5. Elliott
FIVE
Elliott
The scent of fresh-baked bread and pastries makes my mouth water as my gaze drifts around the large space—the well-organized chaos that’s the back of my sister’s bakery. Her employees working at different stations, some of them dancing along to the nineties’ mix playing through unseen speakers.
A balled-up paper towel hits me in the head.
My gaze finds Sabrina’s grinning face. I’m tempted to throw the paper ball back, but instead, I roll it back and forth between my fingers on the stainless-steel top of the corner working area we occupy. I know all too well my sister must always have the last word. Or throw.
Her grin fades. “You look distracted.”
“Do I?” Yeah, I probably do. Can’t stop thinking about the flower shop woman—Jillian—and what an idiot I was.
Her eyebrows narrow. “All right. Out with it.”
I rub my scruffy chin. It’s been days since I shaved. “I think I may have made a fool of myself.”
Sabrina sets the decorating pipe bag down. “Would these cupcakes I’m decorating for you at seven in the morning on a Sunday have anything to do with it?”
I sigh. “Yes, they do.”
“I guess this conversation calls for an espresso.” She walks toward a small coffee station setup for her employees.
I watch my sister with pride and a little envy. She pursued her dream and created a life for herself against all the barriers our father put up.
Sabrina sets the small cup in front of me and pulls a stool closer, the wheeled legs silent on the tile floors. “What happened?”
I slide the espresso to the side. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Well, big brother, I find that starting at the very beginning is usually a good place.”
I shake my head. Sabrina was always the sarcastic one. “The beginning? You know how Dad is always trying to set me up to go on dates with daughters of clients and other influential people?”
Sabrina shivers. “Yikes. Yes. I remember that all too well. He tried it with me too.”
“I’ve dodged as many of those as I could, but every once in a while, I go out with one of these women to shut him up. And when I do, I send them flowers the Monday after.”
Sabrina props her elbows on the table, chin on laced fingers. “Go on.”
“I thought I was being nice, added a card thanking them for the evening, and that was it. I made it clear on those dates that I was not looking for a relationship.”
She frowns. “How do the cupcakes come into play? ”
I sigh. “I always use the same flower shop to send the flowers. I usually do it online, but I went jogging after work on Friday and since the flower store is on my way home, I decided to stop in and order in person.”
Sabrina moves the espresso cup in front of me.
“Is seven a.m. too early to add some cognac to my coffee?” I blow on it before taking a sip.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Finish the story first and I’ll find the good stuff if you need it.”
So, I do. Relate everything that happened from the moment I walked into the store to the moment I left. The multitude of expressions on my sister’s face reveal what I’ve already guessed. I’m an ass. “That’s it. That’s the story. I left nothing out.”
She nods. “This happened this Friday—two days ago?”
“Yes. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Apology cupcakes, then?”
“Yeah, I mean, I can’t exactly send her flowers. Tell me, how much of an ass am I on the asshole scale?”
She laughs. “I don’t think you’re an ass.”
“You’re my sister. You’re biased.”
She moves her hand side by side in a so-so gesture. “Eh, I can be objective. You had no way of knowing. So maybe she reacted like that because it’s a sensitive topic, obviously, and probably because you’re not the first guy putting the moves on her.”
“I was not putting the moves on her.”
Sabrina raises a single eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe a little bit. I was trying to be charming.”
“Elliott, why not just be yourself? None of that charming BS Dad is always talking about. She’s not a possible client. She’s a single mother trying to support her child. She doesn’t have time for bullshit.”
My head drops. She’s right. I’m so used to sliding into the shallow, people-pleasing, charming version of myself I use with the obligatory dates and clients I need to smooth over, I didn’t realize I was doing the same thing with Jillian. “I suck.”
She reaches out and pats my hand. “You don’t suck. You’re one of the kindest, most caring people I know.”
“You have to say that.”
“No, I don’t. I’d tell you to your face if I thought you were being a jerk. Had it happened with a different woman, I bet she would have been all over you. Bad timing.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel better.” Not really, but I appreciate her attitude.
She taps the countertop. “I have a question. What was up with the kid trying to run you over?”
I chuckle. “Now, looking back, I think he was being protective of his mother.”
“Aww, that’s cute.”
“He’s a very cute boy. Quiet, though. I don’t think he said a word while I was there.”
Sabrina stands and rolls the stool under the bench again. Goes back to decorating the cupcakes while I watch her, and with a few more twists of her wrist, she’s done.
“They’re beautiful, Sabrina. Where do you keep the cards? I want to add a note to the box.”
“I’ll grab one for you. Let me wash my hands first.”
I admire my sister’s work. The array of colorful and beautifully decorated cupcakes. Almost too beautiful to eat. Almost .
“Here you go.” Sabrina hands me a card, an envelope, and a pen.
I think for a moment and then write. Show it to her.
She laughs. “That’s perfect. The real you.”
“Thank you, Sabrina. Don’t tell Elsa, but you’re my favorite sister.” I open my arms for a hug and she fits her small form into my embrace.
Stepping back, Sabrina taps her lip with her index finger. “You know, you may be on to something. I like this idea of apology cupcakes. I’m going to put a few cupcakes with ‘I’m sorry’ out in the display case and see what happens. Maybe some other messages too. Hmmm.”
Her wheels are turning. My sister, the business-minded baker.
“Yeah, sure, sis, glad I could help.”
She grins at me.