Take the Cake (13 page)

Kate glanced at her watch as she nibbled at her own cake. The afternoon was well on its way, and she had been keeping a casual eye on the number of customers coming through. Wren and Emily seemed to be staying on top of things okay, and a quick look at the cabinet showed that they had enough cupcakes to see them through the afternoon.

“I’m sorry.” Michael’s voice broke into her train of thought. “Am I keeping you from work?”

Kate blinked as she detached herself from her mental running tally. “Not at all. I was just checking to make sure we had enough stock for the afternoon. It looks like the girls are doing fine,” she reassured him. “But what about you? Do you have to be back at work somewhere?”

“Nope, I’m a free agent most of the time.”

“Really? What is it that you do?” As soon as she asked, she regretted it. Michael’s expression became more composed, and he paused to lick his fingertips before he answered.

“I’m a writer,” he admitted.

“Wow,” Kate enthused. “Published?”

“Sometimes,” Michael replied. Modest by nature, he still had a hard time accepting praise for his work. It seemed strange that something that had come to him by accident should bring accolades and a very comfortable income. It was even harder to accept compliments when he had generated so little in recent times.

“Ah.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Going through hard times?”

“Something like that, but things are looking up.”

“Well, that’s good news then,” Kate answered, then bit into her cupcake. She was chewing contentedly when she noticed Michael was looking amused. “What?” she mumbled around a mouthful.

“You’ve got a little …” he began, and then reached forward. Kate paused and sat still as he gently cupped her chin and rubbed his thumb across her top lip. He held up his thumb long enough for her to see the smear of frosting, before he licked it off. She sat still, watching his tongue flicker over the pad of his thumb, and realized she wanted him to kiss her again. Saturday suddenly felt too far away.

Michael tasted the sweetness on his tongue before the sugar dissolved, and he stared at Kate’s pink lips. Her tongue darted out to moisten them, and it was all he could do not to haul her over the table and into his arms. Saturday was too far away.

“You know …” he began, then stopped and coughed as his words struggled against a throat that was suddenly tight. “We’ve got a few days until Saturday. How about I walk you home tonight?”

“Okay,” Kate ventured, licking her lips again. “I think I’d like that,” then added, “very much.”

They gave each other a shy smile of recognition. This time they were both aware that something was starting.

Chapter 9

Sweetness and Spice

It was with some relief that Kate saw the last customer for the afternoon leave the store. The day had finished on a quiet note, and she was pleased to see that Wren and Emily were well ahead of schedule. The two of them worked together like a well-oiled machine, finishing tasks and trading gossip and friendly insults like the old friends they were. Kate went outside and was just reaching up to take the chalkboard down from its hooks when someone grabbed her in a bear-hug from behind. She yipped with surprise, and then relaxed when she heard and felt the deep rumble of laughter. She was set down and she turned to see Paul beaming at her.

“Bear, you’re lucky I didn’t try and elbow you in the nuts.” She gave his shoulder a laughing swat.

“Good to see you too, sis.” He laughed, grabbing her in a headlock and ruffling her hair, a move he knew she hated. Kate protested and managed to squirm away from him, reaching up to smooth her hair in what she knew would be a futile gesture. Paul never did things by halves. He took down the chalkboard and carried it inside for her, setting it down by the counter at Wren’s direction. “So how’s the day been?”

“We did okay,” Kate answered. “I started a count earlier and the takings were looking good.”

“Want me to finish?” he asked, and Kate gave him a surprised nod. “Thanks, that’ll give me time to do a quick inventory of the kitchen for tomorrow.”

“No problem,” Paul answered as he headed toward the till. He popped the drawer open and started to tally, scribbling down figures on the scrap of paper Kate had started earlier. “Doing good, Kat,” he commented with a grin when she reappeared later. “Those weekends must be so close now you can almost taste ’em.”

“They do sound pretty good,” she admitted. “I’m thinking if we close Sunday and Monday it’ll be a good start.”

“A to the men,” Wren chimed in, making Emily laugh.

“When do you think you’ll start?” Paul asked, putting the takings into a nondescript bag and zipping it closed.

“Probably two weeks,” Kate replied. “Wren, we’ll need to make up some kind of sign to give people the heads up.”

“Already on it,” Wren replied. “I figured we’d put notices up in the windows and a smaller version on the tables, so I’ll bring them in soon.”

“Let me know when your first weekend is going to be, and I’ll come install those magazine racks for you,” Paul offered.

Kate brightened at that. “You’ve got them good to go?” She walked over and gave him a hug. “How do they look?”

Paul hugged her back. “The copper polished up beautifully. The place is going to look great. Which reminds me …” He released Kate and fished in one of the pockets on his cargo pants. “I found these for you the other day.” He pulled out some octagonal pieces of cardboard and handed them over.

Kate accepted them, looking puzzled, and then started to laugh. “Where did you get these? I love them!”

Paul looked pleased. Wren and Emily came forward to have a look, and Kate handed them over.

“Old Speckled Hen,” Emily read aloud, and she began to laugh. Wren reached out for one as Emily finished reading. They were English beer coasters, and each one featured the same gentleman fox wearing a red hunting jacket, with a different slogan on each.

“This one’s my favorite,” Wren said, holding one up that showed the fox looking very pleased under the slogan:
Nothing slips down easier than a hen with no bones.
“What are you going to do with them?”

“Oh, they’re going to have to be framed. What a foxy whiskered gentleman he is,” exclaimed Kate, a broad smile of delight on her face. “They can be hung up next to my fox. It’ll be a great little display.” She nodded toward the fox print on the wall and gave Paul a grin. “Thanks for these.”

“You’re welcome,” said Paul, smiling with delight at the pleasure they had brought to his sister. He’d found them in a bar when he’d been having a drink with some friends, and had known immediately that they would appeal to her quirky sense of humor. Paul leaned against the counter as the others kept working awhile longer before Wren and Emily announced that they were leaving for the day.

“See you tomorrow, boss,” they chorused from the door, giggling as Kate rounded on them.

“Get outta here,” she called. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!” She turned back with a chuckle to see Paul giving her a quizzical look. “It’s an ongoing joke,” she explained.

“Ah,” he said. He hefted the bag of takings. “You want me to drop this off in the night safe?”

“Would you mind?” Kate said with relief. “That’d save me a trip.”

“No problem, it’s on my way home.”

“I owe you,” she said with a grateful smile.

~~~

Kate had waved Paul off and was pulling out a chair at one of the tables to wait for Michael when she heard a knock on the front window. She looked up to see Michael peering through the glass, his face breaking into a smile as she stood up from the table and walked over to let him in. He stepped into the store, smiling down at her and then around the empty store with an expression of faint wonder on his face.

“It’s so quiet,” he commented.

“The people make a big difference,” Kate agreed, “but a bit of peace and quiet never goes astray.”

Michael looked at her peaceful expression. “You really love it, don’t you?”

She gave him a surprised look. “Shouldn’t I?”

“Of course,” he said. “But it’s not just a business venture for you, it’s a passion.” He looked around the store. “I mean, just look at the place. It’s amazing.”

“You’re the second person to say that,” Kate replied. “Emily was saying the same thing earlier. She thinks this place is part home, part bakery, and part gallery.”

“And she’s right,” Michael said. “And it’s very
you
.”

Kate gave an embarrassed laugh. “And what’s that?”

He took a step closer, reaching out to take her hand. “It’s warm …” His thumb made a slow circle on her hand. “… welcoming …” He dipped his head. “… and sweet.” He brushed his lips across hers, and Kate’s eyes closed as she leaned in for more. The kiss was very soft and over before Kate was ready for it to be.

Michael pulled away, still holding her hand and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling and reaching back to the table to pick up her bag.

He waited while she locked the door, and then took her hand and set a leisurely pace as they walked.

“So how was the rest of your afternoon?” he asked after a short pause.

“Long,” said Kate, looking up as he chuckled.

The streets were still busy as commuters made their way home from the working day, and Michael charted a careful course through the crowd, shielding Kate from being jostled. By the time they got to the next corner, Michael had taken to walking with Kate’s hand held up against his chest, and she was close to his side. Their conversation ebbed and flowed, and they seemed equally content to fall into an easy quiet now and then. The light changed, and the crowd surged forward.

“Are you in a hurry to get home?” Michael asked as they reached the curb on the other side.

Kate thought for a moment. “I guess not. Why?”

Michael’s eyes crinkled at her. “How do you feel about a pre-date date?”

Kate’s mouth twisted into an amused smile. “You need a warm-up?”

“Well, given you told me in advance you were going to say yes, I figure a practice date can’t hurt.”

Kate ducked her head and giggled, then looked back up at him, feeling carefree. “This is crazy, but sure, why not?”

“Great. Come on.” Michael kept walking, leading them up West 4th Street. Kate looked ahead down the block, and then up at Michael. “Washington Square Park?” she guessed.

“Well done,” Michael replied. “I figured we’ve got time for a bit of a walk there before I see you safely home.”

“I love that park,” Kate enthused. “The dog runs there are wonderful.”

“You have a dog?” Michael looked at her in surprise.

“No,” Kate said with a rueful smile. “But I go there when I need some unconditional canine love. It’s a wonderful tonic.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Michael mused.

Soon they entered the park and were happy to stroll along the pathways until they found a park bench that wasn’t occupied.

“Shall we?” Michael gestured toward the bench, and Kate nodded. They took a seat, and Kate adjusted her bag to a more comfortable position against her hip as she sat.

“So what did you get up to this afternoon?” Kate asked after a brief pause.

Michael shrugged. “A bit of writing,” he said.

“Anything good?”

“It’s a bit too early to tell, but I’m enjoying it all the same.” He paused. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get anything down. Not long ago just writing a grocery list would have been a literary achievement.”

“Ah, you had a block?” Kate asked in a sympathetic tone.

“Massive,” Michael sighed.

“Sounds awful.”

“It was, but it’s getting better now.”

“Then I’m glad for you,” she said.

Michael looked down at her with a brief smile, and then they both went back to gazing at the park vista. After an infinitesimal pause, he carefully lifted his arm up and around Kate’s shoulders, resting his hand on her upper arm. “This okay?”

“Better than,” she agreed, and Michael stilled as Kate settled her head against his shoulder.

“So keep talking,” Kate encouraged. “What happened? How did you get writer’s block in the first place?”

Michael grimaced. “I guess one day I woke up and realized I didn’t like what I was writing.” He sighed and looked down, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Then I began to hate it, and then …” He looked at Kate and shrugged. “One morning I woke up and discovered I had absolutely nothing to say. The words were just … gone.”

They both sat there in silence for a while.

“It was like that for me, losing Jack,” Kate ventured in a quiet voice. “One minute he and I were talking, just driving into town, nothing special, and then …” Her voice wavered for a moment before she continued, “and then …”

“Do you remember anything?” Michael asked, intrigued that someone so small and vital could carry the weight of so much pain.

Kate shook her head against his shoulder. “No. Paul told me later that they’d had to cut the car open to get me out,” she went on in a faraway voice. “We got hit on Jack’s side, and the car was pushed into a telephone pole. By the time help got to us, they knew that Jack was gone, but I was still alive.”

Michael rested his cheek on the top of her head, rubbing his hand on her arm, cupping her other hand as he pulled her closer.

Kate closed her eyes, still talking. “The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital, and just like that, everything I knew would never be the same again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Michael murmured.

“You know what I keep thinking about, though?”

“What?”

“Jack’s last words. I was teasing him about a song on the radio. He used to torment Paul and me as kids by getting song lyrics wrong on purpose, so the last thing I remember is Jack singing along to the Beatles.” She paused and began to sing in a soft voice,
“Lucy knows this guy with lions …”

Despite the somber conversation, Michael’s shoulders twitched in amusement at the thought of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” getting butchered in the name of dad humor.

Kate lifted her head to look at him. “I know, right? Not the most profound last words for a lifetime, huh?”

“No,” he agreed. “But you have to admit that it gives his life joy.” Michael gazed down at Kate’s open face and continued, “There are worse ways to go out of this life, and I think going out singing is pretty good.”

Kate blinked at him. “You know, I’d never thought of it like that.” She looked at him for a long moment, and then rested her head against his shoulder again. “Thanks,” she said at last. “That really helps.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of them sat quietly, watching the procession of pedestrians and dog walkers that ebbed and flowed through the park. The sun was beginning to set, and they found themselves watching the colors of the park shift from the warm hues of the day to the cooler tones of dusk. The conversation between them moved from one topic to the next, and after a while the two of them drifted into a contented silence.

“Sometimes,” Kate ventured after a long moment, “there’s a lot to be said for a companionable silence.”

A rumble of amusement came from Michael’s chest. “Isn’t that a contradiction?”

He felt Kate’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. “I was hoping you wouldn’t pick up on that.”

Michael found himself glancing from the park vista to Kate’s head resting near his chest.
A companionable silence:
he’d never really taken note of the phrase before and yet here he was with a woman that gave him silence and words in equal and satisfying measure. Michael began to relax enough that he almost jolted when Kate’s voice roused him from his reverie.

“Michael,” she said in a quiet voice, “how long have you been writing?”

“Ever since I could, I suppose.” Michael frowned for a moment as he tried to remember. “Mom said I was always quiet, so growing up the only child of academics, it’s no surprise that books were always a good companion.”

“True,” Kate agreed. “You’re never alone if you’ve got a book.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “After college, Mom went through some papers of mine, one thing led to another, and about eighteen months after that, I was published. People wanted more, so I kept writing. The rest of my life had to be scheduled in around publication dates.” He gave a small chuff of laughter. “And then suddenly I found that I’d been writing for twelve years that had flown by, but had no idea what to do with my own time.”

“Ah.” Kate nodded. “You got busy burning up the decade when you should’ve seized the day.”

Michael gave her a startled look. “You were the same?”

“A little, although not the same extent as you. I was always looking to the future, always trying to plan my next step. I studied literature at college and was thinking about teaching. When I lost Jack, though, it made me realize that it’s about making each day important, because you never know when they’re going to stop.”