A Long Line of Cakes

by Deborah Wiles

  “Bonjour, ma nouvelle amie!” said Finesse.

  Emma was fitting little bunches of Evelyn Lavender’s flowers into the vases on each café table. She blinked. “Hi.”

  Finesse steamed ahead. “Mon oncle, who plays Dr. Dan Deavers on the television show Each Life Daily Turns, and who was our stellar umpire for our All-Stars game and pageant earlier this month, and who supplied our stage, all the way from Los Angeles, is about to come out of his coma on the television show, so is going back to California. Would you like to come to a going-away party—a soirée—in his honor?”

  Emma would not. But standing next to Finesse felt like being next to Annie, so in a moment of weakness she said yes.

  “We’re calling it the Dr. Dan Deavers Going-Away Soiree!” warbled Finesse.

  “Perfect!” said Arlouin from her perch on a ladder, where she was washing the huge front windows. Emma couldn’t see her mother’s face, but she knew she was smiling.

  Then, “Hello!” Arlouin cried. She waved across the street at Jerome Fountainbleu, who was clearing off a table for customers at the Pine View. Jerome spotted Arlouin on her ladder and waved back, although not as enthusiastically as he had waved the day before and the day before that. And the day before that.

  Melba Jane, wearing a bright-yellow sundress and yellow gloves, marked on her clipboard that Emma would be present at the soiree. “Across the street, at Mr. Pip’s barbershop,” she told Emma as she towered above her, the dogs on the floor surrounding her chair. “Tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock. Sharp. Dress is soiree casual.”

  “Très bien!” chirped Finesse. “Very good, mon petit chou!”

  “You keep calling me that,” said Melba, uncertain.

  “It’s a term of endearment,” Finesse assured Melba Jane. “Because you are dear to me. I will miss you when I go back to the Lanyard School in August.”

  Miss Mattie blew through the front screen door. It slapped behind her. She was still furious with Miss Eula for not giving her the extra storage space, but she finally couldn’t help herself and had to see what was happening next door.

  “Mattie!” cried Arlouin Cake. “What a nice surprise!” She slowly climbed off her ladder, talking the entire time. “We are open to everyone for experimentation for as long as it takes us to work out the kinks and find our rhythm here. Just drop in whenever and help us sample and taste and tweak! Doesn’t it smell divine in here! Grand Opening is next week! Or so! Welcome!”

  “I tried to get in the back, like I used to,” shot Miss Mattie, shooing away Bo-Bo, who had come to kiss her. “You’ve got an entire commercial kitchen back there now!”

  “We do,” said a smiling Leo Cake, who emerged from the kitchen and stood near the glass case by the wooden tables. He wiped his hands with his white chef’s apron. Flour dusted his forehead and speckled his glasses. Behind him, in the kitchen, Jody, Van, and Roger were crashing the dishes. Some would call it washing.

  “How much can you fit in that Ford Econoline?” Miss Mattie asked, hands on her hips and head cocked like an accusation.

  “It’s bigger inside than it looks!” Leo Cake answered.

  “What made you choose to come here, of all places?” asked Miss Mattie. Her eyes narrowed.

  Arlouin handed her a mop. “Life is full of mysteries,” she said in a bright voice. “Want to help us get ready to open?”

  “I do not!” said Miss Mattie, handing the mop right back. “I have customers! Ruby is over there by herself!”

  Ruby! Emma’s heart quickened and then sank.

  “I came to fetch Ben,” said Miss Mattie. “He is three minutes late for his shift. If I have to fetch him, what good is he to me?”

  Ben came out of the kitchen wearing hot mitts and ­carrying a gigantic tray of cookies. They smelled like chocolate and brown sugar and cream and butter and maybe even chocolate chips. Yes, chocolate chips. They were like little cakes. Of course.

  “I just pulled these out of the oven,” Ben said, as explanation for his tardiness.

  Arlouin beamed at Miss Mattie. “Want a cookie? These are called When You’re So Tired You Can Hardly See Straight Cookies. We will serve them at our Grand Opening! I hope you’ll come help us celebrate!”

  Miss Mattie harrumphed and started for the back door, then abruptly wheeled and stomped to the front door and out she went. Spiffy, Alice, Bo-Bo, and Hale-Bopp galumphed after her, one-two-three-four, their nails clicking on the wooden floor and scrabbling over Gordon’s clean threshold.

  “For pity’s sake!” Miss Mattie cried. Her voice faded as she got farther away, but she kept on admonishing the dogs who would try to follow her right into the Mercantile.

  * * *

  Arlouin sighed. “Cakes always know when to rest,” she said. “Let’s cool off. Let’s have a cookie.” She turned on the big overhead fan, reached for the cookie her son handed her, and sat with a weary thud at one of the tables Emma had decorated. “Thank you, Benjamin Lord Baltimore Cake. Yum.”

  “Break time!” yelled Leo Cake to the boys in the kitchen. The crashing and the cascading sound of rushing water stopped. Jody and Van argued themselves to the front of the store, with Roger whining right behind them.

  Everyone had a seat. Finesse had a cookie. Melba had a cookie. Gordon had two. They really were extraordinary cookies. Jody, Van, and Roger each had three. The only sounds for a few minutes were chewing and swallowing. Very companionable sounds. Leo brought in some cold lemonade and poured everyone a tall glass. Melba even removed her gloves.

  “It’s like a Parisian café!” Finesse whispered. “Formidable!”

  For a moment life felt absolutely perfectly perfect to Emma. The perfect summer day. Hot and cookied, with hard work and lemonade. And … friends?

  She had been invited to a party, after all. And she had said yes. And these friends wouldn’t break her heart. They would be more like acquaintances. That was the way to go. Why hadn’t she realized this seven moves ago?

  Ben waved a hand to his mother. “Got to go to work.”

  Jody, Van, and Roger groaned together. “It’s time for a pickup game! House and Cleebo and Wilkie and Evan and the Tolbert Twins are coming! And more! We need you!”

  “Start without me,” Ben told them. “I’ll be there.”

  “Is Honey coming?” asked Gordon. His voice was full of helpless hope.

  “Probably so,” whined Roger. “You two have to stay off the bases today.” Gordon beamed. He didn’t care about the bases. But he had put a tutu on his Christmas list, even though it was only July.

  Abruptly, Finesse made her thanks to the Cakes—“Merci beaucoup!”—and Melba pulled on her gloves. Finesse eyed Ben. “We’re heading next door, too, as a matter of fact,” she cooed. She had been trying to charm Ben for weeks, finding an excuse to visit the Cake Café every day, or to visit at Miss Mattie’s when Ben was working.

  Ben blushed and shrugged, his usual response when confronted with Finesse, or any girl. Wait. There had never been a girl to worry about before. This was torture. He grabbed his baseball glove, shoved it into his armpit, and double-timed it to the door.

  Emma popped up from her seat. “Wait!” Another impulsive decision, her practical mind began. But then she pushed the thought away. She would do it.

  “What?” asked her brother.

  “I’m coming with you,” she said.

  Miss Mattie’s store was thick with customers on this ­sweltering July afternoon. Spiffy, Bo-Bo, Alice, and Hale-Bopp lifted their heads from the sidewalk and thumped their tails at Emma as she trailed the gaggle of kids through the front door of the Mercantile.

  The dogs were hot and ready for a nap under the store’s shady canopy. Arlouin Cake, who knew a thing or two about her daughter, had pressed some coins into Emma’s palm as she left the café. “Buy us a Co-Cola for later,” she whispered with a smile.

  This was good. It gave Emma a concrete reason for going next door.

  The cold-drink case was at the back of the
store, which meant Emma had to thread herself through the folks ­buying work shoes and sun hats and dusting powder and tins of sardines or tuna. It was easy to lose her new acquaintances, who were already busy canvassing the customers about the soiree. Melba scribbled furiously on her clipboard.

  Miss Mattie tied a starched bib apron—fresh from the Sunshine Laundry—on Ben, who was used to aprons, but grimaced at being trussed into one so unceremoniously, like he was Gordon’s age and needed help.

  “I know how to put on an apron,” he complained to Miss Mattie, loud enough for onlookers to hear.

  “When you’re on time, you can fasten it yourself,” Miss Mattie sniffed, also loud enough for anyone close to hear. Ben’s face reddened. He and Emma exchanged a look as Emma walked past her brother. Emma shrugged. Ben raised an eyebrow back.

  Then his eyes fell on Ruby working behind the counter and he shrugged at her. Ruby gave Ben a disinterested look, then worried that he might misinterpret it to mean I think you’re cute!—this was torture—so she shifted into her most athletic voice and said, “I’m playing ball after my shift,” to which Ben replied, “Me too.”

  “You can make up your three minutes on the other end,” said Miss Mattie. She swatted Ben’s shoulder in a that’s-that way as she finished tying his apron. “Go. Mrs. Watson needs five pounds of butter from the back. For what, heaven knows. We’re out of brooms. Bring three more out to the front.”

  Ruby had a paper sack full of groceries in her arms. She was wearing the exact same thing she’d worn a week ago when she and Emma had met: overalls, a faded red-striped shirt, and her hair in a sloppy ponytail.

  She was probably wearing flip-flops, too, thought Emma. She noticed a huge pile of them spilling out of a box near the cold-drink case. What was it with the flip-flops? She got her drink and got in line with the other customers.

  “Hey there, young lady!” said a man wearing a panama hat.

  “It’s nice to see the young folks,” said another. “Even if they’re strangers!”

  “Yessirree,” agreed yet another. “I believe you’re from next door!”

  Emma smiled and nodded. “Yessir,” she said. “I’m Emma.”

  “What a nice name!” said a woman who smelled of lilacs. Then she added, “We already have a café, across the street!”

  “She’s from the new café!” said the man in the panama hat. “I know all about it.” But he didn’t, of course.

  They all waited for Emma to tell them all about it, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Spontaneity wasn’t her gift. She could have said, We’re kind of open for business while we work out the kinks, and our cakes are wonderful—the soup is even better—and our Grand Opening celebration is in the next week—or so—please come! She might have said, Yes, another café, we know, but there must be a good reason for it, or we wouldn’t have come! But chitchatting wasn’t her way.

  It was Ruby’s way, however. Ruby handed a paper sack to a customer across the counter. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Evans,” she said. “I hope the baby is over his diarrhea. Please come again soon.”

  “Goodness!” said Mrs. Evans as she hastily made for the door.

  Ruby’s eyes fell on Emma, who was two customers back in line, but she didn’t acknowledge her. Emma straightened her shoulders against the snub and listened to the other customers in line move on to gossip about their neighbors. And the café. And even about the pies at the Pine View.

  In line two people in front of Emma, Goldie Shuggars slid a pound of sugar across the counter to Ruby and said, “Good morning, Ruby, this will be all today. Comfort and I are still trying to perfect Great-great Aunt Florentine’s brownies!”

  “Good morning, Miz Shuggars,” said Ruby as she made change for the sugar and bagged it. “Tell Comfort hey from me. Tell her I saw her write-up about Ornette Coleman in the paper. There were three typos!”

  “I’ll do that!” said Goldie as she left the line.

  Miss Mattie began to ring up Mrs. Varnado’s order and Ruby bagged it. Emma was next in line. She could feel the heat from Ruby’s anger. She was so uncomfortable she almost lost her nerve. She kept her eyes on the soda in her hand and concentrated on how familiar it would feel to split the sweet drink at the end of the day, pour it over vanilla ice cream in two glasses, and sit with her mother, planning the next day’s baking. Or soup. Or both. Like they’d done a hundred times. It was their ritual. Safe. Comforting.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a crisp Miss Mattie. “Will that be all, young lady?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emma answered, startled into the present moment. She put her coins on the counter and looked straight at Ruby. Now that she was here, what would she say? She summoned her courage and opened her mouth.

  “Hi” was all that came out.

  Ruby didn’t say a word. She shoved the drink at Emma. She didn’t bother to bag it. She didn’t say, Thank you, come again soon. Her look meant, Come again never.

  Even though the line was long behind her, and Miss Mattie was nothing if not efficient, Emma lingered at the counter and stared into Ruby’s heated gaze. Another completely impractical feeling passed through her and she suddenly knew she could not waste this opportunity. What good was a breathing tree and a talking breeze if you didn’t honor them?

  “We never stay anywhere long,” she started, in a firm voice that was also as quiet as she could make it because it was not meant for those in the line behind her, but of course everyone who was close enough was all ears. “I always have to leave my friends, but you are the first friend who ever left me, before we even got started.” Ruby blinked and Emma finished. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

  Emma steeled herself for one more moment to see if Ruby would answer, but Ruby pursed her lips and glared harder.

  Fine, thought Emma as her impractical feeling vanished. I misunderstood. Forget the tree and the breeze and the night that felt like magic. Emma’s face burned with embarrassment. In front of all these people.

  In one slow and deliberate move, Emma Lane Cake picked up her drink and walked out of Miss Mattie’s Mercantile.

  She did not look back.

  In July the Mississippi nights are as hot as the days. The sun goes down past bedtime and the cicadas begin their nightly mating calls—some would call them screams—as soon as the soft dark begins to envelop the land.

  Emma and her mother sat outside behind the bakery on lawn chairs, beside the sandy lane, with their ice-cream floats, facing the ball fields. The usual havoc was going on around the bases. “Score! Score! Score!” little George Latham kept calling.

  “So we’re open for business all this coming week, again informally, while we work out the kinks,” said Arlouin. “And the Grand Opening celebration will be next week. Or so.”

  “Got it,” said Emma. Her heart wasn’t in it.

  “You okay?” asked her mother.

  “I’m fine,” Emma replied. Then she changed the subject. “How can those boys even see?” On the ball field her brothers and the All-Stars were thick into their game. Ruby wasn’t with them, and neither were Finesse or Melba or any of the dancers from the pageant. The spell that had brought them all to the ball field together on the Cakes’ magical first day in Halleluia was finally dissipating. But those who loved the game would remain forever.

  Honey and Gordon sprawled beside the third-base line, lying on their stomachs and coloring, with five dogs ­surrounding them: Spiffy, Alice, Bo-Bo, Hale-Bopp, and Eudora Welty. Eudora snored loudly as a wooden bat hit a wide pitch thrown by Cleebo Wilson and shouts erupted from the clutch of boys.

  “That ball was a no-see-um!” yelled Jody as an excuse for why he missed Ned Tolbert’s pop fly into center field.

  “Let’s wrap it in Day-Glo tape!” shouted Cleebo. “We’ve got some at the laundry!”

  “Laundry’s closed!” hollered Boon Tolbert.

  “Time to call it a day,” House Jackson said. He couldn’t play anyway, with his bum elbow. He adjusted his baseball cap. �
��I’ve got to get Honey home.”

  “Aw, rats!” cried Gordon.

  “I can’t see what I’m coloring anyhow,” said Honey. “See you at the sore-bay tomorrow, Gordon. Dress up!”

  “Soiree,” corrected Ben.

  “Sore-bay,” repeated Honey. She patted on her dog. “C’mon, YouDoggie!”

  Eudora snorted awake and struggled to her feet.

  “Mom, I’m going over to House’s for a few,” shouted Ben, and when Arlouin didn’t protest, Ben dissolved into the shadows near the schoolhouse with Honey and House and Eudora.

  The rest of the Cake boys didn’t protest their brother’s decision. They wandered off the field as one large, lost amoeba, pushing a little, complaining a lot, tired and dusty and ready for showers and bed.

  “One game of Parcheesi,” offered Jody. He scooped up Gordon and whistled for the dogs.

  “It takes too long,” argued Van.

  “You always cheat!” whined Roger.

  “You can’t count!” Jody complained.

  Boys and dogs squabbled past Emma and their mother without saying a word to them. Maybe they didn’t see them. They clattered across the threshold of their bakery home yelling, “Dad!” and the red door slammed shut. Their absence created a vacuum that the cicadas began to fill with their songs.

  “Thanks for buying the Co-Cola,” said Arlouin. “How was business in Miss Mattie’s store?”

  “Brisk,” said Emma.

  “Good. Maybe that means we’ll have a good crowd in the café this week, which will bring us a nice fat crowd for the Grand Opening. Did people ask about us?”

  “People wondered why we were opening a café when there was one across the street already.”

  Arlouin sighed and didn’t comment. After a pause, she said, “Gonna be a handsome moon tonight.”

  Emma lifted her face to the last of the light in the sky. Then she looked from the Ford Econoline to the knothole in the silver maple. Even if there had been a note in it, it would not have been for her. The embarrassment fevered her face again as she remembered the scene at Miss Mattie’s store. She slapped at a mosquito. “Time to go in,” she said.