8. Lily
8
Lily
Since the meeting at the school, there has certainly been a buzz around the town. Jasmine and I have both noticed it. It’s like there’s a feeling of hopefulness. Of course, there are some people who are clearly a bit sour about the whole thing. Like Cindy Caldwell, who called in for her usual order a few days later.
Jasmine is always pleasant, but even she struggled.
“Your usual, Mrs. Caldwell?” Jasmine said, smiling across the counter.
“Yes please, Jasmine.” Cindy was rummaging in her handbag when she continued. “Well, it seems the lord and savior has arrived.” Her tone was laden with sarcasm, and for a moment, I was a bit confused.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“Donovan,” she snapped back. “Now that he’s arrived, it looks like all our problems are over.”
With her back to Cindy, while packing the woman’s order, Jasmine threw me a glance, clearly surprised and wary. With the items now inside, she turned back to the counter and handed Cindy her box.
“There you are, Mrs. Caldwell.”
I’ve never heard it in all the years she’s been working with me, but Jasmine’s tone was a little strained.
As Cindy handed her money over, she continued on her tirade. “I suppose we’ll all be expected to grovel with gratitude when he’s finished. Well, you can count me out. The man was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.”
“And a target on his back, too,” I countered, not willing to stand there and let her get away with attacking a man who wasn’t there to defend himself.
Cindy’s eyes widened, and then she glared at me. “Well, whose fault was that?”
“Clearly his.” I shrugged, my tone heavy with sarcasm. “I mean, I’m sure he asked to be born into the Donovan family, right? Knowing the burden they would have to carry for the rest of their lives, who wouldn’t?”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Jasmine trying to swallow a grin. Cindy was not as amused.
“Well, if old man Donovan hadn’t been such a swindler—”
“Which was also obviously Orson’s fault, right? Even though he hadn’t even been born yet.”
Jasmine stifled a chuckle, and Cindy moved her glaring eyes from me to her.
“Well, I see you’ve changed your tune, Lily,” she spat, clearly not able to defend her argument.
“Nope. My tune remains the same now as it always was, Cindy. Anyway, it was good to see you. Have a great day.”
After Cindy had stormed out in a huff, Jasmine let out the roar of laughter she had struggled to contain. I’m sure Cindy heard it outside, but neither Jasmine nor I cared.
“Good for you, Lily,” Jasmine said through her laughter. “The arrogance of that woman astounds me.”
“It doesn’t me,” I admitted. “But then, I’ve known her all my life.”
That evening, I sat Jasmine down and told her the news about the bakery. The woman had tears in her eyes, but her tears were not for herself.
“I am so sorry, honey. I’ve watched you fight with all your might to keep the lights on in this place. Will the proposal from Donovan Enterprises not help you at all?”
“It might,” I said sadly. “But it also might be too late. These things take time, and if I’m honest, Jasmine, I don’t know how much time we have.”
“Maybe we can reduce the prices again,” she offered.
I shook my head. “If we take them any lower, the price won’t cover our costs. The price of our supplies has gone up. Flour, wheat, sugar, everything.”
Jasmine looked as gutted as I felt, and there was a desire in me to try and reassure her, even though I knew it was pointless.
“I’m going to stay open for as long as I can. Okay?”
“Don’t you worry about me, honey,” she said, resting a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s you I worry about.”
“Well, there’s no point. Dad always said things happen for a reason. Even though I can’t begin to imagine how my business closing can be a good thing.”
Jasmine smiled sadly. “Have a little faith.” She raised her eyes heavenwards. “He works in mysterious ways.”
“I’m sure he does. I just wish he’d let me in on his plan.”
Yesterday evening, Orson texted me saying he wanted to come see me, so after another long day of work, I’m now sitting at one of my small tables, waiting for him to arrive.
My mind wasn’t really on the job today, even though Jasmine tried to cheer me up with her divine humming. I wish I had her faith. I wish I could believe that the man upstairs had a great plan for me. The truth is, this bakery has been my life for so long that without it, I don’t really know who I am.
The little bell tinkles as the door opens, and I lift my gaze to see Orson walking in.
“Hey,” he says, and without me having to ask, he locks it behind him.
Once I’ve made us coffee, I sit down again. Orson’s sitting across the table from me, looking troubled, and my mind automatically goes to the meeting at the gym.
“Are you all right? Has something happened?”
“I’m fine,” he says, but his tone lacks the confidence it usually holds. “I needed to see you because…” He trails off. Then he laughs mirthlessly. “Hmm. It occurs to me that I have no idea how to approach this.”
“Approach what? Has the proposal fallen through?” I press, getting more anxious by the second.
He shakes his head. “I’m not here about the proposal.” His words make me frown. “I’m here to talk about something entirely different. It is a proposal of its own, I suppose.”
“For goodness' sake, Orson, will you just spit it out? The suspense is killing me.”
“All right. All right.” He raises his palms at me. Then he takes a deep breath. “I’m here to ask you to marry me.”
If he had slapped me across the face, I wouldn’t have been more shocked; my mouth falls open, nearly hitting the table I’m leaning on.
“Not a real marriage. It will be more of a business transaction. I know it’s a crazy idea, but I need you to hear me out,” he says, seeing my utter astonishment.
I don’t have any words to reply, anyway, so he continues, hurriedly rambling off the reasons why he needs to do this. In my stupor, I learn about his grandfather, what a beast he is, and the stipulation of marriage he has put on Orson as a prerequisite to inheriting the business. Then he tells me the reasons it will benefit me.
“The bakery will be safe, Lily. You’ve told me how dire things are for you and how worried you are about the business crumbling. But if we do this, you’ll be financially free. I’ll pay off all the outstanding bills. I’ll even buy new equipment for the kitchen. It’s a win-win.”
Orson is speaking at a mile a minute, clearly excited. I’m just staring across the table, trying to keep up with my racing thoughts. I can’t deny that the bakery is my life. And of course, the idea of having no debt and the doors remaining open is a huge incentive.
But marriage?
How can I even entertain such a notion? Marriage, even a pretend one, is a sacred bond, not a transaction to be negotiated over coffee.
Yet, as the steam from my cup curls into the air, so, too, does the realization of my dire situation. My bakery, once my father’s pride and joy, is on the brink of failure. The debts are overwhelming, and the prospect of losing everything is so real that I can nearly reach out and touch it. Even with Donovan Enterprise's proposal, there’s no guarantee that the business will stay afloat. Like I told Jasmine only yesterday, these things take time. Time I don’t have.
There’s a dense silence in the room for a while. Orson is waiting for me to respond, and yet, I feel paralyzed.
Jasmine said the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Sure, but I hardly think a fake marriage is the way he would go!
It would solve both of our problems. But it’s still a fake marriage. No romance, no love, no shared goals, long-term or otherwise.
“Listen,” Orson says, eventually breaking the silence. “You probably need some time to think about this. I want you to know, there’s no wrong answer. I only ask, if you decide against it, that you keep this between us.”
“Of course.” I nod, still reeling from the prospect.
“If you say yes, then we will do it properly. A written contract of stipulations that we both have to agree on.”
Those words nearly make me shiver. They sound so cold and calculated, as far from what a marriage should be as I can imagine.
His chair scrapes against the tiles as he stands. “I’m going to go. I know it’s not an easy decision, Lily, but if you can let me know by the end of the week, I’d appreciate it.”
“All right,” I say.
That gives me two days. Two days to figure out if I want to sell my soul to keep my business.
Don’t be so dramatic.
Fine, but that’s what it feels like.
A minute later, Orson is at the door, and after a final glance back at me, he leaves, closing it quietly behind him.
For the next three hours, I do a lot of pacing in my apartment. And I mean a lot. I also talk to myself out loud. I need to get this as clear in my head as possible, and listening to myself rambling seems to help.
On no less than three occasions, I lift the phone to call one or both of my sisters. Maybe I need their input; maybe their advice could be helpful. But each time I go to call, I chicken out.
After the third time, I come to a realization. I’m not calling them because I know they’ll try and talk me out of it. And strangely enough, it’s that thought that gives me the answer I’ve spent two hours trying to decide.
I lift the phone again, only this time, I go to my messages and select Orson. With my fingers hovering over the keyboard, I give this one last consideration.
There’s not going to be any fairy tale romance here. My heart is heavy with that thought. But, on the other hand, the bakery will be safe. My business will be safe. Jasmine’s job will be safe. And though he comes last on the list, which I suppose, is a little selfish, Orson will get the inheritance he has worked so hard for.
Tapping the letters on my keyboard, I look at the message one final time, and then I press send. I wonder how long it will be until he replies. I wonder how he’ll react when he sees it. I wonder what will happen now.
My message sits there, glaring at me, while my heart thumps in my chest.
All right. I’ll do it.