Chapter Five #2
“The winner gets this.”
She opened a cabinet and pulled out a bright yellow ceramic cake stand with tiny lemons around the base. Fancy gold letters on the front read...
Queen of the Cake.
Laughter erupted around the room.
“Tasha cheated last month.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely bought those cookies.”
“They were homemade.”
“By who?”
“Costco.”
Everyone burst out laughing. I laughed too. I couldn’t help it. For the first time since I moved to Lemon Grove Estates, I didn’t feel like the new neighbor. I was just another woman in a room full of women having a good time together. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that feeling.
“All right, ladies,” Camille announced.
“Let’s eat.”
The doorbell chimed just as Camille grabbed her plate.
"I'll get it," she said, setting her plate down before heading into the foyer.
People kept chatting in the dining room until the front door opened. Then the room got quieter.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Camille spoke more softly than before.
"You came."
I didn’t know who she was talking to until the person walked in. It was the woman from the other night. I had seen her in her driveway with her husband standing over her, his face tight with anger.
Tonight, she seemed smaller than usual. Her shoulders drooped under a cream cardigan, even though the summer air was warm. She wore big sunglasses, but the fading bruise near her temple showed why she needed them.
We both stood still for a moment. Then Camille hugged her.
It wasn’t the quick hug people usually give at church.
This one lasted longer. The others stood up one at a time.
Simone hugged her. Nia hugged her. Jade squeezed her hand.
Even Miss Evelyn stood, opened her arms, and whispered something that made the woman’s chin tremble.
No one asked any questions. No one looked surprised. Whatever was going on, it was clear they had been through this before.
Finally, Camille turned to me.
"Maci, this is Danielle."
Danielle gave me a tired smile.
"It's nice to finally meet you."
"You too."
When we shook hands, her grip was weak. My years in the emergency room taught me to notice things others might miss. She paused before reaching out. I saw faded yellow bruises under her watch and noticed the small wince she tried to hide. I pretended not to see. She looked relieved.
"Come on," Camille said with a big smile, clapping her hands. "Let’s eat before the food gets cold."
A few minutes later, everyone sat around the big dining table.
The room filled with the warm sounds of bowls being passed, silverware clinking, and easy conversation. Simone complained about Nashville traffic. Nia joked about hiding her online shopping from her husband.
For almost half an hour, it felt like any other neighborhood dinner party.
Danielle barely spoke. She smiled when someone talked to her and laughed with the group, but every now and then, she looked at the front windows, as if she was waiting for someone to show up.
Halfway through dinner, Camille tapped her water glass. The conversation stopped.
"I just want to remind everyone that this table will always be a safe place."
A couple of women nodded.
"If anyone has something on their heart tonight, you're among sisters."
The room went quiet. Danielle looked down at her plate and slowly pushed it away.
"I'm tired."
No one interrupted.
"I don't mean physically." She gave a short, dry laugh.
"I mean, I'm tired of pretending everything's okay." She swallowed hard.
"I'm tired of covering bruises. I'm tired of saying I bumped into another cabinet." A tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.
"I just…" Her voice broke. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."
Miss Evelyn reached across the table and gently placed her hand on Danielle's trembling hand.
"You don't have to carry it by yourself anymore."
Danielle closed her eyes and nodded. Camille stood up slowly.
"Come walk with me."
Danielle looked around the room, then followed Camille into the hallway. No one started talking. There were no whispers or questions. Everything felt normal.
A minute later, I got up and said I needed the restroom. The hallway was quiet except for the faint sound of two people talking behind a half-closed office door. I hadn’t meant to listen, but I could hear Danielle’s voice.
"I'm scared." A pause, then Camille.
"You don't have to be."
There was a pause and another sniffle. Camille spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
"When you leave here tonight, you won't be carrying this alone anymore."
I hesitated for a moment before going to the bathroom. Maybe they were talking about shelter, a lawyer, or divorce. Whatever it was, it wasn’t meant for me.
When I came back, Danielle seemed different. It was like she had finally let out a breath she’d been holding for years.
Camille smiled brightly.
"Now let's get to the important business."
"Dessert."
Laughter returned right away. Someone poured wine, and plates of cake were passed around the table. Everyone complimented Camille’s recipe, at least until they tried mine.
Simone blinked after her first bite.
"Nia, you've got to try this."
Nia took a forkful.
Then another.
"Oh," she said, looking at me. “This poses a danger.”
Everyone at the table started laughing. Jade shook her head.
"Camille, I think your reign is over."
"Oh, hush," Camille said, laughing.
"It was bound to happen eventually."
Miss Evelyn finished her slice quietly and set down her fork.
"This tastes like someone's been making this recipe with love for a very long time."
Her look made me uneasy.
When the votes were counted, Camille presented me with the little yellow ceramic cake stand.
"Our newest Queen of the Cake."
Applause filled the dining room. I laughed, feeling embarrassed.
"Beginner's luck."
"No," Simone said. “Just good cake and we don’t play about cake."
Camille smiled as she handed me the stand. She seemed warm, but for a moment, I thought I saw something else in her eyes. It happened so quickly I wasn’t sure if I imagined it.
The evening ended with hugs and leftover cake wrapped in foil. Danielle hugged everyone before heading to the front door. When she got to me, she smiled.
"I'm really glad I came."
"I'm glad you did too."
She nodded and slipped out into the night. I watched her taillights fade down the street, then went home too.
◆◆◆
The smell of bacon and cinnamon toast filled the air when I walked into the kitchen. Zaire was already dressed for work, checking his emails while the news played quietly in the background.
"There she is," he teased, not looking up. "I was starting to think the Queen of the Cake wasn't getting out of bed today."
I rolled my eyes.
"I think the title expires after twenty-four hours."
He chuckled.
"I don't know. I think those ladies will be expecting dessert every Thursday now."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
I was reaching for a mug when the anchor’s voice suddenly changed.
"We're following breaking news this morning out of Lemon Grove Estates."
I looked up at the TV. Blue lights flashed on the screen. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the front of a house I knew. The camera moved in slowly and stopped on a photo of Danielle with Marcus.
The caption beneath them read:
LOCAL BUSINESSMAN FOUND DEAD INSIDE HIS HOME
The authorities hadn’t said what caused his death yet. The investigation was still underway.
Zaire frowned.
"Wasn't that the woman you met last night?"
I nodded once.
"It was."
"Damn."
He shook his head.
"I hate that for her."
"So do I."
The reporter kept talking, but I stopped listening. My mind went back to last night with Danielle’s shaky voice, and how every woman at Camille’s table hugged her in silence.
I remembered the closed office door and the smile she wore when she came back into the dining room. She hadn’t smiled like that when she first arrived.
"You okay babe?" Zaire asked.
I realized I’d been staring at the TV.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"I'm fine."
He looked at me for a moment, then leaned over and kissed my forehead.
"I've got an early meeting. I'll call you later."
"I'll be here. I love you."
"I love you too."
A few moments later, the garage door rumbled shut, and the house grew quiet. I took my coffee to the front window.
Outside, everything looked the same as it had yesterday. It all seemed perfect. At the end of the street, a landscaping crew trimmed the hedges. Children laughed as they waited for the school bus. A golden retriever chased a squirrel across a neighbor’s lawn.
Camille stood under her lemon tree across the street.
She wore white gardening gloves and a pale yellow sundress.
She trimmed a dead branch and watered the flowers by her front walk.
She looked peaceful and calm, as if nothing had happened the night before.
It seemed hard to believe that just hours earlier, one of the women at her dining room table had lost her husband.
She looked up, and our eyes met through the window. She gave me a warm smile, lifted her gloved hand, and waved. I smiled and waved back.
To her, I was just the new neighbor. I was the one with the grandmother’s lemon pound cake recipe, eager to fit in and grateful to have found such a welcoming community. I wanted to keep it that way.
At least for now.