Pupcakes

by Annie England Noblin

  Maybe it was time she started practicing.

  CHAPTER 7

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON, BRYDIE LEANED THE BACK OF her head against the locked door in the hallway, repeating the motion over and over again as the phone rang on the other end of the line. It soothed slightly the nervousness she felt about calling her mother.

  “Benson Realty.”

  “Hey, Margie,” Brydie said, releasing a breath she hadn’t realize she’d been holding. “Is my mom busy?”

  “Hey, honey,” Margie said with her smooth Arkansas Delta twang. “Let me transfer you over. It sure is good to hear your voice!”

  Brydie smiled into her phone. She’d always liked Margie. She’d been her mother’s secretary at the agency since Brydie was in high school, and she was the complete opposite of Brydie’s mother—cheerful and soft around the edges.

  “Well, it’s about time,” her mother said, piercing Brydie’s ear. “I thought that I was going to have to hear about everything through Elliott.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brydie replied. She should have known her mother would call Elliott when she failed to get a hold of her. “I’ve just been really busy sorting things out.”

  “Too busy to call your mother?”

  Brydie sighed. “Well, I’m mostly all settled,” she said. “I start a new job in a few days.”

  “I heard you applied for a job at that ShopCo,” was all her mother said. It was clear in her tone that Ruth Benson didn’t approve.

  “It’ll be good to be working again,” Brydie replied. “Even if it is at night.”

  “Elliott didn’t tell me it was overnight,” her mother said. “What kind of a bakery is open at night?”

  “It’s preparation for the daytime,” Brydie said. “Allan and I used to be up at all hours of the night preparing cakes for customers.”

  “Yes,” her mother agreed, “but that was at your own shop in Jonesboro, not at a bargain store in a sketchy part of Memphis.”

  Brydie rolled her eyes, and was glad her mother couldn’t see her. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with the bargain store.”

  “Why don’t you just come home?”

  It shouldn’t have surprised Brydie, her mother’s response. After her father died, her mother decided she hated being alone, and Ruth spent a good deal of her time making her only child feel guilty for not calling or coming to visit.

  During her divorce, Brydie had been convinced by her mother to move in with her. It hadn’t ended well, and Brydie sometimes wondered if her mother remembered that. “It’ll be fun,” her mother had said. “Just we gals, having a good time.”

  For Brydie, moving in with her mother had been anything but fun. What she’d needed, what she’d thought her mother would understand she’d needed, was quiet. Instead what she got was a cocktail party every night with her mother’s middle-aged work colleagues. She missed her father more then, at that time, than she ever had before. If he’d been there, he would have known what to do to make her feel better. He never would have tried to set her up with a fifty-year-old real estate agent named Ralph. He’d have simply poured two drinks instead of one, sat down next to her on the couch, and not said a word.

  Brydie forced herself to concentrate on the conversation she was having and said to her mother, “You know I can’t.”

  “I don’t know that,” her mother replied. “I don’t see any reason for you to be in Memphis playing nanny to an overweight dog.”

  Brydie looked over at Teddy Roosevelt, sleeping at the foot of the couch. “He’s not overweight . . . not really. Anyway, this is a ridiculous argument to be having. You know why I don’t want to come home, and you know why I left.”

  “I saw Allan last week,” her mother said, hitting the nail right on the head.

  Brydie felt a lump form in her throat. “Oh?”

  “At the gas station by the office on Caraway.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “No,” her mother replied. “He was with That Girl.”

  The lump tightened. That Girl was the term she and her mother used to refer to Cassandra Burr, the woman with whom Allan had had an affair. Now, of course, it was no longer an affair, but a legitimate relationship, a thought that enraged Brydie. “I should probably get off the phone,” she said, finally. “It’s time for Teddy’s walk.”

  “Headed to the dog park?”

  “Maybe,” Brydie said.

  “Wouldn’t kill you to be friendly with that doctor,” her mother replied. “Sure be better than your last husband.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”

  She shoved the phone back in her pocket and turned around to face the door she’d been leaning against. She’d tried every key she could find, but none of them fit.

  Frustrated, she kicked the door, and a string of expletives escaped her mouth as her bare toe met the wood. Teddy looked up at her and cocked his head to the side as if asking her why she’d gone and done such a stupid thing. “Why is this door locked?” she asked him.

  Teddy cocked his head to the other side and then rested his chin on the floor once again.

  I’m losing my mind, Brydie thought. I’m talking to a dog. She walked over to the hallway closet and retrieved Teddy’s harness and leash. She needed to talk to an actual human being, and maybe, just maybe, the dog park wasn’t such a bad idea.

  CHAPTER 8

  TRY AS SHE MIGHT, BRYDIE SIMPLY COULDN’T GET USED TO how much warmer it was in Memphis. Even though Jonesboro was just seventy miles north of the city, hardly more than an hour and almost a straight shot up Interstate 55, the weather clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

  Or maybe, Brydie mused, standing with Teddy in the all but abandoned dog park, maybe it was the people who were so different. It was fifty degrees outside, and October, for Christ’s sake, but everywhere she went, people seemed to be bundled up and gloomy, complaining that winter was upon them. In Jonesboro, most people would have thrown on a sweatshirt and moved on with their lives.

  City people, she thought.

  Teddy didn’t seem to notice the blustery weather and happily zipped away from her to explore the park. She’d been glad to see his energy back this morning, but worried that their Sunday visit with Pauline, just two days away, would bring him back down again. He’d moved from sleeping in the kitchen to in the hallway just outside the spare bedroom door. Brydie thought it was progress. She slept in the spare room just across the hall from the master bedroom. Something seemed wrong about sleeping in Pauline Neumann’s room, even if she wasn’t around to use it. It wasn’t Brydie’s, and that certainty, that it wasn’t hers and would never be hers, was unsettling. She was already pretending enough as it was, and she half-worried that if she slept in the master bedroom she’d wake up one morning to find Pauline’s wrinkled face and cascade of white hair looking back at her.

  “It ain’t too cold out here for ya, missy?”

  Brydie looked up, startled out of her thought, to see a familiar face smiling back at her. It was the old man in the overalls. His beagle waddled behind him, a stuffed duck hanging out either side of its mouth.

  “It’s barely sweatshirt weather,” Brydie replied, grinning. “It’s just October, after all.”

  “That’s what me ’n’ Arlow here think.” The man jabbed a thumb down at his dog, who was now panting at his feet. “Name’s Fred.”

  “I’m Brydie,” she said, sticking out her hand. “And that weird little ball of hair over there is Teddy Roosevelt.”

  “No shit?” he replied, rubbing his chin. “I ain’t seen him in ages. Not since he was just a pup an’ Talbert Neumann used ta bring him round to play.”

  “I’m dog-sitting,” Brydie confessed. “Well, house-sitting really. His owner went into a nursing home and needed someone to look after Teddy.”

  “I heard about her and was sorry fer it,” Fred said. His face was kind and ruddy. He wiped his nose with a handkerchief and then placed it back in the front pocket of his overalls. “I’m mighty glad
to meet ya. It’s usually just me ’n’ that doctor boy up the road on chilly days like this. It’ll be good ta have some fresh blood around.”

  “Oh?” Brydie’s heart skipped a beat. Is he talking about Nathan? Were they friends? She hoped the old man wouldn’t tell him about why she was living in Pauline Neumann’s house. Of course, it was always possible that Pauline had already told him, but she didn’t want him to know. Not yet, at least.

  “And speak of the devil!” Fred nodded his head toward something or someone behind Brydie. “If it ain’t the good doctor in the flesh.”

  Sasha reached them first, racing past Brydie and planting her front paws squarely on Fred’s chest, giving him a lick before they all heard Nathan say, “Get down, Sash!”

  With a whimper, Sasha obliged and sat at Fred’s feet, tongue hanging out.

  “Sorry about that, Fred,” Nathan said.

  “Ain’t no harm,” Fred replied. “That’s how Arlow gets me up every mornin’.”

  Nathan’s back was to her as he continued to talk to Fred. For a moment Brydie thought that he wasn’t going to acknowledge her. She felt her face redden at the thought, and searched around for Teddy. Maybe she should just walk away while she still could and save herself the embarrassment of having to admit to herself that she’d been hoping to see him.

  Before Brydie could decide what to do, Nathan turned around and said, “Hey, Brydie.”

  His voice slid over her like warm butter, and her need to escape vanished. “Hey.”

  “I see you’ve met Fred and Arlow.”

  Brydie nodded. “I have.”

  “They’re regulars at the park, just like Sasha and me,” Nathan said. “She and I are here pretty much whenever we have time off.”

  “This is just our second time,” Brydie replied. “Well, my second time. I think Teddy’s been here lots of times.”

  “I moved into my grandparents’ house about six months ago,” Nathan said. “I thought I might sell it, but I like the quiet neighborhood.”

  Brydie looked over to see Sasha on her back with Arlow and Teddy taking turns licking her face. Fred watched in amusement. “I like it, too.”

  “Mrs. Neumann tells me you’re watching her place for a while?”

  “I am,” Brydie said. “And Teddy, of course.” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her anything else.

  “I’d never met Mrs. Neumann before she came to live at the nursing home. I think our houses are a couple of blocks away,” Nathan said, reaching down to pat Sasha’s head when she came panting over. “She was very depressed after moving in. I think your visit with Teddy has really improved her mood.”

  “She and Teddy were thrilled to see each other,” Brydie replied, relieved the conversation had moved off her and back to Mrs. Neumann.

  “She’s had very few visitors,” Nathan said. “But the staff does a great job of keeping the residents busy and entertained. In fact, in a couple of weeks we’re having a Halloween party.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “It’s just like a carnival—we have games and snacks, and we even have a costume contest. I dress Sasha up every year.”

  Brydie couldn’t help but giggle. “You dress your dog in a costume?”

  Nathan grinned. “Sounds weird, right?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “I’m training her to be a therapy dog for the elderly, and I tell people that dressing her up is part of her training,” he said, leaning in closer to Brydie. “But the truth is, picking out her Halloween costume is my favorite thing to do.”

  Brydie grinned. “How does one go about finding a Halloween costume for their dog?”

  “You can find them just about anywhere,” Nathan replied. He reached down to pat Sasha’s head as she settled herself in between him and Brydie. “But Sasha is so big, I have to order her costume online or have someone make it especially for her.”

  “I should dress Teddy up as a gremlin,” Brydie said.

  “You should come to the party,” Nathan replied. “I’m sure Mrs. Neumann would love to see Teddy dressed up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Brydie said. “I’m getting ready to start a new job. I’m not sure if I’ll have time.”

  “Congratulations,” Nathan said. “What is it that you do?”

  “I’m a baker,” Brydie replied. It was an automatic reply, one that she was so used to giving, she hadn’t even thought about it.

  “Really?” Nathan asked. “Where will you be working? Maybe I know the place. There used to be a great little bakery downtown, but it closed last year.”

  Brydie was starting to feel nervous. She was standing there talking to a hunky doctor, who had a therapy dog, and who enjoyed his grandparents’ quiet neighborhood. Meanwhile she was just trying to keep her head above water in her borrowed house and keep her borrowed dog from eating the trash. “I doubt you’d know it,” she said, finally. “It’s about forty-five minutes from here.”

  Nathan was about to respond when a buzzing in his pocket distracted him. He pulled out his phone and looked down at the screen. “I’ve got to head out,” he said, clipping Sasha’s leash to her collar. “There’s an all-hands-on-deck type of emergency at the hospital.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “At least think about the Halloween party, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Brydie watched him go, both he and Sasha moving quickly, purposely toward the other end of the park. She was relieved that she hadn’t had to tell him where she worked or anything else about herself, but she couldn’t help but smile when she thought about Nathan’s invite to the Halloween party. It did sound like fun. Maybe she and Teddy would go.

  “That boy is like a mirage,” Fred said, ambling back up to her, Arlow panting in tow.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s here, and then he’s gone. Never quite know if I’m seein’ the real thing or not.”

  “He is a doctor,” Brydie reminded him.

  “Them ER doctors got a hankerin’ for drama,” Fred said. “They like all that rushin’ about, never quite knowin’ which way’s up. Probably why he ain’t found himself a wife.”

  “Maybe he just likes saving lives,” Brydie replied. She’d have been annoyed if his drawl weren’t so endearing. “Besides, he does work at the nursing home.”

  “True ’nuff,” Fred conceded. “But you be careful with ’im all the same. Married to his work, that one.”

  Brydie knew all about what it meant to be a workaholic. Her mother was a workaholic, and she’d been one, too, once upon a time. Before the affair, before the divorce, Brydie’s devotion to her work was the thing she and Allan fought about the most. He’d thought she worked too much, and he’d told her on several occasions that the reason he’d been an instructor at the culinary school was that he liked the regular and shorter hours. Allan wanted to work nine to five. He wanted to be able to go out with friends on the weekends. He didn’t want to take his work home with him.

  Brydie, however, didn’t know any other way. She wasn’t sure if it was genetic or maybe because as a child she saw her mother come home with a stack of paperwork every night, but she couldn’t imagine closing up the bakery and not thinking about it again until it opened the next morning. She knew now that when Allan started working late with Cassandra, it should have been a clue that something was up, but instead she’d been thrilled that Allan was showing such initiative.

  Now, as she began to feel a slight chill in her bones for the first time since moving to Memphis, Brydie knew that initiative wasn’t what anyone would have called it.

  CHAPTER 9

  SHOPCO AT NIGHT LIT UP AN ENTIRE BLOCK, OR SO IT SEEMED to Brydie, who practically had to shield her eyes as she made her way inside. She was nervous and, she had to admit, exhausted. The orientation the day before was simply a two-hour video she and the new hires had to watch. She hadn’t met her boss at the bakery or anybody else she was going to work with. She’d tried to sleep earlier during the
day, but her brain just wouldn’t shut off, worrying about things like baking professionally for the first time in nearly a year and how she was going to manage to stay up all night tonight and still make it for her Sunday meeting with Mrs. Neumann.

  Teddy seemed confused as Brydie left for the night, but Elliott and little Mia had been kind enough to come and spend the night with him just for this first time so that Brydie wouldn’t have to worry. She was sure he’d get used to it eventually. They both would, she guessed.

  It surprised Brydie that there were so many people out shopping at midnight. Her shift ran from 10 P.M. until 6 A.M., and she assumed the place would be empty, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Doing her best to ignore the throng of people, she made her way up to the bakery counter and stood uncertainly in front of it, where a man had his back to her, scrawling something in icing on a cake.

  “Excuse me?” Brydie said, standing on her tiptoes to see over the counter. “Excuse me, are you Joe?”

  The man didn’t turn around.

  Brydie continued to stare at the man’s back. She wasn’t sure what to do. Bernice had told her to go straight to the bakery and find Joe. But if the man with his back to her was Joe, well, he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She called out to him a few more times before giving up and walking around to one side of the counter, where she pushed her way through the yellow double doors and into the bakery.

  The little room hidden behind the outside wall and racks of packaged bread smelled like dough and fresh icing, and Brydie inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. It had been a long time, such a long time since she’d smelled this smell, and she couldn’t help but smile as the memories of her own bakery flooded back to her. It had been the only place she’d felt at home, the only place where she felt she could be herself. For a little while, at least, she thought. Until that day.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts and made her way back behind the counter where the man still stood. Brydie realized that he was wearing earbuds. She could hear the music blaring through them from where she was standing.