Pupcakes

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Pupcakes Page 22

by Annie England Noblin


  “I can tell there’s something bothering you,” Nathan replied. “You had this faraway look on your face. And I thought for a moment that you might just burst into tears.”

  “Did I?” Brydie feigned surprise. “I didn’t tell you the truth earlier,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve been here before, to the Peabody.” Brydie looked up at him and tried to smile. “My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid. We’d make a day of it. He’d take me out to eat and let me order a fancy drink here in the lobby.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “They’re tender memories for me, and I haven’t thought about this place in a very long time.”

  “I wish you’d told me,” Nathan said. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I’d known you were going to be upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” Brydie said, and she realized it was true. Being there was maybe a bit bittersweet, but she wasn’t upset. “I’m glad you brought me here. It’s just that it reminds me so much of my father. And until recently, I’d always thought he was the perfect father, the perfect husband. But it wasn’t true.”

  “Nobody is perfect.”

  “I know,” Brydie said. “I just wasn’t ready to admit it.”

  “And you are now?”

  Brydie shrugged. “No, not really,” she said. “My mother and I had this awful fight before I moved to Memphis. I was living with her after my divorce. I guess I was putting a lot of blame on myself for what happened with Allan. I guess I was putting a lot of blame on my mother, too.”

  “I see that sometimes at the hospital,” Nathan said. “Sometimes when something terrible happens, something tragic, it’s much easier to assign blame than it is to come to terms with your own sadness.”

  Brydie nodded. “Yes, it was a whole lot easier to be angry,” she said. “Anyway, my mom told me some things about my dad, about his drinking, that upset me. I’d known, of course, but I didn’t want to hear it. Not from her.”

  “Your dad drank a lot?”

  “He did,” Brydie replied. “She called him an alcoholic and a terrible husband.”

  “Ouch.”

  “She apologized for it. Yesterday, actually,” Brydie said. “But I ignored it for so long, pushed it down for so long, that now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “You can still love him, you know,” Nathan said. His voice was quiet and tender. “You can even love him more for it, knowing what you do.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” Nathan scooted his chair over to her side and draped his arm around her. “He loved you, and that had nothing at all to do with his faults or a disease he was unable to control. You were his greatest accomplishment, and I’m sure he knew it.”

  Brydie felt a tear slide down her cheek, and she wiped at it furiously with the back of her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad this is something I can share with you.” Nathan was looking her in the eyes. “I think your father and my grandfather would be pleased to find us here together.”

  “I think they are pleased that we’re here.”

  “Let’s go get something to eat,” Nathan said, standing up. “I’m starving all of a sudden.”

  Brydie stood and together they walked across the lobby and up the marble staircase toward the restaurant. As they passed by the bakery, Brydie couldn’t help but poke her head inside, smelling the delicious delights of the little shop.

  “Do you want to go inside?” Nathan asked.

  “If you don’t mind,” she said. “I’d just like to look around.” Brydie wandered around, taking in the pastries and resisting an urge to walk behind the case and hold a few of them in her hands, warm and gooey.

  “Hey, come over here,” Nathan said, pulling her out of her thoughts and leading her over to a small display case toward the entrance of the bakery. “Look, they’ve got dog treats.”

  Brydie bent down to look at the display. They did have dog treats—gorgeous ones, wrapped in crinkly cellophane of all colors. There was a card attached to each one promoting a business in Southaven, Mississippi, just about a twenty-minute drive from Memphis. “These look fancy,” she said, admiring them. “I love the packaging. That’s half of the sales pitch, right there.”

  “I wonder if they’re any good,” Nathan said. “I’m always suspicious of anything in too pretty a package.”

  Brydie rolled her eyes. “This from a man who drives a Range Rover.”

  “Okay,” Nathan conceded. “The Range Rover and you are my exceptions to the rule.”

  Brydie tried not to grin at his cheesy line, but she couldn’t help herself. “It’s very clever, though, to put fancy dog treats in a fancy bakery for people. I bet they sell lots of these.”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  Brydie resisted the urge to ask the woman behind the glass case how many of those dog treats they sold in a week. This bakery, all of the Peabody really, catered to a very specific clientele—people who could afford certain luxuries. It was something she hadn’t realized as a child, but was all too aware of now. She wondered how a bakery that specialized in treats for both dogs and people would do in Memphis, the kind of place where someone could stop in and grab coffee and a scone and a treat for their dog as they went about their morning walk. She was positive that every person she’d baked dog treats for in the last couple of months, Nathan included, would visit a place like that, and the more she thought about this idea, the more she liked it.

  “You don’t want to buy any of those, do you?” Nathan asked. “Surely what you make is better.”

  “No,” Brydie answered, turning to face him. “Let’s go eat.”

  As they approached the maître d’, a tall, balding man in a flashy black tuxedo, Nathan’s phone began to ring. “It’s Myriah,” he said. “Let me just take this real quick.”

  Brydie nodded and watched a group of people rush into the lobby from the front door, their laughter and the sound of the rain tinkling up to where she stood. They looked like they’d just come from an office, and she followed them with her eyes as they made their way over to the lobby bar. When she felt Nathan tap her on the shoulder she turned around and said, “Is everything all right?”

  “Not exactly,” Nathan replied. “Myriah says that the basement is starting to flood. I think I’d better get home and check it out.”

  Brydie’s eyes widened. “Okay, of course,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m sorry about lunch.”

  “Don’t be,” she said.

  “We’ll grab something on the way home if you want,” Nathan said.

  “I’m fine,” Brydie insisted. “Let’s just go.”

  Nathan nodded, and Brydie followed him back out of the grand hotel, allowing her one last look before they disappeared into the parking garage and headed back to Germantown to face whatever it was that awaited them.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE RAIN WAS STILL COMING DOWN IN JAGGED LAYERS when Nathan pulled into his garage. “Just let me check on this, and then I’ll take you and Teddy home,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  When they got inside, Myriah was pacing worriedly in the living room, with Sasha at her heels. In front of the fireplace, Teddy snored. Brydie couldn’t help but smile amusedly at him. She could hear him over the crackle of the logs.

  “I brought up a bunch of the boxes and totes on the floor,” Myriah said, motioning to one corner of the room. “I don’t think the water leaked into the totes, but the boxes, well . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Nathan replied, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “There isn’t much more you could have done.”

  “But the furniture down there,” Myriah lamented. “Your grandmother’s antique couch!”

  “It was in terrible shape anyway,” Nathan said. “I kept saying I was going to have it reupholstered, but I never did. It’s not your fault, Myriah.”

  Myriah smiled gratefully at him. “A couple of the neighbors have already be
en over to check on things,” she said. “I guess several houses have flooded on the bottom floor.”

  “We’d better go down and see the damage,” Nathan said. “Nothing to do but wait until the morning to make calls.”

  Above them, the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out for good.

  “Great,” Nathan muttered. “Just great.”

  Other houses had flooded? What about her house? She hadn’t thought about it until just then, but all of the houses on the block were so similar. It seemed a logical conclusion to draw—her basement might be flooded as well. “I’d better go home,” she said, striding over to Teddy. “Now I’m worried that my basement might look like yours.”

  “You should go home and check,” Nathan said in agreement. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I hate for you to do that. You’ve got enough to deal with here.”

  “I can take her,” Myriah offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Nathan nodded. “Okay, thanks.”

  Brydie wanted a minute alone with him to thank him for the day. She wanted to say something to him about the night before, and the curious side of her, the side of her she was trying to quiet, wanted to make sure that if not for the events unfolding right this minute, he’d ask for her to stay again.

  But Myriah was already clipping Teddy’s leash to his harness and ushering them out the door and back into the rain.

  “It’s really comin’ down out there,” Myriah said once they were in the safety of her car. “It’s a wonder we aren’t all floating down the Mississippi River by now.”

  “At least it’s not ice,” Brydie said. “That’s one nice thing about living this far south. We won’t get too many ice storms.”

  Myriah nodded into the dark. “True enough.”

  “It looks like the power is off on the whole street,” Brydie said. “I hope I can remember where I saw that flashlight.”

  Myriah pulled into the driveway and put her car in park. “Here we are,” she said.

  “Thanks for taking me home,” Brydie said, truly grateful. “Nathan is lucky to have you. And so are Sasha and Teddy.”

  “Teddy is a doll,” Myriah said. “And Sasha adores him.”

  “I think the feeling is mutual.”

  “And what about Nathan?” Myriah asked. “You like him a lot, huh?”

  Brydie was taken aback, but she answered truthfully, “I do.”

  “I can tell,” Myriah said.

  “He’s been good for me,” Brydie said. “The last year has been . . . difficult.”

  Myriah turned to face her. “Dr. Reid is one of the greatest men I know,” she said. “He’s been there for me when my own father couldn’t be.”

  Brydie smiled, not knowing what to say.

  “You know he’s the reason I decided to become a doctor?” Myriah continued. “I’m getting a degree in biology, and my dad thinks it’s because of him. But it’s not. It’s because of Nathan.”

  Brydie wasn’t sure why Myriah had picked now to have a heart-to-heart with her, now when all Brydie wanted to do was to get inside her house and check on the basement. “I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that,” she said. “He says you’re a great student.”

  “I love him,” Myriah said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’m too young for him, but I guess I’d been holding out hope. After seeing him with you, though, I know that it’s never going to happen.”

  Brydie felt her chest tighten, and an unexpected sympathy for the young woman came over her. She knew what it was like, better than anyone, to be in love with someone when there was no hope of the love being returned. She’d seen it in Allan’s face the night he’d told her he wanted a divorce. It wasn’t exactly the same, she knew, but it was painful nonetheless.

  “I’m sorry,” Myriah said before Brydie could think of something to say. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t tell Nathan.”

  “It’s okay,” Brydie said. “I won’t say anything.”

  “I hope I haven’t made things weird between us.”

  Brydie shook her head. “You haven’t.”

  “It’s just I don’t want to lose . . . my place, I guess,” Myriah said. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel.

  Now Brydie understood. Myriah was afraid that if Nathan and Brydie became too serious, she would no longer be a part of his life. “Look,” Brydie said, “I can’t speak for Nathan, but I can tell you that he depends on you. And I can promise you that I’d never do anything to keep him from depending on you.”

  A look of relief washed over Myriah’s face that was evident even in the dim light of the car. “Thank you, Brydie.”

  “I really need to get inside,” Brydie said. “I should check on the basement.”

  “Of course,” Myriah replied. “Do you need some help getting inside?”

  Brydie was already out of the car and in the backseat, removing Teddy. “I think I’m all right,” she said. “Thank you, though.”

  “I’ll just wait until you get inside,” Myriah said, craning her neck to face Brydie in the backseat.

  Brydie didn’t even bother to set Teddy down on the ground and instead carried him up the front steps, putting him down only when she needed to fish the key out of her purse. The dog shook himself as rain pelted onto him and snorted his disapproval to her until they were safely inside the house. Despite the lack of power and the possible flooding of the basement, Brydie was happy to be home. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over her, and she wished more than anything she could crawl into bed.

  She felt her way toward the cabinet by Teddy’s food bowls, cursing when she accidentally stepped in his water, sloshing it all over the floor. She grabbed the flashlight she’d used the first night she went to the basement. She was relieved that the batteries were still charged enough for the flashlight to work.

  It occurred to Brydie that the house was more than a little bit creepy at night, especially with the flashlight beam bouncing off the pictureless walls. She went into the bedroom to retrieve the key and Teddy followed, jumping up onto the bed.

  “Teddy, no!” Brydie hissed, helplessly watching him burrow down onto the comforter, pieces of the blanket sticking to his wet fur. He looked over at her and cocked his head to the side before rolling over onto his back.

  Brydie sighed and shone the beam away from Teddy and traced her steps back out into the hallway and to the basement door. She could feel her heart beating in her throat as she turned the lock. What would she find? Would the basement be underwater? Who would she call if it were? Did she call Mrs. Neumann? She realized that she didn’t know whom she was supposed to contact in a time of crisis.

  When Brydie reached the bottom step, she found there was water up to her ankle. She resisted the urge to turn and run back upstairs, and instead shone the flashlight around the room. There was only one thing she needed to save—one reason for wading through the murky water in the dark—Pauline’s trunk at the far corner of the basement. That trunk held all of Pauline’s memories, the memories she’d been so afraid of forgetting about the last time they spoke.

  Brydie couldn’t leave it.

  She set the flashlight down on its side on one of the steps that remained dry and waded through the water, ignoring whatever it was that was brushing up against her legs as she moved. The dim light was just enough for her to find the handle at one end of the trunk. She took a hold of it and pulled. It was heavy, and the inches of water that had accumulated over the last few hours weren’t helping.

  She was out of strength by the time she got to the top of the stairs, and she collapsed into a soggy heap in the hallway next to the trunk. She hoped that she wasn’t too late to save whatever was inside. Pushing herself up from the floor, Brydie went to the bathroom and pulled out as many towels as she could carry and brought them into the living room. She spread them out one by one and then pulled the trunk on top.

  Satisfied for the moment, Brydie picked up her phone, still
ignoring the missed calls from her mother, and called Elliott to tell her about the flooding of the basement. She hadn’t answered, of course. But Elliott had said to call if there was an emergency, and Brydie was certain that this qualified.

  Exhaling a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding inside, she stared at the newly liberated trunk. Dragging her eyes away from it, Brydie went into the kitchen and searched the cabinets for a wineglass and then poured into it what was left of a cheap ShopCo bottle of Pinot Noir that Rosa had brought for Thanksgiving. She took a sip and scowled; it wasn’t her favorite. She resisted the urge to gulp it down, hopeful that the wine would help her make a decision about what to do with the trunk. Surely it would have to be opened to make sure whatever was inside wouldn’t be ruined.

  She wished Elliott had answered her phone, and thought somewhat jealously about the demanding schedule of her best friend’s life. It was evening, and Brydie was sure it was Mia’s bath time or bedtime or something or other. When she’d lived there, she’d tried to remember the strict schedule that Elliott followed, but Brydie found that she was constantly forgetting it. She thought, as the childless often do, that if she’d had a child, she wouldn’t be so ridiculous about scheduling. Surely a baby didn’t have to breastfeed every four hours. Surely a toddler didn’t have to have a bath at 6 P.M. on the dot.

  Although their relationship remained close, it had been difficult for Brydie when Elliott announced her second pregnancy. She’d told Brydie before she’d told anyone else. She’d gone down to the basement one night when Mia was staying with her friend Gigi and told her friend that she was expecting a baby. The way Elliott had looked at her—at her face but not in her eyes, told Brydie that her friend expected a negative reaction. Elliott knew how badly Brydie wanted a baby, wanted one still, despite the fact that her marriage had crumbled before her very eyes.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Brydie had said, a genuine smile on her face.

  “Really?” Elliott asked. “You’re not upset?”

  “Just because I’m sad for myself right now doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for you,” Brydie said. “And you and I both know you’ve been through something far worse than a divorce.”

 

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