Brides And Blessings. Molly Bull Noble
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girlfriend, Holly would have mentioned it.
“Would you like to go out for hamburgers?” Kate asked. “The Dizzy Dairy should be open, and I’ve got time, if you do.”
“Hamburgers sounds great.”
“Let’s take my car.”
Suzann had already learned that the Dizzy Dairy, or the “D.D.” as it was sometimes called, was the only place in town that served hamburgers, except for Juan’s Mexican Café. Kate drove by the D.D. slowly. Sure enough, Josh’s truck was parked out front.
“I think I’d rather eat at Juan’s,” Suzann said.
“Are you chicken, or what?”
“Let’s just say I’m playing it safe.”
It was ten by the time Suzann got back to the apartment, and she still had a cake to bake. She opened the kitchen cabinet. A box of cake mix and a can of ready-made icing glared back at her. Grabbing both of them, she read the directions on the back of the cartons. Hmm, this sounds easy, she thought. Literally, a piece of cake.
Yes, baking appeared easy enough—until she smelled burning batter. Suzann raced into the kitchen, grabbed a potholder, and opened the oven. A big puff of smoke caused her eyes to water.
Coughing, she pulled her cake from the oven amid a cloud of smoke. Besides being scorched on the bottom, it was lopsided and had an odor that would kill a healthy horse.
She considered tossing the horrible flop in the garbage and defrosting one of the cakes in the freezer. She might have if she’d thought she could get away with it.
Instead, she decided to tell the truth. So she burned a cake…What could they do to her? Even Mrs. Henrietta Beesley probably burned cakes once in a while.
A dry chill hung in the air the next morning as Suzann dressed for the bake sale. In jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt, she added a green plaid jacket to cut the north wind that was howling outside.
She arrived at the parking lot right on time. A line of card tables were set up to the left of the whitepainted, country church. Josh, in jeans, boots and a blue cowboy shirt, checked his watch. She assumed that he thought she was late.
Suddenly, it dawned on Suzann that she and Josh were the only ones there. Where were the youth group members? Where was Kate when she needed her?
“Kate called in sick.” He examined her suspiciously without cracking a smile, his tan Stetson set firmly on his head. “Something about eating greasy burgers last night.”
“I thought we were here to raise money so the kids can take a ski trip to Colorado during spring break.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “We are.”
“So where are they? Aren’t the kids interested enough to help out?”
“The teenagers are on the parking lot at the back of the church building, washing cars. Of the two, I thought you might like helping with this job.”
“You were right about that.”
His guarded expression slackened. She thought he was on the brink of a smile.
“It’s just the two of us this morning,” he said. “Think you can handle it?”
“I don’t see why not.”
The muscles in his face relaxed. “So, how have you been?”
“Fine. My cold’s almost gone.”
“Took care of things all by yourself, did you?”
“I’m the oldest and the only girl in my family. Growing up, taking care of myself went with the territory.”
“Think you’re pretty independent, huh?” he said mockingly.
“I’m no clinging vine, if that’s what you mean.” Suzann went over to the card tables and began rearranging the pies. “There’s not much here.”
“It’s early yet People will be bringing stuff in all morning. By the way, what did you bring?”
She swallowed. “I…baked a cake.”
“Great, where is it?”
“I’m getting to that.” The wind whipped her hair, covering one of her eyes. “I just—” she pushed away the assailing strand of auburn hair “—I just didn’t bring it.”
“Why not?”
“I burned it, okay?”
“The famous Miss Harmon, baker extraordinaire, burned a cake? The young lady who has her recipes printed in the church cookbook? I can’t believe it.”
Suzann frowned. “Believe it.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a prizewinning baker.”
“I never said that.”
“Everybody else did.”
Suzann gazed at the card tables again. “Would you mind helping me move these tables? I think there would be more room for parking if we moved them a little closer to the building. It would also protect us from the wind.”
“Whatever the lady wants.”
An assortment of pastries had been brought to the church parking lot by noon. Suzann stood behind the table they were using as a counter top, surveying cakes, pies and cookies of all kinds.
The sweet scent of apple pie yanked her back to her childhood, flooding her mind with memories of a TV commercial she had made for a pastry company when she was seven. Suzann remembered the blinding yellow lights, and how hot and uncomfortable they made her feel.
The director had said in a loud voice, “Whatever you do, Mrs. Condry, don’t let that kid of yours sweat. It’ll ruin that expensive dress she’s wearing.”
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