Chapter 28 Lucy
My alarm blares, and I tap the nightstand a few times to quiet it. Pulling a pillow over my head, I squeal. Today I’m going on a date with Reese Walker.
Wild.
First though, I have to get through the rest of the day’s regular things, but tonight I get to see him.
Anticipation swirls in my belly and I rocket out of bed, brushing my teeth, getting dressed, and making sure my hair’s bouncy and full. I’m down in the kitchen before Mawmaw, coffee’s brewing and I’m thinking about what I’m going to wear later.
He’s seen most of the best items I’ve got in my closet, and I don’t have time to grab Briar and head to the mall. So I’ll make do with something I already own.
“You’re up early,” Mawmaw says, clipping her hair back as she walks down the hall.
“Mhmm,” I hum, pouring us both to-go cups of coffee leaving hers black, just the way she likes it. Bitter like my soul, she always says and I roll my eyes. There ain’t nothing bitter about Maxine Tritt. Grabbing my keys, and handing her the cup she raises a brow but doesn’t comment.
In the truck, I let the radio fill the space with music.
Mawmaw doesn’t seem to care as we make our way to the diner.
With all the lights off it looks dull, and lifeless.
Calm, before the storm of customers. It’s what fills my heart, knowing people come here not only for good food, but for the environment.
I only hope it continues long after me and Mawmaw are gone.
School’s out already, which means we’ll have more hands for the busy season. But for now, me, Sydney, Mawmaw, and our two cooks will get it done.
I know Syd’s coming in later since I’m leaving after lunch and I’m grateful she was willing to do that. So this morning I’m focusing on the blueberry pies that have been one of our staples this season, along with the honey almond cake I’m testing for Indy’s carnival idea.
We still have to get it approved by the town council, but I’ve got faith.
My phone rings as I’m setting up my day on the prep table. We’ve had to shift things around in the kitchen so I have my own area to work, and now the cooks and I have separate tables so our items don’t mix.
“Hello?” I answer, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Hey Luce,” Brent’s voice filters through and immediate regret sets in. “How are you?”
I don’t have time for this, “Hey Brent, I’m good, but uh, I’m tryin’ to get things ready at the diner, did you need somethin’?”
He sighs, a sound that I’ve heard a lot here recently. “I was just callin’ to see if you heard what Sheriff Folley decided about the boys.”
“Oh,” I pause, “are you supposed to be tellin’ me?”
He laughs, “Lucy, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
I don’t respond right away and he jumps on it. “Nevermind then. I thought you’d want to know, but if not, that’s fine. I understand.”
His words strike something inside me, something that I tried to bury along with Levi. It’s bitter and hateful, and I recognize his words for what they are.
Manipulation.
He’s trying to make me feel bad, and I refuse, he’s a grown man who can’t take a hint that I’m not interested. No more nice-guy act it seems, he’s leveling up with his tactics and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’ve got to go now, and Brent?”
“Hmm?” He hums, sounding peeved.
“Don’t call me again.”
Hanging up, I sag against the counter, biting my thumb nail. I hate this feeling, the yucky guilt I shouldn’t have for standing my ground. For setting boundaries.
“Everythin’ alright?” our main cook asks and I nod. Shaking off those feelings, I submerge myself in baking. The pies come together easily enough, it’s the cake I’m focused on. It’s got to be amazing, spectacular, something unlike anything I’ve made before.
Humming while I bake, time flies by as Mawmaw hollers orders through the kitchen window.
Pulling the cakes out of the oven, I head out to the main floor to give Mawmaw a hand.
Even though it’s busy as heck, she’s handling it well, as always.
I swear that woman could run the world and never bat an eye.
I make the rounds, refilling drinks, and making sure everyone has what they need. When I’m done, I run the food in the window to the tables that ordered it, and greet new customers. The diner’s full, with a few couples waiting outside.
So many hats fill the space, along with spurs and leather galore. The rodeo’s here, and nothing makes me happier than watching the rush of the rides.
Indy walks in, greeting some locals and wrapping her arm around my neck as I take an order. The people at the table don’t seem to mind, mostly mesmerized by my stunning friend. Shrugging her off with a laugh, I walk behind the counter and place the order on the wheel.
“I smell somethin’ sweet,” she sing-songs, and I remember the cakes cooling on the prep table.
“OH! Hold on, I’ll be right back! Gimmie like ten minutes?” I shout, walking through the door that leads to the kitchen and getting to work on the simple syrup to use on the cake layers.
Pouring Indy’s honey into the pot along with some lemon and almond extract I melt that down with some sugar until it’s thin. Draining that into a squeeze bottle with a special tip to spread easily, I douse the layers to keep them moist.
The icing whips up nicely, a fluffy white buttercream with a hint of honey. Honey’s one of those ingredients that gets hidden behind other flavors, so I’m hopeful this will be just the thing to make it stand out.
The cakes are cool, the icings ready, and I put them together. The blonde layers and white icing look a bit boring, so I find some leftover caramel and drizzle it over the cake for some color. I’m so proud of this cake, I only hope Indy loves it too.
Carrying it out, I set it down in front of her and she gasps. Her hands fly to her mouth and her bright green eyes find mine. She laughs and squeals out, “Ohmygod!”
“It’s the first thing I could think of, I hope–”
“It’s like a weddin’ cake or somethin’,” she cuts me off, “it’s so beautiful!”
I didn’t think about it that way, but it does look like a tester for a wedding cake. The colors, neutral and classic, look elegant.
“Let’s slice this bad boy!” She hollers, gaining more attention than before. Cutting a thin slice for us to try, Indy vibrates in her seat. Her forks already poised over the slice before I can set the plate down. She stabs the cake, gathering a fork full of cake and icing.
She chews and almost falls out of the seat with a loud moan-like sound.
“Indy.” I eye her.
“Buttercup, Loo, Lucy. This is amazing!” She’s loud, I’m used to it but the rodeo crowd isn’t and they’re staring. “You have to sell this, people are going to go nuts.”
“This is for your carnival, not the diner,” I remind her.
She’s shaking her head, braids swinging behind her. “No, no, no, this is too good not to add to the menu.”
Mawmaw saunters over and takes a fork full from Indy’s plate. Her eyes round and she smiles. “Well, Loo, I think Indy’s right.”
“I don’t–”
“None of that, slice this baby up and I guarantee it’ll be sold out before the blueberry pies.”
That’s one hell of a compliment since my blueberry pies sell out before dinner every day, and I only have one cake finished. Of course it’ll sell out before the pies.
“Stop over-thinkin’ and just do it,” Indy gripes, shoving another fork full into her mouth. “But give me a bigger piece first.”