Chapter Two
The woman who entered the café a little while later might have been my potential birthday party client, or she might have just gotten lost on her way to a Vogue fashion spread photoshoot. You know how when you see models in fashion magazines, they’re always wearing clothes that you imagine would look ridiculous in real life? Like they’re trying way too hard to look good?
Not this woman. She just made it look like I wasn’t trying hard enough. Everything about her, from her sharply pointed heels and her tailored green slacks to the white blouse with an oversized collar, looked sleek and sophisticated and like it should never, ever be covered in cat hair.
All my optimism drained away. Maybe she’d misunderstood my website. Maybe she thought I was some avant-garde art gallery or a winery or something and that’s why she’d called to discuss booking a party.
But then a little girl emerged from behind the maybe-fashion model, her eyes lighting up as she looked around. The kid was maybe six, and dressed almost as beautifully as the woman was, but when she saw the cats perched in the window of the cat area, she quivered with sheer joy. “Mommy, look! Kitties!”
The woman pushed her sunglasses up and flashed me what managed to be a very sophisticated grin. “Hi, I’m Julia, and this is Andi,” she said, extending one hand. “This place isperfect.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad you like it.” This was going better than I’d hoped. Already Andi was pressed up against the window between the café and the cat area, making soft cooing noises at Jojo, whose gas problem was, fortunately, obscured by the glass between us.
“And I love your apron,” Julia said. “Did your kids make that for you?”
“I don’t have any kids.”
“Ah.” Julia nodded, her grin fading. “I see. Well, anyway, it’s...cute.”
I glanced down at the bedazzled cat face on my apron. I guessed it did look kind of like kids had made it.
But no kids had been involved.
This was all me.
I had bedazzled the crap out of that apron. I had actually bedazzled the crap out of all my aprons. Because once you start bedazzling, it’s very hard to stop.
A problem Julia clearly never experienced.
She and I stood there in silence for a moment, while Jojo batted at Andi’s fingers from the other side of the glass, making the little girl squeal with delight.
Say something, Glory. Be cool. You can do this.
But it was Julia who smoothed over the awkwardness. Waving one hand toward the cake samples I had set out, she said, “This looks amazing. I can’t wait to get a taste.”
“Yes,” I said, lurching into action, certain my apron was making me sparkle away with every move I made.
Like a disco ball that bakes and likes cats.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” I said, pulling out a chair for her and wincing as the chair legs emitted a sharp shriek against the tile floor.
You. Got. This.
And I did. Because I might look like a disaster, and my chairs might not know how to behave themselves in front of company, but, by golly, I could bake. Which was what was going to win Julia over.
