Chapter 8 Violet #2
We’re all about halfway into our food when someone comes up to the table, and I look up and smile to see one of my grandmother’s friends standing there.
“Hi, Simon,” I say, greeting him with a smile.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Violet,” he replies. “You keeping warm?”
“Doing my best. Oh um, this is Lennox, Rhett, and Sawyer Sullivan.” I gesture to each of them. “They’re from here.”
Simon nods. “I know the family name. I thought you’d all moved away from Sweetwater Lake. Only one of you is left… what’s his name? Andy?”
“Andrew,” I correct.
“That’s right. Well, it’s nice of you all to come back to visit.”
“It’s nice to be back,” Lennox says politely.
Simon pulls his coat on, hands shaking a bit as he buttons it up.
I’m not sure exactly how old he is, but he shows his age in his stiff movements.
That never stops him from being incredibly kind to me whenever we run into each other, and he always makes me think of my grandmother, which is bittersweet.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Simon says. “I’ve got a standing date to play chess in the park.”
“It’s amazing to me that you do that even in winter. Isn’t it cold out there?”
He nods with a smile. “That’s what the coffee is for, young lady.” He holds up a thermos of Porter’s famous dark roast.
Rhett perks up at the mention of chess. “You play?” he asks.
“I sure do. You look like someone who would enjoy a game. Assuming it’s not too cold out there for you.” He winks.
“I don’t mind the cold,” Rhett says. “Maybe I’ll stop by for a game.”
“I’ll look forward to it. You all take care. Don’t work too hard, Ms. Violet.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Once he’s gone, slipping out the door and back into the cold afternoon, I look at Rhett. “Chess, huh?”
“Everyone needs a hobby,” he says with a shrug. “Do you have time for hobbies, or is it all baking all the time?”
“It’s basically all baking all the time,” I admit. “But I don’t mind that. It’s fun for me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to do, and one of the few things I’m actually good at.”
“Is it as hard as it seems?” he asks.
I shake my head, smiling at him. “Not really. Hard to master, probably, especially if you’re a perfectionist, but you just have to jump in.
Everyone always says that baking is rigid because you can’t play around with ingredients the way you can with regular cooking, but I say those people lack imagination.
Once you know the basics, you can do whatever you want. ”
“What were all the spices for? And the cheeses?”
Something in me lights up to talk about my bakery. My mother never wants to hear about it, and while my dad will listen, he never asks the right questions or seems excited about anything.
“So, you know how people have little holiday parties and they put out trays of appetizers and treats for their guests?” Rhett nods.
“I had the thought of making a bunch of little things like that, so people can build their own party platters. Little cookies in all kinds of flavors and cream puffs and Danishes. And gougères.”
“What’s a gougère?”
I lean forward, making a little circle with my thumb and pointer finger. “So imagine a little ball of puffed dough that tastes like cheese.”
Rhett’s lips tick up in a smile. “There’s no way that could be bad.”
“Right? I think it’ll be good for this time of year, but it’s one of those things that came to me in a dream, so I haven’t pinned anything down yet. Lots of experimentation to do. On top of everything else I’m already doing.”
“Hence you working on your day off.”
I point at him. “Bingo.”
“Do you get a lot of customers around this time of year?”
“Oh yeah, it’s been crazy. Between people coming in and out of the shop and the special orders, I am always kind of swamped. But that’s good, you know? Keeps business flowing, and busy months like these make up for the slower ones.”
Rhett seems interested, so I keep talking. I tell him about how my grandmother passed away, and she left me the building, knowing it would be a way for me to fulfill my dream.
“She was the only one who really believed in me,” I say, dropping my eyes to my plate. I push a few stray leaves of lettuce around with my fork. “The rest of my family hasn’t really been all that supportive.”
“Why not?” he asks, frowning.
I shrug a shoulder. “Because it’s not big and flashy.
It’s a small bakery and it’s hard to turn a profit on something like that.
This is a small town, so I rely on repeat customers more than new foot traffic.
I’m never going to go viral or anything like that.
It didn’t turn into a massive success right off the bat, so my family basically dismissed it.
My mom calls it ‘my little bakery’ every time she mentions it.
” I force a laugh, and it has a bitter edge to it.
“Like I’m in the backroom with an Easy Bake Oven or something.
And… she definitely thinks it’s bad for me.
She told me once that it would be a lot easier for me to lose weight if I didn’t own a bakery. ”
My cheeks flush because I definitely didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped out, and I immediately wish I could take it back. It feels pathetic, and I keep my eyes on my plate, not wanting to see looks of pity—or worse, agreement—on their faces.
“Yikes,” Sawyer says. “But I mean, you see how fucked up that is to say, right?”
When I chance a glance up, all three of them are frowning, reacting to what I said.
“I mean, it’s not very nice of her to say, sure.
” I shrug and force a laugh, trying to play it off.
It’s an absurdly personal thing to be talking about right now, and the way all three of them are zeroed in on me makes me squirm in my seat.
“But I could afford to lose a bit of weight. She’s not wrong. ”
“Yes, she is,” Lennox says firmly. “Even if that wasn’t a fucked up thing for her to say to her daughter, you’re perfect just the way you are.”
I blink, caught off guard by that. “I’m… what?”
“Does your body do what you need it to do? Does it carry you through the day?”
I have to consider that for a moment, because I’ve never really thought about it like that. “Well, yes.”
He nods decisively. “Then it’s perfect. You don’t have to do anything to impress your mother.”
It seems like there’s something more he wants to say, but he bites it back. That’s probably just as well, because even without hearing anything else, I’m reeling a bit from his words.
“And she’s missing out on supporting you,” Rhett adds.
“Your pastries are really fucking good, and you care about your work. You love it and find joy in it, and because of that you’re going to succeed.
I hope you remember how little your family supported you when your bakery takes off.
Don’t let them jump on the bandwagon once you get really popular. ”
I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face, breaking out into a grin. It’s been so long since people have stood up for me like that, since I’ve gotten a pep talk and felt believed in and seen. It bolsters me, sweeping away the shame and sadness left by talking about my family.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
We finish our food and then get up to leave, going back out into the blustery afternoon. I turn to ask the guys if they have more stops in them or if they want to head back to the house, but then I see Andrew coming down the street toward us.
As always, he looks like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine, his hair perfectly wind tossed, and a scarf wound around his neck. His eyebrows climb up at the sight of me with his brothers, and he walks up to us a second later.
“Hey,” he says. Mostly to them. His eyes sort of glance over me and then slide away. “Can I talk to you?”
“Us, or Violet?” Sawyer asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You,” Andrew replies. “Dad wanted me to pass on a message since you’re not staying with him.”
Sawyer looks at me, and I take a step backward. “I need to run next door for something really quick, so you guys talk, and I’ll be right back.”
I zip into the shop before any of them can say anything, letting out a breath. That’s the problem with small towns. You can’t avoid anyone when they could come walking down the street at any time.
“Afternoon, Violet!” Lydia says from behind the counter, waving at me.
“Hi, Lydia. You don’t happen to have any maple sugar in, do you? My supplier couldn’t get any this week, and I really want to play with some for these candied nuts.”
She grins, coming around the counter and gesturing for me to follow. “It’s your lucky day,” she says.
I leave a few minutes later with a bag weighed down by probably more maple sugar than I need, but better to have too much and not feel stressed about wasting it.
Andrew and his brothers are still clustered together talking as I walk back toward them, but none of them have noticed me yet. I hang back when Andrew starts talking again, especially when I hear my name. I duck between the two buildings for just a second, not wanting them to catch me listening.
“But it just doesn’t make sense,” Andrew is saying. “How do all three of you share her? She was barely enough for me when we were together. She’s so uptight all the time. Don’t you get bored?”
My stomach drops at his words, and I clench my fingers harder around the straps of the bag in my hand.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Andrew feels that way, but it still hurts to hear.
Hurts even more for him to be talking to his brothers, who he believes to be my current partners, about it.
Like he can’t just butt out and mind his own business.
“I think that’s just a you problem,” one of the brothers says. Rhett. “I’ve never found her boring at all. If you weren’t giving her anything to work with, why would she go out of her way to be exciting for you? It’s never been an issue.”
Sawyer laughs, and I can picture him with his hands in his pockets, grinning. “And have you seen her? She’s beautiful. She lights up even more when you touch her just right.”
“She is very responsive,” Lennox agrees, and my stomach twists a little because he’s the one in a position to know. “Have you considered that maybe the problem was that you weren’t enough for her?”
“How would you even know?” Andrew snaps back. “Weren’t you long distance until now?”
“We’ve still managed to sneak in visits. And it’s the twenty-first century. Phones exist, Andy,” Sawyer drawls. “And video calls.”
“Don’t call me Andy.”
“And we were together all last night and this morning,” he continues as if Andrew didn’t say anything. “Didn’t get a wink of sleep, making up for lost time.”
My ex makes a disgusted noise. “Ugh, I get it, I don’t need the details. Jesus, I regret bringing this up.”
I take a deep breath, surprised and grateful to hear the three of them defending me like that.
It sounds so natural, like the things they’re saying are actually true.
To be honest, I’m also a little bit turned on, thinking about them touching me and all the pictures they just wove.
It’s not true, but that doesn’t stop my imagination from latching on to the images and running with them.
I step out from between the buildings, using my free hand to push my hair back as the wind whips it up. Andrew sees me and shoots me a sour look before walking away.
“What’s his problem?” I ask, trying not to make it obvious that I was eavesdropping.
Sawyer rolls his eyes. “That’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot over the years. My current theory is that he didn’t get told ‘no’ enough as a kid. You all done?”
I nod, and Rhett comes over to take the bag from me. He looks inside and then back up. “Candied nuts?”
“Candied nuts,” I agree, smiling at the fact that he picked up on it.
They help me load the bag into the trunk and rearrange things so nothing will get squished, and we all pile back into the car.
I feel like I should say something to fill the silence, but my brain is still tossing around everything I heard them say to Andrew. It’s both nice and unfamiliar, having three people in my corner like this, willing to go to bat for me even if it means telling outrageous lies.
But I’d be smart not to let myself get used to it.