by K. P. Hilton
Betty quickly went to the front of the house. She peered out the window in time to see Brianna driving off with Martha Holt's son who lived across town.
“I'm so stupid,” she said, smacking her palm against her forehead. “A boy. That's what this is all about. Why didn't I see that to begin with?” Betty knew she had her work cut out for her. It wouldn't be easy getting her daughter back on track, but at least now she knew what she was up against. In a battle of wills, Betty felt certain that she would come out on top.
She was, after all, tenacious.
Chapter 4
When Betty returned to the shop she found Camden and David still hard at work. Since it was after noon, she suggested they go ahead and break for lunch. They went in the back and pulled sandwiches from the refrigerator they'd brought along with several bottles of water. Betty sat out front, still thinking about Brianna, when a man and a woman walked in.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Toby Sanders,” the man said, extending a hand. “From the newspaper. This is Debra Harrington. Our photographer as well as one of the copy editors.”
For the second time that day, Betty smacked herself in the forehead. “Of course. We had an appointment. My apologies. It's been a hectic morning.”
“Not a problem,” said Toby with a smile. “Happens to all of us from time to time.”
Debra shook Betty's hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Likewise,” Debra replied.
Motioning to a pair of chairs, Betty said, “Won't you sit down?”
Everyone sat. Toby took a look around as he took out a tape recorder, a small pad and a pen. “Hope you don't mind the digital recorder,” he said. “I'll be making notes as we go, but this helps with quotes when I'm writing my stories.”
“That's fine,” Betty said, nodding. A second later, she added, “Before we get started, there's something you should know. Unless something happens, and fast, there's a chance we're not going to be open next Monday as planned. I mention this since originally you said your feature article would run the same day as the opening.”
Toby shrugged and gave Betty another smile. “But you still plan to open at some point, though, right?”
Betty's eyes grew wide. “Oh heavens, yes. I don't know what it'll take, but I've come too far to give up now.”
“That being the case, let's get started,” Toby said. “I'll ask you a series of questions. Just answer them in your own words.”
Betty nodded. She liked the young man's demeanor. He was confidant and had a way of talking that put her at ease. A definite plus, considering all that had been going on in the past twenty-four hours.
“First off, are you a native of Yellow Rose?”
“Yes. Mama's from New Braunfels and Daddy was born in Kingsbury, a small farming community. They retired there a few years ago after his stroke. They originally moved to town here, hmm, think it was sixty years ago or so, shortly after they were married.” Betty left out the part about them meeting at a honky tonk, figuring that detail unimportant as well as being nobody's business.
After a few more basic background questions, Toby said, “What made you decide to go into the baking business?”
Betty rubbed at a smudge on the table's surface where she sat. “Well, years ago I read an article that said people here in the U.S. were asked what word they thought of when they heard the word 'cake.' The majority answered with 'guilt.' They asked the same question to people in other countries including France. Know what the people there said?”
Both Toby and Debra shook their heads.
“'Celebration,'" Betty said. “Isn't that something? I'd like to help people who enjoy cake associate the experience with something positive and uplifting. I'm not going to change the world, but if I can affect the lives of even a handful of people here in the community, that'd be nice.”
Toby nodded as he scribbled into his notepad.
“And if I can make a living and support myself, that'd be nice, too,” Betty added with a wink. Toby gave a short laugh as he continued writing.
“Being able to pay the bills is no small thing,” Debra said with a knowing nod. “Like you, I'm single and could use some extra support. Let me know if you ever decide to hire a taste tester,” she said, giving Betty a grin.
Toby coughed and glanced impatiently at his watch. “We understand you're still in the process of setting everything up, but do you mind if Debra goes ahead and takes some photos?” he asked Betty. “We'll take a handful of interior shots, several exterior, and one of you if that's okay.”
“Oh, all right. I'm a bit of a mess. But maybe you can use some computer magic to make me look better.”
“Nonsense,” Debra said. “You look great, Betty. How about there behind the counter?”
“Okay,” Betty replied, checking her hair and makeup as best she could off the refection from the glass counter.
Debra positioned Betty and took a handful of shots. When they were done, Betty showed her and Toby the area where Camden and David were working. Debra took some more photos while Betty finished talking with Toby. Soon the pair were outside where Debra took the exterior pics. Then she and Toby left for their next assignment after once again thanking Betty for her time and wishing her much success with the store.
As they drove off, Betty suddenly realized she hadn't offered them any baking samples. She had several she'd cooked the day before plus the test cake she'd done that morning. She decided against smacking herself in the head again, since she could already feel a headache building inside of her.
Chapter 5
Toby Sanders froze in front of the doorway, tired from a long day at the newspaper. Molly couldn't still be awake, he thought. Even though he knew she couldn’t be, he held out hope that he’d find her up and waiting for him. As soon as he walked through the front door, a shadow stretched across his face. No lights shone in any of the rooms. Plates were on the kitchen table and a curl of smoke rose from one of the wax candles in the middle.
His messenger bag slid off his shoulder and onto the couch. A muffled thud sounded throughout the house. That’s when a light went off, and the floor started to creak. Molly moved into the living room, the silver threads in her silk robe glimmering underneath the moonlight. There was still a large gap between them when she finally flipped on the lights.
“What’s with you sneaking in here every time you come home late?” she asked.
“Did I wake you?” Toby said.
“Don’t worry, I was barely asleep.”
Toby held his hand to his forehead as if he were checking for a fever.
“Sometimes I have to ask myself if I'm dreaming.”
Molly smiled, and her green eyes peeked from under her heavy bangs. She stepped toward her husband without saying another word. She reached out and slid his coat down his arms, dropping it over the nearest chair.
“No offense, babe. But if you were dreaming I certainly wouldn’t look like a disheveled mess like I do now.”
Toby loved messy. Especially in a woman who looked like she knew how to let go when it counted. After brushing her bangs from out of her eyes, he corrected her.
“Number one, you look perfect right now as you are. Number two, don’t forget rule number one,” he joked.
Molly laughed, shaking her head.
Toby couldn't help thinking about how she could do so much better. What did she ever see in a deadbeat like him? Her family hated him. Her father wished he was dead. The man couldn’t stand the thought of seeing his baby girl with some reporter who didn't make the money to shower her with everything she deserved.
“Why are you keeping it such a secret?” she asked, leaning in closer.
“What secret?” he asked, surprised.
“You hardly say anything about your work nowadays. You used to fill me in on everything you did.”
Toby shrugged. “When I come home I leave all of that stuff at the door where it belongs.”
“What do yo
u want me to do?” Molly said, throwing up her hands. “Take less of an interest in your work?”
“There’s nothing you need to do that you aren’t already doing,” he said.
Molly folded her arms, then quickly unfolded them and hit him square on the shoulder.
Toby shook his head.
“What was that for?”
Molly's turn to shrug. “It simply looked like you needed a good punch in the arm.”
Toby rubbed his shoulder, feeling a twinge of pain.
“That hurt,” he told her.
Molly smiled and hit him again. “Do something about it,” she teased.
She hopped out of her chair and switched on the lights in the other rooms. Toby chased her. His shoes scraped the face of the wooden floors as he ran. He could hear Molly laughing as she jumped over the couch.
“You won’t get away from me!” he shouted, attempting to grab her as she ran up the stairs.
She stopped short, smiling at him.
“You’re not too busy to watch a movie, are you?” she asked.
Her arm moved from behind her, a DVD in hand. It was one of those romance comedies, one Toby wouldn’t be watching if by himself. Before he reached the room, Molly had already tightly bundled up inside the covers.
She patted the bed on her left. “Saved a spot for you.”
In spite of what he thought about the two of them, he couldn't help but stare at her and then glance over at her rumpled robe tossed on the floor. Molly lay there bare, waiting.
“Mind cutting on the TV?” she asked. Her voice sultry and cool.
Toby pressed the button on the TV, moving closer toward the bed. His shadow passed over her body. Molly parted her lips and followed his gaze. His heart beat faster in his chest.
She pulled away the covers, revealing herself to her husband.
“Come here,” she whispered.
Toby slid his hand down the center of the bed, over the soft folds on the sheets. Molly reached over and pulled his wrists, resting her hands on his thigh. She closed in the space between them, as he breathed hard against her neck.
“Remember how we used to do this all day?” she asked as Toby bent forward to kiss her. She tasted like wine, and all his thoughts melted away.
She forcefully wrapped her thighs around his waist. Molly let out a moan when he pushed her down on the bed moving the covers out of his way. She clawed at his back, raking at him with her nails.
When they were done, a hush fell over the room as she collapsed onto the pillows. Gently, Molly rubbed Toby's forehead with ease.
As he looked down at her, he saw that she’d already fallen asleep. He didn’t really know what to make of what happened tonight. He'd been going over the problem again and again in his head. Leaving her would crush her. Molly truly loved him. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this in love with anyone. He had become an expert in keeping his emotions close to the vest, withdrawing quietly in a room and making it impossible for anyone to call his bluff.
She laid so close to him that he could feel her exhale on his neck. It was long past the time to tell her the truth. Keeping it secret this long was wrong. Enough problems already filled his plate. Breaking a woman’s heart didn’t need to be added to the list.
He removed her grip from around his torso, turning to reach the light. The lights flickered on as he gently shook her awake.
“Molly, there's something I need to tell you,” he began.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Betty was up at six. She did her usual thirty minute walk around the neighborhood, enjoying the solitude of the mostly empty streets as she did so. Another early riser, Mrs. Jenkins nodded a greeting as she approached from the opposite end of the sidewalk.
The canine owner held firm to the leash that Puddles, her Chihuahua, was attached to. The animal sniffed at random spots, and trotted along at a brisk pace apparently happy to be outside. The sun would be up soon, but for now illumination came from the street lights and houses with porch lights on. Returning home, Betty let herself in through the front, showered, put on fresh clothes, then started a pot of coffee.
Hungry, she mixed waffle batter in a large bowl as she pondered what to do about the bakery. She'd decided against a visit with Hank Blevins, and instead had called. She'd left a voicemail regarding the wiring for the building owner where her storefront was located late yesterday afternoon. He hadn't immediately called back, which didn't surprise Betty. Hank was a good man, but rarely responded to any given situation with a sense of urgency. She knew he'd return her call soon enough, though she would call again later in the day to keep things moving along.
There was a noise in the kitchen doorway. Brianna stumbled in and poured herself some coffee into a ceramic mug.
“Well, good morning,” Betty said as she plugged in the waffle iron. “Didn't expect to see you up this early. How'd the studying go at the library yesterday?”
Brianna frowned as see sipped her coffee. “I didn't go to the library. I spent the day with Ethan.”
Betty nodded and made no indication that she already knew this. “Oh?” she said as both reply and a prompt.
“He's going through some rough times, Mama. The drummer in his band quit so he and the other two guys in his group can't get gigs right now. Plus his van needs a new transmission and he doesn't have the money to fix it.”
“What about his day job?”
“His what?” Brianna asked.
I knew it. Trying not to sound too sarcastic, she said, “Day job. That thing other people have to pay their bills as they pursue other activities.”
“Oh, Mama,” Brianna said in an exasperated tone that only the young can make. “You don't understand. Ethan's got potential.”
Betty took in three deep breaths before the spots in her eyes dissipated. “That's...nice,” she said in a quiet tone. “But what he needs is a job. Better yet, a career.”
“He's got a career, Mama. He's a musician. He sings and plays guitar and writes his own songs. All he needs is a break. Like a really good music video that goes viral on the Internet.”
Betty shook her head and pulled two squares from the waffle maker. “Hungry?” she asked.
“A little,” Brianna said. Hearing a noise at the back door, she got up and undid the lock.
“Wait, before you let Zorro in make sure he doesn't have...”
The warning came two seconds too late. As the door cracked open, Betty's cat trotted in. In his mouth was a live mouse. The cat positioned the rodent underneath his paw against the floor and proudly looked up at Betty.
“Eww!” Brianna said. “Bad cat! Take that thing back outside.”
She tried herding the feline toward the door. Zorro gave a confused look, quickly scooped up the mouse in his mouth, and ran into the living area.
“That's why you check him at the door,” Betty said in an exasperated tone.” We've talked about this before. He likes to bring things he's caught inside to play with.”
“That's not the way it's supposed to work,” Brianna said, following Zorro's path into the living area. “Cats are supposed to catch things inside the house, then take them outside.”
Betty searched behind the sofa. “Like daughters, cats don't always do what they're supposed to.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need to pull your head out of your bottom, get back into school, and stop chasing losers.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Betty regretted them. But the stress of the last several days were beginning to wear on her.
Brianna froze, then turned and stormed down the hall into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Before Betty could follow, Zorro sauntered out from behind a chair and started cleaning himself.
“What did you do with the mouse?” Betty yelled, throwing her hands into the air. Zorro stared up at her with a blank look, then slowly walked into the kitchen and lapped at his water dish.
Betty's
cell phone rang and broke through her aggravation. It was Camden. She assumed he was already at the storefront working since he liked to start early each day on the projects he worked. She hesitated, thinking it might be bad news.
Her instincts were right.
“Betty?” the laborer said with hesitancy in his voice.
