the cake-building that he’d forgotten? A bare spot of cake where a swirl of icing should have been? He could feel his pulse quicken as he fought back panic; his eyes scanning each layer for any sign of a mistake.
It abruptly felt too hot in the place. Sweat broke out on his forehead and under his chin. Something was amiss and he wasn’t seeing it.
You’re seeing only the trees. You need to look for the forest.
Who had said that to him? Charlie closed his eyes and tried to think. It was a trick he had learned long ago when working with chemical formulas. Start from the basic elements, he reminded himself, and work through the formula step-by-step. He recalled the entire process of making the cake from the very beginning; the planning, the mixing, the—
It hit him. An empty space in his memory suddenly returned, flooding him with vivid detail and filling him with terror.
For a moment, he was back at the bakery. He could see the tall box in his hand; the shape of a cereal box, really. There were the warning labels, the detailed instructions on the back that gave specific dosing information on how to…Oh my God. A groan escaped him.
“Hey,” Kat said beside him, gripping his arm. “You okay?”
“Uh…y-yeah,” he said.
“You’re not following your own advice now, are you?”
“Huh?”
Kat smiled, misinterpreting his worried expression. She lowered her tone for a pretty good Charlie LaRue impersonation. “Katherine, when a project’s done, it’s done, and don’t drive yourself nuts over it. You’re a confectionist—not a perfectionist.”
Despite the thunder in his chest and the sudden clamminess of his hands, Charlie forced a chuckle. “Touché.”
What he wanted to do was scream. He had to calm himself and he had to get Kat out of there, but he had to be convincing. Then he could deal with what to do next. He smirked at her. “Beaten over the head by my own words,” he said.
“Boss, you don’t need to worry. This cake is perfect. Very Ruby-esque, but perfect.”
Charlie sighed. “Thanks, Kat. And thanks for setting me straight.” He squinted his eyes, raised his hands together in a prayer gesture, and gave her a little bow. “The student has become the master.”
She flushed, smiling in spite of herself. “No, it’s just that I know you worked so hard on this…and it really is a masterpiece. A little too disco for me, but still first class work. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
He nodded, but knew full well that there was something wrong with it. Something very wrong, but he couldn’t let her know. His smile spread. “It’s cheesy as hell, Kat, and you know it…but Ruby likes it, so I’ve done my job.”
Her brow furrowed and he could tell she was trying to read him. Likely wondering why her employer and friend wasn’t telling her everything. Just once, he would like to have seen that look on a member of his own family.
The music became louder as the band returned to the stage from a short break and started-up again with a rousing tune. He used the moment.
“Okay, you,” Charlie said into her ear over the music, “you’re outta here.”
“But you’re going to need hel—”
“No arguments, kiddo,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“You have little time off as it is, and I need you opening-up shop tomorrow.”
She opened her mouth to protest and met his index finger, pointing. “Home. Now.” Then he winked. “And thank you, Kathy. For everything.”
She hesitated. There was something in his voice, but Charlie must have looked at her in just the right way, for she finally patted his chest and nodded.
“Okay, Chief,” she said. “Just don’t overdo it, huh? Get some help moving what’s left of that monster back to the kitchen.”
“Are you kidding?” Charlie said. “There won’t be any left. It’s my best frosting ever.”
She grinned at him. “Okay, I’m gone…you just make sure to save me a piece.”
Charlie watched as she reached the double doors and looked back. He gave her a little wave. With the cake looming over his shoulder, he felt like an Egyptian slave with the Great Pyramid of Giza in the background. She returned his wave and walked out.
His heart may have slowed to normal for the moment, but it ached all the same as he watched her go. You’re the best, Kat. I’m going to miss you.
Chapter Fifteen
Charlie stood watch over the cake like a guard dog. He would step aside when guests took photos, but he made sure no one got too close and tried to snatch a taste. More than anything, he was grateful there were no children present. It was hard to stay calm on the outside when your insides were a cold stew of nerves.
What do I do now?
The thought of how he could have done what he did to the cake while blacked-out bothered him more than why he would do it in the first place. Behind him stood a glimmering tower of sugar-filled death, stacked seven layers high. Soon everyone in the room would be jostling for a piece (That’s right, folks—step right up! Help yourself to a big slice of rigor mortis…full of the finest raspberries, vanilla cream, and arsenic around! No shoving, now, there’s plenty for everyone!).