The Icing on the Cake

by Janice Thompson

  “Something special? You’ve been on television. You have one of the top bakeries in the state. You’ve been in magazines. I’d say your life has been very special.”

  “Externally, I suppose it has appeared that way. But in here . . .” She pointed to her heart. “Well, it’s a different story.”

  “Oh?”

  Aunt Willy nodded. “I went through a lot of hurt,” she said. “Not just stuff related to my mom but in general. Had my heart broken a couple of times. Once in a major way. Even then, I think I wanted to prove something with the business—that I didn’t need anyone else in my life. Didn’t need my mother. Didn’t need a husband. Didn’t need . . . anyone.”

  She sighed. “I don’t mind admitting it’s been a very solitary existence. As much as I love my business, it doesn’t really love me back, and it certainly doesn’t wrap its arms around me when I’m tired.” She shrugged. “Of course, sometimes it feels like it’s a noose around my neck, but I’m finally figuring out how to wriggle out of it.”

  “Aw, Aunt Wil—” I caught myself just in time as I slipped my arm around her tiny waist.

  She grinned. “And that’s another thing. I love it when you call me Aunt Willy.”

  “You do?” No way.

  “Yeah. I see that it’s a term of endearment. Personalizes it. Wilhelmina is so formal, anyway. I’ll never understand why my mother named me that in the first place. Just showing off by giving her child a fancy name, I think.” She chuckled. “At least, that’s what I’ve always said.”

  “Well, I’m tickled pink that you like to be called Aunt Willy,” I said. “I’ve had a doozy of a time trying to remember not to say it. Just comes naturally to give you a nickname.”

  “Nicknames are great.” She smiled. “Never really had one as a kid, even though a few people called me some choice names over the years. But I see the value in a nickname now, and I also see the harm.” She paused and gazed into my eyes. “Which brings me to my next point. Scarlet, I owe you an apology.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. That whole sticky buns thing was way out of line.”

  “Sticky buns?” Armando’s brow furrowed. “She bakes the best sticky buns on the island.”

  “Right.” Aunt Willy nodded. “But I think she knows what I mean.”

  I knew, all right. But to hear her apologize meant the world to me. It startled me too, and I was convinced the world must’ve tilted off its axis for her to be standing here in front of me, saying all of this.

  Stranger still that her story felt—and sounded—so much like Armando’s. Raised in a big family. Overlooked as a kid. Feeling like the odd man out. Striving to prove herself by striking out on her own.

  Yep. Willy and Armando were two peas in a pod. A generation or two apart, of course, but two peas in a pod. I’d just opened up my mouth to share this little revelation with them when I realized the two had entered into a heart-to-heart. I backed away and let them talk, knowing that the Lord could take it from here. He certainly didn’t need my help.

  Another revelation. I’d spent much of my time trying to help God help others. In reality, I could trust him to do it on his own, without my input. Looked like maybe I’d been trying to prove myself too—to him and to Aunt Willy.

  Maybe I deserved to join the conversation after all. I took a couple of steps back in their direction just in time to see Armando place a fishing pole in my aunt’s hands.

  “Do I . . . do I have to?” she asked.

  I nodded and quoted a Scripture about being fishers of men. That got Uncle Donny tickled as he walked up behind us. “She’s already caught herself a man,” he said, then slipped his arm over her shoulder.

  “That I have.” She tried to hand me the pole, but I wouldn’t take it.

  “You’ve caught a man, all right, Willy, but you need time to just sit and rest.” This time the admonition came from my father, who approached with Mama’s arm looped through his. “So take a seat. Hang tight to that pole and see what the Lord brings you.”

  She settled into the spot next to Donny, and before long he’d baited her hook. Actually, I had to think he’d baited her hook weeks ago when the rest of us weren’t paying attention, but that was probably an analogy for another day. Today he sat beside her, pole in hand, gabbing about his many years as a consummate fisherman. Auntie hung on his every word.

  Until there was a tug on her line.

  A whoop went up from Aunt Willy, loud enough to startle a family standing nearby. “I got something!” she called out. “It’s a big one!”

  Uncle Donny helped her reel it in. Turned out she’d caught a clump of seaweed. We all had a good laugh, and she settled back down again, this time completely relaxed and looking like a woman who fished for a living. Go figure.

  I sat on the edge of the pier and dangled my legs over the side. Armando headed off to fetch Devon, who’d run into a friend at the concession stand. Turned out the teen had a great passion for sharing the story of his upcoming Nicaragua trip.

  He drew near with Armando minutes later. When Armando reached for a pole, Devon looked my way and grinned. “You gonna clean it if he catches it?”

  “Nope. That’s why we brought you along. I’m just here to observe.”

  He got a laugh out of that. Settling in next to me, he grabbed a pole and baited it. Looking up at me, he asked, “Did you hear about my mom?”

  “That she’s in the Sheltering Arms program?” I nodded. “I think it’s great, Devon.”

  “I think it’s gonna stick this time.” He flashed a smile. “I talked to her this morning and she sounded good. She’s not ready to bail or anything, which is totally cool. Usually by now she’s skipping out.”

  “I’m believing God for a complete recovery,” I said. “I’ll keep praying until it happens.”

  “Thank you.” He tossed his line out into the water. “Did you hear the rest?”

  “About you moving in with Armando?”

  “Yeah.” Devon nodded. “I wasn’t sure what was going to happen after I got the eviction notice from our apartment.”

  My heart swelled with pride at Armando’s generosity. Having a teen stay with him at his new condo? I could hardly imagine the two living together, but Armando’s huge heart for this kid went above and beyond the call of duty.

  “He gave me a job too,” Devon said. “I’m working at Parma John’s now.”

  “Are you serious? Now that I hadn’t heard.”

  “Just happened.” Devon laughed. “With all the Mambo Italiano pizzas I want. As long as I make them, anyway.”

  “Oh, Devon, I’m thrilled.”

  “Me too.”

  He gazed back out at the water for a moment before flashing me another smile. “You know, I never told you this before, but I used to think your church was boring.”

  “So why did you come?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “People, I guess. There were nice people there. And they cared about me.”

  “What do you think now?” I asked.

  He paused, and I noticed something tugging on his line. “Now I like it. I mean, it’s growing on me.”

  “Face it, we’re all growing on you.”

  “True, true.” He began to reel in the line, and we all gave a celebratory holler when we saw the fish dangling on the end of the hook. He took it and wriggled it loose, then dropped it into the bucket at his feet before baiting his hook again.

  The afternoon sun hovered in the sky, beaming down streams of sunlight over our little group. It reflected off of the water, making it hard to see. Still, I managed to watch as Devon tossed his line back into the water once more. Then I rose and brushed my hands on the legs of my jeans.

  Armando stepped into the spot behind me and slipped his arms around my waist—my ever-shrinking waist. “Now it’s your turn,” he whispered in my ear.

  “My turn?” I pivoted on my heel to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “Grab a pole, little Lucy. Ricky wants to take y
ou fishing.”

  “Hey, I just came out here to watch.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. You’re not getting away with that.”

  “I’m not?”

  He laughed. “Don’t you remember that I Love Lucy episode where they went deep-sea fishing?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “But I can’t believe you remember that one. It’s not one of the more famous ones.”

  “I’ve done my research,” he said. “I figure if you’re gonna fall head over heels for a nutty redhead, you’d better know what she loves.”

  “What I love, eh?” I bit my lip to keep from saying, “You know what I love most, right? You.” Instead, I just smiled and took the pole he offered, then followed along behind him to a private spot on the end of the pier. “Any idea what we’ll catch today, Ricky?”

  “Actually, I think I’ve already caught the one thing I needed most.” He planted a little kiss on my cheek. “Hope she doesn’t want me to toss her back.”

  “Out there?” I pointed to the gulf. “No thanks. I love to swim, but not that much.”

  We had a good laugh at that and settled into our spots.

  As I gazed out onto the Gulf of Mexico, pole in hand, all of life slowed down. I put the bakery out of my mind. My concerns over the upcoming trip, my customers, losing Kenny, cakes that still needed to be baked . . . all faded away. The sounds of the seagulls overhead provided just the right backdrop for this precious moment. All around me family members chatted and laughed, talking about everything from the weather to upcoming get-togethers. It sounded like music to my ears.

  When I felt that first little tug on my line, I couldn’t help but holler. I didn’t mean to startle Armando, but I did. He almost dropped his pole as he turned my way.

  “Got one?” His eyes widened in boyish delight.

  I nodded, my own eyes wide. “Yep. Got one!”

  I stared into Armando’s gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes, distracted as always by their beauty, and realized I’d snagged one, all right. He was the Ricky to my Lucy, my perfect complement. And I wouldn’t dream of tossing him back, no matter what troubles life might throw our way.

  26

  Sweets for the Sweet

  Kissin’ don’t last, cookin’ do!

  Author unknown

  The Monday after our fishing trip, I found myself battling a sunburn. A bad one. Still, work beckoned. I headed to the bakery, my thoughts sailing a thousand different directions at once. With Kenny leaving to work for my aunt, I needed a long-term plan. Maybe it had something to do with my hypersensitive skin, but I couldn’t seem to think straight. Couldn’t come up with anything.

  Thank God for Mama. She agreed to help out a couple of days a week. I needed someone full-time but would settle for what I could get. It didn’t hurt that Mama already knew my work routine. Mostly, anyway.

  She arrived at the bakery at nine that morning, ready to dive in. Kenny and I showed her the various recipes, and she helped with the brownies and several simple iced cakes. By noon, the glass cases were filling up with things she’d made.

  “I can’t believe it.” She gave the cakes an admiring look. “Not bad for my first day.”

  “Not bad at all.” I chuckled. “And now you don’t have to use the Wii Fit as often, Mama. You’re going to get plenty of exercise here, trust me.”

  “I don’t mind a bit.” She flexed her arm, showing off a would-be muscle. “In fact, I think maybe the Lord’s been preparing me for this all along. I’m just sorry I don’t have more time to give you, honey, but your dad really needs me up at the church.”

  “I know. I’m just so grateful you’re here now.” I gave her a hug. Working with my mother even part-time would be fun. We’d always been more like sisters than mother and daughter.

  Around two o’clock that afternoon, Armando showed up. He looked pretty spiffy. Instead of his usual Parma John’s apron over jeans and a T-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt and dressier jeans. Talk about cleaning up nice.

  “You headed somewhere important?” I asked.

  “Maybe.” His eyebrows elevated mischievously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because . . .” I slipped into his open arms. “You look like a million bucks.”

  “Well, thanks. You look pretty amazing yourself.”

  I glanced down at my dirty apron and sighed. “Seriously?”

  “You couldn’t look any prettier if you spent all day in the beauty salon. I love you like this.”

  My heart did a girlish flip-flop at the “I love you” part. None of the rest mattered. He loved me. He really, really loved me.

  “I came by to see your mom in action.” He glanced around. “She’s here, right?”

  “She’s in the kitchen.”

  He walked behind the glass cases and peered into the inner sanctum, then looked back at me with a smile. “Looks like she’s in her element.”

  “She is. I think she’s really enjoying this.”

  “I’m glad. You’re really going to need the help now that Kenny’s about to leave.”

  “True.” I sighed. I wanted the best for him, but every time I thought about handling the bakery on my own—even with Mama’s part-time help—I felt a little nervous.

  I took a seat, ready to share my thoughts with someone who could understand. “Mama has agreed to come a couple of days a week, but she’s already so busy working in the office at the church. I guess I’ll have to hire someone.”

  It really needed to be someone with a lot of baking experience, anyway. Mama could bake, but she didn’t know much about the bakery biz. Or waiting on customers. In fact, she was a little on the shy side, which might prove to be problematic.

  “You might not need to hire anyone at all,” he said. “I had an idea that just might work.”

  That certainly captured my attention. “What’s that?”

  “Well, we’ve hired Devon to work at Parma John’s. He’s already started.”

  “Right. I heard he’s doing a great job.”

  “He is. I’m really proud of him.” Armando paused and shoved his hands in his pockets. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the boy looked nervous. “Anyway, he’s there now, and my brother, of course. And Jenna’s coming back in a couple of months.”

  “In theory, anyway. Now that she has two little ones, she could change her mind at any moment and decide to be a stay-at-home mom.”

  “It’s possible. But I think we can manage. So . . .” He puffed his chest out. “I’ve located the perfect person to work with you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “Me.”

  The breath went out of me. “You? You’re going to stop working at Parma John’s and work at the bakery?”

  “Not exactly. I have a plan to merge our two worlds. Something that will remedy all of that.”

  “A plan?” None of this made sense. His family would be upset if he left them high and dry at the pizza parlor to help me out. Wouldn’t they?

  His gorgeous brown eyes sparkled as they honed in on mine. “Here’s my idea.” Armando paced the bakery. I could read the excitement on his face.

  “Armando, you’re making me nervous.”

  With a wave of his hand, he dismissed my concerns. “Relax. It’s all good. Well, I hope you’ll think it’s good.”

  Talk about piquing a girl’s curiosity. What are you up to, Ricky? Lucy’s dying to know!

  He pointed at the wall, where I’d painted the words “Sweets for the Sweet” in beautiful script. “What do you see there?”

  “I see a saying that makes me smile. It also makes me want chocolate, so I try not to read it very often.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Beyond that.”

  “I see a wall?” I tried.

  “Right. A wall.” He smacked it with his hand, then crossed his arms at his chest as if trying to tell me something.

  “And . . . ?”

  “It separates us.” He leaned against it and offered a smile.

&nbs
p; “Are we speaking literally or symbolically here?” I asked. “It would be good to know, going into this conversation.”

  “Literally.” He patted the script and then looked back at me. “Do you know what’s directly on the other side of this wall?”

  “Parma John’s?” I asked.

  “Well, yes, but what specifically in Parma John’s?”

  “No idea. The kitchen?”

  “No. I thought that at first too, but I was wrong, thank goodness.”

  “Thank goodness?”

  “Yes. It’s a bare wall with nothing on it. A couple of tables up against it, but nothing to prevent us from making an opening . . . right about here.” He pointed to a space in the center.

  “Wait. You’re putting a hole in my wall?”

  “I’m connecting our worlds, Scarlet.”

  Connecting our worlds? I walked over to the wall and ran my hands over the words. I tried to envision the whole thing gone.

  An opening?

  “You want the two businesses to become one? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes.” He threw his hands up in the air triumphantly, then brought them back down again. “Well, no. You would still be Let Them Eat Cake and we would still be Parma John’s. But I wouldn’t have to walk so far to see you.” He gave me a delightful smile, and I grinned, convinced he was just saying all of this to be silly.

  “Walk so far to see me?” I said. Okay, that cracked me up. “I’m right next door.”

  He pouted. “But there’s a wall of separation between us, and it needs to come down. Don’t you agree?”

  “I guess. But what does my aunt Willy think of this idea?”

  “Haven’t asked her yet, but Uncle Donny offered to be the one to broach the subject. He’s next door talking to her right now.”

  “I see.” Weird.

  “I think we can help one another if we merge forces,” Armando said. “We’ve never had a lot of luck with our desserts, but you’ve got the best sweets in town.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Well, thank you again.” What are you up to, Armando Rossi?

  He patted the wall, a look of contentment coming over him. “So, what do you say? Can we open up the place? Merge forces?”