by Simon, Misty
“Yeah,” she said, but she was looking at his cabinets and cleared her throat again.
“Anything wrong?”
“Nope. Nothing new since we talked five minutes ago.” She gave him a big smile, but he wasn’t convinced.
“You’re sure? Do you want to talk about the Peter thing?”
“Absolutely sure, and ‘no’ on the Peter thing. Little ears and all that. It’ll be fine. I should get going, though. I have to finish getting ready for my date, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Okay, have fun with Edward. And don’t think about the other.”
“Will do,” she said, before giving him a mock salute and heading back toward the front of the house.
He hummed as he took some of his mom’s homemade potato salad out of the refrigerator. He didn’t think Claudia would really have any fun with that Edward guy, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her she was wasting her time. She needed someone who wanted her to be herself. Someone she could wear heels with, instead of those ugly flats she’d just been sporting. He didn’t let himself think about her as a real woman often because he didn’t want to mess with their friendship, but she looked damn fine in a pair of heels. As for Peter, if she wasn’t overly concerned, then he guessed he wasn’t either. He’d be there to protect her, as he always had, but with Claudia sometimes you had to let her fight her own battles.
Justin whooped from the backyard. Time to play with his favorite guy and forget about Claudia and her date. She was a big girl and had known her mind for a whole lot more years than he had. He just hoped there was something worthy in Edward that he couldn’t see but that worked for Claudia.
****
Claudia spritzed the back of her knees with her atomizer and, to allow the scent to air out, walked around in the black flats that went horribly with her flirty, asymmetrical skirt. She hated flats, but after their third date, she’d caved and bought the terrible shoes for the first time in her life. Edward was an inch shorter than Claudia, and she didn’t want to tower over him.
She would never tower over Nate.
The doorbell rang, slicing neatly through her thoughts. A glance at her watch told her it was Edward. He was exactly three minutes early, as he always was. And she had become just as predictable. Add that to her list of things that had gone wrong in the past ten years. That damn list seemed to grow every day.
Walking on the hardwood floor through the apartment on her way to the front door, there was no satisfying clacking of pencil-thin heels to remind Claudia she was a woman going on a hot date. Instead she felt twelve years old, listening to the muffled shuffle of her horrible flats.
Claudia pulled the heavy oak door of her upstairs apartment open and stared at Edward. The regular script would begin in a moment.
He didn’t disappoint.
Step One. “Hello, Claudia. My, you look lovely this evening.”
Step Two. Edward checked his watch and tapped a finger to the glass face. “Well, we should be going if we want to make the play.” This was the only part that ever changed, the location of their date. Even his voice never altered from the singsong cadence. For all she cared he could be selling the hottest thing in vacuum cleaners.
And Step Three. A perfunctory kiss on the cheek delivered far enough away from her lips so as not to be the least bit tantalizing. Then they were out the door.
With her hand resting lightly on Edward’s elbow, Claudia was escorted down the wooden steps of the outside staircase and led to the dull brown four-door sedan. She had nothing against sedans, she drove one herself, but this car was so blah. The interior was also brown, and Claudia felt as if she were being swallowed by a huge puddle of suffocating mud. Suffocating was a good word when applied to Edward, but she’d successfully ignored giving in to that thought for three months. She wasn’t going to succumb now. Especially since it was all Zoe’s fault that she was finding flaws in Edward. Flaws she hadn’t had a problem with before. Damn Zoe’s cake speech and the way Nate had taken her off guard with his body to die for when she’d just wanted to anonymously fantasize.
Edward started the car with a methodical movement of his hand, and they were off. She tried to break the rhythm of the night by talking right away instead of waiting for him to make the first conversational move as he liked, just to see if she could shake things up a bit. He wasn’t a bad person or a mean man, but damn it, she wanted fireworks and spontaneity. Cake instead of three-day-old cookies.
She wished she’d never heard of cake. It was plaguing her now.
She tried to settle into the familiar rhythm of their once-weekly date and found herself just a half beat off.
Thirty minutes later, over lobster bisque and wine, Claudia concluded Zoe was right, though she’d never tell her and inflate her ego. Although she was reasonably sure Edward did not in fact wear a toupee, she was thinking he might have had hair plugs put in. How had she not realized that in the three months they had been dating? If she were honest with herself, Claudia would admit she probably had noticed but just shut it up tight with every other misgiving she’d ever experienced over dating the man. She had reasons for wanting this relationship to continue along the comfortable rut they’d worn in the road. Edward was stable and dependable.
And boring, a little voice whispered.
The smile on her face faltered. Claudia put it right back on and bumped up the wattage. Edward was looking at her expectantly, and she was horrible for having these unkind thoughts about him.
So what if he had hair plugs, or didn’t live a highly passionate and volatile life? That was precisely why she’d gone out with him the first time and the second time. After that it just felt like a routine. One she didn’t have the energy to break.
Plus, he had impeccable table manners, which were hard to come by these days.
“So,” Edward said, with a huge smile that made Claudia a little bit nervous. “How was your day?”
She was absurdly pleased he asked, because she had great—better than great, awesome—news. This was why she didn’t pay attention to the hair plugs—if there were any. “Well, I made a really good sale today and lined up three other jobs. I’m really excited about...”
“Good, good,” he interrupted. “I’m glad to hear you’re making some money at your little business.” He laughed, and it sounded like a braying donkey or even, possibly, a huge jackass of a pony.
The smile was still frozen on her face, but Claudia was beginning to feel her temper boil at the base of her spine. He had deliberately placed emphasis on “some” and “little,” and it made her grind her molars. Her right hand dropped to her lap to clench the white linen napkin in a grip like a wrestler’s. The urge swelled to yank some of those plugs out.
But Edward missed every telltale sign because he was still talking. “And I suppose when we are married, perhaps—and I stress perhaps—you can keep it as a side business. But you will have access to my money, and I will expect you to concentrate on entertaining instead of being a baker. Your skills would be better suited to our home.”
Okay, more emphasized words, and they were all bad. Who was this, and what had happened to Edward? The Edward Claudia knew was mild-mannered, even malleable to some extent. At least that was the way she’d always viewed him. He’d never been demanding and snobby. Or had he? Little pieces of previous evenings spent together flitted through Claudia’s mind. As they started piling up, one on top of another, it occurred to her she’d never paid enough attention to really know him. Well, this was not going to be the happy celebration she had expected.
“Edward,” she said, trying to discreetly get his attention during his monologue. “Edward,” she tried again, a little louder. Then realizing she wasn’t getting through to him, she banged her fork on the side of his fine china dish of sautéed scallops and finally managed to break his chain of ridiculous words. As well as silence the entire restaurant, but she was too angry to notice.
“Yes, dear?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard h
er at all prior to the fork banging. That was certainly disturbing.
“Edward, I don’t think our relationship is going in the direction you’re talking about.” Might as well be blunt when you’re laying it on the line. “I have no intention of being a hostess for your stockbroker buddies and their wives, and I have no intention of Decadence being a sideline business. It’s my career and I love what I do.” Clinking glasses, silverware and conversations resumed as the muted volume of Claudia’s voice caused everyone to wrongly assume the fork banging was a momentary distraction.
“Well, of course you do. But when we get married, there will be no need for you to work for the masses in your little shop. You could, of course, continue to make some cakes on special order, and for our dinners, but I don’t want a wife of mine working for a living when it’s not necessary.”
If there was one thing Claudia could not stand, it was men who patted you on the head and dismissed everything you said because it was not as important as what they thought or said themselves. The fabled temper inched closer to her throat, where she knew it would spew from her mouth in a long string of frightening words and a scene that might just make the front page of Tea Time, Teasdale’s one and only daily paper. Inhaling deeply, she caught the scent of seafood and candle wax as she tried to calm herself.
But she failed because he’d started talking over her again, and that she wouldn’t tolerate. “Excuse me, Eddie.” She used some emphasis of her own and put as much attitude in her voice as she could muster. That shut him up and had his beady eyes bulging from behind his wire-rim glasses. What had she ever seen in this guy? Why had her mother ever introduced them?
“Let’s get a few things straight,” she said, and stood abruptly. Silence descended in the restaurant for the second time in two minutes. “I would never marry you, you pompous ass, if you had ever bothered to ask instead of just wrongly assuming. I do not have my shop as some kind of hobby until some schmuck like you comes along and whisks me away in your boring, brown, four-door sedan. And last but by no means least, you need to get hair plugs that actually cover all of your bald spot. No one has an inch strip of baldness above their ears.”
She threw her napkin on the table and stalked away from the idiot she’d wasted the last three months of her life on. The shush of her flats on the polished wood floors echoed in the stillness of the upscale establishment.
She was throwing away these damn shoes as soon as she got home.
She was done with the guy who thought she was some kind of useful decoration, like a chair you set up next to the door to hold your coat. The next time she saw her mother, she was going to ask her what on earth she’d been thinking when she set Claudia up with this idiot. In the meantime, Claudia had to ask herself why she had stayed so long with someone who did nothing for her.
Exiting the restaurant, she pointed herself toward home. Dammit, Zoe had been right about more than just the bad hair. He was a jerk and not worth her time. Where was her cake? A part of her wanted to find out what it was like to be with a man who wanted her for her. She hadn’t been with anyone like that in years, since high school and Justin’s father, Peter, if she were honest. And apparently she was being honest right now.
She was honest enough to admit she wanted cake with all the icing. Honest enough to listen to her sweet tooth singing.
Walking the few short blocks home, she pulled her wrap a little tighter around her shoulders. It might be April on the calendar, but the air was cooler than normal, especially after the above-average heat of the day. At least she’d been able to make her dramatic exit without tripping over anything or needing to figure out how to get home. Teasdale had its drawbacks, but you couldn’t fault a town where you could pretty much walk from any point to your house. It certainly suited her just fine this evening.
And she still had several hours stretched out in front of her. Justin would be disappointed if she picked him up from Nate’s too early. She’d had brief thoughts of ending up in bed with Edward this evening, since that’s where things were probably heading after the amount of time they’d spent together. But now she was glad she didn’t have to expend the energy for so little payoff. Ha! Talk about three-day-old cookies! With Edward it was probably better done in the dark, with the covers up, and when she was half-asleep. She’d have bet her best whisk that there was almost no reason for her to be there except as a substitute for a hole in the mattress.
But she wasn’t going to go there right now, since she wouldn’t have to deal with it ever again. Well, something good had come of this whole mess then, hadn’t it?
A brisk wind picked up as she rounded the last corner on her way home. Discreet security lights glowed from behind the large windows fronting Decadence. One of her mom’s original wedding dress designs stood in the near window, a wonder of lace and satin and white tulle draped over a high-backed chair as if patiently waiting for the bride to come in with her entourage and get ready for her special day. The dress was timeless and had lain there for the last twenty years.
Her mother had started this shop with just her dresses when Claudia was eight. Memories flitted through her mind of dancing in and out between the racks of dresses, the bright jewel tones and pure whites, the soft satiny fabric and rougher tulle brushing against her shoulders. Of standing in the back of the dressing room watching all the pretty ladies try on their party dresses or wedding dresses.
Her favorites, though, were the girls who came in to get their prom dresses or formals for parties and dances. She would chat them up, learn all about their favorite boys and how they were going to do their hair. She’d thought at first she would follow in her mom’s footsteps and make dresses. But when people had started talking about the food and the cakes and the pastries that were going to be served, she found her true calling at twelve when she made her first Barbie cake.
And she’d fed it to Nate West, who ate it even though she’d used brown sugar instead of regular sugar and baking powder instead of baking soda. But he’d eaten the first piece and another, icing smeared on his lips and little jimmy sprinkles falling from his fingers.
She hadn’t thought of that in years. Standing in front of the middle display window, she caught her reflection in the backlit glass superimposed over the five-tier wedding cake. A winding trellis of glossy ivy wrapped along the layers, interspersed with velvety purple pansies and glistening yellow irises made of confectioners’ sugar.
A parade of images flashed through her mind. Making cakes, laughing, flour on her face, every step taken toward doing what she loved. The setback and the joy of having Justin at eighteen, throwing off her plans to attend culinary school but bringing such happiness into her life with his smiles and gurgling, his first steps, his first words.
And, through it all, there was Nate. In every memory. In every way. He’d waited with a blue teddy bear and miniature baseball glove while she’d sweated and screamed through labor. He’d held Justin in his big gangly eighteen-year-old hands and whispered something into her son’s ear that she’d never been able to figure out or get Nate to tell her.
She took two steps to stand in front of Zoe’s display window with its baskets and bouquets, beautiful dried arrangements of blossoms that promised hope and love of many different kinds. Reaching out a hand, she stopped an inch from touching the glass and ghosted her finger over the white-and-red rose bridal spray. One day, long ago, she had wanted to get married, and then her dreams had changed.
Well, she could change them again, couldn’t she? Why, just because things didn’t originally work out the way she’d planned, did she think she couldn’t have it all? Just on a different timetable and maybe with some small changes.
Standing back from the display windows, she took in all three at the same time and saw the harmony in their love and labor. It was Peter at the beginning, the boy she’d thought would be a man when he found out they were going to have a baby. But it was Nate who brought her ice chips, Nate who paced the halls, Nate who picked Justin
up when he fell, Nate who held her when she couldn’t believe she had a five-year-old in kindergarten at twenty-three, Nate who’d poured wine down her, laughed with her over pictures…
And Nate who would be with her until the end with Justin. She didn’t need cake. She had the best of both worlds with Nate as a father figure without the messiness of a real and intimate relationship.
Perhaps she should just concentrate on getting through these next few weeks, with her ex in town and several weddings that needed cakes, and then see where she was at the end. Adding a cake craving on top of that was only going to make things messier. And she needed messy right now like she needed a fly in her best butter cream icing.
First things first, though: she was going to tell her mother to stop matchmaking. She was tired of the string of guys who made her feel about as feminine as a roll of toilet paper.
Stalking up the outside stairs to her home, she huffed out her frustration. She’d stopped thinking of herself as a woman after Peter, the father of her child, had walked away and gone on his merry way to college. Part of her had been so relieved he’d finally left, taking his childish temper tantrums and complete lack of help with him. The other part hadn’t been able to believe she was going to be the sole responsible person for a baby who would be born in six months. Thank God Nate had been there to help.
She shoved the door of her apartment open and stormed through. No, she wouldn’t think about that for another second, as a matter of fact. She at least wanted cake in her life, and putting it off until some other time was not going to give her sweet tooth any satisfaction.
She needed her son to be happy and healthy, her shop to thrive, and a roof over her head. And maybe, just maybe, she’d see about Nate, if the timing was right. Maybe.
