“No it’s not. It’s a gift from God. She’d be fat if she could,” Jamie argued, slapping his arm in a way that seemed less friendly, more “look at me,” which was interesting and intriguing I admit.
“Sam doesn’t eat enough to get fat. And she hardly ever sits still.” Ben argued as if he were defending my weight. Then his eyes shot across me really fast. Like a shadow or a beam from the sun, as if to see if I’d really heard him.
Jamie rolled her eyes, but she seemed a little hurt, annoyed you might say. Maybe I was reading too much into this though there was something in her gestures. Something Ben was missing… and I had also missed it apparently.
“One day I’ll bake my own cupcakes. Eat ‘em until I’m so fat I waddle and then tump over.” I teased, wanting to lighten the mood, because I had to change the tenseness.
Jamie laughed: “sure you will. You’ll marry some guy from another state and run off to see the world. You have the looks, just need Mr. Wonderful to discover you hereabouts.” She sighed and looked around the bakery. “Not sure he’ll find you here.”
“Why would she move to another state?” Ben asked and seemed annoyed.
“Because she’s been talking about it since she was five years old. She doesn’t want to live in a two-story house in the middle of Moulton, Alabama, with five kids and a farmer for a husband. She wants an adventure. Listen to her!” Jamie knew me well. We had stretched ourselves on the steep grassy hill behind my house on many summer days discussing our dreams and wants. We were girls wanting to be women, forgetting that the now was simpler, when later it wouldn’t be. Jamie’s dream was exactly what she’d just said she didn’t want for me. I wondered if Ben knew that.
“Nothing wrong with Alabama or Moulton,” Ben replied, sounding defensive.
“Ben, it’s not what I want for me. But for others it’s perfectly fine. Now, as much as I’d love the play by play of last night I can’t do that. Momma will come out from the kitchen and skin my hide if I chat.”
“Don’t you get a lunch break?” Ben asked.
Jamie, however, laughed at his question. “Seriously, I’d swear you’d never in your life met her momma if I didn’t know better. Marjaline Knox ain’t letting her off for lunch or to pee.”
Jamie was right. Momma would bring me a tuna salad sandwich, or something of that nature at noon. I’d have to eat it sitting right here. There were no other employees to take my place so I couldn’t step outside.
“Well, could you at least go out after work? Get an ice cream or something like that? Jerry said a bunch were swimming at the lake. We could go meet up with them.”
Since momma told me no last night there was a chance she’d let me go. “I’ll ask. I probably can. Y’all come by at four to check. Bring me a suit just in case?” I asked Jamie, more of a telling, because I knew I had a suit at her house.
The door chimed and Jamie took Ben’s arm to move him away from the counter.
“Afternoon kids,” Mrs. Peabody said as she shuffled inside the bakery. Her white hair was neatly fashioned on top of her head. The yellow sunflower-dress her staple. What the lady was known to wear. I’d seen it enough to remember. “Marjaline made any of that blueberry cobbler? Elroy was a fan of that. Thought I might get him some. Not that neither of us needs it.”
“No ma’am, not today. We have apple tarts. But if momma has the ingredients she could probably make you one. You could pick it up later in the day.”
Enthusiastically she nodded her head. “That would be just perfect. Elroy’s been out working the fields and he needs him a tooth-rottin’ sweet treat. I’m making some homemade vanilla ice cream and that cobbler would do the trick.”
“Let me go ask her,” I said. With a smile I glanced at my friends who were waiting quietly at a distance. I wished they’d leave in case momma came out. She didn’t like me visiting with friends, not during my shift anyway. But I couldn’t tell them to leave without sounding rude or haughty. They had placed me in an uncomfortable spot.
I hurried back to the kitchen, which wasn’t really far, just as momma was retrieving several hot loaves of cinnamon raisin bread. I hoped she’d take home a loaf for us. Hazel loved that stuff.
“Momma, Mrs Peabody is here and she’s wanting a blueberry cobbler. Said Mr. Peabody loved the last one and she wanted to get him a sweet treat. Reckon you can make her one? She’ll come back later and get it.”
Momma put the loaves down and waited. She glanced around and then at me. “I got what I need, I think. Them blueberry’s need to be used. Tell her it’ll be ready at three.”
Momma liked making a sell. But more than that she liked people wanting her food. It made her feel special and needed. My momma could bake better than the best, countywide and everyone knew it. I wished she had a place of her own. She ran the bakery like it was. Why wouldn’t her own be successful?
“She’ll be tickled pink,” I said. I then turned to hurry back to the store front hoping momma wouldn’t follow.
“She said she’d have you one by three. Nice and fresh from the oven.”
Mrs. Peabody clapped her hands. Her smile covered her face. “She’s a good one, that Marjaline, the solidest God ever made!”
I agreed. I really did. She was strict but the woman was precious.
Mrs. Peabody nodded to Jamie and Ben then waved to me as she left. “I’ll be back through around three. Thank you sweetie,” she said.