Hours later, she washed her dishes, wiped her counters, and divided vanilla scones into plastic bags so that she could save a few and share the rest. She made a bag for Nan and one for Dave and Viv, but stopped short of making one for Chuck. What on earth would she do? Knock on his door and hand him homemade scones? She imagined him opening his door, wearing that puppy dog grin, and immediately dismissed the idea. She couldn’t handle how desperate that would look, no matter how innocent the gesture would be.
She finally fell onto her fold-out bed, still empty and lonely, but satisfied that she hadn’t given into temptation, not once, but twice. Well what do you know? Baking is good both for the soul and for self-discipline.
Chapter Nine
Chuck could have used a baking session himself.
After the closing prayer at church, he’d smiled with pride as his church family surrounded Lillian, welcoming her and, hopefully, making her feel accepted. He tried not to watch her through the service, but her rigid back and pale cheeks were hard to miss. There was more to the hesitancy in her eyes than shyness.
Before the crowd around Lillian cleared out, Chuck was called to help with a problem in the basement bathrooms. Most of the parishioners stayed behind each week for coffee fellowship in the large basement, and a working bathroom was essential to everyone’s happiness and comfort. By the time he was finished, the basement was full, but he didn’t see Lillian anywhere.
Deciding it would be creepy to chase after her, he stayed and talked with Felix and a handful of high school students, planning their annual summer camping trip. Most everyone cleared out within the hour, and Chuck and Felix recruited a couple of teen boys to help put the room back in order. They made short work of the folding tables and chairs, while the hospitality team dumped the leftover coffee, packaged up leftover donuts, and wiped down the counters.
Chuck’s friend, Katrina, wiped down tables while he waited to fold them up. She blushed when he noticed her, just as she had every time they interacted since they’d broken up six years ago. Inwardly, he shook his head. Correction. They’d never actually dated. Just happened to go on a few dates in the months before Chuck’s dad died.
In the weeks and months following the loss, Chuck began to lose friendships in droves. His mom had the same experience. There was a shift in both of them, a layer of awareness that hadn’t existed before. They had each experienced the Lord’s closeness in a way that was raw and real, and beyond anything they had encountered before. Chuck could no longer handle shallow relationships or passive faith.
Katrina certainly wasn’t shallow, but she was…indifferent to the effects of his grief. No, he thought, not indifferent, just not able to understand. She would quote verses to him that were meant to be an encouragement, but instead came across as a dismissal of his pain. As if grieving was somehow unscriptural. When she’d asked him what he thought of their future, he explained that he only saw her as a friend. The anguish in her eyes had about sliced him in half.
How could he explain that he was a changed man? Jesus had said new wine couldn’t be poured into old wineskins without the skins bursting. His entire life felt that way. A complete overhaul as he tried to carve a new life that didn’t have his father in it. Over time, Katrina seemed to accept that he was different, and they both worked just fine together with the youth group. But at times, he wondered if she was expecting him to snap out of it one day.
“I noticed you brought a girl with you this morning, Chuck.” Katrina tried to sound nonchalant, but the quiver in her voice, and red creeping up her neck, belied her true feelings. She averted her eyes as she wiped down the table.
Chuck stepped forward to flip the table over and fold the legs down. He smiled, “Yeah, that’s quite possibly my new boss. For now, she’s just a neighbor.”
Just a neighbor he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Katrina swallowed and nodded. “Well it was nice of you to bring her this morning. Why didn’t she stick around?”
“Oh, I didn’t bring her. Viv called to let me know she couldn’t come this morning and asked me to make sure Lillian didn’t walk in alone. I’m not sure where she ran off to. My guess would be that she went on home.” Maybe he could check on her when he was done. He walked right by her apartment if he took the stairs. What was six flights? He needed the exercise.
Surely it wouldn’t be completely out of the question to make sure she got home okay, right?
Katrina’s face broke into a wide smile, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, so you were just being nice? Doing a favor for Viv?”
Uh-oh. The relief on her face was slightly alarming. Before Chuck could answer, his phone buzzed in his pocket, indicating he had received a text message. He held up a finger to Katrina, thinking she would move away to finish wiping down table. Instead she took a seat in a nearby chair and waited.
Chuck read the message then lightly pounded a closed fist against his forehead. He typed a quick reply and glanced up at Katrina.
“Sorry, I have to go. Hey Felix?” Chuck called across the room where Felix looked up from stacking chairs.
“I completely forgot that I have a date,” Chuck announced, feeling Katrina’s disappointment bore into him. He didn’t want to be mean, but it had been six. stinking. years.
Felix glanced between her and Chuck, eyes lighting with understanding. He smirked, “Okay. I can take care of it. See ya later, Chuckles.”
Chuck gave a quick nod of goodbye to Katrina and jogged home and through the lobby to the parking garage. He hopped in his truck, feeling only slightly guilty for not adding one very important detail about his date—it was with his mom.
***
In the years since his father had died and his mother remarried, Chuck and his mom tried to meet for lunch once a month. His preoccupation with Lillian had wiped the lunch date right out of his mind.
Chuck pulled into the parking lot of the Tea Kettle and ran up the ramp to the front door, slowing as he walked through the small front room crammed with antiques and frilly items.
When Chuck’s mom had first recommended the tea cottage for lunch, Chuck scoffed, telling her she could save tea time for outings with friends. But for Mother’s Day the year before, he and his step-father had taken her to the quaint little restaurant for brunch, and both were immediately hooked.
Sure, the waitresses wore lacy white aprons, and they were surrounded by teapots and tea cozies, and anything girly and frilly one could imagine, but the food was dynamite. Well worth tolerating the estrogen infused atmosphere.
He smiled at the hostess and followed her point to the back half of the small house-turned-restaurant to where his mother was seated, looking at her phone at a table beneath a window.
“Hey, Mom. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Chuck pecked her on the cheek before he sat down.
Sarah Davis-Baker was a beautiful woman who looked much younger than her fifty-five years. She’d seen her share of grief and hardship, but one wouldn’t know it by the joyful crinkle around her silver blue eyes. She grinned up at Chuck, turning her cheek to receive his kiss.
“If you tell me you were with the future mother of my grandchildren, I’ll forgive you in a heartbeat,” she said.
Chuck shook his head and groaned. She was constantly pestering him about dating.
A waitress stepped up to their table, saving him from a response. He ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich and a large iced tea.
“Can I have a small cup of coffee to start?” Chuck asked, winking at his mother. “I’m going to need some lead to keep up with this lady today.”
The waitress laughed and took their menus. Sarah took a sip of her own iced tea and set it down, her eyes considering him.
“You look terrible,” she said.
He chuckled. “Gee, thanks, Ma.”
Sarah reached her hand out on top of the table, eyes serious. “Bad week?”
Chuck rested his hand on hers. Growing up, Chuck had always been closest to his dad. But after the accident, he and
his mother had developed a completely different relationship. One of depth and appreciation for the one other person that got it. They had promised from the beginning not to put on a brave face, but rather lean on one another.
He stared at the table and tucked his lips to one side. “Sort of. Last night was rough for some reason. I’m still…struggling.”
She nodded, eyes solemn, knowing without him having to say, what he meant. He pulled his hand back and propped his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. “Ma, you know I’m working to forgive him. Why is it so hard?”
Her eyes softened. “Because it’s not natural.”
He sighed, long and deep. “True. I’ll keep trying if you keep praying.”
She smiled. “Deal.”
Their food arrived and his mom changed the subject, telling Chuck about the sermon at their church that morning. He in turn told her about his pastor’s sermon in Romans. She smiled, “I sure miss Pastor Ryan’s preaching.”
When Sarah had married Todd Baker, she decided it would be much easier to go to his church. Chuck’s father had been well admired and loved; Chuck thought it was wise of his mom to go elsewhere rather than take her new husband where her late husband’s memory would surely follow.
“Yeah, it was good,” Chuck mumbled, thinking of Lillian’s slumped shoulders during the sermon. Why had she seemed so dejected?
His mom set down her fork and swallowed her bite of chicken salad. “Oh my, where did your mind just go?”
Chuck cut into the Monte Cristo with his fork and dipped the bite into a small container of raspberry jam on the side of his plate, averting his eyes. Now he’d done it. His mom had always been able to see right through him. He’d often teased her about her observant nature, vocally wishing for a sibling just so that she’d have another child to focus on. He shoved the bite into his mouth, stalling, enjoying the combination of the soft and crunchy texture complimented by both salty and sweet notes. He forked another bite and held it out to his mom.
“You should try this, Mom. It’s amazing.”
She held his gaze, ignoring the morsel he held out to her. Chuck shrugged and took the bite himself. They sat in tense silence for another moment before Chuck dropped his fork on the plate. The diners around them glanced their way at the loud clatter.
“Fine! I met a woman a few weeks ago, and I saw her at church today. I was thinking about her just now, okay? Enough with the stare down.”
His mother’s eyes flashed. “A few weeks ago? And you’re just now telling me?”
“Mom, there’s really nothing to tell,” Chuck explained. He detailed, much as he had to Felix, about meeting Lillian and then about their dinner with Viv and Dave the night before.
“So, you might work with this woman? Interesting,” she said, the corners of her lips curling upward, revealing small laugh lines.
“Not with, for. Big difference. And according to Nan she just went through a painful break up. I don’t want you to think something can be there when there can’t.” As he spoke, Chuck realized that he was truly chiding himself rather than informing his mother. Lillian was off limits for an array of reasons. He would do well to remember that before he let his mind—or heart—wander her direction any further.
To her credit, Chuck’s mom gave one small nod in response and changed the subject. They didn’t bring up forgiveness or Lillian again. When their lunch was over, Chuck paid the bill and walked his mother to her car. She turned to squeeze his middle, and he hugged her back, adoring his petite little mom.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I’m praying for you, Chuck. Every day. That you’ll find your way. That your pain will heal. That you’ll be willing to do whatever God asks of you. Even if that means leaving your past behind to enter into a relationship with a woman and be sublimely happy someday.”
Chuck slanted his eyes down at her. “Smooth, Ma.”
She shrugged and patted his cheek with her open palm. “I’m a mother. I want my son happy.” Sarah sat in the car and rolled down the window, shouting one final comment before she sped away with a laugh, “Plus, I want grandkids someday!”
Chuck wagged a finger and groaned even though she wouldn’t be able to see or hear him. Cheap shot, woman, he thought, walking back to his truck.
The rest of the afternoon, he couldn’t get his mother’s words out of his head. Not so much about grandchildren—she’d teased him about that for a long time. No, he wrestled over her comment that she hoped he would heal and be sublimely happy. More than that, he fought to clear his mind of the image of the woman that popped into his head when she’d said it.
Chapter Ten
The world was unnervingly still at four o’clock in the morning. Lillian wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to close her door, creep down the hall, and descend the six flights of stairs without fear that she would disturb her neighbors. She never used the elevator for fear the loud ding of its arrival and the swooshing of doors would rouse the entire floor. The careful strides continued as she crossed the equally still Eighth Street to the front door of Daily Bread.
The glow from the back of the bakery where Nan had already begun to bake welcomed her in. Lillian double-checked the lock and croaked out, “Good morning.”
Nan’s sweet voice filtered from the back room, “Well, good morning to you, too!”
Lillian stepped into the kitchen with a yawn.
“Not quite awake this morning, are we?” Nan laughed.
“You just wait until I’ve had my coffee. There will be no denying the pep in my step.” Lillian chose a large coffee mug near the freshly brewed pot. The ugly brown trim and sloppy hand-painted flower on the side were endearing, but what Lillian chose the mug for was its large bowl-like quality. She eyed the pot as she poured, wishing she could just stick a straw in and go to town. Three sips in, the fog began to dissipate.
“Oh, before I forget. I brought breakfast today.” Lillian pulled a plastic bag from her purse and transferred the batch of petite vanilla bean scones she’d baked the day before onto a plate.
“You sure did,” Nan said, impressed. She picked up the smallest one and took a dainty bite from the corner, tasting. Eyes closed in appreciation, she shoved the rest of the scone into her mouth, humming her praises from behind full lips. She winked at Lillian before she plucked the coffee cup from the younger woman’s hand and walked away.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Lillian protested. “Lady, I brought you scones, and this is how you thank me?”
“Trust me,” Nan called over her shoulder.
Lillian jutted her hip bone to one side and palmed it. Nan ignored the indignant stance and dumped the coffee into a blender. She added a spoonful of something thick and white from a mason jar, a splash of vanilla, and a second spoonful of something yellow—butter? No, that couldn’t be right—from a glass dish before she whirred everything together. The foamy coffee was poured back into the mug and set before Lillian with a flourish.
“There,” she said. “Try that on for size.”
Lillian cocked a brow at Nan, then cautiously tasted the concoction. Hot. Frothy. Creamy. Sweet.
It was Lillian’s turn to hum appreciatively. “Mmmm, Nan. What is this?” she took another generous sip.
“Coconut oil, vanilla, and butter. My favorite coffee. It’s only good to drink immediately—definitely not something you want hanging around. Sit, sit.”
The coffee pooled in her throat. “Butter?” Lillian drew back from the mug. So, she hadn’t been seeing things.
Nan laughed. “Yes. It’s called bullet proof coffee. Just don’t drink it every day; you’ll be fine.”
Lillian took another sip before she found her place at the small table in the corner of the kitchen tucked next to a wall of shelves. Nan had insisted that Lillian come to the bakery early for breakfast before her shifts.
“We can’t go beating on dough until we’ve enjoyed a cup of coffee and conversation. Light, flaky pastries are the result
of peaceful bakers. All of my first shift employees have enjoyed breakfast back here at one point or another. Since you live so close, I expect you every work day,” she had added with a kind smile.
Although at first, Lillian thought those twenty minutes of extra sleep and a piece of toast on her way down to the bakery would have been nice, she soon loved the breakfast tradition. After that first week of meeting with Nan, she found the breakfast tuned the rest of her day to the right note.
Over scones Lillian told Nan about meeting the Murpheys. About the possible job that would help her to stay across from the bakery. About going to church for the first time in years and her afternoon of baking to her heart’s content. Nan snatched another scone from the plate and took a hearty bite. “For that, and all of it, I am thankful,” she grinned.
They sipped their coffee again in contented companionship. “Sooo,” Nan drew out the word, a wicked look on her face. “You dined with Chuck the other night, did you?”
Lillian rolled her eyes. “Nan, honestly! That’s what you got out of all that? I did not dine with Chuck. I had dinner at the Murpheys’, and Chuck was there.”
“Of course, that’s what I got out of it—that was the best part.”
Viv called later that afternoon, explaining that they neglected to fill in one slot on the application—what Lillian expected to make on top of the free rent.
“Oh, Viv, I don’t know. I hate that question on applications, don’t you? I never know what to say. Five million dollars just seems excessive.” Lillian appreciated that Viv laughed with her at that.
“I understand, Lillian. Well, I can tell you the range to shoot for, if that helps. Dave and I have been at this for almost ten years so, of course, our salary has increased over time.”
The figure Viv suggested was still lower than she was used to making. Lillian reasoned with herself that, though the salary was lower, it did include rent and utilities. She agreed to aim for that and spent the rest of the week working on a budget with that figure in mind. With her wages at the bakery, as long as she was careful, Lillian could make just enough for her monthly expenses.
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