by Lila Bruce
“What do you mean they were out of cinnamon rolls? How does a bakery run out of cinnamon rolls? If I don’t get a fucking cinnamon roll on my desk in the next twenty minutes, I will not be responsible for my actions!”
“But they didn’t have any. Look, I can run to the convenience store down the street and get a box of donuts.”
“I don’t need a fucking box of donuts, I need a fucking cinnamon roll!”
Grace sat at her desk listening to the heated exchange going on in the office next door, wondering if she was, in fact, listening to a heated argument over pastries.
Surely not. She put down the pen she had been writing with and sat back in her chair to listen more closely.
“I know you need a fucking cinnamon roll, what I’m telling you is that there are no fucking cinnamon rolls!”
“That is not my problem. She is going to be here at nine-thirty and if we don’t have any cinnamon rolls, someone is going to die!”
So yeah, Grace thought. That’s what it is, two grown people having a knock down argument over breakfast food. With a sigh she stood from her desk and headed to the adjacent office.
“I can’t help that they were out of cinnamon rolls. I can’t just snap my fingers and make one appear.”
“Well you need to do something and do it now!”
“Do something? What do you want me to do, shit one?”
“Ladies!” Grace said loudly as she walked into the room. “What is going on in here?”
Two women stood in the center of the office facing one another. They turned in unison to stare at Grace. Although not related, the women bore a striking resemblance to each other. The younger of the two, a petite woman with long blonde hair wearing pointed red shoes with heels almost as tall as she was spoke first. She had planted both hands squarely on her hips, in doing so pulling up on the hem of her cream colored skirt.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on here. She…” pointing to the other woman sharply, “…has lost her ever loving mind over some damned cinnamon rolls.”
“Monica?” Grace said questioningly to the other woman. Monica shook her head and then pushed away the strands of short blonde hair that fallen across her face.
“I asked her to do one thing. One thing! Stop and pick up a box of cinnamon rolls. How hard is that? A monkey could stop by the bakery and get some cinnamon rolls. What does Ashley do? Come back and say they are out!”
At that Ashley began to scream back at Monica, both women waving their hands in the air, gesturing wildly as they argued. Grace could only stare at them and sigh.
The three of them, Ashely, Grace, and Monica, had been friends for years. They had gone to college together, been sorority sisters together. All three had majored in business and a few years after graduation decided to leave their dull, dead-end jobs and go into business for themselves. It only seemed natural that after years of decorating the sorority house and friends’ apartments, that they would open their own interior design firm. AGM Designs, though only a few years old, was fast becoming one of the top design firms in North Georgia. And at this particular moment, two thirds of the design firm were screaming at one another over cinnamon rolls.
“Ok, that is enough! You two cut it out.” Grace stepped between the two women and held her arms out in the air. “Now what is the deal with the cinnamon rolls? Why is it such a big deal if the bakery is out?”
“Why?” Monica’s voice was shrill as she threw her hands up in the air. “Juanita Chavez, that’s why!”
Grace looked at Ashley and raised an eyebrow. Ashley shook her head and shrugged.
“I have no idea,” she said to Grace. “All I can tell you is that she called me early this morning and asked me to stop by the bakery and pick-up some of their cinnamon rolls. I get there, there are none in the window. I asked and they tell me that they didn’t have any. It’s not like I can snap my fingers and make cinnamon rolls float out of my ass.”
Grace turned to Monica, taking a deep breath before she began. “Ok, so what does the bakery not having any cinnamon rolls have anything to do with Juanita Chavez?”
“I’ve been talking to her for weeks on the bid for the Buckhead mansion. At this point, it’s down to us and the Maples firm out of Marietta. She mentioned the other day that her grandmother used to bake homemade cinnamon rolls, so I told her about the ones from Kim’s place and how legendary they are. She called yesterday and wants to meet today, in person and over breakfast to talk about our bid. If I don’t have those cinnamon rolls, then no way are we going to get the job.” Monica stopped and looked at the other two women with emphasis. “This is a forty thousand dollar job. We cannot lose it over fucking cinnamon rolls!”
Grace raised her hand up to stop Monica from beginning another tirade.
“Ok. Calm down. We have an hour before she is supposed to be here.” Grace had had enough for one morning and decided it was time to move into take charge mode. “You go and get the conference room together and make sure we have everything we need on this. I’ll run over to the bakery and see what I can do.”
She gave both of them a firm look before turning to leave.
“And please no arguing. You two carry on like a bunch of old hens.”
****
Pulling her car into the last parking spot on the corner of Main Street, Grace could not help but think to herself that working with her two best friends from college was nothing if not interesting. In a weird way she enjoyed the daily back and forth between the three of them, a direct result of having three strong personalities under one roof. Despite the occasional bickering, the three were as close as sisters, and outside of her best friend Kendra, the closest thing that Grace had left in way of a family.
She stepped into the corner bakery, stopping in the doorway to breathe in the heavenly scent of apples and cinnamon. Grace closed her eyes and for just a second she was five years-old and in her grandmother’s kitchen.
“Hi Grace,” a deep male voice called, drawing her out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and looked to Brett Taylor’s smiling face. Brett stood behind the counter with a towel in his hand, wiping it back and forth across the glass display case as he spoke. “How have you been doing?”
It had been months since Grace had stopped by the bakery. For just a moment she felt a twinge of pain in stomach, remembering that the last time she had been there it had been with Emma. They had sat at the little table in the back of the dining area looking at cake books, talking about buttercream and raspberry.
No. I’m not living in the past anymore, Grace thought to herself. I’m putting myself out there and moving on.
“Great,” she said, walking towards the counter. “How are you?”
“Just fine. What can I get you today?”
“We have a cinnamon roll emergency. Tell me you have some ready somewhere.”
Brett looked at Grace for a moment and then laughed. “I don’t even want to know, do I?”
Grace smiled and shook her head.
“No. I will spare you all the gory details, but we have an important client coming in this morning and Monica has been talking up your cinnamon rolls. Please tell me you have some.” Grace glanced at her watch. “She’s supposed to be coming at nine-thirty, so we are kind of in a bind.”
“I think you will be fine. We were late getting them in the oven this morning, but they should be ready to go now. Jess has been in the back putting the frosting on them,” Brett said, motioning towards the kitchen.
“Fabulous,” Grace said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Jessica? Your sister Jessica?”
“Yup, that’s right. She moved back to town a few weeks ago. She’s been helping me at the bakery while she gets settled back in.”
Graced cocked her head and tried to think when she had last seen the youngest of the five Taylor children. Had to be a least seven or eight years, she thought. Jessica was a couple years behind her in high school and they had never run in same crowd of friends. As she recalled, Jessica was one of those quiet g
irls who liked to stay under the radar. A little nerdy, wore glasses and into computers. She vaguely remembered hearing that she lived out West somewhere, Arizona maybe?
“Let me go check and see how things are coming,” Brett said and headed back to the kitchen.
“Sure that will be great,” Grace called back to him.
Grace checked her watch again. She figured she should just make it back to the office in time to help get finished with the set up for the meeting. Milling around the front of the bakery while she waited, Grace peered deep into the display cabinet at the pastries laid out delicately on wire racks. On the bottom row sat a large blueberry turnover. The crust was flaky and golden brown. Some of the deep blue fruit had bubbled out on one side while the turnover had baked and now glistened under the light of the display case.
“Oh lord, you beautiful thing, I would love to take you home and just gobble you up,” Grace said to the turnover, speaking in a low, husky tone.
“I get off at four if that works for you,” a soft voice said. Grace snapped up to see a pair of dark green eyes smiling back at her from the other side of the display case.
Jessica Taylor stood there grinning, a slight dusting of flour decorating the bridge of her nose. She held a rack of cinnamon rolls at chest level, drawing Grace’s gaze to the slender woman’s chest, the white t-shirt and bright green apron seeming to accentuate the fullness of her breasts. She had long, dark hair that was tied back into a pony tail. And her eyes…her eyes seemed to dance as they stared at Grace from other the display case.
Holy hell, she is fucking gorgeous.
Grace opened her mouth to respond but looking at the other woman’s emerald eyes, could suddenly think of nothing but purple dildos. Mortified, she just stood there, saying nothing.
Keeping her gaze on Grace, Jessica slid the rack of cinnamon rolls into the case.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Grace flushed briefly and the shook her head. “Oh no, that’s ok, you just startled me, that’s all. I didn’t hear you come out from the back.”
“So how would you like it?” the woman drawled. Gone was the nerdy teenager with wire-rimmed glasses. This woman looked more like she had just stepped off the runway rather than out of a kitchen.
Grace shook her head and blinked at her. “Um, I…um, excuse me?”
“Your cinnamon roll. Would you like it in a box or bag?”
“Oh. A box please,” she said quickly. “And I need sex…I mean six! I need six cinnamon rolls,” Grace added, reddening as she spoke.
Oh my word, I have got to get out of here, she thought to herself.
“Jess, I told you she was in a hurry,” Brett swung in from the kitchen and began to scold his sister. “Don’t just stand there, get her ready to go”
Jessica smiled at Grace as she boxed up the cinnamon rolls and placed them on the counter. Her brother took the box and placed it, along with a handful of napkins, into a white plastic bag.
“Alright, anything else?” he chirped, ringing up the order on the cash register.
Grace shook head and tried to look away from Jessica as she handed Brett a credit card from her purse. Her green eyes continued to hold her own. Grace felt a warmth spread across her chest as she stared back at the other woman.
Thinking how she could lost in those eyes, Grace suddenly realized that Brett was holding the credit card up at her. Grace flushed again, grabbing the card and the bag.
“Um…bye Brett, thanks so much,” she said and then swiftly turned and made her escape.
Brett watched with a raised eyebrow as the petite woman fumbled her way out of the bakery to the car parked in the space directly in front of the plate glass window. He turned back to his and crossed his arms.
“Why do I get the feeling that I just missed something here?” he asked sharply.
His sister shrugged and brushed past him, ignoring her brother’s accusatory glare as she headed back into the kitchen.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said innocently as the kitchen door swung closed behind her.
Chapter Four
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Kendra glared at Grace from across the table, gesturing at her with the half-eaten tortilla chip she held in one hand.
“I’m sure I don’t.”
“You have been distracted all evening. You can’t tell me there is not something on your mind.” Kendra scooped the chip into a bowl of salsa with one hand then held her other hand under it as she brought the chip to her mouth. Bright red salsa dripped from the chip onto her palm and then was quickly wiped away on the yellow napkin that sat in Kendra’s lap.
Grace continued to ignore the accusation and instead concentrated on cutting a cheese covered burrito into neat little squares. When she was done, she glanced up at her friend.
“We’ve just been busy at work, that’s all. We had a big client come in and we spent most of the day in the conference room going over floor plans and color schemes.” She waved off a waitress who stopped by the table asking if anyone needed a refill on their drinks.
“No thank you,” Kendra said to the waitress and then turned her attention back to Grace. “You are always busy at work these days. And I think we both know what you are substituting work for.”
“Can we not start this again?” Grace said sharply, glancing around the restaurant. “I would rather not get into a discussion on you know what in front of the dinner crowd at El Caliente.”
Kendra shook her head and scooped another chip into the bowl of salsa.
“Whatever. I know you are keeping something from me. I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” She munched down on the chip, but never stopped talking. “So, how did the pot luck go today?”
“Pretty good,” Grace said, happy for the change of subject. “Ashley made her broccoli salad but left the nuts off this time. Monica brought that chocolate thing she did at Christmas, the one you liked so much.”
“I hope you saved me some.”
“I did,” Grace said, knowing her friend’s weakness for all things chocolate. “It’s at the house. Remind me when you drop me off later, and I’ll bring it out to you.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” Kendra said eagerly. She swirled around the sweet tea in her glass and then took a sip. “So how did the client meeting go? If you were in the conference room all day does that mean you won the bid?”
“Most of the day,” she corrected. “And yes, it looks like we are going to get it. Nothing official yet, but the client seemed to be very excited about some of the ideas that we had for her. We should know something by the first of next week. She wanted to get her husband’s input before making the final decision, and he is out of the country on business until this weekend.”
“Well that is awesome,” Kendra said between bites of another tortilla chip.
“Well, hi Grace!” a voice chirped over the mariachi music playing in the restaurant.
Both women looked up from their conversation to see Kim Taylor standing next to the table. A red-haired little girl in a polka dot shirt stood by her side.
Damn, Grace thought to herself. Maybe she’ll just say hello and keep walking.
“Hi Kim,” she greeted her, smiling. “Kendra, you remember Kim Taylor don’t you?” Kendra flashed a little smile and waved at the two standing in the aisle.
“And you remember Rachel.” Jessica placed a hand on her daughter’s head. “We are having a girl’s night out.”
“Well that’s great. It’s nice to see you again Rachel. You guys enjoy yourself tonight,” Grace said, mentally willing the pair to walk away.
For a moment it seemed to be working.
“Thanks Grace. It was so good seeing you again. I hope the cinnamon rolls were a hit this morning. Brett tells me that you stopped in this morning on what he called a cinnamon roll emergency.”
“Mommy is that the Grace that Daddy was asking Aunt Jessica about tod
ay?” The little girl squinted at Grace and then looked back at her mother.
From the corner of her eye she saw Kendra’s head perk up. Well fan-damn-tastic, Grace thought.
“Aunt Jessica?” Kendra said in sugary sweet voice. She looked at Grace with narrowing eyes. Grace refused to make eye contact. “Kim, if you don’t have a table yet, why don’t you and Rachel join us?”
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” Kim said, waving her palm in the air.
Grace opened her mouth to say how much she would appreciate them not intruding when Kendra beat her to the punch. “It’s not an intrusion. Come on and sit down. Scoot over, Grace. Make room for Rachel.”
Grace glared at Kendra, who smiled back. I knew it, Kendra mouthed at her.
“So Kim,” Kendra began, “how have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since that Fourth of July thing last year.”
“Oh just fine,” Kim said looking over the menu the waitress had just stopped and dropped off. “Do you want the taco plate, honey?” She looked over at her daughter, who had just grabbed a handful of chips from the basket at the center of the table. Rachel nodded. Kim motioned the waitress back over and placed their order, then turned back to Grace and Kendra. “So, what have you ladies been up to?”
“Oh this and that,” Grace said as she pushed the half eaten burrito around on her plate.
“How about you Kim? How’s the family? Did I just hear you say your sister-in-law is back in town?” Kendra was giving Kim her undivided attention. For her part, Kim seemed more than happy to go down this road.
“Everyone is doing well, thank you. And yes, Jess is back in town. I’m hoping for good.” Kim’s eyes darted over to Grace. “I’ve been pushing her to get out and meet new people. She’s not done much of anything since coming home.”
“Really?” Kendra drawled, swirling her glass of sweet tea. “I was just having the same conversation with Grace the other day. She’s been such a homebody since that bi...I mean,” she stopped, forgetting for a moment there was an eight year old at the table. “I mean that person whose name we won’t mention walked out on the best thing that ever happened to her.”