Pupcakes

by Annie England Noblin

  “I didn’t know that,” Brydie said, feeling her chest tighten. “I just wanted to give her a good day. She was so upset when I mentioned it and the nurse said it wasn’t a great idea, and I just thought . . . I just thought she might enjoy herself for a little while.”

  “Of course you didn’t know,” he replied. “She doesn’t want you to know. She doesn’t want anybody to know, and I can’t say that I blame her.”

  “I can take her back right now,” Brydie replied.

  “No,” Nathan said, his tone softening. “Let her stay. She seems to be having a good time.”

  “I think she is.”

  “I’ll call Dr. Sower myself when I get home,” Nathan said. “I’ll tell her that it’s my fault about the paperwork, because I know just as well as you do that it was never filed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But don’t do it again,” he continued. “They could take away your visiting privileges, and that would devastate Mrs. Neumann.”

  “It really did seem like a good idea at the time,” Brydie said.

  “As a doctor, I have to say it was a terrible idea,” Nathan replied. “As a person who hopes to have dinner with you on Friday, I have to admit that I think it was a rather kind thing you did.”

  Brydie grinned and looked back over at Pauline. MaryAnn had settled her onto the couch, and she was busy talking to a woman around her age with two miniature dachshunds on her lap. They were wearing matching sweaters. “I think she’s really enjoying herself.”

  “I’m sure she misses it,” Nathan said. “Living at home and being able to see her friends and go out. It’s one of the hardest parts of assisted living, especially when they live like she does, without a lot of visitors.”

  “Are you coming back to the party anytime soon?” Myriah asked Nathan, cutting into their conversation. She curled her fingers around one of his biceps.

  Brydie narrowed her eyes at the other woman. Myriah wasn’t Cassandra and Nathan wasn’t Allan, but it didn’t matter. Memories back to that time in her not-so-distant past were still right there, waiting to be used against people she barely knew. She wondered if Nathan was interested in Myriah just a little more than he let on. Why wouldn’t he like her? She was sleek and put together. She, at least, looked like she belonged here, with her French-manicured nails and shiny hair, and the yoga pants Brydie was sure were from Lululemon and not from the bargain bin at Target.

  “So we’re still on for Friday?” Brydie asked, unable to keep from saying it in front of Myriah.

  Nathan nodded. “Yep. Myriah has already agreed to dog-sit while we’re out.”

  Brydie smiled at Myriah, trying to be as genuine as possible. “Sounds great.”

  Myriah unfurled her fingers from Nathan’s arm and smiled back. “Of course. I have a test to study for anyway. I always study better at Nathan’s.”

  Before Brydie could respond, MaryAnn stood up and announced, “It’s such a gorgeous day outside! Let’s go out and let the dog games commence! The winner of each game will receive a framed eighty-by-ten of Thor as a prize!”

  “We’d better get outside,” Nathan said, grinning at both women. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on that framed picture.”

  THREE HOURS LATER, Pauline and Brydie were headed back to the Germantown Retirement Village with not one but two framed pictures of Thor. Brydie had no idea what she was going to do with them, but MaryAnn had kindly suggested she hang them in the living room.

  “The party was so much fun,” Pauline said. “Even if we did have to take home pictures of Thor.”

  Brydie grinned. “I’m glad we got to go.”

  “Me too,” Pauline replied. “I do miss going home sometimes. I miss sitting on my couch. I miss watching television without nurses coming in to check my blood pressure. I miss having Teddy there with me all the time.”

  Brydie wasn’t sure what to say. She wished all of those things for Pauline, too, and she wanted to do more to help her. “Is there anything I could bring to you from your house to make it better?”

  Pauline was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. After a while, she said, “There are a couple of quilts in the closet in my bedroom. Maybe you could bring them next time?”

  “Of course,” Brydie replied. “Is there anything else?”

  “No,” Pauline said. “Not anything you can get to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” Pauline replied, turning her head and looking out the window. “The blankets will do just fine.”

  “Pauline,” Brydie said, reaching over with one hand to touch the old woman. “Why don’t you have any pictures up in your house?”

  “What?”

  “Pictures,” Brydie repeated. “There aren’t any on the walls. There aren’t any sitting around.”

  “I don’t like clutter,” Pauline said.

  Brydie knew this wasn’t true. Pauline’s house, while immaculate, wasn’t immune to clutter. She had knickknacks everywhere. She took a deep breath and said, “A shelf collapsed in your basement the other night. It woke me up from a dead sleep.”

  “How do you know it was a shelf?”

  “The door to the basement was locked,” Brydie said. “But I found the key. I wouldn’t have gone down there except for the crash.”

  “The basement was locked for a reason,” Pauline replied. “I don’t want anyone down there.”

  “But there was a mess.”

  “It could have waited.”

  “For what?”

  Pauline turned and looked at Brydie. Her eyes were wet around the rims, but her mouth was set in a firm, ugly line. “I don’t want anybody snooping in my basement,” she said. “You had no business going down there.”

  “I wasn’t snooping,” Brydie protested. She turned into the parking lot of the nursing home. “I was trying to clean up a mess. It would have stunk up your whole house if I hadn’t cleaned it up.”

  “You had no business going down there,” Pauline repeated. “No business.”

  Brydie sighed. This was getting her nowhere, and now Pauline was upset with her. “I didn’t know you didn’t want me down there,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t go down there again.”

  Brydie didn’t want to promise that she wouldn’t go back down there, especially since she had an entire album of photos that she’d brought upstairs—photos that she now knew for sure that Pauline didn’t want her to see.

  “Did you hear me?” Now Pauline was turned fully in her seat. The lipstick she’d applied on the drive over was now settling in the fine lines around her mouth. “Don’t go back down there.”

  “I won’t,” Brydie said, despite herself. “I won’t, I promise.”

  CHAPTER 24

  IT WAS MONDAY NIGHT, AND BRYDIE WAS RUNNING LATE. She’d gotten caught in traffic and was already fifteen minutes behind schedule by the time she pulled into the parking lot at ShopCo.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Brydie said, hurrying to the bakery, her eyes scanning the scene for Joe. “I ran into traffic.”

  “Joe just went to the back to look for you,” Rosa replied, her voice sympathetic.

  Brydie sighed. “I guess I better go back there and find him. I need to clock in anyway.”

  “Good luck!” Rosa called after her. “He’s on a roll tonight!”

  Brydie could have kicked herself for thinking she could sleep an extra fifteen minutes that evening. Time management had never been her forte, and now, by the time she got to the back to find Joe, she was going to be twenty-five minutes late.

  Joe was standing by the time clock, his big arms crossed over one another. “Where have you been?” he demanded when he saw her.

  “I’m sorry,” Brydie huffed. She was out of breath from traipsing all the way from the bakery. “I hit traffic at Midtown.”

  Joe pulled at the fabric of her T-shirt, moving her over to the side and closer to him. “Listen,” he whispered, bending down so that he was eye level with
her. “I’m going to yell at you, and I need you to act like you’re upset. Got it?”

  “What?”

  “Do. You. Understand.”

  Brydie nodded.

  “I thought I told you when I hired you that it was unacceptable for you to be late!” he bellowed. “And what, now you’ve worked here a month and a half and think that you can just show up whenever you fucking feel like it?”

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Brydie stuttered. She felt her face grow hot as two employees scurried past them. “I hit traffic. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he said. “You’re an adult.”

  Brydie had to bite back the urge to argue with him. If this was his fake anger, she sure didn’t want to be on the other side of any actual anger. Being scolded for burning cookies her first week had been enough for her to last a lifetime. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “One more time, and I’ll fire your ass. You got me?”

  “I got you.”

  “Good,” Joe replied. “Now clock in, and make it quick.”

  “Okay,” Brydie said. She pulled out her time card from her purse as Joe stalked out of the back room.

  Joe was waiting for Brydie when she emerged. He was still scowling, but he no longer appeared angry, real or otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he said to her under his breath as they walked. “I just got my ass reamed for not taking my job seriously enough. I needed to do something to show I’m still an asshole.”

  “You’re the most serious person I know,” Brydie said. She meant it. She didn’t know anybody who took his job as seriously as Joe.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I normally wouldn’t give you such a hard time for being late.”

  “I really am sorry.”

  “Don’t let it become a habit,” Joe replied.

  “I won’t.”

  “I like you,” he continued. “You work well with Rosa and Lillie. I’ll try my best to keep you after the holidays are over.”

  “You really look after them, don’t you?” Brydie asked.

  “They’re not blood,” Joe said. “But they’re family all the same.”

  A FEW HOURS later, Brydie watched Lillian working. Her concentration on the cake in front of her was amazing. She never looked up, never got distracted, and never made a mistake. Brydie wasn’t sure if she ever saw her take a bathroom break or eat or even sit down. She admired the way Rosa took care of Lillian, not overbearing, but never too far away, ready to refill the icing or move a finished cake to its plastic container.

  “How do you know when Lillian is done with a cake?” Brydie asked Rosa. “She never says anything to you, does she?”

  Rosa shook her head. “No, she doesn’t have to say anything,” she said. “I know when she’s done, because when she works, she hums a bit. It’s very quiet, and I’m sure you haven’t noticed it. But I know that when she stops humming, she’s done.”

  “Does she talk to you at home?” Brydie asked. She didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Sometimes,” Rosa replied. “She’s certainly more open. She has a personality that most people don’t see. She’s just . . . my Lillian.”

  Joe walked past them and over to Lillian, bending over slightly to see her work. “That’s the best damn turkey on a cake I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “Language,” Rosa scolded, but she was smiling.

  Brydie felt like an interloper watching an intimate conversation, and she thought about what Joe said to her about Rosa and Lillian being family. It really did seem like they took care of each other. Brydie felt an unfamiliar pang of longing for something similar.

  “Go back and check on those cupcakes,” Joe said to Brydie, turning around to face her. “We need to get at least four more dozen finished before the end of the night.”

  Brydie went into the back to check on the cupcakes. She pulled them out and started on the next batch. She wanted to feel like she belonged here, with the people that she worked with at ShopCo. She wanted to do something nice for them, especially for Joe.

  “Hey,” she said when she emerged from the back room. “What are you three doing for Thanksgiving?”

  “Sleeping,” Joe grunted. “ShopCo is closed that day. I’m going to sleep all day long. It’s tradition.”

  “But I’m going to be cooking Thanksgiving dinner at my house. My best friend and her family are coming. I thought maybe you all would like to come, too,” Brydie said. “Maybe you could make a new tradition?”

  “Lillie and I usually just go to Denny’s,” Rosa replied. “It’s too much trouble to cook a huge dinner for just the two of us.”

  “You won’t have to bring anything,” Brydie said. “Just yourselves.”

  “We’d love to come,” Rosa said. “And bring something.”

  “I’m sleeping,” Joe repeated. “All day.”

  “Joe, you cannot be serious,” Rosa replied. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “And I’m thankful to be asleep. Alone. In my apartment. Not talking to anyone.”

  “I’d really like it if you’d come,” Brydie said.

  Joe looked at Rosa and Brydie, the permanent scowl on his face fading ever so slightly. “Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “But I don’t want any of you dragging ass once we open back up because you’re too full of turkey to work.”

  “Language!” Brydie and Rosa said in unison.

  CHAPTER 25

  BY MIDWEEK, BRYDIE FELT AS IF SHE’D TRIED EVERY SINGLE dog treat recipe available on Pinterest. She spent her mornings and her money perusing ShopCo for ingredients before coming home to spend a few hours baking. Some of her ideas she got from work, trying out dog-friendly versions of the cookies they baked, but most of her ideas came from the Internet, and she was beginning to understand what Elliott meant when she talked about a Pinterest fail. Who had time to create organic virgin coconut oil dog paws with every single essential daily vitamin that a dog needed? She hadn’t even known dogs needed vitamins until two days ago, and Teddy was less than thrilled with the glucosamine supplements she’d bought. He’d spit them right back out at her the first morning, five times, until she wrapped them in a piece of cheese. Didn’t wrapping them in cheese defeat the whole purpose?

  Brydie looked around the kitchen. She’d gotten a surprise call from the guy named Lloyd she’d met at Thor’s party, who’d gotten her number from MaryAnn. He wanted a trial run of a few treats before booking her to bake for Alice’s party, and Brydie had been forced to reassure him that Sasha and Teddy would be nowhere within licking distance of Alice when she delivered the treats. So far, she’d baked cinnamon apple treats, sweet potato treats, and a zucchini vegetarian treat that was supposed to be hypoallergenic, whatever that meant, since Lloyd had reminded her that Alice had a very delicate digestive system. She’d also created a strawberry and banana smoothie dog bone that had to be kept frozen.

  She was proud of herself, she had to admit. Sure, the kale and apple treats hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned, and neither had the chicken meatball treats, but the trial and error was fun.

  CHAPTER 26

  IT WAS FRIDAY NIGHT, AND BRYDIE WAS NERVOUS. SHE DIDN’T know what to wear, she didn’t know where they were going, and right that second, she didn’t know if she wanted to get dressed or crawl back into bed for the next fifteen years.

  She wanted to call Elliott and ask her to come over, but Elliott was at a dinner with some of Leo’s clients.

  Brydie was on her own.

  Staring at her closet, she had no idea what to wear. Hanging out at Nathan’s house or at the dog park was one thing. Going out for an actual dinner at a restaurant was another. Picking out clothes had never been her strong point. She’d wear jeans and a baggy T-shirt every day if she thought she could get away with it. She’d tried to be a fashionista like her mother or Elliott, but creating outfits just wasn’t something that clicked with her brain. She was much more like her father in that way, in ever
y way, really, and she found herself missing him. He couldn’t have given her fashion advice, but he would have said something hilarious and insightful to put her at ease. That was what she missed the most—just talking to him.

  Brydie thought about the tender way Nathan had held her hand at the park, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Talking to him had become something she looked forward to almost as much as seeing him. Tonight, however, she didn’t want to spend all of her time regaling him with stories about her past. Tonight, she wanted everything to be about the present.

  She pulled out a red strappy dress from the closet. It was something her mother had bought her just after her divorce, when Ruth Benson was still enticing her daughter to move on from Allan and enjoy her life. Brydie had shoved it to the back of her closet and forgotten about it.

  It was a little too chilly to wear it alone, but with a pair of boots and a jacket, she thought, maybe it could look cute. She wiggled into the dress and pulled from the closet a pair of black boots that came up just past her knees and a gauzy black cardigan. When she went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, Brydie was surprised at how good she looked. Her hair was glossy and fell perfectly around her face. Her skin, which sometimes felt greasy and uneven after spending so much time in a kitchen, seemed to glow. She looked like she was ready for a night out in a big city with a sexy doctor.

  Teddy, however, looked like he was ready for a night of sleeping at the foot of Brydie’s bed. “Sorry, buddy,” she said, slipping the harness over him. “But you’re going to have to snore and fart in someone else’s house tonight.”

  AN HOUR LATER, Brydie found herself sitting on Nathan’s couch with Myriah, the dog sitter, waiting for him to come home.

  “He said he wouldn’t be more than twenty minutes late,” Myriah said, giving Brydie a sympathetic smile. “You look really pretty.”

  “Thanks,” Brydie replied. She watched Sasha chew on Teddy’s ear as he slept. “And it’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for a little while. I know his work isn’t really something he can walk away from.”