Chapter 17 Pussies
Pussies
Jenny
He drove me home Sunday night like I wanted, though I questioned my sanity as I slid into my cold bed without him, but he came back early the next morning.
Monday was perfect, a peek into what our life together might be if we could make it through the gauntlet.
We drove to Peppergrove and dropped by the mall, went out for dinner, and picked up groceries. Before heading home, we dropped into St. Michael’s for a surprise visit to check on Ansel and Darlene.
I should have made them some soup.
Abby blew me a kiss as we walked through the door. “Hi beautiful!”
“I think you’re just after my cookies,” I teased.
She laughed. “I’d take you over your cookies any day.”
Hannah, the head nurse, grabbed my hand and gave it a little squeeze as she zipped past. “You’re worth so much more than your cookies. Now, your brownies? They’re a different story.”
She winked, then got serious. “Keep the visit short, okay? They’re pretty wiped out and need to rest.”
Both Ansel and Darlene were worse than they were the day before.
I promised Ansel I’d bring him my homemade chicken noodle soup, worried as always that his cold would turn into something much more threatening.
Deacon and I spent the rest of the afternoon in Buns and Biscuits’ fabulous kitchen. I baked and made Ansel’s soup while Deacon made us dinner.
We ate at the front counter.
I wanted to invite him upstairs, I desperately wanted him in my space, but the fear it would turn into a memory left to torture me stopped me.
After dinner, Deacon walked me up the inside stairs, wrapped me in his arms and stood unmoving for a long time before finally kissing me goodnight and leaving through the back door.
I watched him trot down the heavily salted steps, huffing out a soft laugh at his sweet attention and care.
If someone told me ten years ago that we’d have a second chance, I wouldn’t have believed them.
I stayed at the door until he backed out of his spot, then waved.
He flashed his lights and waited.
Shaking my head but smiling, I closed and locked the door.
My phone immediately rang.
I snapped it up with a smile on my face and in my voice. “Miss me already?”
There was no answer.
“Hello?”
I heard someone breathing on the other line. Maybe he dialled by accident?
“Deacon?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen.
Unknown Number.
A chill slithered down my spine.
I ended the call and threw the phone on the coffee table.
“Don’t be paranoid, Jenny,” I murmured. “It’s just a wrong number.”
I double-checked the lock on both doors, then stood twisting my hands in front of the door leading down to the bakery.
Everything in me wanted to check the staircase to ease my mind, but I couldn’t do it.
I pulled my armchair over to block the door and gave myself a good, mental shake. I would not let that one incident steal my peace.
I cuddled up with a hot tea and lit my lavender candle.
Tugging a soft blanket over my legs, I steadied my breathing. Surprisingly, other than a few raised eyebrows, there hadn’t been much of a response from the good people of Moose Lake to us being a couple.
Perhaps things would be easier than I thought.
After all, I was no longer the villain in our story.
Monday night I went to bed filled with hope and more than a little courage.
Tuesday morning, the whispers started in earnest.
I pretended I didn’t see the raised eyebrows, hear the whispered comments, or note the curious looks as best I could, grateful Deacon didn’t seem to notice when conversation momentarily stuttered to a halt when he took me to The Loose Moose midweek.
It wasn’t until shortly before closing on Saturday afternoon that pretending was no longer an option.
Two women stood near the front door of my bakery, speaking about me as if I wasn’t there.
As if I couldn’t hear.
I’d never seen either of them before. They weren’t from Moose Lake which only meant the news had spread to Deacon’s circle in Peppergrove.
The blond whispered loud enough the whole store heard her. “Why is he with her?”
My face flamed as I packed up a box of cinnamon buns for the older woman in front of me whose face had taken on far too innocent a look as she tilted her head towards their voices.
“Mary,” her brunette friend huffed. “You know he’s divorced, right?”
“So? That man is a catch. Way above her paygrade.”
I lifted my chin to serve the next woman in line and came face to face with Maggie’s mother. Steam billowed from her ears.
“Hello, Jenny darling. You’re looking as beautiful as always,” she cooed though her face had turned beet red.
I blinked. “Thank you?”
“How’s that gorgeous man of yours?” she asked, her eyes steely.
My lips quirked as I fought my smile, then I thought, why not let it loose and express exactly what I thought of that man of mine? “Wonderful as always, Mrs. Raynor.”
“Good, and it’s Laurie,” she purred, her own smile easing. “I heard you all went to the bonfire with Maggie, Baxter, John, Miller, and the rest of them. That Maxine is a hoot, isn’t she?”
Maxine was far more than a hoot.
You could always prepare your response ahead of time.
“She’s the best,” I replied honestly. “We had a blast.”
“Maggie said Deacon took you to Mistlevale.” She sighed. “I love that place. So romantic!” She winked. “Did you go window shopping?”
I smiled back at her. “He took me to Ayana’s.”
“Well, looks like he’s pulling out the big guns, hmm? Good for him. Now,” she stated, getting back to business. “It’s just about closing time, and I don’t want to hold you up. I’ll take that lovely sourdough, a dozen dinner rolls, and what the heck, give me those two cinnamon buns.”
Maxine and Maggie slipped inside while I packed up the last of Maggie’s mother’s order.
Laurie thanked me profusely, praising the glories of my sourdough bread, then turned around and walked between the two women behind her as if they weren’t there. She stopped to give Maggie and Maxine both a kiss on the cheek, murmured something quietly, and left.
The blond woman, her face pinched, stepped forward and stared at me. Her friend tipped her chin down to look at the floor.
“I’m closed,” I stated quietly, meeting her furious gaze.
“It’s only five to three,” she snapped.
“I’m closed to the likes of you.”
She sucked in a lungful of air as her eyes widened. “You should leave Deacon Raine alone. He’s a good man who needs a good, church-going woman to look after him.”
I saw Maxine’s delight from the corner of my eye. It gave me strength.
“Like you, maybe?”
She flushed. “I’d be a better choice than you.”
My heart pumped like a bellows, hollowing out my chest and leaving me cold with every breath. I abhorred confrontation.
Still, I smiled. “I’ll let him know you’re interested.”
“Let’s go, Mary. This was not cool,” her friend said. Eyes skittering up to meet mine, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”
I nodded tightly.
“Don’t apologize to her. She’s nothing but a two-bit—”
Maxine shoved in front of her and crowded her back toward the door like a tiny linebacker. “You don’t want to finish that sentence,” she snarled.
“Well, I never—”
“Who’d have you?” she snapped. “Now, get out.”
Maggie opened the door. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
With great relish, Maggie closed the door behind them and spun the lock while I pulled out the extra barstool I bought for Saturday afternoons.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t process.
My face burned with a shame that wasn’t mine but clung to me just the same.
“How did you do that?” Maggie asked.
“Do what?” Maxine rounded the counter and grabbed a dinner roll for herself and passed one to Maggie.
“Push her out with your chest like that!”
She pressed her nose to the bread and inhaled deeply. “Oh.” She tilted her head to the side. “Miller and Bax have been coaching the boys in basketball. Gotta post up.”
I stared at her, wide-eyed.
She shrugged, puffed out her chest, and deepened her voice. “Defence.”
Maggie began to laugh, snorting as she covered her mouth. Eyebrows raised, she looked at me with delight written all over her lovely face.
A tension I hadn’t felt in forever built up in my tummy and erupted, throwing my head back as wild laughter cascaded from my lips.
The whole scene played out in my mind.
“Well, I never,” I squeaked, doing my best imitation of the blond.
“Who’d have you?” Maggie wheezed.
Maxine began to chuckle then turned serious. “Proud of you for kicking their skinny asses out.”
My laughter faded, but my smile remained. “Yeah. I heard your voice in my head telling me to have my response ready.” I turned to Maggie. “And your mom’s a baddie.”
Maggie beamed. “Right?”
“You did great,” Maxine praised, giving me a side hug.
“Thanks,” I murmured, then brightened, remembering what I made for them. “I made us a treat!”
“Gimme, gimme.” Maggie wiggled her fingers.
I stepped into the kitchen, pushed Mary and her less-bitchy friend out of my head, and opened the fridge.
Three eclairs, filled with whipped cream, thinly sliced strawberries along both sides met at a solitary strawberry at the top.
I walked out and set the tray on the counter.
Maxine looked down and threw her head back, her laughter ringing out, happy and free.
Maggie gasped. “My goodness, she made us pussies.”
“Okay, girls.” Maxine slapped her hands down on the counter. “We’ve got three hours until the mall closes. Eat your pussies and let’s go shopping.”