Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
TODAY get ready to grab some amazing deals!
Facebook event page of the St. Matthew’s Presbyterian Church.
The fundraiser inside the church gym on Sunday is huge—way bigger than I expected.
I see why Caroline wanted to put her best foot forward.
The fundraiser is like a small version of Pike Place Market, with booths lining the church gym in neat rows displaying handmade crafts like scarves, hats, bags, and earrings, and other stalls selling home-baked treats, too, though I note with pride that none look as tasty and professional as mine.
I let myself bask in that feeling for a moment. The feeling of being good at something, doing it well, and using a skill to help other people.
The gym is noisy and crowded, filled with people setting up their stalls and hurrying to finish getting ready before the doors open at 9:00 AM. On the far side of the room a small podium and microphone have been erected.
I help Caroline carry our boxes of treats to her table, passing a lady selling handmade beaded bracelets and a man displaying 3D printed toys.
Zeke’s dad is home watching Mia, for obvious reasons.
Zeke is right behind me, his arms full of boxes of goodies.
So far Zeke has completely avoided eye contact with me, and the awkward tension between us is palpable, even worse than yesterday.
We set the boxes down on the table assigned to us, a long rectangle covered in a checkered picnic-style tablecloth.
Caroline claps her hands, thrilled. “You’ve made us so many goodies, honey,” she says. “I know we’re going to outsell everyone else.”
“But it’s not a competition, Mama,” Zeke says, setting down the boxes he’s carrying behind the table.
“Oh, I know, I know,” she says, glancing at a table to our far left. “But it would be nice to sell well, don’t you think? For the church?”
I follow Caroline’s gaze. There’s a red-haired woman selling baked goods down the row.
Her cookies are perfection, with that shiny-smooth royal icing I’ve never bothered to learn because I don’t like the taste.
What’s the point of spending hours of my precious kitchen time learning to decorate a cookie that looks flawless but doesn’t actually taste good?
I like my nutmeg-scented sugar cookies with buttercream frosting much better.
I open a box and start setting out brownies individually packaged in crinkly paper. I arrange them on pretty pastel plates with lacy napkins Caroline bought, along with the price tags. She’s gone all out to make our table look good.
“I’ll get the rest of the boxes,” Zeke says. I glance over his face, hoping to catch his eye, to say with my expression that everything’s okay; we can still be friends. Even if secretly his rejection still stings.
But he doesn’t look at me. Zeke nods to his mom and then hurries out the door, completely avoiding my gaze.
An uncomfortable lump forms in my throat. I look down at the brownie in my hand and take a deep breath.
“Who’s that?” I ask, looking up to see the other cookie seller greet her neighbors with a smile that looks like she’s trying just a bit too hard. She catches my gaze, notices Caroline behind me, and her smile widens.
“Oh, she’s no one,” Caroline says quickly. But the woman is coming over to us, and why do I feel like her smile looks predatory?
“Caroline, how lovely,” she says, extending her arms for a hug.
She’s wearing a maroon sweater tucked into her high-waisted skinny jeans and knee-high leather boots.
A jangly gold necklace hangs from her neck.
She and Caroline pat each other awkwardly on the back and release each other from the hug quickly.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” the woman asks me in a condescending voice. Her scarlet hair curls around her shoulders.
“It’s Callie,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “Callie Carter? I thought I recognized you. I’ve seen your father’s movies. Kissing a lot of women who aren’t your mother, isn’t he?”
I blink.
Caroline crosses her arms. “Don’t you need to finish getting your table set up, Amanda? Doors open in ten minutes.”
Amanda turns to Caroline, her smile faltering. “I’m finished. But it looks like you still have quite a bit of work to do, so I’ll leave you to it.” She turns and blows a kiss over her shoulder. “I’ll be waving at you from the podium, Caroline.”
My stomach gets a greasy feeling like I’ve just finished talking to Brielle. I continue setting out the brownies in an artful pattern, and I notice that Caroline is quiet as she assembles the treats. “Caroline? Who was that?”
“Oh, she’s no one, honey. Amanda Williams. I’m sorry she was so rude to you. Your dad’s just doing what he needs to do to move his career forward, right?” Caroline’s talking a little too fast, and she won’t meet my eyes.
“Wait. Amanda Williams?”
Caroline nods, fussing with our table décor.
I watch the woman. Besides the red hair, which looks like it can’t be natural now that I study the color more, her face and expressions are a dead ringer for Brielle.
I put a hand on Caroline’s arm, and she stops moving and looks up at me. “Has she been rude to you?”
Caroline scoffs in an overdramatic way. “Oh, no. Not overtly, anyway. She’s way too smart for that.” Caroline glances at Amanda’s perfect rows of what looks like hundreds of shiny wrapped cookies. “But, there have been comments, oh, you know. I’m sure she didn’t mean it . . .”
“Comments?” I ask, getting angrier by the minute. How could anyone treat this wonderful woman any less than perfectly kindly?
“Oh, just about my size.” Caroline glances down.
“Amanda never actually comes out and says that I need to lose weight, but she invites me to go with her to her Pilates class, and not in a ‘let’s get together and have fun’ way, you know?
” Caroline glances up at Amanda and then back down.
“More in a, ‘you need this exercise so leave the cookie baking to those who can handle it without eating a hundred’ kind of way.”
My entire body goes rigid, flushing with heat. “No. She did not say that.”
“Oh, Miss Callie, don’t you worry about it. I can handle mean comments from a lady like her.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze before laying out more lacy napkins. “But it sure would be nice if our goodies put hers to shame, wouldn’t it?” Caroline looks up at me with a wink.
My fists clench at my sides, and I’m overcome with the urge to punch Amanda in the face. I don’t know if I’ve ever even felt that way about Brielle. “I’m so sorry. She had no right to say those things.” I turn back to Caroline. “You are the most perfect mom in the world.”
Caroline blushes. “Oh, stop it, honey. I’m sure your mom is a wonderful person.”
“She is.” I swallow. “But . . . she’s not . . .”
Just then, Zeke comes back with the last armload of boxes and sets them down behind Caroline, a back-up for when the treats we’ve set out (hopefully) sell out. I can smell the chocolate and caramel from here.
“That’s all of them!” Zeke says with a grin for his mom. His eyes never once turn toward me, and the lump in my throat hardens.
“What did Amanda say about a podium?” I move behind the table to stand beside Caroline. It’s almost time for the doors to open and the sale to start.
“Oh, at the end of the sale in a few hours, there are some prizes and gift cards for those who raise the most money for the church,” Caroline says.
Zeke straightens from setting down the last box. “Apparently Miss Amanda is on the podium every year. Her cookies are always number one sellers.”
Caroline stares at the redhead wistfully. “Sure would be nice to give her a slice of humble pie.”
I reach out and squeeze Caroline’s hand. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
Our treats are selling like crazy, and I’m thrilled. Moms with little kids are buying up the unicorn cookies like they’re going out of style, and the delighted squeals are music to my ears. Watching the kids take a bite and smile is the best thing ever.
I mean, I knew I could bake. But getting this feedback in real time . . . this is heaven.
In between laying out fresh treats and handing out samples, I text back and forth with Suzy, who’s asking where I am. I send her the address to the church, and she texts back a thumbs up.
Caroline winks at me as she passes two brownies to an older man and his granddaughter. They walk away, happily tearing open the wrappers, and the smell of rich, fudgy chocolate fills my nose.
“You are something special, Miss Callie,” Caroline says.
I’m glowing. I just wish . . . I don’t know.
If my parents could see this . . . Wow. Maybe Mom would change her mind about my baking habits.
They know I’m here helping Caroline out, and they’re glad I’m doing something good to raise money for a church, but they don’t know quite to the extent that I have helped with this.
I doubt Mom’s even going to come by to check out the fundraiser. She’s probably with a client.
“I have to agree with that.” Zeke nudges me with his elbow.
I look at Zeke, surprised. He gives me a tiny smile.
“Can things be okay between us?” I whisper. Caroline is busy helping a customer, so she doesn’t notice. “It’s killing me that you won’t look at me today.” I gulp, wondering if the words are too vulnerable, too real.
“I’m sorry,” Zeke says. “You’re completely right. I was . . . I was feeling awkward and wondering if I had hurt you. I want things to be normal between us, too.”
I smile back at him, and he nods at me before turning to grab another box of sugar cookies from behind us. The knot in my chest loosens a little.
I glance over at Amanda’s stall, and she seems to be doing well. I stiffen when I notice Brielle standing next to her, pasting a fake smile on her face and handing out samples of cookies. I knew it. There’s no way to tell if we’re outselling them or not. Not yet.