“Havin’ a fine Saturday, Cupcake?” Bix said as he came around the corner.
Roxie jumped a little. She hadn’t noticed him standing there in the first aisle, just feet away. A sleek calico was draped over one shoulder. He smiled but his movements were hesitant, as if he’d been standing in one place too long and his joints were giving him pain. He was legally blind but he knew the bookstore like the back of his hand. “Pretty well, Mr. Beaulieu.”
“Oh, sha, call me Bix. I’ve known ya since you was tiny.”
Roxie wondered if now was the moment she should ask him to call her ‘Roxie’ but couldn’t seem to say the words.
“On your way, Miss Elizabeth.” He lowered the cat to the floor. “You need Miss Alice? She’s changing Aurora but she’ll be back in a second.”
“No, I just came to browse. It’s the first evening I’ve had off in a while.”
“Finally get another helper?” Bix’s brown eyes were kind. “You’ve been workin’ mighty long hours.”
Roxie’s first instinct was to deny it. She didn’t like people gossiping and speculating about Mamere’s health, knowing the bakery was struggling. Bix didn’t mean any harm and there was no way gloss over the fact she was working eighteen hour days. “We’ve got a new waitress. I’m hoping she’ll work out since there’s more than enough to do for the three of us, and the few part-time people that are in and out.”
“Ya mean like Ricky Boudreaux?”
Roxie sighed. The only upside to Mamere giving the kid another chance was that Roxie didn’t have to dance on the corner. “I guess we should be happy he shows up when he does.”
“Cupcake, you’re a good girl.” Bix patted her on the shoulder.
“No better than anybody else,” she said. Old Bix was a sweetheart and always believed the best of people. If he could hear the grumbling that went on in her head, he wouldn’t be so quick with the praise.
“Nah. You’re better than average.” He gave her a solemn look. “You think anybody would do what you do, but you’re wrong. I’ve been around this world a lot longer than you have. I know how selfish people can be, mamzelle.”
“Working at the bakery isn’t that bad.” The cupcake suit was certifiably torturous but other than avoiding all the treats, her job was pretty easy.
“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about. I mean comin’ back to Natchitoches when you don’t really want to be here.”
“I hoped it wasn’t that obvious.” Roxie dropped her gaze to the wooden parquet floor. She’d tried to keep her feelings to herself. “I don’t mean any offense at all. It’s just―”
“You don’t belong here. I know that.”
She sucked in a breath.
“That’s not a bad thing. It’s just the way it is. And I admire ya for coming back here when you could have just told your aunts to hire somebody to check in on Miss CeeCee.”
Roxie’s heart dropped. Mamere’s decline must be so obvious to everyone. She’d refused to see it for too long. Shame heated her face. She didn’t meet Bix’s eyes. “Don’t admire me. I should’ve been here sooner, but I was busy being selfish.”
“Sha,” he said, shaking his head. “Selfish?”
“My aunt asked me to come home months ago.” She could hardly say the words.
“Listen up,” Bix said. “There are plenty of people in this world who’ll hurt ya if they can. They’ll tell you that you ain’t got any goodness inside and that you’re doin’ everything all wrong.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Don’t be one of those people.”
Roxie felt her throat start to burn. “Thank you.”
Instead of answering, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “You’re a good girl, Cupcake.” He held her back a little and nodded. “You and Andy, you’re cut from the same cloth.”
She blinked. “Andy?”
“Like two peas in a pod.”
Roxie started to laugh. “No, sir. We’re nothing alike. I mean, we both don’t like the humidity. Or dancing. Or crawfish. Or really any Southern food―”
“That’s not what I was talkin’ about. If you forget about all that stuff, you’ll see what I mean. Just like Alice and Paul, they were just the same underneath.” He turned back to the shelves. “Speaking of Miss Alice, I better find these books for her. She’s workin’ on some project with the grade schools. She’s gonna loan rare books to the classrooms so the kids can see the lithographs and how the books were stitched together. I think the teacher said they’re gonna make their own books at Christmas.”
“Sounds great,” Roxie said, her mind still stuck on Andy.
Aurora came toddling around the corner, a length of pink ribbon in one little fist. She had on blue T-shirt with a gray castle surrounded by waves. Underneath was written “A Kingdom By the Sea”. A fluffy gray cat followed behind her, twitching its tale at every movement of the ribbon. Aurora saw Roxie and stopped short. She cocked her head, as if trying to remember where she’d seen Roxie before.
“Hi, Aurora. Playing with the kitties?”
Aurora said something Roxie didn’t catch and waved the ribbon.
“She’s telling you the kitty’s name is Mrs. Gaskell,” Alice said, arriving at the desk.
“I like her shirt. Is that from Annabel Lee?”
“You read Poe, too? I thought you were strictly a Greek classics kinda girl.”
“I think everybody likes Poe, especially around Hallowe’en.”
“No, not everybody.” Alice set a few papers down on the desk and nudged a sleeping gray kitty to one side. “I’m starting to think I need an Australian sheepdog instead of cats. Keeping Aurora out of the books is a full time job.”
“You haven’t thought of making her a little space of her own in the store?”
Alice frowned at the top of the desk. “I don’t want to take anything away. Mr. Perrault left it to me this way and I don’t feel like I should change anything.”
Roxie leaned against the counter and gazed around at the bookstore. The tin type ceiling panels and the antique hanging lamps gave her a feeling of being in a castle, rather than a store. The large mirror hanging behind the desk was cloudy with age but it brightened the space with reflected light. The far wall was exposed brick, like the one in her apartment upstairs, and she remembered Alice talking about the Creole workers who had helped build the place more than a hundred years before. Polished paneling and the long windows at the front gave the space a cozy feeling despite the height of the ceilings.
“Mr. Perrault didn’t change any of this after he bought it?” Roxie asked.
“I think he had a phone line put in.” Alice shrugged. “Like how I had the apartments wired for internet when Paul first moved in. Electricity, phone, internet. I supposed these things have to be done.” She watched Aurora crawl around the red overstuffed chair near the front window. “You know, now that I think about it, there used to be a wall right there but he had it taken out. And there was an old wood burning stove that had a cracked base. He had it hauled away the year we met. Oh, and there was ugly carpet in here for a long time, but he had it pulled up and the floor refinished. The top windows had to be replaced because the frames had rotted and the front door cracked one year, but he had a new one made and kept the original iron work.”
Aurora sat back, a small toy clutched in her hand. She waved it triumphantly.
“I guess Mr. Perrault made changes, too.” Alice waved back at Aurora. “He also put in that long counter where the coffee maker and electric tea kettle are. Mrs. Perrault was always running upstairs to make me tea when I came in after school. At the time I thought it was for her, but maybe he did that for both of us.”
“He let the store grow with the people in it.” Roxie thought of how the bakery hadn’t changed in twenty years and desperately needed an upgrade in every area.
Alice put her hand on her tummy. “He did. And I should.” She smiled at Roxie, eyes shining. “Aurora’s going to have a little brother or sister and I’v
e been wondering how I was going to juggle two small people in this store. I think you just answered my question.”
“Congratulations! And you’re thinking the store needs a new children’s area?” Roxie couldn’t help catching her enthusiasm.
“Definitely. And not vintage books, but board books and toys and maybe one of those little puppet stages.”
“And some puzzles and blocks and markers and paper.”
“With big comfy reading chairs for adults to share with the babies,” Alice said.
“Bright colors and a soft carpet and a mini kitchen.”
Alice reached out and grabbed Roxie’s hand. “A mini bakery!”
Roxie had to laugh at the idea. The large backroom reserved for paperbacks was going to undergo some serious renovations. “I grew up in Sunshine Bakery but there was no mini bookstore in the back.”
“Thank you, Roxie. What you said about Mr. Perrault letting the store grow with the people inside, that was perfectly true. I thought I couldn’t make too many changes because it’s a historical building and Mr. Perrault took such good care of the place for so long before he left it to me. It helped make me who I am, I wanted to honor his legacy.”
“His legacy is you,” Roxie said. “Whatever you decide will make him proud.”
Alice hugged her, hard. “I know you said you’re only staying for a little while but I wish you’d move here forever.”
Her aunts had paid for the first few months, but she was going to have to figure out how to pay for the rest. That probably included getting a paying job, which would be difficult with as much time she was spending at the bakery. She imagined herself moving home and decided she’d worry about it later. She took a breath. “About that, I was wondering if the apartment was free after this month is up.”
“You’re staying? Oh, girl, you can stay as long as you like. Wonderful news, just wonderful.” Alice looked positively giddy. “Andy doesn’t seem like he’s going to move out anytime soon, either. You guys should really get to know each other better.”
Andy. The conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn. “My grandmother isn’t well. I thought my aunts were exaggerating, but they’re right. She needs someone here to help her.”
Realization dawned in Alice’s eyes. “Another waitress won’t help? Maybe another cook in the kitchen?” she asked softly.
Roxie shook her head. “For right now, I can probably stay here. I can go over to the bakery in the morning and my aunts can keep an eye on her in the evenings, but eventually she’ll need someone full time.”
“I’m so sorry.” There was sorrow in every line of her pretty face. Then her expression changed and she looked as if she’d just realized something important. “You and Andy have more in common than I thought.”
There it was again. Roxie wanted to argue that Andy had everything a guy could want. He had money, power, style, friends. He could go anywhere he wanted and do anything he wanted. Andy had about as much in common with her as a race car driver had with a pineapple. “Did they make it back okay?”
Aurora ran by, waving a ribbon at a large, black cat. “Darcy, Darcy!” she called. The cat didn’t pause before scaling the range of books in front of them. He got to the top and peered down, green eyes narrowed.
“Sweetie, don’t chase the kitties.” A loudly meowing Siamese wandered past. “There, why don’t you play with Mrs. Bennet?”
“No, Darcy!” Aurora nodded at her mother as if Alice would suddenly see it her way if she just insisted. “Darcy.”
“Don’t get close,” she said, shaking her head. Alice turned back to Roxie. “Paul said they got hung up in New York City for a while. He wanted to go see some people, maybe bring someone back with them. They came in real late last night.”
Bring someone back. Roxie immediately thought of a tall, blonde beauty, then forced the thought away. They weren’t even friends and she was eaten up with jealousy. She was being completely unreasonable. “I’d better go… look for a book I needed.”
“Of course, and I’m sorry. Miss CeeCee is a wonderful woman and if there is ever anything I can do, please let me know.”
“Thank you,” Roxie said. “That means a lot.” The unfairness of it all made her stomach ache. Her mamere didn’t deserve what was happening to her but then again, nobody did.
“Kitty,” Aurora called and toddled back by after a large striped cat with a tattered ear.
“Oh, maybe not Mr. Rochester, baby. He’s a little crabby.” Alice followed, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to protect Mr. Rochester or Aurora.
Roxie turned toward the classics section but paused at the end of the poetry aisle. Andy had quoted that line about “after a full belly, all was poetry”. Walking down the long shelf, she ran a finger across the leather bindings, feeling the guilt embossed letters and wrapped edges. She couldn’t control most of what was happening in her life, but there would always be good books full of words shimmering with life and hope. And old poetry was as comforting as a hot stew on a cold Philadelphia winter’s day.
She chose a volume at random and let the old book fall open in her hands. Emily Dickinson’s poem ‘Wild Nights― Wild Nights!’ covered one page.
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!
The words were so familiar they brought tears to her eyes. But it was more than familiarity, it was the realization that she understood the poem completely for the first time. Leaning her head against the range, Roxie tried to get control of her ragged breathing, swallowing back the ache in her throat. She was rudderless, without mooring, swept out to sea on a tide beyond her control.
People said God’s ways were far above human comprehension but she’d usually seen a glimmer of sense in how life unfolded. Now, she was utterly lost. She’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have, and was losing the person closest to her. Either of those was bound to shake a person’s faith, but to have the happen at the same time was too much to bear. She had no idea how long she’d stood there, clutching the open book to her chest, her eyes squeezed tight, her forehead pressed against the wooden shelf when she heard a rustle of sound and jerked upright.
Andy stood there, his expression a combination of sympathy and embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Alice said you were over here and I wanted to…” His voice trailed off. “Are you okay?”
“How was New York?” She turned away a little, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Good. The same.” He shifted, as if he wanted to offer her some comfort but wasn’t sure how. “We got back last night.”
She wanted to ask exactly who “we” included, but didn’t.
He cleared his throat. “Mark is upstairs, watching a movie. He did pretty well on the plane. No problems.”
“I’m glad,” she said. She didn’t really know Mark, or anyone like him, but she would have figured the trip was going to be pretty complicated. It was a relief to know he’d traveled without any issues.
His eyes dropped to the book in her hands. “I went to the classics section first.”
“I have most of those back home, and brought my favorites when I moved here. I was just looking for something to take my mind off…” the fact that I’m in love with someone I barely know and the most important person in my life is starting to forget I exist.
“What are you reading?”
“Emily Dickinson.” She closed the book. “Probably should pick something different, actually. So, is there something I can help with?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come upstairs for dinner.”
“You’re cooking? Right now? Did you leave it on the stove?” She realized from his expression that he’d le
arned his lesson. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“No, it was honest.” His laugh was perfect. She wished he would laugh more often, but realized that he probably laughed as much as she did because his life was about as complicated as hers. “I brought back a chef,” he said.
She felt her eyes go wide. She wondered how one went about picking up a chef. Maybe there were warehouses full of culinary artisans just waiting to relocate with whomever would pay the price. “Will Mark mind if I horn in on your first evening together?”
“I told him yesterday that you might come over. Plus, he doesn’t eat this kind of food. You know he’d live on Pringles and milk if he could, but I do make sure he gets some fruit and vegetables in there.” He paused. “So? It’s a yes?”
A smile spread over her face. She’d thought all she needed was some time alone to recuperate but now all she could think of was Andy. “What time?”
“Now, if that’s okay.”
“It’s already made?”
Andy grinned. “She’s been working on it for a few hours. I was wondering if you’d smell it from down the hall and come investigate. You like Ethiopian, right?
Roxie wanted to throw her arms around his neck. It had been a horrible day and as soon as he’d arrived, it had gotten better than she ever could have imagined. She nodded, trying to look cool and collected. He’d probably just had a hankering for the sour injera bread and the sautéed meat in the tibs dish. “Sure. Saves me from another boring meal of egg whites and wheat toast.”
He smiled down at her and for a moment, her world was perfect. A book of Dickinson poetry clutched in her hands and Ethiopian food waiting upstairs, ready to share with the man she loved. Of course, he didn’t know he was the man she loved, but that was a minor issue. Roxie forced herself to look away.
“I have one more question,” he said.
“Sure, anything.” That was a lie but she tried not to show it.
He reached out and touched her bracelet. “What about the feather?”
“Oh,” she said, swallowing back her surprise. “Funny you chose that one.” She held up the little book. “Miss Emily.”
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 89
