Pupcakes

by Annie England Noblin

  She remembered in junior high when Elliott’s parents got divorced around Christmastime and Elliott’s mother started dating someone new—their basketball coach, to be exact. At first Elliott had been furious. For nearly two weeks she’d refused to go home, staying instead at Brydie’s house in the spare bedroom.

  “You don’t understand what I’m going through,” Elliott had said, flouncing down on Brydie’s bed one afternoon after school. “Everything in my house is exactly the same as it used to be, except my mom has replaced my dad with someone else. He even sits in my dad’s chair at night watching football.”

  “Your mom didn’t replace your dad,” Brydie replied, picking at the friendship bracelet she’d made over the summer at 4-H camp. She’d tried to give it to a boy named Bryce on their last day, but he’d already gotten one from a fourteen-year-old with boobs and hair past her rear end. When Brydie asked her about how she’d managed to get such long, shiny hair, she’d just smiled and said in a quiet voice, “Mane ’n Tail,” and showed her a bottle with horses on it. She’d begged her mother to buy it for weeks after she got home from camp, but her mother said that Herbal Essences, despite the grotesque commercials, was the best shampoo that money could buy.

  “You’re not listening,” Elliott said, rolling her eyes at her friend. “You’re thinking about that stupid guy from camp again.”

  “I wasn’t,” Brydie protested, but even she had to admit it was a weak defense. It was just that talking about Elliott’s parents’ divorce made Brydie uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say to her friend. Sure, her own parents didn’t seem to like each other much, but she knew that it was unlikely they’d have ever gotten divorced. Her mother had depended upon her father too much. “I’m sorry. I really am. My mom talked to your mom today, and she says your mom said you could stay this whole weekend. And you don’t even have to call and check in. Not even once!”

  “It’s just,” Elliott began, tucking her feet up under her legs, “Coach Hugh isn’t my dad. And now it feels like my dad isn’t even my dad anymore. He lives in an apartment by the college. Like, right next door to Lauren’s sister Elizabeth. He doesn’t even have a kitchen. Just a microwave and a pullout bed in the living room.”

  “I’m sure he won’t live there forever.”

  Elliott shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “It will get better,” Brydie said. “I know it will.”

  “I don’t want things to get better. I just want things to go back to the way they were,” Elliott said.

  “With your parents fighting all the time?” Brydie asked. “You were here just as much before as you are now. It’s just that this time you have a different reason to be here.”

  Elliott was quiet for a minute before she said, “No, I guess I don’t want for things to go back to the way they were. But I don’t want Coach Hugh walking around in his underwear and sitting in my dad’s chair, either.”

  “Oh my God,” Brydie replied, horrified. “Coach Hugh walks around in his underwear?”

  Elliott giggled. “Only once. I screamed so loud when I saw him that he dropped the coffee cup in his hand, and it cut his foot open. He had to go to urgent care and get six stitches.”

  “No wonder he was limping in gym class the other day,” Brydie said. “I’m glad I didn’t ask him what happened.”

  “He told me to tell everyone he dropped a box of Christmas ornaments on it,” Elliott replied, giving in to laughter. “I told him that as long as I never have to see him in his tighty-whities ever again, we had a deal.”

  Brydie smiled recalling the memory. And for the first time, she thought she understood just exactly what Elliott had been trying to say nearly two decades ago. If she was honest, she didn’t want to go back to the way things had been before her father died. True, what happened with Elliott’s parents hadn’t been the same thing, but now Brydie knew what it was like to pine for a reality that probably never even existed to begin with.

  Her parents had been unhappy since she’d been old enough to realize that not all parents stayed silent at the dinner table. Not all dads “fell asleep” on the sofa four nights a week. Not all parents existed in a world where the tension was so tight, their only daughter could cut it with a knife. No, what Brydie longed for were the kind of memories like the ones her mother was probably making with Roger right this very second. She was sure her mother was listening to Bing Crosby and decorating the Christmas tree. She was sure she’d had Roger pull out all the boxes labeled “X-Mas Decor” and not used a single ornament, instead going out and buying a whole new set to match the year’s theme, which she knew from the years of rotation would be snowmen this time.

  Brydie pushed open the doors to the front of the bakery and peered out at Lillian. She was putting the finishing touches on a wedding cake with yellow and red roses. It had three tiers, and as always, Lillian’s work was impeccable. Brydie smiled with satisfaction and went back to her own project.

  Really, all she wanted was a nap. She couldn’t wait to get home and crawl under the covers, with Teddy’s warm body snoring beside her. It had become her favorite thing about the day—their routine. When she got home from work, she fed him and herself, usually baked a couple of batches of fresh dog treats, and then the two of them retreated to the bedroom, where she would flip through the newest issues of cooking magazines she bought at ShopCo until she fell asleep.

  Brydie sat down on a ten-pound tub of Satin Ice fondant icing and leaned her back against the wall. She closed her eyes. All she had to do was get through another hour or so, and she’d be off work and out to breakfast with Nathan. I’ll just rest my eyes for five minutes, she thought.

  The next time she opened her eyes, it was because she heard yelling coming from the front of the bakery. She jumped up from the tub of icing and hurried to the front. She saw Lillian facing the bakery case, where a tall, thin woman with dozens of bangle bracelets jangling from her wrist was standing.

  “I just don’t understand how you could have messed this up,” the woman was saying. “I put in the order nearly two months ago.”

  Lillian said nothing, her eyes darting around in all directions like a caged animal at the circus. She shook her head at the woman.

  “No?” The woman crowed. “No? What do you mean, no? I have the receipt right here! It says red and pink carnations! Not red and yellow roses!”

  By now Lillian had covered her ears in addition to shaking her head side to side. Her mouth made a little O, but no sound came out. It took Brydie a minute to find her feet but when she did, she scurried to Lillian’s side, gently pulling her away from the woman’s line of fire.

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”

  The woman sighed deeply. “I’ve already repeated myself four or five times to that girl.”

  “Maybe I can help you.”

  “I doubt it,” the woman replied. “She brought me the wrong cake.” She pointed to the box sitting on the counter. “It’s nothing like I ordered, and when I tried to explain that to her, she just stood there like an idiot and refused to speak to me.”

  Brydie felt her blood begin to boil. “It’s not her fault, ma’am,” she said.

  “No, no, it’s certainly not,” the woman replied. “It’s the manager’s fault for hiring an idiot!”

  “I’m the manager,” came a voice from behind the woman. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I think Lillian accidentally gave her the wrong cake,” Brydie replied before the woman had a chance to answer. “If you’ll just give me a second, I’m sure the right one is in the back.”

  “It better be,” the woman snipped. “The wedding is tomorrow, and I don’t have time to get another one. And we surely aren’t going to use this abomination that girl tried to give me.”

  Gritting her teeth, Brydie went to the back and checked the shelf of finished cakes. It wasn’t even 7 A.M. How could anyone be so angry that early? She check the receipts taped to the side of each cake box, and aft
er a few minutes of searching, managed to find the cake with the pink and red carnations. “Here we are,” Brydie said, carrying the cake around to the woman’s cart and placing it inside for her. “I believe this is the correct cake.”

  The woman looked doubtful, but her face relaxed when she opened the box and looked inside. “Finally,” she said. “You know,” she continued, turning to Joe, “you really ought to hire more competent people to work up here. Either that, or not leave people who can’t read up here by themselves.”

  The vein on the side of Joe’s bald head was beginning to throb, but he managed to plaster a smile on his face. “I do apologize, ma’am. Let me write you a ticket for a discount when you get to the register.”

  Brydie watched the woman leave, still in a huff, and then she turned her attention to Rosa and Lillian. Lillian was still standing up, her hands no longer covering her ears. Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, and Rosa was whispering to her, wiping at her cheeks as she spoke.

  “Brydie,” came Joe’s voice, “come over here.”

  Brydie took a deep breath and tore her eyes away from Lillian and Rosa. She felt awful. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep and leave Lillian alone. They hardly ever had customers before the shift change at 7 A.M. Why, this one time, did someone awful have to come in and scream at Lillian that way? “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

  “What happened?”

  “I got busy in the back,” Brydie replied. “And then I sat down for a minute, and I guess I dozed off . . .”

  “You fell asleep?” Joe’s voice sizzled. “You fell asleep and left Lillian all alone at the front?”

  “I didn’t mean to!”

  “The first time you’ve ever been left in charge up here, and you fall asleep?”

  Brydie bit at the corners of her lip. “I’m so sorry, Joe.”

  “I thought you understood that Lillian can’t be left alone up front,” Joe continued. “Rosa and I trusted you to take care of any customers while we were in our meeting.”

  “I know,” Brydie replied, her cheeks flaming. “I just meant to sit down for a few minutes.”

  “Lillian will probably have to stay home tomorrow,” Joe said. “You’re responsible for this.”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “It was incredibly irresponsible of you to leave her at the front on her own,” Joe said. He was scowling at her now, the vein still throbbing.

  “Joe, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” Brydie said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t,” Joe replied.

  “Brydie?”

  Brydie turned around to see Nathan standing there, a tentative smile on his face. “Nathan?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t get you to answer your phone,” Nathan said, his tone apologetic. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything . . .”

  Joe waved him off with a grunt and said, “We’re done here,” before walking around the glass bakery case and through the double doors to where Rosa and Lillian were still huddled.

  “Everything okay?” Nathan asked. “That looked like a pretty intense conversation.”

  “It’s fine,” Brydie replied, sounding a bit shorter than she would have liked. “It’s just been a long night.”

  “Do you still want to go to breakfast?”

  “Yes,” Brydie said. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone. I switched it to silent earlier.”

  “That’s all right,” Nathan said. “But when I couldn’t get you, I figured I’d better come down and make sure everything is all right.”

  Brydie felt herself soften, and she had to resist the urge to pull him in close for a kiss. “I’m okay. I promise.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Nathan said. “Are you off work now, or should I walk around and buy a bunch of things I don’t need?”

  Brydie grinned. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said. “I’ll be right back. I just have to finish up a couple of things.”

  Nathan gave her a cheesy salute and said, “I’ll just wait right here.”

  Brydie turned and headed around the bakery counter to the back, where she’d seen Lillian and Rosa slip when Joe finished talking with them. She thought for a moment that maybe she shouldn’t bother them, that maybe she should just let it rest until the next night, but she didn’t want either of them to think that she didn’t care about how terribly Lillian had been treated.

  “Rosa?” Brydie said, tapping lightly on the swinging door. “Lillian?”

  “We’re back here,” came Rosa’s voice, soft and low.

  Brydie pressed through to find Lillian, no longer shaking or covering her ears, but calmly frosting the cookies that Brydie had failed to finish. She looked beyond the two at the clock on the wall. It was almost 7:15. “Aren’t you finished for the day?” she asked, feeling guilty that she hadn’t completed the cookies. That would be another thing for Joe to be angry about with her tomorrow.

  “It calms her down,” Rosa replied.

  Brydie took a tentative step forward. “I’m really sorry about what happened,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave Lillian at the front all by herself.”

  Rosa didn’t look angry, but she also didn’t look Brydie in the eye. “I know you didn’t.”

  “It’s just that I’ve had an exhausting few days, and I thought if I could just sit down for a few minutes—”

  “It’s okay,” Rosa said, raising a hand to cut her off. “I’m not upset with anybody but myself. I know better than to leave her with strangers.”

  Rosa’s words stung, and Brydie thought for a terrifying moment that she might just begin to cry right there in front of both of them. She wasn’t a stranger, was she? They’d been working together for almost two months. She’d invited them to Thanksgiving. Had Rosa just said that to be mean? She couldn’t imagine Rosa saying anything just to be mean, and the realization that Rosa actually meant it was more hurtful than the words themselves. She opened up her mouth to speak, but thought better of it, instead turning around and walking back out of the bakery and to breakfast with Nathan.

  CHAPTER 35

  THE LITTLE DINER CALLED THE HAPPY PAPPY WAS NESTLED in between an abandoned garage and a shoe repair shop just outside Germantown. The businesses around the diner had obviously fallen on hard times, but the parking lot at the Happy Pappy was completely full, and Brydie had to park on the side of the street and pay a meter.

  “One of the nurses I used to work with at the hospital told me about this place,” Nathan said as they stood beneath the diner’s faded blue-and-white striped awning. “She used to drive almost an hour from the hospital to here three or four times a week for breakfast.”

  “That’s dedication,” Brydie replied, still trying to shake the morning’s commotion from her mind.

  “Their biscuits and gravy are amazing.”

  A young woman in a striped uniform matching the awning led them to the only empty booth, near the back of the restaurant. “What can I get y’all to drink?” she drawled, chewing on her pencil and eyeing Nathan. “Ain’t I seen you in here before, sugar?”

  Nathan nodded. “Every Tuesday for the last three years.”

  “I’m new,” she said. “Just been here for the past couple of months. But I remember you.”

  Brydie felt an unwelcome sense of jealousy overcome her. The waitress hadn’t even so much as looked at Brydie since they sat down. For the second time that morning, she resisted the urge to pull him close to her. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, and she found herself becoming annoyed not only with the waitress, but with Nathan as well.

  “What can I get y’all to drink?” the waitress droned on. “Coffee?”

  “Chicory, please,” Nathan replied.

  “And for you?” She turned to Brydie. “The same?”

  “Orange juice,” Brydie said. “Thanks.”

  The waitress nodded and scurried off, leaving the two of them alone, and Nathan grinned at her from across the b
ooth. “So you said your basement flooded, too?” he asked. “How bad was it?”

  “Not bad,” Brydie replied. “Just a little bit of water, and now it actually looks better than it did before.”

  “I wish I could say the same for mine,” Nathan said. “I refinished the basement when I moved in—put in carpet and a pool table and a bar. Everything had to come out, and what wasn’t ruined is just sitting in my living room. Getting a pool table upstairs is significantly harder than getting it downstairs.”

  “That sounds awful.”

  “Could be worse, I guess,” Nathan said, taking his coffee from the waitress. “Thanks.”

  “Here’s your orange juice.” The waitress handed a glass to Brydie. “Can I get your orders?”

  “Biscuits and gravy,” Nathan said without hesitating. “A double order, please.”

  “Where do you put all of that, sugar?” the waitress asked.

  “I’ll have the same thing,” Brydie spoke up, her arm brushing Nathan’s as she handed the menu back to the waitress.

  “A double?”

  “Sure.”

  “That’s a lot of biscuits,” the woman, whose name tag Brydie just now realized read Tina, said.

  “I can handle it.”

  Tina raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can.”

  “I don’t think she likes me,” Brydie said once Tina had gone. “But she sure seems to like you.”

  “She says the same thing to me every time I come in here,” Nathan said, giving Brydie a lopsided grin. “She’s been here at least a year, and she always pretends that she’s new and that she doesn’t recognize me.”

  Brydie knitted her eyebrows together. “That’s weird.”

  Nathan shrugged. “That’s what makes it fun.”

  Brydie wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t say anything. The adrenaline from what happened at ShopCo was beginning to wear off, and now she felt like she might fall asleep sitting up.