Dress Rehearsal

by Jennifer O'Connell

  Paige reached out a hand to pull Robin off the floor. “Let’s get out of this place. I’ve had enough.”

  “We’re going to hell for that,” I told Robin on our way out of the store.

  Robin shrugged. “It ain’t pretty but somebody’s got to do it.”

  Phase One of Operation Save Paige was completed.

  Chapter 9

  “My fiancé will be here any minute,” Julie apologized for the fifth time. “He’s just taking a cab from downtown.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be in the kitchen checking on things.” I turned my back to go, when I heard the front door open and Julie call out to her fiancé.

  He started toward us with a harried look on his face. “Sorry I’m late; the meeting went longer than expected.”

  When he reached us, he gave Julie a quick hug before putting his briefcase on the floor and holding out his hand to introduce himself to me, a gesture that was halted mid-air when he finally took a minute to look at the woman whose hand he was reaching for. “Lauren?”

  My breathing grew shallow and I could hear my heart pumping, its rapid pulsing reverberating in my ears like tribal drumbeats.

  He said my name as if it was a question, like he wasn’t even sure I was the same woman he’d asked to move to DC with him. While Neil and I silently took each other in, Julie’s face registered that there was more going on here than her fiancé meeting a pastry chef.

  “Hi Neil,” I recovered, wiping my moist hand discretely on my pants before holding it out in the most professional manner. Neil looked at me with the same blue gray eyes I’d woken up next to for so many mornings, the same eyes that used to remind me of the color of the ocean on an overcast day.

  “You’re the Lauren behind Lauren’s Luscious Licks?” he asked, even though at that point it was pretty obvious.

  “The one and only.” I exhaled slowly, taking deep cleansing breaths like I’d seen once in a yoga infomercial.

  “Neil?” Now it was Julie’s turn to be confused.

  I couldn’t wait to see how Neil explained this. Would he tell Julie we were old friends or would he venture even further and tell her the truth – that before Julie there’d been another woman Neil had wanted to marry, and she was standing right in front of them.

  “Lauren and I used to date a long time ago,” Neil explained, as if we’d gone out to Chili’s a few times for dinner instead of sleeping together for three years. And how come Julie didn’t already know about me? You’d think Neil would tell his future wife about the woman who broke his heart.

  “That’s so funny, what a small world.” Neil’s explanation seemed to satisfy Julie, and she turned her attention to the matter at hand. “So are we ready to start? I can’t wait to see what you have for us.”

  I held up a finger, acutely aware that it was trembling even as I was managing to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked straight through the kitchen and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

  “Neil,” I said into the mirror and watched my lips form his name. “Fucking Neil.”

  I ran the taps and let the water get so cold it numbed my fingers. I tore three paper towels from the roll and held them under the faucet before dabbing my forehead with the damp wad. In the mirror I watched my chest rise and fall with each breath.

  Neil was in the gallery. My gallery. And he was about to marry someone who wasn’t me.

  Maria pounded twice on the door. “What’s taking so long? You got the runs?”

  I ran the water over the towels and placed them on my neck before answering. “I’m fine.”

  “Then get out here,” she barked. “We’ve got clients waiting.”

  I had to compose myself. In the medicine cabinet I found my lipstick and carefully filled in my lips before blotting them on a tissue and dabbing on some gloss. I ran a brush through my hair and bent over, hoping the blood that had run out of my face the moment I realized Neil was my four o’clock appointment would find its way back into my cheeks. One more glance in the mirror, and I walked out ready to face Neil and his fiancé.

  Maria was waiting for me with the sample tray. “I hope you washed your hands.”

  I thought I had. I’d thought I’d washed that man right out of my hair long ago, but now here he was – the ghost of relationships past.

  I kicked the kitchen door open, carried the sample tray into the gallery and laid the plates on the table. After going through my spiel, I sat back and watched them each try a slice of cake. I suppose I should have gone into more detail about the fillings and icings as they worked their way through each piece, but watching Neil, my Neil, sit on the other side of the table like all the other grooms before him, had rendered me speechless.

  While they worked their way from plate to plate I studied Neil, as if for the first time. How come Julie wanted to marry Neil when I didn’t? Why was she sitting there with Neil instead of me? Did I miss something that had been right in front of me all along?

  “So what brings you back to Boston?” I finally managed ask, breaking the silence.

  “Julie’s from Newton, so she wanted to get married back in Boston.”

  So Neil was getting married on my home turf – and I was supposed to bake for the occasion.

  “All my family’s here and we’re moving back next month,” Julie added between mouthfuls. “We’d like our kids to be around their grandparents and cousins and all.”

  Kids? Well, that explained it. Poor Neil was just doing his duty.

  “So you’re pregnant?” I pointed to Julie’s stomach.

  Julie gasped. “Oh, god, no. That’s not what I meant. I was talking about sometime in the near future.”

  They were sitting here eating my cake, sharing their joyous news, and now I had to hear about their mating plans? What was next, the play by play of last night’s positions?

  “This must be so much fun, making wedding cakes,” Julie continued, oblivious to the fact that I was still trying to digest the idea that Neil and this strange woman were planning a family together. “When my mom and I used to bake cakes, I loved making all sorts of funky colored icing and eating the batter – by the time we were done my fingers were stained some atrocious purple-y color and I had a stomach ache from licking the bowl clean.”

  “All class, my future wife,” Neil teased.

  “Ignore him.” Julie swiped a glob of icing from the sour cream fudge cake and playfully dabbed Neil on the nose. “You know, I always pictured pastry chefs as fat men in tall paper hats with flour on their cheeks, but you don’t fit that stereotype at all – you’re like a celebrity chef!”

  Okay, could this woman be any nicer? I mean what was she trying to pull, acting all sweet and unassuming? Maybe if she knew that her fiancé used to turn my stuffed bear around so he couldn’t watch us have sex, she wouldn’t feel so friendly. What would she do if I inquired about the status of the eraser-shaped birthmark on Neil’s right ass cheek?

  “I can’t believe Neil knows you,” Julie marveled. “Your cakes are legendary.”

  Now this was getting intolerable. “I don’t know about that,” I answered with false modesty, fully aware of the fact that my cakes were legendary, that Lauren’s Luscious Licks made the best damn cakes in all of Boston!

  “Oh, they are. All of my friends want your cakes.”

  “How’d you end up doing this?” Neil asked.

  At first I thought Neil was asking how I made the apricot sponge cake with meringue buttercream he was eating, and I froze. I had no idea how the hell the cake was made. That was Maria’s department. But when Neil gestured around the gallery I realized he wanted to know how I started Lauren’s Luscious Licks. Now that was a question I could answer, and you could bet they’d get the Merchant Ivory version of my story.

  I told them about making a cake for Paige’s birthday and how it mushroomed from there. I conveniently left out the part about losing my job and taking up residence in my bed for three straight days,
wrapped up in my own version of Egyptian cotton sheets - 600 thread counts of self pity.

  “That’s amazing.” Neil was impressed.

  It was hard to tell if he meant amazing that Lauren’s Luscious Licks had become so successful, or amazing that a woman whose culinary skills were once limited to tuna melts and scrambled eggs could actually bake elaborate wedding cakes.

  “What do you think of this one?” Julie asked Neil, tapping her fork on the edge of the third plate.

  “I’m not a big fan of lemon. Maybe we could have something more subtle. Any suggestions, Lauren?” Neil asked, looking up at me.

  “Well, we could do another citrus, like orange, or a banana.” Neil and Julie didn’t look thrilled. “We could do a strawberry rum or almond cake.”

  “Almond sounds good.” Neil turned to Julie. “What do you think?”

  “Sounds great,” she agreed.

  “So if we’re going with the almond cake, can we still have the raspberry filling, like the lemon sample here?”

  “Sure you can.”

  “What about the icing? I don’t want something too sweet. How about chocolate? But not just a typical chocolate icing, something with a little more pizzazz.”

  I knew what I had to suggest. It was the obvious choice. But even after I’d opened my mouth and the words were out, a voice in my head was screaming don’t say it!

  “Like a chocolate ganache?” I asked slowly, not liking where this was going.

  “That’s the stuff they make truffles out of, right?” Neil asked, and Julie nodded her head. “Perfect.”

  Julie beamed. “Lauren, that sounds amazing.”

  An almond cake with raspberry filling and chocolate ganache - sound familiar? Neil just described my perfect cake! He picked the cake I wanted for my wedding! The boyfriend I dumped, the man I thought was the wrong guy for me, had just described exactly the same cake I wanted when I found the person I would spend the rest of my life with.

  The next twenty minutes went by in a haze as I went through the motions of showing the portfolio and suggesting designs, but couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d just witnessed or the revelation that maybe I’d been wrong all along - maybe I’d made a huge mistake when I let Neil go.

  “Thanks for being so helpful, Lauren. There’s so much to do for the wedding, it’s getting to be a little overwhelming. Next week I have a meeting with the florist and then I have to go look at invitations, and on Wednesday afternoon I’m going to check out Gamble Mansion for the reception.”

  “Nice.” Definitely not a place that catered to the pigs in a blanket crowd.

  “So we all set, then?” Julie asked, signing the order form that confirmed their selection.

  “Just a sec.” I wrote Neil’s check number on the form, and then handed over the pale blue copy.

  They stood to leave.

  “Thanks so much, Lauren.” Julie leaned over and gave me a squeeze. “I can’t wait to tell my friends that Neil knows you.”

  He did more than know me, I thought. He wanted me to be where you are right now.

  After they left I was filled with nervous energy. I paced around the room trying to figure out my next move. Did I call Paige and Robin and tell them that in all the cake joints in all the city, Neil just walked into mine? Should I clean up the tasting table, or just sit down and try to convince myself that Neil’s cake preference was merely a coincidence? A total fluke? A slap in the face? A kick in the ass?

  Oh, this was ridiculous. It was Neil! How could he be the one? Sure, I used to love him, but that was years ago. This had to be a mistake.

  I was about to carry the loaded tray into the kitchen, when the front door opened and Neil reappeared.

  “Forgot my briefcase,” he explained, pointing to the black leather attaché against the wall.

  Neil picked up his briefcase and came over to me. “You know, it’s really great to see you.”

  “You, too.” Had Neil grown taller? And what was that fantastic cologne he was wearing?

  “I’d love to talk more, but with Julie here and all,” Neil paused. “Well, you understand.”

  “Sure.” It was completely reasonable that he wouldn’t want to drop to the ground and declare his undying love for me in front of his fiancé.

  “Maybe we could get together some time? Like for a drink or something? I’ve got business in our Boston office that I’m working on, so I’ll be traveling back and forth.”

  Was Neil asking me on a date?

  “Well, you’ve got my number.” I pointed to the business card he had tucked in his jacket pocket. The jacket that was covering the chest I used to rest my head on before falling asleep.

  “Right. And you’ve got mine, too.” He held up the blue order form. “I better go.”

  Neil was halfway to the door when he stopped and turned back toward me. “You know, I never would have thought it eight years ago, but this place is perfect for you.”

  You are, too, I almost replied, thinking that there was more truth to my answer than I used to believe.

  I had to tell someone about Neil. I just couldn’t let him come into the boutique, order my cake, and chalk it up to a twist of fate. But Paige was out on appointments and Robin was teaching a seminar at the Park Plaza. I’d never thought of Maria as a surrogate friend before, but she had proximity in her favor.

  “Did you see that couple?” I asked Maria, placing the tray on the butcherblock bench.

  “Yep.”

  “That was Neil. My Neil.”

  “So?” Maria dipped a delicate paintbrush into the shallow reservoirs of color on the palate in her hand and painstakingly brushed flecks of mauve on the ivory tea roses of a cake topper. Her hand was steady and sure even as I hovered impatiently waiting for Maria to grasp the magnitude of what I just said.

  “So?” Maria’s lack of recognition was staggering. “So, I could have married him!”

  “And I could have married Mario Spinelli. Big deal.”

  Someone wanted to marry Maria? What kind of masochist was this Mario?

  I threw up my hands in defeat. Leave it to Maria to upstage my reunion with Neil. “Wait a minute. Who’s Mario Spinelli?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Okay, fair enough. But why didn’t you want to marry him?”

  “He didn’t pick the right cake,” Maria drawled sarcastically and then laughed at me.

  “How long did you go out with this Mario?”

  Maria ignored my question and continued dipping the paintbrush into the small pools of food coloring.

  “What kind of wedding cake did Mario want?”

  “I’m sorry, did you miss the part where I said we didn’t get married?”

  “Well, Neil picked the same almond cake with raspberry filling and chocolate ganache that I’ve been saving for myself.”

  “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  I hadn’t gotten that far. I was still digesting the fact that five minutes ago Neil was practically asking me to run away with him.

  “Are you saying you think I should do something about it?” I asked. Maybe Maria was right, maybe I shouldn’t just let Neil walk off with Julie to start a new life. Maybe there was a reason he showed up on my doorstep after eight years – or at least the doorstep of my boutique.

  Maria shook her head and let out a frustrated sigh. “Go home, Lauren,” she instructed. “I think you’re getting delusional.”

  I wasn’t delusional. In fact, I may have been thinking clearly for the first time in a long while.

  Chapter 10

  “Tonight’s the night,” Robin sounded almost giddy on the other end of the phone.

  “For what?”

  “Phase Two of Operation Save Paige – the intervention. Paige is frustrated she didn’t find a dress at Filene’s and we’ve got to strike when she’s most vulnerable.”

  Robin was sounding more and more like she was orchestrating a coup.

  “But I’ve got another dat
e with Charlie tonight.” Yes, my life was feast or famine. For eight years Neil could have showed up and picked my cake, but instead he decided to reveal himself when a non- committal divorce attorney wanted to start dating me. Even though Neil’s taste in cakes was frighteningly similar to mine, there was no way I cutting Charlie loose. Especially now that I’d told him I was above worrying about the marriage thing. The timing would look too coincidental. Besides, I hadn’t figured out what I was going to do about Neil. There had to be an explanation for the cake – maybe Maria put him up to it.

  “Oh, well, in that case, forget it,” Robin’s abrupt tone was dripping in sarcasm. “When Paige is headed to divorce court with two children on her hip and years of her life down the tubes, I’ll just tell her that we could have prevented all her pain, but Lauren had a date.”

  “Fine, you’re right. So what are we doing for this intervention?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low so Maria couldn’t hear what I was saying. Maria looked like she was concentrating on creating the six satin sugar roses needed for the Murphy’s cake topper, but I noticed she had an ear cocked in my direction.

  “I’ve got it all planned out,” Robin assured me. “We’ll tell Paige about your theory and what you noticed when they were picking out a cake. Then we’ll tell her that you knew about Mark and me, blah, blah, and then we let her know that we don’t want her making the same mistake.”