Chapter One #2
I loved baking, and I’d catered for Robert’s law office for years, but more recently, I’d added a few small paying jobs on the side.
The work provided cash that Robert didn’t know about, and therefore couldn’t control, and each job came exclusively through word of mouth, so he wouldn’t catch me and complain.
Everyone involved chose secrecy for personal reasons.
My customers got to show up at events, or host them, with fancy desserts they pretended they’d baked themselves, and I saved the money so I could eventually hire a divorce lawyer.
The business was a godsend for many working, frantic, sleep-deprived parents in the area, especially those feeling the pressure to do it all and make it seem easy. But it was an even bigger win for me.
I’d made cute pink business cards that featured only The Invisible Baker scripted in gold curlicue font and the number to an unregistered phone I bought at Target.
I closed the door as the visibly relieved mom returned to her minivan, then tucked the cash inside an old tampon box, hidden inside a tote for cleaning supplies in the utility closet.
Alicia waited at the expansive granite island. When I returned, the tray of tartlets was gone, presumably delivered to the sunroom while I handled business. “How much do you have now?” she asked, a knowing smile on her rosy lips.
“A few thousand.” Finally enough to pay the retainer for the divorce lawyer I wanted.
She nodded with pride in her eyes. “That’s a lot of baked goods.”
I’d realized before Camilla’s tenth birthday that my husband, Robert, was abusive, though I didn’t have the word for it then.
He never called me names, cheated, or raised a hand to me, none of the things my father had done to my mother, but Robert’s small offenses had accumulated to the point of my continual misery, and I’d come to realize his behavior was intentional.
Something I’d since learned was emotional abuse.
Robert grew steadily more awful over the years, and I’d hit rock bottom before I figured out the trouble was with him and not me.
So, while he became colder and more controlling, moodier and more condescending, I crafted a plan to leave the moment Camilla went to college.
I didn’t want her caught up in the inevitable shit show of divorcing a narcissistic lawyer like Robert.
Somehow, more than a decade passed while I held everything together in our lives, my mom’s, and Camilla’s, and I’d finally saved enough money to hire a lawyer. It was three years later than I’d planned to escape, but I was good to go now, nonetheless.
“Feels kind of badass,” I admitted.
Alicia’s smile grew. “Rightfully so.”
“I just wish I didn’t have to sneak around like I’m selling meth instead of madeleines.”
Alicia snorted. She lifted a vase of flowers I’d arranged for tonight. “I think this is it,” she said. “Grab the wine. If you’re finally getting a lawyer, we need to celebrate.”
My phone rang, and we both froze. Mom’s name centered the screen. “Oh, thank heavens.”
Alicia waited while I answered, talked quickly to my mother, then disconnected and set the device to silent. “Apparently she was out with friends, and according to her, I don’t need to know where she is every minute of every day,” I reported. “I’m so glad she and I can have these talks.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. “Well, at least that’s one woman off your worry list.”
For now, I thought. But her health was declining, and she’d stopped working, so she was behind on her property taxes.
I feared she’d lose the house—which would be catastrophic.
Robert and I could easily help with her finances, but he’d never agree to it, and he’d sooner burn our home down than allow her to move in with us.
I didn’t have enough hidden money to keep her in an apartment for more than a month or two.
Not exactly a long-term fix. Dad left her enough money to get by, but lately she drank and shopped online as if that was her full-time job, blowing through her savings.
My husband was a selfish asshat, my mother a reclusive eccentric—who was lying through her nose about spending a day out with friends. She’d alienated everyone she knew except a longtime neighbor, Ilona. But like Alicia said, at least I knew she was okay for the moment.
“Now I just have to wait for my daughter to check in.”
“Don’t worry too much about Camilla,” Alicia said. “She’s smart like her mama. She knows her own heart and mind, and whatever decision she makes, if Jeff proposes, will be the right one for her.”
I shrugged but couldn’t bring myself to agree, because what if she was wrong? What would I do then?
“For what it’s worth,” she added, “there are good men in this world, Soph. I think Jeff is one of them. Your dad and husband are exceptions, not the rule.”
“Maybe,” I allowed. But in my experience, romantic love was the poison that turned nice men into monsters. “If I have to use my secret baking money to pay Mom’s bills, it’ll mean staying here another year, and I’m not sure I can make it that long.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said.
“Agreed. I’d probably kill Robert before Christmas in that scenario, but at least book club has taught me the best ways to cover up a murder.”
Delight glinted in Alicia’s eyes. “Now there’s a crime I can get behind.”