by Abby Tyler
As the pregame events began with announcements and drill teams and people hocking programs, Sandy began to relax. Maybe they had been idle threats. And maybe, just maybe, he’d been surprised by how strong she was, and got scared off.
The stands filled up, and the teams came back out to the announcer’s enthusiastic introductions and the coin toss.
A whistle signaled kickoff, and Sandy spotted Caden on the sideline, hopping up and down and cheering on his team. He was a good sport. He didn’t have to be the star. But she noticed that teammates and sideline crew kept coming up to talk to him. Like in Applebottom, he was popular and friendly. He would do well.
As the clock kept ticking, Sandy got more and more into the game. As the Fisher Dragons pulled ahead, she and Shannon frequently turned to hug each other. This was what parenting was all about. Shared experiences with other families. Finding your tribe.
As the game continued with no sign of Jerry, Sandy felt transformed. She would go to all the games. Who cared if they were home or away. None of them were more than three or four hours to drive. This was her new passion. She no longer had to feel afraid. She would meet the other parents. She would become involved in something. And opportunities would certainly come along as she increased her willingness to put herself out there and connect to others.
Shannon squeezed her arm. “They’re putting Caden in!”
Sandy scanned the field. Sure enough, Caden was trotting out to the twenty-yard line, where the team had just signaled fair catch after a punt.
Tanner high-fived Caden as they set up for their first play.
Shannon elbowed Sandy. “Looks like our boys get along.”
A warm rush of emotion coursed through Sandy yet again. She felt so filled to the brim with happiness that she wasn’t sure her body could contain it. She’d felt close to this at Caden’s graduation, and then again when he got word of the scholarship to Fisher.
But this wasn’t just about him. It was her, too. She was here, among people with common interests. Coming so soon after her amazing weekend with Andrew and River, Sandy wondered if she had even lived before this day. The air was sweeter, colors brighter. She’d just been in such a hole for so long.
The play began, and Caden made a clean snap to Tanner. Tanner fell back, looking as though he would throw a long pass, then secretly handed off to one of the receivers. The fake worked, and the Dragons gained twelve yards and another first down.
Sandy and their entire side of the stadium jumped to their feet. As the drive resulted in a touchdown, solidifying Fisher’s lead, Sandy started yelling herself hoarse. There was nothing like this feeling, nothing.
As the clock wound down, and Caden was able to stay in for the rest of the game, Sandy felt exultant. Jerry hadn’t showed. Yet another threat that amounted to nothing. If only Sandy had known eighteen years ago how little follow-through he had. She could have lived her life, finished high school, done so much more. But she had been living in fear.
No more.
As the band played the school song, and the team linked arms and the cheerleaders sang, Sandy knew that she had overreacted to Jerry’s arrival earlier that week. She didn’t have to leave Applebottom to find her way or make a fresh start. She was already doing it.
Shannon grabbed her arm, and they hurried down to where the football players would file out to the field house. As they cheered their boys, Sandy knew what she had to do.
She had to make a cake. And maybe decorate it a little differently from what she had planned.
And probably she would have to talk in front of a lot of people.
People who had once judged her. Failed to help. Let her suffer.
But she wasn’t doing this for herself.
It was for one other person.
One very special man.
She could do it.
Chapter 18
The centennial celebration was going well.
Andrew stood against the wall, his arms crossed, feeling somewhat removed from the festivities. There was so much more going on than they had even discussed in the last meeting. Clearly some other group had actually been planning the thing. It didn’t matter. The first meeting had done what it needed to do: forced him and Sandy together, if only for a little while.
Andrew had heard from the school secretary, who had talked to Delilah, who talked to Betty, that Sandy had canceled their dinner date to go to a football game and watch Caden. Jerry was nowhere in the picture.
That was a relief. Caden had gotten more play time this week than last. Andrew was happy for them. He really was.
He just didn’t know where this left him. When they had been in Columbia, he felt for sure that Sandy wanted to keep seeing him. She’d even agreed to another date. But if she’d changed her mind now, he had no choice but to let her be.
All around him, booths bustled with visitors coming to sample the town’s wares. Gertrude and Maude passed out miniature pies. Janine had her lotion samples. Danny and Topher were pinning tiny corsages on all of the women. They had really outdone themselves, doing this in addition to all the decorations.
Delilah had shown up with doggy treats for those who had pets. Not that the pets were in the cafeteria. Andrew suspected she had lobbied for that, but certainly made no headway.
Even grumpy old Arnold, the barber on Town Square, had showed up with a chair and clippers. He was wrangling any of the kids with unruly hair and trimming them up.
Andrew glanced at his watch. The marching band was due to enter any moment. Until then, a small quartet of old-timers was playing in the corner. One of the four was Alfred Felmont, the wealthiest man in Applebottom, rarely seen out and about. He played his violin with his eyes closed, joy relaxing his features. Andrew glanced over at the pie booth. Gertrude was well-known in town for harboring a multi-decade crush on the man. But today she was too busy with her pies to moon over him.
Unrequited affection. Andrew knew it well. For the first time, he felt a connection with Gertrude. She often came across as mean-spirited, even though she loved this town beyond reason. But he realized now that her curmudgeonly behavior sprang from harboring a bruised heart for too many years.
Perhaps what he had said to Sandy applied him, too. Maybe he should trust that the town would look after his mother. During that difficult time after his father died and his mother was so unwell, he was necessary. But now she was doing fine.
He looked over the crowd until he spotted her, sitting on a chair along the wall with several women from town. Each balanced a half-eaten plate of pie on their laps, and they laughed and cut up in a way that made him smile.
Maybe this school year would be his last. If he started putting in applications in January, he could see what was out there for the next school term. He might have to backtrack a bit, take some adjunct job. But it would be his old plan.
T-bone walked up, holding a plate with no fewer than three pies.
“How did you score three free samples?” Andrew said. “I got one early on, and they shooed me away when I tried to get another an hour later.”
“It pays to be the mayor.” T-bone shoved another bite of peach pie in his mouth, somehow miraculously avoiding all the wild, wiry bristles of his mustache and beard.
“It sure didn’t pay to be the chair of the committee for this very event.”
T-bone laughed. “If you’re not one of them”—he gestured at the booths—”then you’re just a figurehead.”
“Mr. Mayor, are you saying that you’re a figurehead?”
He shrugged and took another bite.
Andrew leaned in. “You may not know this, but those women are actually afraid of you.”
T-bone stuck his plastic fork straight up in one of the uneaten pies and stroked his beard. “Yeah, I like it that way. Don’t let anyone know that I might be a softy.”
The room brightened as the broad side doors opened. A hush fell over the crowd. Just outside, the Applebottom High School marching band waited for their
signal.
Andrew might be a figurehead, but he was still the person who had made the events move forward tonight.
He threaded his way through the crowd and climbed onto the stage to the microphone.
“Hello, everyone,” he said. “Thank you for coming. I believe next up we have some traditional numbers performed by our own high school band!”
Someone did a count-off, and then the noise crashed through the room. Andrew flipped off the microphone and stepped back to watch. The festivities were at a peak. Most everyone in Applebottom was already here. After the band marched through and played, T-bone would speak. Then they would have the cake.
Wait. The cake.
Was it here? He hadn’t seen it yet.
What if Sandy didn’t come?
No, she’d said she would do the cake. She was the type of person who kept her word.
Of course, she could always send Betty.
He’d heard nothing about how the cake turned out. When Sandy had made the sketches, they’d agreed that some of their ideas might not fit exactly as they expected.
But if Sandy had made any adjustments, it had been without his input.
One of the high school students emerged from behind the curtain and whispered, “Mr. McCallister.”
He stepped closer. “Everything okay?”
“Sandy said to tell you that the cake is here.”
So she was here.
Andrew slid behind the curtain. Sandy directed several students to set boxes on the ground while she pushed a silver cart to center stage.
She wore a deep blue dress, spot on for Applebottom’s school colors, and the scarf he had given her, tied smartly around her neck. His throat tightened at the sight of it. At least she was practical, continuing to wear the scarf even if it no longer held any sentimental value about him giving it to her.
Perhaps it never did.
She cut away the box on the cart, revealing the bottom tier of the cake. Only when she turned to look for the next tier did she glance up and see him.
“It will only take me a moment to assemble the cake,” she said.
No hello. No wavering of her expression. She was all business.
Andrew stood a little straighter. He’d match her for professionalism. “There’s still plenty of time. The band will play four songs and then the mayor will speak.”
She laughed and a bit of his resolved crumbled. He’d missed being near her.
“I hear our illustrious mayor is not big on words,” she said. “I don’t expect that part to last more than ninety seconds.”
“Can I help you then?”
“All hands on deck!”
The first number ended and the crowd on the other side of the curtain clapped. As the next song began, she took a large box from a teen boy and passed it to Andrew. “Hold this steady while I break down the sides.”
He held out the box as she swiftly collapsed the cardboard around the middle tier. Then she lifted it up and set it carefully on the cake, securing it with metal poles.
She took the smallest box and lifted out the top tier, directing the students to dispose of the cardboard.
The teenagers disappeared, and the two of them were alone, or as alone as they could be with hundreds of people on the other side of the curtain.
When he got closer, he could see that her hands were shaking. “You okay?”
This time, when she laughed, he could hear the nervousness in it. “Sure.”
“The cake looks great. It’s everything we talked about.”
She didn’t respond, instead securing the final tier like she had the middle one. It really was a large cake. But there were a lot of people out there.
“So this will feed eight hundred?” he asked.
“No. I don’t expect everyone to eat some. But I have another large, flat cake just in case.”
“The way Gertrude and Maude were force-feeding everyone pie, some people might not have room for more sweets.”
“I thought so, too. If the extra cake is unused, I’ll take it down to the volunteer fire department.”
Sandy concentrated while she adjusted a plastic disc underneath the top tier.
“What’s that?” Andrew asked.
“It’s nothing,” she said, too quickly. “I mean, just part of the structure of the cake.”
“It turns?”
“Something like that.” Her voice had taken on a terse quality, so he didn’t press. The crowd beyond the stage clapped again.
“Sounds like the third song’s about to start,” Sandy said.
“Yes, I better get out there.” He turned to the curtain.
“Andrew, wait.”
He turned back around. She’d clasped her hands, looking even more nervous than when he first saw her. “You okay?”
“I’m just…” She trailed off, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to the centennial meetings. I had a lot going on.”
“We managed just fine,” he said. His heart sank a little that this was all she wanted to tell him. But he’d take it. At least they were speaking again.
He hesitated, almost asking if it would be all right if he came to see her at the tea shop, but then thought better of it. She had made herself clear. If she felt differently later, she could come to him. This wasn’t 1918, like the centennial, and he wouldn’t be expected to make all the overtures. She could be the one to come forward next time.
The third song ended. “I’d better go back out,” he said.
He slipped back through the curtain and stayed near the microphone as the band played its final number. The walls echoed with the crash of the cymbals, and the blare of the trumpet cut through all other sounds.
The school anthem slid straight into the fight song, and everyone stood to clap along. Andrew felt moved by the tune, one that was so familiar to him, branded in his heart as a student. For just a moment, he wished his father were there to give him advice. How does a man make his way in the world? How does he know when he’s found the perfect companion, a wife? How does he go on with life when nothing seems to be working out as planned?
As the fight song wound to a close, Andrew stepped up to the microphone. He flipped it on as the marching band cadenced its way out the door again, leaving the room quiet in its wake.
“Thank you to the band for that amazing rendition of our classic songs and school anthems. Before we move on to a brief history of our town and schools, we will have an undoubtedly brief message from our own Mayor T-bone.”
Applause filled the room. For a moment, no one could spot T-bone, who had a newly filled plate of pie and was busily shoveling it into his mouth.
Gertrude strode right up to him, her gray helmet of hair wobbling with indignation, and took the plate out of his hands. She was feeling brave.
She shooed him up to the stage. Those who were close enough to notice their interaction tittered lightly.
T-bone ambled up to the steps. He never looked any different than he did right now, in his motorcycle vest, bare arms, loose jeans with a leather belt and multiple chains.
He was a bit like Santa Claus, as identifiable and never changing.
He clasped the microphone like he was Elvis. “Hellooooo, citizens of Applebottom!”
Andrew slipped back behind the curtain. “All ready?” he asked Sandy.
The cake was glorious. Sandy stood next to it, holding a piece of paper.
“It’s all done,” she said. “Andrew, I wondered if I might be the one to describe it.”
“Really? You want to talk in front of everyone?” This didn’t seem like her at all.
“I’m scared stiff, but I want to.”
So that was why she was so well-dressed. “Sure,” he said. “It’s your cake. If you need me, just signal, and I’ll take over.”
Sandy turned back to the cake. From the other side of the curtain, T-bone said, “Well, that’s it, and goodbye. I’ll give this back to Andrew if he ever shows up.”
Andrew hu
rried through the curtain. “Thank you, Mayor,” he said. “And now we have the crowning moment of our celebration. You may all know that we have in our midst a renowned cake decorator, Sandy Miller. Her work has been featured in newspapers all over the state, and we are extremely lucky to have one of her incredibly sought-after designs on our very own centennial celebration cake. I’ve been involved in the process of working on the historical aspects of this cake, and I must say, Sandy has knocked it out of the park.”
He turned to the curtain, keeping his mind focused on his introduction, but still wondering how the town would react to this very public reappearance of the girl they all let down.
Sandy tried to calm her nerves. She could do this. It was just a town. And if she made a complete fool of herself, she could always just leave. Find a job somewhere else. She just had to get through this moment and trust that it would work out.
From the other side of the curtain, she heard Andrew say, “Let’s give a round of applause for Sandy and her amazing Applebottom school history cake.”
The teen girl on the side of the stage pulled on the ropes to open the curtain.
With the pedestal on its rolling cart, the cake was as tall as Sandy. The audience gasped when they saw it. She knew it was impressive. It was undoubtedly the largest cake she had ever made, and possibly ever would.
She had oiled the wheels on the cart so that as she pushed the cake to the front of the stage it would run smoothly. The last thing she needed was for the cart to snag on a bump and send the cake toppling forward into the crowd.
But it didn’t. The cart glided forward until she stopped it next to the microphone.
“Look at that!” Andrew said.
She only cast a side glance at him. He looked ridiculously handsome in his blue sports coat and red tie. Standing next to each other with her in her blue dress, they were the epitome of Applebottom’s school pride.
Except, Sandy hadn’t been. She had been their biggest outcast.
The whole thing felt so strange and unsettling, and she almost lost her nerve and bolted for the door.
But Andrew stepped away from the mic and locked eyes with her. “Still good?” he asked.