The Sweetest Match

by Abby Tyler

  Sandy nodded. “That’s fine. And you can tell me at the last minute, if it makes you more comfortable. As long as I can get there in time. It won’t take more than thirty minutes to set up the cake.”

  “Very good,” the mother said. She didn’t even blink when the price was a sum that Sandy could never have paid for a cake. The amount of time to do the work, supplies, plus the delivery, made the order up there with a wedding.

  Since her workload had otherwise been light that day, Sandy had decided to sketch it out and get a head start on some of the elaborate latticework that would be glued onto the cake once it was baked.

  She had to paint the fondant darker than the original shade, because it appeared more dark gray than black. She knew Fierce wanted true black.

  In the end, the cake would have a bit of a haunted-house appearance. That actually seemed sort of cool. It wasn’t like Sandy had anything to compare this Sweet Sixteen party to, anyway. She had spent her own sixteenth birthday at the ob/gyn, checking on her third-trimester baby. And she hadn’t received a single invitation to any parties after she dropped out of school.

  But that was then. This was now. She wished she could have been more like Fierce.

  Sandy had just packed up the last of her frosting brushes when Betty walked up behind her, holding out a sheet of paper.

  Sandy looked at it curiously as she accepted it. This wasn’t an order form.

  “There’s going to be a huge celebration for the one hundredth anniversary of the Applebottom schools,” Betty said. “They asked for a donation of a cake large enough to feed a couple hundred people. They thought it would be fun for you to create something that depicts the history of Applebottom with one of your lovely designs. The event is sure to be covered by the newspapers, and it’s another opportunity to get your artistry in front of the masses.”

  The masses. In the Applebottom newspaper. Right.

  Sandy had to hold back her laugh. “Okay, that’s fine. When is the meeting?”

  “Tomorrow. I appreciate you taking this on for me.”

  Sandy’s eyes locked on a very familiar name printed on the paper. “Andrew McCallister is in charge of the committee?”

  “Is he?” Betty asked, all innocent. She looked down at the page. “Look at that, he is. Is that a problem?”

  “No,” Sandy said. “It’s just interesting timing, is all. Since he was just in here.”

  Betty retrieved her bag from a small locker and slid it over her shoulder. She clapped her hands two times, and her tiny poodle, Clementine, popped up from her little bed and jumped into Betty’s arms.

  “Him being here the other day is probably why he thought of us for a cake,” she said. “Someone like Andrew would never stoop so low as to order something from the grocery store.”

  “I bet,” Sandy muttered. Not that she was opposed to the idea. But it had just become even more clear that the town was intent on throwing the two of them together. She wanted to say to Betty: Isn’t it better if we get together on our own? But, as always, she kept quiet.

  Besides, maybe it was easier this way. They could figure out if they were compatible without the stress of an official date.

  Who was she to question the ways of Applebottom?

  Chapter 5

  Andrew tucked the last set of essays into a folder to take home. He had hoped to finish grading them all before the centennial meeting this evening, but he’d been slowed down trying to correct the grammar and spelling of a couple students who needed more help.

  They’d also need extra credit if they were actually going to pass his class.

  There were always the students who struggled. Andrew believed that helping them was more rewarding than anything else he did.

  He locked his door and headed down the hall, his stomach growling. He should’ve brought a bite to eat before the meeting. And perhaps he should have thought to pick up a little something for the meeting. There was nothing worse than a bunch of grumpy committee members who really needed a snack.

  Next time.

  The halls were empty this late. He took the long way around, savoring the quiet. There was something about the school in the evening, after the din of the students had faded to silent. He didn’t regret his choice to stay in Applebottom and become a schoolteacher. He’d let go of his dream of college professorship and tenure. Those opportunities might take him far from Applebottom, and his mother only had him to rely on. He would do the right thing.

  The front office stood empty and forlorn. Sadie was long gone, as she often left before the final bell had even rung. The crazy teen drivers made her nervous, she always said.

  Most of the offices were darkened and shut. The custodians had left a few lights on, however, including the ones inside the conference room.

  He checked his watch. He was still about five minutes early.

  When he entered the room, however, he realized someone had beat him inside.

  He stopped dead in his tracks to see Sandy Miller seated in one of the oversized rolling chairs.

  She was far less surprised to see him. Of course, his name had been on the flyer.

  “Hello, Andrew,” she said. “Looks like we’re the early birds.”

  He set the binder he had prepared for the meeting on the table. “Indeed, we are. Create anything crazy in the confectionery business today?”

  “I did, actually,” she said. “The not-sweet, not-pink, somewhat-undead sixteenth birthday party cake for a girl you may know. She’s probably a student here. Goes by Fierce.”

  Andrew sat in a chair at the head of the table. Close enough to Sandy to talk, but not close enough to make people talk about them.

  “I know Fierce,” he said. “She has quite the strong personality.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Sandy wore another simple dress, an indigo cotton number that darkened her gray eyes to the color of the evening sky at twilight.

  Andrew’s mouth went dry.

  So this was why Sadie had acted so flouncy when she brought in the flyer. He bet she and Betty dreamed this up together.

  “I have a funny feeling that we may be the only two people on this committee,” he said.

  Sandy glanced around the room. “It’s not quite six yet.” She bit her lip, and her mouth twisted in a funny endearing way that he suddenly recalled from when she was a teen.

  “Sadie looked mighty pleased with herself when she told me about this committee,” he said.

  “Sadie? Is she still the school secretary?”

  Andrew laughed. “She would never be cut off from her source of gossip.”

  “Is it weird to call her Sadie now? You refused to do it with Betty. Are there others still here from when we were students?”

  “There are plenty of our old teachers still here. Did Caden not have any of them?”

  Her eyes cast down. “Of course,” she said. “He had Mrs. Bell, same as I did. And Mr. Winters still taught shop back then.”

  Andrew hated that he’d caused her embarrassment. He searched for a way to lighten the mood again. “You can’t forget Mr. Fisher in the science lab.”

  Sandy smiled. “Does he still fall asleep in the middle of the experiments?”

  Andrew leaned back in his chair, relieved to have moved them past a hard moment. “Now worse than ever. He always gets any student teachers that come through, mainly so they can supervise the Bunsen burners.”

  Sandy’s smile expanded to a giggle. “It’s so funny how some things never change.”

  “You sure haven’t,” he said.

  She glanced down at the desk again. Dang it, he should’ve kept his cool.

  But then she said, “You haven’t changed all that much either. Still the best dresser in Applebottom.”

  Andrew tweaked his red bow tie. “With a new accessory sure to separate me from my students.”

  “I did notice that,” she said. “Is that some sort of history teacher fashion I’m not aware of?” Her tone was playful, and Andrew c
ouldn’t help but smile at her.

  “When I first started teaching, some of the teen girls tried to stay after school for extra help,” he said. “I was quite uncomfortable with their attention, so I started dressing in ways that would lessen their interest. Now it’s quite the source of teasing and notebook graffiti.” The discussion made him self-conscious, so he untied the bow and slid it out from his collar.

  “But I like it!” Sandy said. “It makes you seem so much more distinguished than the standard Applebottom citizen.”

  Andrew rolled the red tie around his fingers. “Well, you might be alone in that assessment. My own mother wishes I would leave it at home.”

  “You never told her why you did it?”

  Andrew shook his head. “I wouldn’t want her to be troubled. She has enough problems of her own.”

  Sandy folded her hands together on the table in front of her. “I heard about your father,” she said. “I was very sorry to hear he had passed. I remember him fondly.”

  “Everybody does,” Andrew said. “He was one of the people that made Applebottom truly great.”

  “I completely agree.”

  They looked at each other for a moment, a shared sadness between them.

  “And your mom –” Andrew started.

  Sandy shook her head. “Not the same.” She stared at her hands, clasped so tightly now that her fingernails turned white. “She was a difficult woman. She made life hard.”

  Andrew resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand in his. He said the only thing that came to mind. “I’m so sorry.” They were quiet a minute more, then Sandy looked up at the clock over the door.

  “It’s 6:10,” she said. “Looks like it’s just going to be us.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “You think it’s a plot?” she asked.

  “You figured that out, too?”

  “I suspected.”

  Andrew’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. He clapped his hand over his belly. “Busted,” he said. “No dinner. Would you like to move this meeting to Annabelle’s Cafe?”

  She hesitated, and he wished he could take the question back. It would’ve been just fine for the two of them to sit there and talk.

  He prepared to tell her never mind, they could stay at the high school, but then she said, “That should be okay. I just haven’t been there in a very long time.”

  He realized that this might have been somewhere Jerry Lavinski had taken her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to drag you places that have terrible memories for you.”

  “No, it’s good,” she said. “I’ve seen a lot of the townspeople in Betty’s shop. It’s time for me to be a part of the community again.”

  Andrew stood up. “Okay, then. Let’s go give the town gossips something to discuss tomorrow.”

  He was rewarded with a full-throated laugh from Sandy. “You know, if I wasn’t who I was, and you weren’t the high school history teacher, I would be so tempted to walk into that diner and give them something to absolutely talk about for years to come.”

  “And what would we do?”

  Sandy’s expression was so unexpectedly saucy that he laughed out loud as well.

  He was loving every minute of getting to know her again.

  Chapter 6

  For Sandy, stepping into Annabelle’s Café was like traveling through time.

  Part of it was the decor. No one had seen that particular combination of mandarin orange and lime green since the 1970s. It had been dated even when Sandy was a teen.

  The linoleum floor curled up at the edges. A row of cracked vinyl booths had seen better days. The tables and chairs that filled the rest of the room seemed on the wobbly side.

  But the smells were as mouthwatering as ever. And as Sandy was ushered to a table in the corner, she felt certain the waitress had been serving there since Sandy was last here as a girl.

  As she and Andrew sat across from each other in the booth, accepting menus from the white-haired waitress, Sandy flashed with memories of this place from her youth.

  Her eyes rested on a jukebox on the back wall. It still lit up like always, although it was quiet at the moment. There weren’t a whole lot of people at Annabelle’s at six-thirty on a Tuesday. It might get a little busier later. Or maybe it was dying out. Sandy had no idea how businesses outside of Town Square fared. In fact, until the cake decorating started booming, Sandy wasn’t sure how Betty had kept Tea for Two open.

  Andrew turned in his seat to follow her gaze. “You want to listen to something?”

  “My daddy used to give me a quarter to play a song.”

  “Mine did, too,” Andrew said.

  Sandy wondered which loss was harder. For Andrew, his father was really gone. There would be no opportunity for reconciliation, new memories, forgiveness. For her, Daddy could be out there somewhere. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he was poor. She didn’t see him as being someone successful and content. Happy people didn’t abandon their kids and never look back.

  She tried to pay attention to her menu, smiling to see that the food options hadn’t changed in eighteen years. Pork steaks, grilled and sauced. Beans and ham hock on cornbread. Chicken and dumplings. Fried perch rolled in cornmeal.

  Missouri classics. Plus a few burgers and chicken dishes thrown in for good measure.

  When she glanced up, Andrew was watching her. His blue eyes seemed to pierce this thick outer layer she’d built around herself during the years she’d been forced out of Applebottom. She could almost feel the pinprick of his interest needling its way inside her, like the first icy drop of winter rain after a long autumn.

  It woke you up. And sitting across from Andrew, Sandy felt powerfully awake.

  “What are you thinking about ordering?” he asked.

  “The pork, of course,” she said. “I haven’t had a proper sauced pork since my mama quit cooking, about a year before she died. I never was any good at making it.” She wondered if she shouldn’t have said that. She didn’t want Andrew to think she couldn’t cook.

  “My mom still does it,” he said. “I’ve never even attempted it.”

  “Maybe she could teach me,” Sandy said before she caught herself. It was the most presumptuous thing she’d ever said in her life, that Andrew might invite her home to see his mother. She amended it quickly. “I mean, send the recipe.”

  But Andrew didn’t let her get away with it. “I’d love to have you over. Your mama didn’t show you?”

  “We didn’t exactly get along.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes softened. Everything about the way he looked and talked and behaved told her he was a kind man. But that made sense. He had been a kind teenager, too, when there weren’t a whole lot of those around.

  The waitress returned. “Are you two gonna keep making googly eyes at each other or are you going to order?”

  Andrew kept his eyes on Sandy. “Googly eyes, definitely.”

  The woman shoved her notepad back in her apron pocket.

  “I was just kidding,” Andrew said. “We’re ready.”

  Sandy felt hot inside at the exchange. She knew she had been the one to be all brazen about how the town would view them getting dinner together. But faced with the reality of someone suggesting they were a couple, her bravado floundered.

  Andrew’s eyes swept across her, and he seemed to take note of her discomfort. He sat up straighter.

  “Now, Flo, I know you remember Sandy. We’re here on official school business. She and I got volunteered to head up the committee for the one hundredth anniversary. She’s going to make one of her famous cakes.”

  Flo put her hand on her hip and sized Sandy up. “You used to come in here when you was a little girl,” she said. “With your daddy.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Sandy said.

  “Time flies when you never leave this piddly town.” Flo pulled the notepad back out of her canvas apron lined with pockets.

  Sandy decided to cut to the
chase. “Or when you’ve been banished for eighteen years.”

  Andrew turned to her in surprise. “He banished you?”

  Even Flo was taken aback by Sandy’s words.

  “Bygones,” Sandy said. “Skeletons best left buried.”

  “Amen to that,” Flo said. But she regarded Sandy with something that looked suspiciously like admiration. “What can I get you?”

  “We’ll both have the pork,” Sandy said.

  “A woman who orders for her man. I like it.” Flo snapped her notepad shut before either of them could argue with her. She seemed to have made her own conclusion. “And two iced teas. I’ll bring them right out.”

  As she took off, Andrew shook his head. “Sometimes she brings me something completely different than what I ordered. Whatever she decides I need that day.”

  “I guess she knows her customers,” Sandy said.

  Flo hadn’t taken their menus, so they set them together on the end of the table.

  “You were right. We’re going to make everyone start talking,” Andrew said.

  Sandy shrugged. It seemed inevitable. “I guess I prefer to be the one to start the rumors myself rather than have someone make them up on my behalf.”

  “You want to talk about those days?” Andrew asked. “Get it off your chest?”

  Panic zipped through her. Did she want that? To air out her grievances with the town? Set the record straight about Jerry?

  No. She wasn’t ready for that.

  “We’re here on official business, so you said.”

  “I did,” Andrew said. “So you think there’s actually going to be a centennial? Or is like Betty’s travel book, all for show?”

  “I have no idea,” Sandy said. “It does seem a little odd to have a one hundred year celebration for the school when really it’s the town that’s more important. But I suppose any excuse for a party.”

  “So what should we do for it?”

  “Apparently, I’m making a cake,” Sandy said.

  “I’m on pins and needles waiting to see what you do.”

  “You think we can figure out some historical points for it?” she asked. “I don’t even know what we have. The Missouri Compromise?”