by Jessica Beck
“Hello, Peg. Come by for a donut?”
She looked at them for a second with longing. “No, I’m afraid I’ve decided to cut back on my sweets intake. They play havoc with my figure, you know.”
“Not even a lemon-filled one?” I asked wickedly. They were Peg’s downfall, and she usually ordered them from me by the dozen.
She looked tempted to break her abstinence, and I felt ashamed for my little jab, so I was more than a little upset with myself when she said, “Oh, why not? What’s one going to hurt? You know, I’ve never been able to resist these little devils, even if I could stand to lose a pound or two.”
More like forty or fifty, I thought to myself, again rather unkindly. Peg just seemed to bring out the worst in me, and I wasn’t all that proud of it.
As she wolfed down the donut, I asked, “What can I do for you?”
She tapped the clipboard again. “I’m still not sure about your exhibition. You assure me that it’s going to be keeping in tone with the rest of the tour, correct?”
Now that she was firing back at me, I wasn’t nearly as amused as I had been before. “Peg, I know you’re not thrilled that Marge asked me to demonstrate donuts, but you really shouldn’t be so narrow-minded. Donuts have been around since biblical times, they’ve been some of the favorite treats of presidents, and they’re eaten all over the world. You really should respect them for their contributions to the world’s happiness.”
She rolled her eyes, and I knew it was a lost cause. “What exactly are you making tomorrow? It’s the first day of the tour, and much will depend on how well it is received by the visitors who come tomorrow.”
“I’ve been thinking about starting with beignets. You’ll have to try one. They’re delicious.”
Peg frowned, then studied her clipboard again. “I have you down for donuts, which is fairly obvious since you own a donut shop. Why the change in offerings?” She added with a bite, “Unless simple donuts aren’t good enough for you.”
“A beignet is a donut, Peg,” I said, trying to keep my temper in check. I didn’t care what she thought of me, but if she was looking for an excuse to scratch Marge from the tour, I wasn’t going to be the one who provided it. I’d been surprised to learn that Peg had allowed her rival a spot on the kitchen tour at all, and I had hoped that she’d finally put her petty jealousies behind her.
Apparently, that hope had been in vain.
Peg stared at me over the clipboard. “Whatever. Don’t let all of us running the tour down, Suzanne.”
“My part of it will be perfect,” I said.
“Let’s hope so,” Peg said as she walked out the door, getting the last word in yet again.
I had one minute left before closing, but I couldn’t face the idea of Peg popping back inside with “one more thing.” I didn’t think I could greet her again without screaming. The shop was empty, so I flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and started to dead-bolt the door.
Then I saw Max, my good-looking—though less than loyal—ex-husband come running up the street toward my door.
I was in no mood to deal with him at the moment.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” I said, as I pointed to the sign.
As he tapped his watch, Max grinned at me with the same smile that used to melt my heart. “I’ve got two minutes. You don’t want to turn a hungry man away, do you?”
I thought about doing just that, but was it really worth having him complain all over April Springs that I’d locked him out on purpose?
I flipped the sign back and unlocked the door.
As he rushed in, I said, “Your watch is slow. You’ve got thirty seconds, and then I’m throwing you out.”
“I just need twenty,” he said.
“Donuts?”
“Seconds.” He surveyed what was left in the case behind the counter. I never keep donuts overnight. I either give them to the church for folks who could use a treat, or I take them around the county to businesses who might like them enough to become regular customers. Today it was going to be a donation. I’d been working so hard at perfecting the beignets and some of the other donut recipe possibilities for the tour that I was in no mood to put on a smile and hand out donuts and business cards.
“I’ll take them all,” Max said.
“My, you are hungry,” I said as I started boxing up the three-and-a-half-odd dozen donuts left in the display.
“It’s for my theater troupe,” he said.
“What’s on tap this time? I have to admit that I enjoyed your rendition of West Side Story.” Max was a sometime-employed actor. He worked nationally just enough to get a commercial now and then so he could keep solvent, but his true love was directing. When he couldn’t get anyone to pay him to do it, he volunteered at the senior center and put on plays whose only common thread was the need for young actors. It had been a running joke around town until folks had seen West Side Story, and now everyone was looking forward to his latest offering.
Max leaned over and looked at me with those gorgeous brown eyes of his. As he ran his hand through his thick auburn hair, I knew he was too handsome for his own good, and yet I still felt a tug from his attention.
He whispered, “It’s still a secret, but I can trust you. We’re working on Romeo and Juliet.”
I laughed out loud at that one. “Variations on a theme, wouldn’t you say?”
“What can I say? They insisted, and I couldn’t very well disagree, since they’re paying me for this production.”
“Max,” I said harshly, “you’re not taking advantage of the seniors, are you?”
He shook his head. “No way. They’re using some of the proceeds from the last show. You have no idea how much we took in.”
“I still think you should volunteer your time,” I said.
“Only if you promise to supply us with free donuts.”
He had me there. I couldn’t afford to give away my products on a daily basis any more than he could always donate his time and expertise.
Just to tweak him, though, I slid the boxes across the counter to him and said, “Done. Now give them back your salary.”
He frowned. “Suzanne, are you serious?”
“I am for today. I’ll give up the profit on these if you donate today’s salary back to the seniors.”
“I can do that,” Max said grudgingly.
I put a hand on the stack of boxes. “That’s what you say now, but how am I going to know that you’ll actually follow through on it?”
“Come with me if you don’t believe me,” he said. “You can see for yourself.”
I let go of the boxes. “No, I’ll just have to trust you this time.”
Max made no move to leave, though. “Now if I could just get you to forgive me for my mistake, we could be good again.”
“Is that what you’re calling Darlene these days?” His tumble with her was the main reason we’d split up, and I still felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up whenever I saw her around town.
“I keep telling you. There’s nothing going on between us,” he said.
“I’ve heard that record playing before,” I said. “Good-bye, Max.”
“Bye, Suze.”
He knew I hated his pet name for me, but I was too tired to fight about it. I let him out, locked the door, then saw Emma come out through the kitchen.
“Is he gone?”
“Now you’re afraid of Max?” I asked.
Her face reddened slightly. “I was trying to give you two some privacy.”
I laughed bitterly, “You shouldn’t have bothered. There’s nothing between us anymore, and you know it.”
She shrugged. “I still didn’t want to interrupt you. I’m finished in the back. Are you ready to leave?”
I stifled a yawn as I said, “I’d love to, but I’ve still got a stack of invoices sitting on my desk, and if I don’t write the checks, we can’t make the donuts. I’ve been spending far too much time perfecting my beignets.”
She wip
ed the front counter with her dishrag and said, “Suzanne, for once, just go home. Those bills can wait until next week, can’t they?”
“I suppose so,” I admitted. “You know what, Emma? You’re absolutely right. Let’s both go home.”
She looked surprised by my compliance, then smiled and said, “There you go. That’s the spirit.”
I turned off the lights, then dead-bolted the door as we left.
Out on the sidewalk in front of the shop, I said, “See you tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” Emma said. “You get to sleep in, remember?”
“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to, I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”
Emma started toward her car, then turned back to me and grinned. “I’ve got a feeling it will come back to you pretty fast.”
“If you need me, don’t be afraid to call me on my cell phone,” I said.
“Not a chance. Mom and I have it covered.”
I nodded, then got into my Jeep and headed home. Gabby Williams had been out front, no doubt waiting to snare me into her gossiping trap, but I didn’t have the time or the inclination to hear what she had to say today. I was going home to grab a quick nap, then I was going to find something fun to do. I needed a break. I’d been stressing out since Marge had asked me to cook for her, and tomorrow, I’d be put to the test.
I just hoped it was one I could pass.
I drove my Jeep home, hoping for a peaceful evening, but doubting I’d get it. After I’d found Max in bed with Darlene, I’d run home to my mother, and I hadn’t left her house in the years since. We lived on the edge of the April Springs city park in a bungalow that sometimes felt two sizes too small for the both of us. Mostly we’d hammered out a good living arrangement, and I had to admit that it was nice to have someone to come home to, even if it was just my mother. It would be good to talk to her today about the pressure I was feeling from tomorrow’s show. She’d find a way to reassure me.
To my surprise, the house was deserted.
After looking around the house, I found a note on the kitchen table, propped up against the mallard duck napkin holder my dad had made a few months before he died.
The note said, “Gone to Union Square. Back late. Fend for yourself for dinner.”
I didn’t really feel like eating by myself. If Jake were anywhere near April Springs, I’d call him, but he was working a case on the Outer Banks, as far away as he could go and still be in North Carolina. I grabbed my cell phone and called Grace Gauge, who was my best friend, even if she was three pounds within her ideal body weight while I hadn’t seen mine since elementary school. Grace was a sales rep for a national cosmetics company, and her hours were extremely flexible, something that worked perfectly with my own odd work schedule.
She picked up on the second ring. “Hey, where are you?”
“I’m in Charlotte, stuck in traffic. Where are you?”
“I’m home, and without anyone to eat with tonight. Any chance you want to grab something with me? It’s my treat.”
Grace said, “Suzanne, how can you be that sure I don’t already have plans?”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Do you have a big date or something?”
Grace laughed, then said, “No, but I was just wondering how you’d know that. Actually, dinner sounds great.” I heard a horn honking in the background, and she added, “No matter how many times I come to Charlotte, I always seem to get lost.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “How does five o’clock sound? Will you be back in town in time?” One of the problems with my donut shop’s operating hours was that I could never eat at six or seven, like most folks in town. With a bedtime at eight, it didn’t leave a great deal of time for regular dating, not that it had been an issue with Jake’s crazy schedule.
She paused long enough to blow her own horn, then said, “I tell you what. I’ll leave right now. That way I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“Don’t do it on my account. As soon as we hang up, I plan to take a nap, then grab a quick shower before we go.”
Grace said, “Maybe I’ll make a few more calls, then. I’ll see you at five. And Suzanne?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for calling. I was just teasing before.”
“I know that,” I said. “See you soon.”
After we got off the phone, I thought about taking a shower before I laid down, but that would probably just wake me up, and what I needed at the moment more than anything else was a nap. I’d have to live with the smell of donuts in my hair and on my clothes for now. Honestly, I’d grown so accustomed to the scent that I barely noticed it anymore.
Instead of going up to my room to sleep though, I sprawled out on the couch, feeling decadent grabbing an afternoon nap. I was looking forward to dinner with Grace. It had been too long since we’d just hung out together, and I’d missed it. Maybe I’d splurge and take her to Napoli’s, the place Jake and I liked to eat whenever he was in town.
For background noise, I flipped on the television, stopped on a station with a benign infomercial before dropping the sound next to nothing, and found myself quickly drifting off to sleep.
A persistent knock on the door brought me out of my deep sleep, and as I jolted upright on the couch, I felt disoriented for just a second. I glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel as I got up, and saw that it was two minutes after five.
Grace was at the door, dressed in her work attire, a suit that was worth more than my entire wardrobe. In my opinion, one of the joys of owning a donut shop was not having to dress up for work, but my friend differed. Sometimes I think she worked just to support her clothes habit.
Grace’s smile faded slightly as I opened the door, still rubbing my eyes.
She said, “I woke you, didn’t I? Have you been asleep the entire time?”
I nodded. “Sorry, it’s been a hard week. I’ve been putting in some extra hours at the shop practicing my beignets.”
“Suzanne, let’s do this another time. You must be exhausted.”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t felt this good in months. Give me six minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Where are we eating?” she asked.
“I thought Napoli’s might be fun. Like I said before, it’s my treat.”
“That nap did do you good, if you’re really willing to pick up the check at a place like that.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Just for that, you’re not having dessert.”
She put a hand over her heart. “I’ll manage, somehow.” Grace glanced at her watch, then said, “You’d better get moving. You’re on the clock.”
“It might not be six minutes exactly,” I said as I headed for the stairs.
She tapped the face of her watch. “One second too long, and I get dessert after all. Something decadent, I think, and I might not share.”
“If you do, I promise to take seven or eight minutes instead.”
“That’s a deal. Now shoo.”
I went upstairs, took a lightning-fast shower, then picked out a decent outfit to wear so it wouldn’t look like Grace was slumming by eating with me. I owned one really good dress, something I’d bought at Gabby’s secondhand clothing shop, but I wasn’t about to dress that nicely. I’d worn it out with Jake a few times, but I didn’t feel like wearing it with Grace now.
As I came down the stairs, Grace was frowning.
I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“You beat the clock by thirteen seconds,” she said.
“Then cheer up. In honor of my quickness, we’ll get a dessert to celebrate.”
“I’m feeling better already,” she said. “Do you mind if I drive?”
“You’re not a big fan of my Jeep, are you?”
She shrugged. “It’s fine sometimes, but I like riding in my BMW better.”
“Fine, if you’re willing to drive, I’m willing to ride in your fancy car.”
A
s we drove to Union Square—a town thirty minutes away from April Springs—Grace asked, “So, are you excited about the big event tomorrow?”
“I am, but it’s tempered with equal parts of nervousness and anxiety. The kitchen home tour is a pretty big deal.”
“You’re telling me. Don’t forget why you’re doing it.”
“I know, it’s a favor for a friend.”
She shook her head. “I mean the bigger reason. It should raise a lot of money for the town. At first I thought twenty dollars a ticket was a little high for April Springs, but from what I’ve heard, the tour’s almost sold out for the first weekend.”
“I didn’t need to hear that,” I said. “I’m jittery enough as it is.”
“Suzanne, you make the best donuts in our part of North Carolina. I’m sure whatever you make will be wonderful.”
I started to tell her beignets were on the menu first, but she stopped me. “Don’t say another word. I want to be surprised when I walk into Marge’s kitchen next weekend. She must be an absolute wreck. Marge Rankin isn’t exactly the socializing kind, is she?”
“She’s trying. This is her way of coming out into April Springs society now that she’s inherited some money. To be honest with you, I think she used the idea of a kitchen tour as an excuse to gut her old layout and replace everything. It’s absolutely stunning now,” I said.
“I’m excited to see it,” Grace said. “I won’t be able to come this weekend, though. I’ve got a quick trip for business I have to make, and I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Another one of those resort sales meetings?” I asked.
She smiled as she explained, “I can’t help it if they’re mandatory. We’re going to the beach, and I don’t play golf, so after the meeting, I plan to do a little shopping.”
“I wish I could come with you.”
“You know you’re always welcome,” she said, “if you can ever leave that shop of yours.”
After a few minutes, Grace glanced over at me and asked, “So, is Peg Masterson driving you crazy?”
