A female server stopped at their table. “You’ve got one of those magazines with the Mozart story.”
“Yeah.” Amber motioned to herself and Natalie. “He’s our guy. We took these pictures and everything. Actually, Natalie took the photographs, and I just kinda watched and drooled all over myself.”
“I love the one where he’s shirtless,” the server said, and Amber flipped open the magazine to that picture.
“Porn for women.”
While they both admired the photograph, Natalie smiled to herself, remembering Brett’s reaction when he had seen the full-page picture.
“He took his shirt off?” Brett had frowned.
“For me,” she said, and his frown deepened. “I asked him to take it off. I knew he was ripped so, you know, I knew women would go crazy.”
Brett grimaced. “You’re objectifying him.”
She had ruffled his thick hair with her fingers and told him if he wanted her to objectify him, he could take off his shirt. He had obliged her.
The server sighed as she took a pad and pen from the pocket of the short gingham apron she wore. “So what can I get for you? We’ve got a small grilled chicken salad with fruit that’s good for brunch.”
“Sounds good,” both Natalie and Amber agreed.
After the server left, Amber put the magazine in her tote. “I heard this morning that the fish fry Saturday night netted like eight thousand dollars for Ryan Tucker.”
“That’s great.” Natalie was happy for the Tucker family, whose son needed a heart transplant. She had gone to the benefit fish fry at the high school gymnasium with Brett.
“I remember Kevin Tucker from school,” Natalie said. “I feel sorry for him.”
“Me too. He looks way older than he is. We bought extra take-home plates for my parents and Josh’s family to help out.”
“I took Nana and Clara a plate. And Brett bought plates for the nurses in the CCU and for the emergency room staff.”
Amber smiled. “Hey, the two of you were looking pretty cozy that night.” She stopped and listened. “Do you hear that?”
Natalie didn’t hear anything but Ronnie Milsap’s song “Smoky Mountain Rain” being broadcast over the speakers located in the ceiling. She shook her head. “Hear what?”
“The sound of wedding bells! You know that’s next, don’t you?”
“No.” She held up her hands. “There’s not going to be any wedding bells. I’m not going there.”
“Listen to you.” Amber leaned forward. “Remember when you said that about sleeping with him. I’m not going there.” She pointed at Natalie. “Now you’re there every night, aren’t you?”
“Sex and marriage aren’t the same.”
“They do coincide, you know.”
“But they don’t work without love.” She looked out the café window; bright red holiday bows trimmed the lampposts, and all the stores boasted holiday sales. She remembered her first Christmas with Aidan.
They didn’t have a lot of money, and they had decided the best Christmas would be one where they made memories together. They had cooked a Christmas dinner composed of their favorite foods. They had exchanged small homemade presents, and on Christmas Day, they had gone dancing. Dressed in long coats, scarves, and gloves, they had waltzed in front of a decaying castle that was a mere shell of stone amid thick ivy. She had no pictures of that dance, except in her mind.
“Maybe you’re a little in love with Brett.” Amber gave her a thoughtful glance. “Aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer as the server delivered their food. She touched the necklace Brett had given her last week. She ran her fingers over the ruby embedded in the silver heart. “I do love him, and sometimes I feel so overwhelmed by it. I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
Beaming, Amber leaned forward. “From what I saw the other night, you’ve got him hooked. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
Natalie stirred her salad, unable to eat until she got something off her chest. “That night, when we were in the gym, I was thinking back to the days when we were all in school. Even if I hadn’t been a Layton back then, I’m not the girl Brett would have chosen.”
She lifted her gaze to look at her best friend as she admitted a dark truth that had wrapped itself around her heart. “I don’t trust him to love me.”
“Natalie,” Amber scolded. “You can’t be that insecure. Surely. There is no reason to think like that.”
She shrugged and took a bite of her salad. She didn’t regard herself as insecure. She was just trying to keep an honest point of view on things. Especially Brett. Sure, they were in the middle of a love affair, where passion rules, and she was fine with that. But the time would come when just a romp in the bedroom wasn’t enough. More would be needed, and she wasn’t sure she and Brett had more.
“Nana is doing really well,” Natalie said, changing the subject. “I’m so glad the pacemaker thing has been a success. Otherwise, we would have never heard the end of it.”
“I can’t believe she did it.”
“Me neither. But I think, deep down, she knew she needed to see a doctor.”
“I would have hated to have been in Brett’s shoes. Did you feel sorry for him?”
Natalie laughed. “A little. But strangely enough, she seems to have taken a liking to him. She’s very accepting of him, and of course, he caters to her. They get along well now.”
“Did he get that position at the hospital he wanted?”
“Yeah.” Natalie took a sip of iced tea. “He told me it was announced at a staff meeting on Thursday and Sheldon gave Brett a key to the office. I think that’s why he was so euphoric at the fish fry. It’s like he has reached the top of the mountain. Except in this situation, it’s the top of the hospital.”
“Hey, he didn’t get there alone,” Amber said. “He had you to help.”
“He would’ve gotten there one way or the other. Eventually. That’s who he is,” Natalie insisted. “I’m just glad Nana is getting the medical care she needs.”
She dug into her salad. “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”
After an hour of eating and discussing the insanity of the holidays and family get-togethers, Amber went back to her salon, and Natalie headed to Bingham’s Bakery in Brett’s red Camaro, which she still drove occasionally. She had a fondness for Cathy, who now had over two thousand followers on Facebook. It was good to be loved.
She parked Cathy at Bluebird Park. With her camera and equipment in tow, she headed south toward Jefferson Street, where Bingham’s Bakery was located. The brick building dated back to the 1930s, and it had been through several renovations over the years. Since 1946, it had been home to Bingham’s Bakery.
“Natalie, honey,” Eldora greeted her as she entered the bakery where a Christmas tree was decorated with plastic cupcakes and garland trimmed the display cases. “Come on in.”
“This place smells good,” Natalie said as the scent of fresh-baked bread, cakes, and cookies assaulted her senses. She eyed a dark chocolate cake in a bakery display case. “I could die happy here.”
She retracted the legs of the camera tripod and set up the camera for a few shots of the bakery and of Eldora, who wore Santa earrings and a red sweater. “Thanks for letting me do a story on you and your bakery.” She flipped on the small tape recorder clipped to the waist of her pants.
“Honey, I’m more than happy to let you do a story about me and the bakery. At my age, when somebody wants to do a story about you and it ain’t your obituary, well then, you best count your blessings. I get up every morning and count my blessings. I say ‘Thank you, Jesus, for another day. I promise to make the most of it.’ Been doing that for a while now.”
Natalie smiled, instinctively knowing Eldora was going to make a great story. She noticed the framed certificates that hung over a cookie display case. The bakery, which had been run by the same black family since it opened, was a community favorite. It had been chosen as one of the ci
ty’s best businesses, and several of its specialties had won awards in baking competitions. Natalie aimed her lens at the certificates. “How did you get started in the bakery business?”
“I was born to it. My daddy opened this bakery back in nineteen forty-nine. Soon after the war ended. I was eight years old. I had two sisters and one brother at that time. While my daddy was off in the war, my mama got sick, and she passed away.”
Natalie glanced down as she thought of her mother.
“When Daddy got home, it was just us four kids alone, and he was real sad because we’d lost Mama. But he said he was gonna take care of us, and we were gonna have a good life. He’d learned to bake from his mama. We called her Mammy Bingham. She was a big woman, and we didn’t give her no sass. Just like we didn’t give Daddy no sass either. And my boys didn’t give me no sass. But their kids, they give sass all the time.
“Daddy wouldn’t have put up with that.” Eldora shook her head. “Daddy was a hard worker, but he couldn’t find a job. So every morning he’d get up early and start baking in his mama’s old stove. He didn’t know what else to do, and even though he loved to bake, he was ashamed of it because he didn’t think it was manly. Back then, men thought certain things were women’s work. But he’d put the bread in his truck and go into town and sell it. Mostly to black folks, you know.
“One day a white man came up to him and bought a couple of cookies. That man was your great-granddaddy, Sam Layton Senior. Mister Sam liked those cookies so well, he bought a loaf of bread and rolls. Mister Sam became Daddy’s best customer. Did you know him?”
“No. He passed away before I was born.”
“Daddy always said that Mister Sam was one of the finest men ever. I wouldn’t be standing here right now talking to you if it hadn’t been for your great-granddaddy. One day Mister Sam said, ‘Edward, you should open your own bakery.’ And I’ve heard my daddy tell this story a dozen times.
“He said, ‘No, Mister Sam, I can’t do something like that.’ And Mr. Sam said, ‘Why not? You’ve got children depending on you.’ And Daddy said, ‘That’s true, and there ain’t nothing I love more than baking. But baking for a living? I got brothers who gonna say I’ve turned into a woman. And I ain’t never run no business. I probably wouldn’t last a month, and folks would be laughing at me.’ Daddy didn’t have no confidence.
“Mister Sam set him straight. He said, ‘Edward, you’re gonna last a lot longer than a month because you are one damn good baker. You’ve got a gift.’
“Then he told my daddy something that changed his life. Mister Sam said, ‘Embrace who you are and what you love in life. The rest will take care of itself.’ My daddy always lived by those words.”
Natalie felt oddly short of breath.
“Look.” Eldora pointed to the wall behind Natalie. “That’s a picture of them.”
She turned to see a large black-and-white photograph taken in 1946 at the grand opening of Bingham’s Bakery. Sam Layton Senior and Edward Bingham stood in front of the new bakery. Beneath the photograph, her grandfather’s words were inscribed on a plaque.
Embrace who you are and what you love in life. The rest will take care of itself.
She pressed her fingers to her lips as she took a moment to compose herself. She had just found another small story. “Do you have a copy of this photograph? I’d like to use it in the article.”
“I can get one,” Eldora said. “I’ll have my son email it to you.”
Natalie followed Eldora into the preparation area, where her two sons and some other relatives were working. “Now y’all go take a break. She’s writing a story about me.” Before Eldora’s sons left, Natalie took a family photograph.
“Daddy watches over us.” Eldora pointed to a large portrait of a handsome black man in a black suit hanging beside the preparation door. “I tell my kids and my grandkids that every time they set foot in this bakery, they honor that man and his memory. You gotta honor your family. Those who come before you, who paved the way for you.”
Eldora showed Natalie around the kitchen, which contained two separate areas, one for preparation and the other for baking. Both rooms were filled with the sweet and spicy scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and nuts. Eldora explained the daily process of running a bakery, which she had done for forty years, and the ups and downs of the business.
“Over the past twenty years, we’ve added different types of baked goods. My granddaughter went to school and learned how to make fancy wedding cakes and birthday cakes, which sell well. And cupcakes for birthday parties. Plus donuts and pastries are popular with the folks downtown.”
“But my love is baking bread. It’s bread that sustains life.” She stopped beside a wide table with a wooden top, and Natalie adjusted the camera’s aperture and shutter speed to take a portrait of Eldora with a softly blurred background. “There’s nothing like kneading dough. The feel of it. The first thing my daddy taught me about baking was how to knead the dough. I remember he’d sing sometimes. The old hymns.”
Natalie thought a moment, composing a photograph in her mind. “Could you do that? Knead some dough. I’d love to photograph your hands.”
“Then I won’t bother with a smock or gloves.” She scattered a cup of flour over the top of the table, and Natalie positioned her camera. Eldora fetched a covered bowl and emptied the dough on the floured surface. She sprinkled more flour over the dough.
Natalie focused the lens on Eldora’s dark hands covered with flour, pressing into the dough with a slow, loving motion. Natalie snapped photo after photo as she hoped to capture the fluid motion of Eldora’s hands. Then she repositioned the camera on the tripod as Eldora started to hum and sway.
In the quiet of the bakery kitchen, where a daughter honored the memory of her father, Eldora sang with a clear, true voice the old hymn she’d heard her father sing so many times. The lyrics of “Amazing Grace” filled the room as Eldora closed her eyes and let the song fill the room and her heart.
Natalie stopped taking pictures. She looked at the portrait of Edward Bingham, a hardworking man who loved to bake bread and who had left behind a legacy that his family still revered. She thought of her own grandfather, a man who had made a difference in the baker’s life.
Embrace who you are and what you love in life.
Eldora sang, “I once was lost, but now I’m found.”
It’s in the small stories that we find our truth.
Natalie’s lashes grew wet, and tears slid down her cheeks. She put her hand against her chest, and the heart pendant Brett had given her pressed against her palm.
Eldora stopped singing. “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“No.” Natalie wiped away her tears. “I’m fine.”
“Here.” Eldora fetched a paper napkin for her. “Are you all right?”
Natalie wiped her cheeks. “I am.” She realized that wasn’t just a perfunctory remark.
Eldora washed the flour off her hands. “Would you like a pecan brownie?”
A wide smile brought happiness back to Natalie’s face. “I would love one.”
She had a brownie and thanked Eldora for sharing her story. After a farewell hug, she headed back to Bluebird Park, where Cathy was parked. As she reached the park, she saw Bad Boy parked beside the Camaro. Mozart sat on a bench beneath a maple tree. Its bare limbs allowed the sun to beam down on his black hair. He waved when he saw her.
She put her equipment in the Camaro and walked over to the bench. He stood. She looked into his wide brown eyes. Gorgeous eyes. His sister would have been as beautiful as he was handsome. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too,” he said. “I wanted to say thank you.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Thank you for writing about Nora.” His brown eyes grew misty. “That meant a lot to me.”
“I’m glad.” Natalie felt her own emotions start to swell again. “I’m so glad.”
“Since that magazine came out, I’ve gotten almost ten thousand doll
ars in donations to help kids like Nora.”
“Ten thousand!” Natalie gasped. “That is fantastic!”
“Mostly from women.” His grin put a dimple in his right cheek.
“That shirtless picture did kinda make you a sex object,” she confessed. “My apologies.”
“Naw.” He waved his hand. “With the money it’s bringing in, hey, I should have taken my pants off, too.”
“That would have done it.” Natalie laughed as her cheeks flamed. Too bad Amber wasn’t here. She would have croaked.
His face became somber again as he put the kidding aside. “I would like to ask you a favor. I’d like to have a copy of the picture they used for the cover, if that’s possible.”
He spoke of the photograph she had created by using the image of Nora running in the field of wildflowers as a background and putting him in the foreground.
“What’s your email address?” Natalie asked him.
He dug his business card out of his wallet. “Send it to this address.” He handed her the card. “Don’t let Hot Rod see this. You know, he gave me orders to stay away from you.”
“He what?” Her jaw dropped.
“He got on my ass for taking you to the Strip. But we’re cool now.” Mozart looked at her from beneath his dark lashes before he left. “If Hot Rod doesn’t treat you right, you just let me know.”
She grinned as she dug her phone out of her bag. She had a message from Brett, who was working out of town. His cardiology group operated a satellite clinic in a nearby small town, and the doctors rotated seeing patients there on Wednesday. Today was Brett’s Wednesday to work.
Just letting you know I won’t be back until late. All the exam rooms are full and there’s standing room only in the lobby.
Okay. You can let me know when you get home. I miss you.
She sent the text, knowing that Brett was part of the reason she didn’t want to leave Lafayette Falls. There was no point in denying that, despite the fact she wasn’t in a long-term relationship with him.
Everything His Heart Desires Page 20