His bottom lip stayed pooched as he nodded his head then walked back to the bathroom. Momma had never babied him, but he sure got enough from his sisters.
“Is Bessy and Hazel watching Henry today or is he going to the bakery with us?” I asked chopping up the celery to add to the roast, taking a nibble now and then.
“Bessy can watch him. He hates being there. Says the women pinch at his cheeks. Makes ‘em eat up all the profits.”
He ate his weight in cookies and momma hated that. But there was nothing much for Henry to do at the bakery where Henry had actually been born. Momma hadn’t been able to take days off at the end of her pregnancy then. We flat needed the money to eat. Milly and I had been working after school to help but it wasn’t enough. When momma’s water broke there had been no time to get her to Cullman to the hospital. Henry was born on the tile floor with the help of Sara and Vilma.
I felt bad for momma. The whole situation. She had a baby with her babies around her, no father there to help. After losing my daddy I didn’t figure a man could live up to his memory. But still…I wondered if momma had been scared. She sure didn’t seem to be.
That day I made a promise to myself. I wouldn’t have a baby on the floor of a bakery without its daddy around. I’d marry a man who loved me and could give me the world in pieces. When our baby was born he’d be holding my hand safely nestled somewhere else, likely in a hospital in New York City, Chicago, Boston, or maybe Seattle, anywhere but here.
Chapter Two
The smell of strawberry cupcakes filled the air of the bakery making my stomach rumble. I longed, but could not taste. Momma would slap my hand. She could tell when I wanted to touch one. Inside the cake were fresh strawberries and the icing was made with cream cheese. Homemade, not from the carton. I’d watched momma make them many times. I always wanted to lick the spoon, but never got the chance.
It was after two and I hadn’t got the nerve to ask momma if I could go to the concert. I kept waiting to catch her when she wasn’t so busy, but she’d been working most of the day, sweating and straining in the kitchen, skipping lunch to stay ahead. There hadn’t been a good time to ask her. Momma could not stop.
The bell above the door chimed, snapping me out of my cupcake gaze. I quickly stood up from my stool and got my smile in the greeting position. My breath caught just a little as I took in the man in front of me. He was tall and also beautiful, and he dressed and smelled expensive. I could smell his expensiveness over the cupcakes and that was saying a lot. Men like him didn’t walk into here, not a bakery in Moulton, Alabama.
“Hello,” I said cheerily. “We have fresh strawberry cupcakes that just came out of the oven. There’s also warm apple tarts and blueberry muffins with blueberries that came off the farm, straight outta Mable Richards’ field.” Although I normally told everyone who walked in the bakery what we had available, I felt silly saying it to him. He didn’t seem like the kind to eat any of that stuff. I’d imagined he drank champagne, ate caviar, or something like that.
“Oh, and we have banana nut bread. It’s new and I haven’t had any, but my momma never makes anything from scratch that ain’t just perfectly delicious.” I had to add that and sound even sillier. And that was pretty silly.
His gaze stopped scanning the small tiny bakery and then it locked on me. His eyes were green. Around them clear white. Not the dark green that almost looks brown, but light green, like light on grass. The kind that makes you want to stare right at them, while they’re staring right at you. For a long long time, or forever and ever, either one was fine.
“What do you suggest?” When his deep voice asked it was thick like the whiskey I’d tried with Ben that time. He’d snuck it out of his dad’s private stash.
“Huh?” That was all that came out of my mouth. That man’s voice was intoxicating. He even sounded expensive I tell you. I hadn’t known people could sound expensive. Like he had gold in his stomach or something.
A grin tugged at his lips and I caught myself smiling back at him. I bet his full smile was something else. “What item do you suggest I try?” He repeated himself and oh, the man was trying to order. I shook my head to clear it then glanced down at the cupcakes waiting there. “The strawberry cupcakes are delicious. I mean, uh, I think they are. They smell so good and have fresh strawberries and I imagine they taste real nice.”
“I’ll take three,” he replied.
I beamed. He was going to love them. “Okay,” I said, reaching for a box before slipping on the plastic gloves. We had to wear them when touching the food.
“Do you serve coffee?” he asked.
I nodded. “Oh yes! We have a fresh pot on. I’ll get you a large if you like?”
“Thank you,” he responded.
I wanted to look back at him, but I kept my attention on my task, tried not to drop anything. “Does your momma own the place?” His voice interrupted my concentration and I almost dropped the cupcakes.
“My momma?” I repeated then laughed a little. “No, my momma just works here. Sure wish she could own a place like this. She’d be real good at it.”
I placed his box of cupcakes on the counter then put his coffee right beside it. “That’ll be seven dollars and fifty-two cents.” I folded napkins on top of the box and goofily smiled with embarrassment.
From a fist-sized wad he pulled a ten-dollar bill and handed it across the counter. “Keep the change,” he said.