Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

  Frank quirked his head to the side as tears came hot and fast. I let them flow, gripping the wheel and wondering about the target on my back.

  I WASN’T SURE WHEN I’d lost my way, my footing, my grip on reality. Or why any of those seemed impossible to find again. I stayed in bed longer than usual despite the hour, knowing I was needed but lacking the strength to rise. I’d told Shari about the attack and near death by t-boning. She’d insisted I go back to the police, after berating me for the umpteenth time about my inability to memorize a license plate number.

  I was hopeless. I was hungry. I was going to be sick. Knowing there was no point in hiding, yet lacking the gumption to go to work despite the constraints of my schedule, I dressed for the day. Frank watched me, lopsided gaze tracking my movements.

  “Today is the day, boy.” I slid into a skirt, the color designed to bring out the rosy hue of my skin tone. “I can feel it. Like a weight ready to drop.” I twirled in a circle for his scrutiny then nearly toppled over when my head lightened. “What do you think?”

  Frank blinked once before letting out a great exhale and returning to his early morning snooze. Now, if I’d had a dog biscuit in my hand, he’d have been barking out a different tune.

  I moved to the mirror and smoothed the lines of my outfit, needing everything to be perfect. There was a certain comfort in the uniformity, the routine of the persona. Shaken to the core, I needed all the help I could get. And so the power outfit went on and hopefully everything else would click into place.

  A tailored pencil skirt and dusky rose blouse presented a put-together picture when my insides felt like a ball of snakes. Tangled together, biting and hissing, refusing to be still. I placed a hand over my gut and noted the gurgles.

  My recent scare meant I didn’t have the constitution to eat large meals most days. I was lucky to have a nibble here and there. Those headlights flashed in my mind’s eye and any thought of hunger disappeared. Mouth dry, stomach heaving, I fought to control the wave of anxiety until it passed. I was about to leave when my cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “You need to get down to the shop. Quick,” Leda said.

  What now? “Is there some sort of emergency?”

  “Not an emergency, per se. But you are going to want to see this.”

  “At least tell me whether or not I need to pack my hazmat suit and prepare for nuclear war.”

  After a long pause, Leda replied with, “That depends on how you react to the news.”

  Well, crap. This was not the best day to throw any more onto the towering heights of Bull Poop Mountain. “I’m on my way.”

  I took the corners slowly, Frank curled up in his bed on the front seat. My eyes scanned the road ahead of me for any kind of obstacle, be it human or otherwise. Especially wary for anything in the otherwise category. The sight of a bird taking off from a tree had my chest palpitating.

  Every muscle in my body stilled when I pulled up in front of the shop to see Leda waiting for me. Her foot tapped impatiently, shoulders blocking the view of the door. She offered me no explanation when I got out of the car.

  “Look,” she said slowly, “you aren’t going to like this. I’m warning you right now.”

  “I figured as much from our oh-so-exciting phone conversation.” My forced cheer went out the window when Leda shook her head solemnly.

  “He’s coming today.”

  “Who’s coming today?”

  “Health inspector.”

  My hand stilled on the doorknob. “How do you know?”

  “Duncan is friends with someone in the department. They let it slip that your name was on the schedule for inspection today.”

  “Thank God for your connections.” And my intuition. I wasn’t about to discount my little gem of contribution by dressing to the nines. For once I was right on the money.

  Eventually the key slid into the lock and I turned it quickly, metal squealing when I pushed the door open. The sweet scents of cinnamon and sugar greeted me the moment I stepped foot inside. The soles of my flats squeaked across the floor—the spotless floor, might I add—as I headed toward the kitchen. Remnants of yesterday’s mess still lay scattered across the countertops and piled to staggering heights in the sink.

  My anger at this stupidity reached an all-time high until I felt it burn and swirl beneath my skin. Jaw clenched, I switched the spigot in the sink to scalding and began squirting soap onto the dishes. No money for a commercial grade dishwasher yet, so the scouring was done by hand by the cheapest person I could find to do it. Me.

  My mind was a blur of work. Scrub, rinse. Scrub, rinse. He’s coming, he’s coming. He’s coming today.

  At least I wasn’t scared of Isaac anymore; no more fearing retaliation from the closest source within my scope. No, there were other matters to be afraid of. There were no clear answers, and the red, raw spots developing on my hands did nothing to help me. The more I thought about it, the more confused I felt. Not even considering the other matter with Isaac. My close encounter with becoming road kill was what had my nerves strung taut.

  Shaking my head to clear it, I walked with fake confidence to the back door as the alarm sounded on my phone. Time to send Leda out for a produce run. But everything dropped out of my head when I saw the note pinned to my mixer.

  Leave him alone

  I snatched the note with trembling fingers, stuffing it between my breasts in the meager cleavage there. Someone had been in my shop. Threatening me. Wanting me to—

  “Whatcha doing?”

  After jumping a mile, I whirled around. Heart beating faster. Faster. “Nothing at all.”

  “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “I’m fine. You got the oven heating?”

  Leda eyed me like I’d grown a second head. “Yeah, of course. The first round of individually sized date and nut breads are in and baking. You still need me to head out to the Williams farm?”

  “Great.” I smiled, clapping my hands together. “Yes. I mean, no.” My smile widened until I felt my jaw pop. “Not yet. Wait until the inspector leaves.”

  “Be ready,” Leda warned. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now.”

  Lips pursed, I nodded and tried to look normal, and not like I’d bruised a few ribs when my heart leapt to my throat. Leave him alone...leave him alone... Him who?

  The date breads were cooling on a rack when the first tinkle on the door sounded. I snapped to attention as the bells heralded the arrival of the health inspector.

  Show time.

  “Good morning!” I chirped. “Welcome to Essie’s Confections. You’re our first customer of the day.”

  He was prompt, I’d give him that. Although the element of surprise hadn’t worked in his favor this time. Thanks to Leda and whatever underground wires her husband had with the town, we were prepared.

  The man clicked his pen as an answer, jotting a line of script on a tightly held clipboard. “Aaron Dubois, with the Virginia Health Department. Are you the proprietor of this establishment?”

  The twitch of his mustache with each word captured my attention, and I almost forgot to answer his question. Not the best way to make a first impression. The dainty ends of facial hair curled under in a precise manner, indicating the time he put into the presentation. I always admired a man who made the effort; however, the handlebar was overkill.

  Dubois was easy on the eyes, beyond the mustache. Short black hair and blue eyes lent him a youthful quality despite the scowl settled there, aging him about forty years.

  “Yes, I am,” I answered eventually. “Essie Townsend. We’ve been expecting you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m happy we have the chance to get this matter settled.”

  The pen clicked again. “Uh-huh.”

  This was going well.

  Leda stayed in the prep area priming herself for battle. I wrung my hands, wondering what to do about the man’s reticence. Instead of worrying, I plastered a smile on my f
ace and stepped out from behind the counter.

  “Allow me to give you a tour. We may be small, but I’ve equipped the prep area with—”

  Dubois cut me off with a sweep of his hand, raising his gaze to the ceiling and squinting. “A tour won’t be necessary, Miss Townson.”

  “Townsend,” I corrected.

  “Uh-huh.” The mustache bristled as he bent to inspect the display case holding our daily offerings of cookies, cakes, and pies. “I’ll let you know the results as soon as I’ve had time to inspect the premises.”

  “Inspect away. Everything is in order, I assure you.”

  He might be a health inspector, and a bit of a pain the ass, but he was thorough, I’d give him that, I thought as he bent to run a finger along the baseboards.

  The moment Dubois disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchen, I let out the breath I wasn’t aware of holding. My fingernails picked at the hem of my shirt as I straightened the display on the countertop. A second review discovered a smudge of fingerprints and I hastily wiped those away.

  Leda came around the other side of the door, head twisted to look behind her at the semi-attractive gnat in our soup. Her mouth rounded as she came closer to whisper in my ear. “Why is the health inspector sticking his fingers in my baguettes?”

  “Searching for rats, I suppose. Fingers crossed he doesn’t find anything to write up.”

  “If he finds anything, then I’ll eat my shoe,” Leda answered.

  We both glanced up as the bell tinkled once more, a familiar face swimming into view, his features molding into an expression of delight and arrogance. At the same time, mine melted into confusion, took a left turn past outrage, made a pit stop at afflicted, and pooled low in my stomach. All in the span of time it took our hearts to beat once.

  “You don’t know when to quit. Now is really not a good time.”

  Isaac rubbed his abdomen. “I need some cookies to get me through the day. It’s going to be a long one. Got anything to fortify me, sugar?”

  I pointed across the street. “Do you want me to write up a restraining order?”

  He smirked. “You can try, but I doubt they’ll let you. This is a public forum, after all. You wouldn’t want to alienate a paying customer, right?”

  It wasn’t his fault he was being an ass at the wrong time. He was probably getting used to me being putty in his hands, completely compliant with whatever he wanted to do to me. Or my body. Naturally, I couldn’t let him get away with it.

  “You’ve made it a point to always corner me in public places.” Then I thought about the other day on his porch and blushed. “I am on to your game. Take your cookies and get out.”

  Leda glanced between the two of us, eyes flicking from my face to his. Her knowing glance had my heart plummeting in embarrassment. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Isaac leaned his elbow on top of the glass, staring down into the selection. “I’m here for a snack.”

  The way he spoke conjured an image of him nibbling his way up my leg. I scowled in response. I doubt it did anything to dissuade him. “Then tell me what you want and be on your way.”

  As usual, Isaac saw to the heart of the matter, spearing me with one of his famous leers. “You have company?”

  “None of your business,” I said.

  “Health inspector,” Leda piped as I elbowed her in the side to be quiet.

  Isaac pretended not to see the jab. “The health inspector. How interesting.”

  I pointed a finger at him and snarled, doing my damnedest to keep my head on the vermin issue and not on other matters. Like how good Isaac looked in his black t-shirt. “No matter how much hot air you try to blow in my direction, I know this was you. At least have the grace to look guilty.”

  “My doing? No.” He gave Leda a conspirator’s wink. “I’m just a guy who wants a cupcake.”

  “If he or his mustache finds anything wrong, I am coming for you,” I warned. Needing something to do with my hands, I grabbed a towel from the rack below the counter and began to furiously scrub the counter.

  “I look forward to it.” Isaac inclined his head. “I’ll put you in my date book.”

  “I bet you will.”

  “All this back and forth is making me dizzy,” Leda informed us with a laugh. “I’m not sure how much more verbal volleying I can watch before I get an eye ache. There are more hits here than at Wimbledon.”

  Interested, Isaac turned to her. “This is nothing. You should have seen Essie and me in school together. The other kids were envious of our debating ability. We once got into a heated disagreement over the best way to steal a pair of the vice principal’s underwear to hang on the flag pole. She tried to keep up with me. Didn’t always work out.”

  Had the surface not been glass, I may have rubbed a hole in the top. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but those days are over.”

  “Ouch,” Isaac remarked. “A guy has a bit of yearning and instead he gets backhanded with insults. After the nice time we had at lunch yesterday? I thought I’d finally made an impression.”

  I shrugged. “Too bad. You didn’t.”

  “I’ll have to try harder next time.”

  Leda swallowed her laughter too late and ended up choking on it. I crossed to her and slapped her on the back. Hard. Twice. Once for laughing, once for embarrassing me.

  A retort stuck in my throat as Dubois came through the swinging door with something clasped between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I hate to inform you, Miss Townson...”

  The least he could do is get my name right.

  “But whoever called in the complaint was correct. I believe you have a rodent problem.”

  My gaze zeroed in on the item he held and I howled, “For poop’s sake!”

  “Quite right.” Mustache shifting with his mood, Dubois stared down at the rat he clutched. “I found it scurrying beneath the prep tables and smashed it with my shoe. It’s dead, I assure you.”

  “Poor rat,” Leda exclaimed. “What kind of shoes are you wearing?”

  One look in her direction silenced her.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cite you for this, and shut down the operation.” Dubois made a fascinating show of writing on his ledger while still holding the dead rat.

  My stomach heaved, bile burning a trail to my mouth. “What? You can’t do that!”

  Isaac looked as if he were enjoying this. “Hey, can I at least make my purchases before you lock the doors? This sweet tooth of mine is giving me fits.”

  “Get out, Isaac.” I pointed at the door. “Get out of here right now.” Teeth gritted together, I fought off another round of gagging, my esophagus trying to stage a coup. “And take your friend with you.”

  “I’ve never met this man in my life.” Instead of doing as I asked, Isaac extended a hand in Dubois’ direction. “Isaac Howard, nice to meet you.”

  I fought the urge to rip my own hair out by the roots, remembering what my mother said about manners. “How long?” I asked, enamel grinding together. “When can I reopen?”

  Dubois clicked his pen again, ignoring Isaac and his outstretched hand. “I’ll leave you with the name of a reputable pest control company. Until we are satisfied, I’m suspending your permit to operate. Here.” He ripped a piece of paper from his clipboard and handed it off to Leda. “Post this on the door. You’ll be allowed to reopen once I can confirm that the public health safety hazard has been eliminated.”

  “When, Mr. Dubois?”

  “We’ll be in touch.”

  The moment he left, rat still in hand, I let my head drop to the glass with a shwunk. I instantly regretted the motion as pain shot through my forehead and down to my temples.

  “Why?” I moaned, mentally trying to shake off the experience. “Why did this happen?”

  Isaac shuffled toward the door. “I’d better go.”

  I reacted with a roar, the force of my gaze keeping him cemented in place. “You’ll stay here until I’ve fo
und a suitable way to kill you. So far I have one hundred and thirty-seven ideas and none of them seem adequate.”

  “Calm down. There’s no sense in getting yourself worked up.” Isaac backtracked, his feet glued to the floor as he slid his way closer to the exit.

  “No sense?” The last word screeched out, and from the corner of my eye I saw Leda wince. “You just shut me down! What kind of sick, twisted game are you playing? I thought we’d come to a tentative truce yesterday. I see I was mistaken.”

  The beginning of an awful upset stomach began in the pit of my gut and took hold, squeezing my intestines and turning the anxiety burp into full-fledged acid reflux.

  “I told you before,” Isaac began slowly, “I had nothing to do with this. Maybe you should clean your ears out before I have to say it again.”

  I turned to face him head on. “You think because you had your tongue in my mouth, I’ll let this blow over? Please get out right now, before I beat you to death with a pan and make cakes out of your body. We can do anything with a meat grinder.” I fought off a fresh round of tears. Not only were they useless, I refused to let the asshole see me cry.

  “Okay, I’m sorry for your troubles. I’m sorry that damned health inspector found a rat,” Isaac stated. “What do you want me to say? Seems like I could be down on my hands and knees offering you a million dollars and you’d still find a way to blame me for the stick up your ass.”

  I said nothing, did nothing, just kept pointing to the door until those tinkling bells heralded his eventual departure. In my head I counted to ten, enough time to have him down the street, a good distance away. The moment I felt it safe I collapsed on the counter, pained in more ways than one.

  Leda rushed to my side, a comforting hand drawing circles on my back. “Oh, Essie, it’s gonna be okay.”