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Annabelle
Thursday afternoons are the closest thing I get to “me time” all week. The studio closes at noon, and I don’t have to pick Tommy up from school until three. That’s three whole hours to myself. Granted, I usually spend them grocery shopping and cleaning up around the house. Still, I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed having a few minutes to myself until they started to come fewer and further between.
The girls are coming over tonight to help me pick out a dress for Sabrina’s dad’s fundraiser this weekend, and I may never admit it to them, but I’m excited about it. It’s been a while since we’ve had a girl’s night and even longer since I’ve put on one of the many pretty dresses hanging in my closet. When I was dancing in New York, I needed to get dressed up for formal functions on a regular basis. It comes with being a ballerina. The company needed to frequently show us off. But it’s been two years since I’ve slipped into something dressier than skinny jeans and a sweater.
Most days, it’s more like yoga pants and a band tee. If I’m home, it’s long socks, short shorts, and a soft tank or tee. Nobody’s ever accused me of being the most stylish person they knew.
The sun is still sitting high in a pretty blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds when I lock the studio up and take a step toward my car. The cool autumn breeze is whipping through the small parking lot that sits behind Hart & Soul, bringing the heavenly smell of coffee and sugary sweet goodness with it. A bakery moved into the old deli that used to be two buildings down from the studio last week. I’ve been meaning to stop in and welcome them to town, and that heavenly smell is telling me now is the perfect time to do it. Hoisting my Mary Poppins bag higher up on my shoulder, I cut through the alley between our buildings and walk around to the front. Pretty pink and minty green awnings have been added above the window and door and cover the front of the shop. A giant pink cupcake and the words “Sweet Temptations” curved underneath it in the same minty green decorate most of the large window.
The chimes jingle above the door as I step into an explosion of mouthwatering smells. I glance quickly around the small shop. The walls are pale mint green with pink accents. A few small tables with mismatched chairs and a few comfy-looking couches are scattered throughout. The smell of freshly brewed coffee drags my attention to the glass cases with their counters full of gorgeously decorated cupcakes. Behind those cases, I spy the coffee machines which have my stomach growling in anticipation and are surrounded by beautiful glass canisters full of an assortment of coffee beans, but I don’t see any employees.
I find a small bell to ring next to the register on the counter and tap it once. Yeah, that would be dangerous if Tommy were with me. He’d have a field day tapping that thing. Note to self—don’t let Tommy have a bell.
“I’ll be right there,” a voice yells from behind swinging double doors that only cover half of the opening leading back to the kitchen.
“No rush.” I continue perusing the cupcakes, trying to pick out a few to bring home with me. There are a few basic flavors, vanilla bean, carrot cake, and death by chocolate. Some unique flavors line the other shelves, like maple cinnamon bacon, peanut butter cup and apple pie. A loud crash from the back startles me.
“Son of a...” A girl resembling a real-life version of Snow White comes through the door covered in white powder. I’m guessing it’s flour. She rubs her hands on her apron, pushes her shoulders back, and pastes the fakest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. “Hi. Welcome to Sweet Temptations. What can I help you with today?” She blows her black bangs out of her eyes, and flour puffs out around her.
I can’t help but giggle. The look she gives me in return isn’t nearly as funny. I reach my hand out over the counter toward her. “Hi, I’m Annabelle. I own the dance studio at the corner. I meant to stop by sooner, but I’m usually rushing or late for everything.” My hand is left hanging in the air while Snow White eyes it like it’s a snake ready to attack.
Finally, her eyes move to my face. “You sure you want to shake?” She holds her flour-covered hands up in front of herself and smiles. This time it doesn’t look quite as forced.
“Trust me, my hands get messier than that all the time.” I push my hand closer to her.
“Nice to meet you, Annabelle, I’m Amelia.” She wipes her hand on her minty green apron again, attempting to get them clean, then shakes mine. “So, what brings you in today?”
“Honestly?” I point over her shoulder to her coffee machines. “That did. I want the biggest cup of whatever you have brewing back there. If heaven has a smell, I hope it’s that.” Then I glance back down to the cases. “And a dozen cupcakes. I’ll take whatever variety you feel like throwing in there as long as one of them is that vanilla bean with vanilla icing, please. My brother is a plain kinda kid. He’d never want to try any of these fancy flavors.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing. They’re all original recipes.” Amelia gets to work making my coffee, then glances over her shoulder. “So, Annabelle... How long have you owned the dance studio?”
“About two years now.” Oh, jackpot! As I check out the goodies Amelia has lining the top of the counters, I find boxes of chocolate-covered pretzels. My favorite. Yup. Need these too. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you from Kroydon Hills?”
My coffee is handed to me before Amelia grabs a pink bakery box and starts to pick out cupcakes as she answers, “No, I’m new to town. I wanted to get out of the city, so when I started looking for a place to open the shop, I started with the smaller towns around Philly. This place was the right price, and the apartment above it made it perfect. Who knew living in the ’burbs could be so expensive?” She picks up a final exquisite-looking little cupcake.
“Oh! What flavor is that?” I ask, already knowing this shop is going to be dangerous for my waistline.
Closing the door to the bakery case, Amelia walks over to the register. “That was a S’mores cupcake. Triple chocolate fudge cake, sitting on a baked, graham cracker crust, with a whipped, toasted meringue icing, and topped off with a square of Hershey’s chocolate and a square of a honey graham cracker.” She rings me up and hands me a pink bag with her Sweet Temptations logo stamped on the front. “Thanks for stopping in, Annabelle. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
“You’ll definitely be seeing me again. Welcome to the neighborhood, Amelia.”
I’m folding the final towel from my laundry basket when the doorbell rings later that night. Tommy jumps up off the couch and runs to the door. “Thomas David Hart, do not open that door!” I walk over and grab his hand to stop him from reaching for the handle. Then I tilt my head to catch his eyes. “What do we do before we open the door?”
Tommy looks down at his feet, his deep voice grumbling, “We look through the window and ask who it is?”
“Right. You never just open the door, bud. It’s not safe.” I shift the curtain to the side so he can see the girls standing on the front step.
“Who is it?” Tommy yells. We’ve been trying to work on volume control, but it’s not clicking yet.
“It’s Nattie, Chloe, and Brina, Tommy boy. Can we come in?” Nattie makes sure she speaks clearly and loud enough for him to hear.
Tommy looks to me for permission, then opens the door and accepts the hugs these incredible women force on him. He’s come a long way over the last year. Still preferring high fives to hugs, he allows the women in this room the privilege of hugging him, and my beautiful friends absolutely consider it a privilege. Once he’s stood still longer than he can usually manage, he runs off into the family room and plops back down on the sofa, un-pauses the TV and smiles happily as Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle continues to play.
The girls and I make our way into the kitchen to lay out the pizzas and fries.
Tommy must smell it because in the next second, he’s standing next to me with a paper plate in hand. “Can I have a picnic, Belles?”
“Sure, bud. Just make sure you lay the blanket out on the rug first, please.” Tommy isn’t allowed to eat on the furniture in the family room, so we’ve taken to throwing his giant Toy Story blanket down on the floor and having what he calls picnics when we want to eat in there.
