by Mariah Jones
Dave and I went to see a movie after dinner, a romantic comedy which I had wanted to see anyway, although I got the opinion he enjoyed it more than I did. On the ride back to Cupcake we talked and laughed more than we had all evening. I realized as we were pulling up to my shop, how much I really enjoyed the evening. Because I hadn’t dated for a while I guess I had forgotten how nice it is to share someone else’s company.
There was a brief moment of silence as we looked at each other in the dim light of the dash instruments. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say if he asked me out for a second date. I’d had a good time, but I felt no physical attraction to Dave and didn’t want to encourage him to think otherwise. It turned out I didn’t have to worry about it anyway.
“I had a great time tonight. You are a wonderful woman,” Dave began kindly. “I realized tonight though, that I am not ready to begin dating again yet. I thought everyone was right, and it had been long enough since I lost my wife, but all I could think about tonight was her.”
I smiled warmly back at him and placed my hand on top of his. “It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I had fun tonight too. Friends?” I asked.
“Definitely,” he replied.
Dave walked me to the front door of Cupcake and made sure I got in safely before he left. I guess there are still gentlemen in the world, I thought privately.
***
I spent an hour the next morning talking to my mom about the situation with my weight and silently swearing at my sister for bringing my mother to attention about my date the night before. My mom is old-fashioned and occasionally asks the kind of questions that make me shudder with revulsion. “Were you careful?” she asked as I eyeballed the contents of my closet, searching for something to wear to work.
“Mom,” I pleaded, “nothing like that happened. It was just dinner and a movie; we decided not to see each other again actually.”
I swear I could hear the frown on my mom’s face through the receiver. “I know you think I want you to hurry up and settle down and start a family Darcy, but really I don’t.”
“Uh huh,” I answered, knowing that was exactly what she wanted and it became rather obvious when my mother sent me a catalog of wedding invitation samples earlier that year, because ‘it’s never too early to start planning for the future’, imagine, wedding invitations with no groom on the horizon.
“I don’t want you to settle just to please your father and me sweetheart. I just want you to be happy,” my mom said.
“I know mom,” was all I could muster. I could feel the collar of my shirt getting tighter and the airflow to my brain diminishing. Do all mothers have that effect on their children or is it a special talent only my mom possesses?
After ending the conversation with my mom as early as I could respectfully manage, I went to face the scale. One pound lost. 328 stared tauntingly at me as if it were offering me a duel. “I accept,” I said loudly. Mr. Muffins wound through my legs twice before settling on the floor and grooming his cream-colored fur. “You are so lucky to be a cat,” I said, taking note of his big belly. I swear he smiled, the little turd.
Now that the date was over, I had resumed freaking out over the public weigh-in at Waistline Watchers. I couldn’t imagine weighing in before close friends and family members, let alone a group full of strangers. The mere thought of it made me dizzy. I thought of the weight loss shows on TV and wondered how the contestants humbled themselves enough to get up in front of the whole world and weigh-in wearing skimpy outfits.
Looking at the clock, I realized I had only thirty minutes left to get to work in time to meet my first set of clients. It was Katie’s day off and my phone jingled just before I reached my car door. It was Jenny telling me she was running late. Going to be one of those mornings, I thought. I had no idea.
I got behind the wheel of my car, a 1990’s sedan that had always been good to me until that morning. I tried turning the key in the ignition and the engine didn’t start. It was nice enough to make a few clicking sounds just to antagonize me, but it wouldn’t start. Allow me to mention, I have absolutely zero mechanical prowess. I had been very lucky up to that point with my car, never even having so much as a flat tire, but the lucky streak apparently ended that morning.
Swearing, I popped the hood and got out. While looking at the tangled mess of wires and unrecognizable parts, I realized again that I was running late. I called for a cab, which mercifully was there in five minutes.
It wasn’t until I got to Cupcake that I had a sudden realization. I had left the keys to the store in the ignition of my fatally injured car. “Why?” I asked. Once again pulling out the phone to call my sister and ask her to bring over her set of keys.
Once I finally got inside I had three minutes left until my first client showed up. I glanced at myself in the mirror and combed back a few fallen strands of hair with the palm of my hand. I might just survive this day yet, I reassured myself.
Jenny called me during my consultation to tell me she was going to be later than she thought and apologize. The feeling that today was going downhill faster than a twenty pound bowling ball on an icy slide kept plaguing me. At least the consultation went well. I hadn’t scheduled any other appointments that morning, so it was just the usual customers and baking to get to.
The sun was shining outside and the birds were chirping. My mood in general had started to improve. I started making batches of icing for the upcoming cake orders we would have to fill that weekend. My dry-cleaning had not come back from the cleaners yet, so I was working without the protection of my uniform. One of the wedding cakes we planned on making that weekend was going to be covered in purple and yellow iris to match the theme of the wedding. I first mixed the yellow icing and made the yellow gum paste. It came out beautifully and I was impressed with myself for how much progress I was making in between helping customers.
Next I began on the purple gum paste. I tore off the end of the small package the food dye comes in, but I somehow managed to miss the opening of the little tube where the dye is supposed to pour from. I reached in the drawer where I usually kept my scissors and found them missing. Holding the package up above my head, I tried to judge how much farther the plastic needed to be torn before the opening would actually separate. It looked like it was right on the nose. I must have torn it just a millionth off of the line. So, like a complete idiot, still holding the package above my head, I gave it a little squeeze.
The package blew open like an airbag in an accident. Purple dye shot in every direction. This started a chain reaction of unfortunate events. Some of the purple dye shot me in my left eye, which really stung and made it difficult to see. In my haste to grab a towel and clean out my eye, I knocked over an entire ten pound bag of powdered sugar down the front of my counter, which exploded in an arc. I made a run for the front door to lock it. I didn’t want a customer coming in and seeing myself and the shop in such disarray. As I ran past the counter to the front door I slipped on the sugar and fell on my rear end, but not before catching a glimpse of my purple stained reflection in the glass of the pastry case.
I closed my eyes for a moment and prayed this was it for the day, all the while wondering how I was going to wash off the dye. I knew how hard it was to get off of your hands, let alone your face, your eyeball or your clothes. Just when I thought it could not possibly get any worse, I was once again proved wrong.
The bells on my door jingled as someone walked in. I looked up, taking a second to let my purple tinged eye adjust to see the box truck guy standing before me. The sexy, so very hot, incredibly handsome box truck guy had just walked into my store. Not for the first time that morning I asked, WHY?
He took a moment to survey the situation before offering his hand. I always felt awkward having someone help me up as it was, kind of like a beached whale being aided back into the ocean, but it was particularly bad this time. The sugar beneath me was so slick I couldn’t get my footing and I was trying to look as capable as possible. When
I finally got to my feet, I steadied myself on the counter, afraid to move.
“You’ve got a little something…” he told me, pointing to my left eye.
“Yeah,” If you will excuse me for just a moment,” I said, trying to sound causal, but feeling like the biggest moron that ever walked the planet. Ah humiliation, welcome back my old friend. You could write when you plan on paying me a visit. I could stay home and make tea.
When I reached my bathroom, I figured out the damage was worse than I thought. I had purple streaks in my hair. I had purple dots all over my face and a huge smear from my left eye all the way to my chin. I looked like Alice Cooper at the end of a concert. My shirt was covered in purple blotches and my black pants were covered in powdered sugar. I scrubbed at my face until it turned red and ached, and managed to get rid of most of the purple. I wasn’t sure if I was hoping the box truck man had left already or if he was still waiting. I was just so damn embarrassed.
When I walked out of the bathroom, Mr. Box Truck was sweeping up the last remnants of confectioner’s sugar from my floor. My heart skipped a beat as I watched his muscular arms working.
“Thank you,” I said genuinely.
“Wow. You’re a lot bigger than me,” he said.
I gasped. That was the rudest thing I think I had ever heard a man say to me.
He looked at my face and then he gasped. “Oh! Oh no. NO, I meant your retail space,” he hurried to explain, gesturing with his hand at my store. “I’m so sorry, that came out all wrong.”
I sighed and tried to smile reassuringly. I don’t know if it worked. I had scrubbed my face so hard I could barely feel my facial muscles. I might have grimaced.
The box truck guy approached me and put his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Thorne Birch. I just bought the retail space next door,” he said.
I couldn’t remember how to speak. Perhaps the first time he touched me when he helped me up I was just too flustered to notice, but this time his handshake passed an electric tingle through my body like nothing I had ever felt.
“Darcy Miller,” I said, forcing myself to let go of his hand.
Thorne pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his sandy golden hair. His eyes were ice blue and completely captivating. My face might not have had feeling, but suddenly every other part of me did.
“It’s very nice to meet you Darcy,” he said. “I like people who can really get into their work.”
I giggled like an idiot at the joke he made and instantly regretted the sound. Where did that come from? That wasn’t even my laugh.
“I better get back,” he told me. “I’ve got lots of boxes to unpack before I open next week.”
“What kind of store are you opening? I was watching you unload the truck yesterday and those boxes looked heavy,” I admitted, feeling stupid for telling him I had been watching.
“Art supplies. I guess it’s kind of a mini gallery and art supplies actually. Oil painting has always been a passion of mine,” he said.
Hearing him utter the word passion made my legs go weak. I told myself I couldn’t fall because he had already swept up the only good excuse I had.
“I will definitely be back for some of those cupcakes,” he called out on his way out the door.
Never in my life had I wanted to be a pastry so bad.
Chapter Seven
The public weigh-in
“Seriously? His name is actually Thorne Birch?” my sister scoffed the next day. “Was his mother a romance novelist?”
I gave her the evil eye over the fondant I was rolling. “Behave,” I growled through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, he looks like he stepped off the cover of a romance novel and he has the perfect name for it too. What did he come in for? How did your first face to face meeting go?” Katie asked, her interest in the situation more than piqued.
Up to that point I had managed to avoid telling my sister the story of my humiliation. I planned on keeping that going. I shrugged. “He just came over to introduce himself. You know, get familiar with his surroundings.”
“I bet you’d love to get familiar with his surroundings, wouldn’t ya?” She teased me relentlessly.
“I have other things on my mind,” I lied. In truth, Other than the impending doom of the public weigh in, I had very little else on my mind other than Thorne. I took note of the time on the clock across the room from me and felt a shudder pass through my body. Four more hours until the weigh-in and I was dreading the speedy ticking of the second hand.
Nancy, a regular customer of mine with bottle-red hair and too much makeup, started chatting with my sister. I was grateful for the temporary reprieve and went into the back of the shop to take inventory. As I held the notepad and pen in my hand, I listened to the conversation.
“Have you seen your new neighbor yet?” Nancy asked Katie.
My sister played ignorant. “I don’t believe so.”
“He is to die for. I sat in my car for fifteen minutes this morning just watching him clean the windows on his place. I wonder where he’s from. I’ve never seen him around.”
For Nancy to not have seen someone around was quite the accomplishment. She remains the nosiest person I have ever met. I snuck a peek around the corner and cringed. Today she was sporting a tight, leopard print dress with purple stiletto heels. Her jewelry was mismatched to her attire and looked like something you would get out of a gumball machine for a quarter.
“I’m sure he’s very nice,” Katie replied, using the voice she reserved for those ‘certain’ customers.
“I can hardly wait until his store opens so I can find out all about him,” Nancy oozed in her helium voice.
For some unknown reason, the thought of her getting close enough to Thorne to ‘find out’ more about him made the little vein in the center of my forehead begin to throb a little. I set the notepad and pen down on the shelf nearest to me. I was having trouble concentrating on the inventory.
My morning improved slightly when Nancy left. I was always happy for repeat customers, but frankly, that morning I could have done without her business.
After she left, Katie rolled her eyes at me and I returned the gesture whole-heartedly.
“Apparently your new guy is generating interest among other women. You better hurry up and make your move or Nancy might,” Katie teased.
“If he is the kind of man who would take a ride on Nancy’s roller coaster then he isn’t the kind of man I would want anyway,” I said.
“I think that is the smartest thing I’ve heard you say all week,” Katie agreed.
Jenny looked up from the piping bag she was preparing. “For being fifty-something she does have nice boobs.”
“I bet they were more expensive than her jewelry,” I joked. All three of us burst out laughing.
***
Every time the bells above the door jingled, I found myself looking up in anticipation, hoping to see Thorne. It was a busy morning and the door opened and closed a lot, but, much to my disappointment it was never him.
The time drew closer and closer to the weigh-in and I could feel myself beginning to sweat. At least Dave would be there. Even though it hadn’t worked out for us in the dating sense, we had talked on the phone a few times since then and struck up a casual and comfortable friendship. He really was a good guy.
I probably looked out the door ten times that morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of Thorne, but it seemed after his window washing he took the day to do things away from his shop. I caught my sister watching here and there as well, and each time we would make eye contact she looked guilty.
“He’d be perfect for you,” she finally said after the last time I caught her.
“We’ve already had this discussion Katherine. Men like that date supermodels and athletes and celebrities. Not overweight girls who own bakeries.”
My sister looked unimpressed by my speech. “How exactly is it that you met him for five whole minutes and you are so positive you know wha
t he’s thinking?” she asked.
“It’s just life. I’ve been dealing with it forever. There is a certain class of men available for me to choose from and then there are all the others,” I told her.
“If you are so convinced he would never be interested in you, why do you keep jumping every time the door opens?” she questioned.
“Just because he wouldn’t date me doesn’t mean I don’t want to admire him from a distance,” I admitted half-truthfully. Honestly, I had been thinking what if. What if he did like women like me? Nope, I chastised. Too dangerous to have those kinds of thoughts, I was setting myself up to take another fall.