Yeah, I hadn’t inherited my love of the kitchen from my mom’s side, that was for sure.
“And fuck-ugly cake for dessert,” I said.
“It’s got green frosting,” Sam said. “That makes it a vegetable, right?”
“Taste the rainbow,” I said, laughing.
Dinner was good. We sat around the kitchen table, all the bills and junk mail shoved to one side, and I told Mom and Sam all about my plans for opening day tomorrow. Mom caught us up on the drama from her workplace—one of the workers at the salon was screwing the manager from the mortgage broker place next door, and now she was pregnant and had invited everyone to her baby shower, except nobody was brave enough to ask whether the kid was the manager’s or her husband’s.
“I mean, I’d quit, but I have to find out how it ends,” Mom said.
“Don’t screw the crew,” I said. “That’s the saying, right?”
“I think it’s don’t shit where you eat,” Mom said. “Both work.”
“And speaking of, how’sBradley?” Sam asked, a wicked gleam in her dark eyes.
Mom arched her brows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Poor Bradley. The guy couldn’t catch a break with Mom. They’d been on a few dates before Sam got sick, and Mom had broken up with him because “shit is fucked up right now.” But Bradley had stuck around as a friend, and now Sam was better, he kept dropping Mom invitations to coffee. I thought Mom was surprised he was still open to a relationship after so much time had passed, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Sam and I both thought she should go for it, but we weren’t going to push. Well, I wasn’t. Sam was still hinting hard, clearly.
“I’m just saying,” Sam said, “he’s a nice guy!”
“Don’t buy into this,” Mom told me. “She’s just trying to distract me so I don’t tell you she got sent to the principal’s office today.”
“What’d you do?”
“I told my chemistry teacher to go fuck himself.” Sam held up her fork, and a piece of chicken landed with a splat on the table. “But it was technically before school, in the parking lot, so it was totally unfair that I got in trouble for it outside of his jurisdiction."
“You can’t tell teachers to go fuck themselves,” I said, looking at Mom helplessly. “Not to their face anyway.”
“Okay,” Sam said, “but one of the jocks slapped Marissa on the ass, and Mr. Fine was right there, and he saw the whole thing, and he didn’tdoanything.”
“How many weeks until graduation?” I asked Mom, and she laughed. “Jesus, Sam. Don’t get expelled before you get to walk.”
She grinned. “Cancer kid, remember?”
And fuck, but it felt good to say, “Not anymore, bitch.”
“Asshole,” Sam said, with a wide, delighted grin, and Mom smiled at us both across the table and then, when she thought I wasn’t watching, turned her face away and quickly wiped her eyes.
She pretended not to notice when I had to do the same.
When I pulledup to Gobble de Goose the following morning, Tyler was already waiting for me in the parking lot out back. He got out of his car, ran a hand through his hair, and said, “So you decided to turn up, huh?”
“Screw you,” I said. We walked around to the front and I fished the keys to the bakery out of my pocket and unlocked thedoor. It was cool and dark inside, a stillness hanging in the air that I knew from experience wouldn’t last. I flicked on the lights and headed to the back, where I turned the ovens on to preheat.
While we waited I pulled out the cupcakes and started up the stand mixer, making a batch of frosting. Tyler disappeared to the front and a minute later he called, “Hey, you want an Americano?”
Fuck yes, I wanted one. I followed the sound of his voice and found him tipping beans into the grinder beside the space-age espresso machine. “Wait, you know how to work this thing?”
He shrugged. “My in-laws gave us a machine for Christmas and I can work that. How much harder can this one be?” He pressed a button and the air was filled with the beautiful sound of the death of a thousand dried beans. I looked on, impressed, as he loaded up the grounds and tamped them down, then hit various other buttons, and a minute later handed me my drink. I inhaled deeply and took a sip and holy shit, it wasgood.
“Okay, new rule, you’re in charge of coffee every morning when we arrive,” I said before swallowing another rich mouthful.
“Yes, boss,” Tyler said, grinning, and walked me through what he was doing as he made a second cup. He was right—despite all the buttons, it was pretty simple to work out.
Tyler set to work frosting and decorating the mini cupcakes while I baked the sourdough loaves and got the pastries ready, and time flew by. The air filled with the scent of fresh bread and warm Danishes as we prepared to open, and Tyler grinned at me and we exchanged a look. We were really doing this.
