Cream Puff Page 4

  “Got the doughnuts out and most of the bread,” she said, placing the mass of dough into a deep pan. “This is the last of the Butter-Oat.”

  “Boy, you got ʼem out quick,” Charlie said. It would still be a little while yet before they opened for the day, so he slipped on an apron and joined her at the prep table.

  She swung a wide hip into his, blocking him from her work area, and gave him a smirk. “Oh, no you don’t mister. You have a cake to bake.” She jerked a thumb at the remaining pile of bread dough at her own table. “I got this.”

  Charlie dragged a finger through the flour that covered it and touched her nose. “What would I do without you, Katherine?” he said.

  “Live in squalor and die a pauper’s death, you old poop.”

  He was still laughing when he walked over to his own prep table and reached for the cake pans on the shelves above. She was right, of course.

  Time to get busy.

  It was going to be a monolith of elegance; raspberry and vanilla cakes with his own recipe for vanilla buttercream frosting—Ruby’s favorite flavors. It would be the prettiest one he’d ever made with a taste that was out of this world. Charlie went to the storeroom for some flour and the magic began.

  Chapter Six

  It was late afternoon when Charlie pulled his Chrysler into a space outside the New Life Church on Ninth Street. He wasn’t a regular churchgoer himself, but Ruby was marrying into the Baileys—one of the most prominent families in the area—and sheʼd made him promise not to embarrass her. That meant making it to the wedding rehearsal, and on time.

  The wind made itself known the instant he shut off the engine. Again, he’d forgotten his gloves. Darn. He would have to shove his hands into his pockets once more, but at least it was a short walk from the parking lot. He still had no idea what to get Pearl for their anniversary and time was running out faster than he liked.

  “Hello, Charlie!” a familiar, nasal voice shouted from the building’s entrance. “Thought you’d never get here.”

  The younger man trotted across the parking lot toward him and Charlie still couldn’t believe Ruby was marrying this guy. Randall Bailey was tall, handsome, and came from plenty of money. He also had a phony smile, an overly-weak handshake, and somehow always gave Charlie the impression of a shallow flake trying to sell him a new car. In evidence, the younger man offered Charlie the hand of a cold, dead fish.

  “Sorry, I was working on the cake,” Charlie said. “It’s almost ready.”

  “Pushing it kind of close, aren’t we?” Randall said.

  “It’ll be ready for tomorrow. Cooling as we speak.”

  “Wow,” Randall said, looking sheepish. “Ruby was expecting it to be done by now.”

  Two of a kind, Charlie thought. He also considered reminding Randall that they were getting the cake for free, but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  “Only have the frosting left,” Charlie said instead. “I’ll finish up when we’re done here.”

  Could do it faster if I didn’t have to be here, he thought. Randall made a show of his disappointment, but turned it into a good-natured chuckle. “Hope you brought an appetite for the rehearsal dinner,” he said. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

  Charlie hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t planned on sticking around that long. And it irked him when Randall spoke to him as if he had Alzheimer’s. There was only so much he could take of the Baileys on any given day.

  “Yes, well,” Charlie said, “just thought I might swing by for a bit and duck out early—”

  “Now Charlie,” Randall said, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder, “you know the father of the bride should be here. For the dinner, too. Besides, Ruby would be hurt.”

  Charlie had to fight back laughing in Randall’s face. Never in her thirty-nine years had Ruby LaRue ever displayed any behavior that could be mistaken for “hurt.” His daughter had been selfish, resentful, pissed-off even—but never hurt. Given everything since she was in diapers, she would’ve been better off if he’d taught her some values.

  As far as the wedding cake was concerned, Charlie also didn’t like being rushed in the making of his baked goods. Whether it was bread, pastry, or one of his more intricate delicacies, hurrying usually produced a lesser quality product and Charlie wouldn’t stand for that. He nodded at Randall and realized it would be a lot longer of a night than he’d anticipated.

  “Come on, Pop,” Randall said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll do you some good.”

  Pop?

  He thought of leaving, but his growling stomach had other ideas. He’d been working so hard on Ruby’s cake that he hadn’t taken time for a bite. Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

  “Okay.”

  They walked into church together, and Charlie said a silent prayer that it all went quickly.

  ****

  Murphy’s Law was in full swing at the rehearsal. Ruby was a nervous wreck, the caterers had forgotten several items, and the minister was forty minutes late. That meant forty more minutes of small talk with the Baileys. And more time wasted where he could be finding that gift for Pearl…

  Charlie sat in the third pew, thumbing through a hymnal without really reading it and waiting for the show to get started. He was cursing his bad luck when Randall’s mother appeared beside him.

  “Charles (she pronounced it Cholls), so good to see you again,” Susan Bailey said with her hand extended. Charlie wasn’t sure if she expected him to shake it, compliment her nail polish, or drop to one knee and kiss her ring. He chose the first option.

  “Hello, Susan.”

  Her snooty accent was a complete mystery. Both she and her husband Norman had been kids from a working-class neighborhood outside Baton Rouge. As far as he knew, neither of them had ever been to England nor come from old money. These days, however, they were Golden Circle members of the Shreveport Country Club and the biggest of bigshots in Ransom. Perhaps their social status was enough for Susan Bailey to put on airs. Charlie thought it sad she felt the need to.

  “Now where’s your beautiful wife?” she said. “I was looking forward to seeing her here.”

  Charlie smiled, but it was more a reaction to stomach acid dancing around his peptic ulcer than anything else. Susan knew darn well that Pearl hadn’t been ‘beautiful’ for many years and wouldn’t be at any public function unless a forklift was involved. Apparently, Randall’s mom was just getting warmed up.

  “Guess all you get is me,” he said.

  “I understand you’re providing the cake for the reception,” she said. “Ruby says it’s to be your wedding present. How thoughtful.”

  “I’m proud to do it,” Charlie said, ignoring the implication.

  “Just so you know, Cholls, everything else is done. Norman took care of the reception hall weeks ago and the caterer’s covered.”

  Why don’t you just say you paid for it all?

  He looked down at his feet and she twisted the knife. “Secured the band, too.”

  Except for Ruby’s gaggle of girlfriends, most of the wedding guests were going to be friends and relatives of the groom. Charlie had given Ruby a ton of cash over the years and had paid for her first two weddings. This time, though, he just couldn’t bring himself to pay for an event that would likely end in yet another sequel to the same old movie (Ruby III: Down the Tubes Again). Still, he thought of offering to reimburse the Baileys for all their trouble.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” he said, not knowing what she expected him to say.

  Despite her smile, Susan couldn’t hide the look of disdain in her eyes. She made a sniffing sound and flipped her head the way she probably did as a teenager when she was giving some other girl the cold shoulder. Without another word, she turned away and went over to offer Ruby help with the seating arrangements on the other side of the room. Right on cue, her husband Norman walked over.

  “How’s the store, Charlie?” he said. “Still pulling in
fair business, I hope.”

  Man, was everything about money with these people?

  “Fine,” Charlie said. “Everything’s fine.”

  ****

  The rehearsal went well once the minister arrived and they were all pleased when it was over. When the time came, Charlie stood and went through the motions of giving Ruby away. His memory of the previous times he’d done it made him wonder if he and Pearl shouldn’t have named her Yo-yo instead.

  Since the service itself was going to be quite simple, he didn’t get the reason for a rehearsal in the first place. Another one of those things Ruby felt she just had to have.

  For the sake of convenience, the dinner was being served at the church’s activity center, an expensive and well-equipped addendum to the church. Susan had wanted the meal to be at some fancy French restaurant outside of town and Ruby had voiced her preference for an old Italian joint just off the main drag, but it was Norman Bailey’s input that kept it here.

  Norman had argued that he needed to eat and get back to work, and for once the women relented. One thing Susan Bailey would never interfere with was her husband’s money-making abilities. Charlie felt a twinge of jealousy mixed with admiration at Norm’s taking a stand.

  The food was good. Charlie’s diet wasn’t any better than his sleep schedule most days and he’d been doing it for too many years, but he knew that needed to change soon. He was almost finished with some pretty good sirloin tips in mushroom gravy when Randall suddenly appeared, taking an empty chair across from him.

  “How’s the grub, Charlie?” he said.

  Charlie had to swallow before answering. “Delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  “I know, right? That’s Mom and Dad for you. Only the best.”

  Here we go.

  Charlie speared another piece of beef with his fork and looked up. “Is there something I can do for you, Randall?”

  “No, not at all…Ruby just wanted—we just wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself. You know, doing okay. Are you getting enough rest, Pop?”

  “Am I getting enough—?” Charlie put his fork down and studied his future son-in-law.

  The man was not as good as Ruby when it came to hiding intentions. A glance at Randall told Charlie all he needed to know and he measured his words to keep from losing his temper.

  “Randall, you can tell Ruby that the cake is almost doneˮ—Randall opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie held up his hand—“and tell her it’ll be done on time.”

  With that, Charlie smiled and resumed eating. Randall closed his mouth and fidgeted. The silence became uncomfortable enough for him to push his chair back.

  “Okay then,” he said, his toothy grin returning. “Glad you’re having a good time, Pop. Catch ya later.”

  Randall wasted no time getting back to his own table. Charlie chewed the last bite of sirloin and washed it down with what was left of his sweet tea. Good, he thought, now I can get out of here. Before he could get his coat, however, there was Ruby.

  “Hey, mister, what’re you trying to do to yourself?”

  “Just going to work on the cake, hun,” he said.

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I saw what you were eating, Dad.”

  “Huh?”

  “I saw you chewin’ on that chicken-fried steak. You know you’re not supposed to have stuff like that ʼcause of your blood pressure. I’m not ready to lose my father, ya know.”

  “I had the sirloin tips.”

  “That deep-fried stuff’s gonna do you in if you’re not careful.”

  “It wasn’t fried.”

  It was his cholesterol, actually—not his blood pressure, and he took medication for it, but it didn’t matter when Ruby was on a roll. She expected him to feel honored that she even cared, but he knew he could drop dead tomorrow and she wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep.

  At least, he thought with a little darkness, I’d finally get some rest.

  Chapter Seven

  It didn’t surprise him at all when his head hurt on the way back out to the car. Headaches came and went so often anymore that Charlie was surprised to have days when he didn’t have one. He was just happy this one held off long enough for him to get through that dog and pony show.

  The Chrysler was comforting as he adjusted the heat controls and gave the engine a minute to warm up, but it was being away from those people that helped more than anything. Charlie felt like an insect that had just escaped the slide of a microscope. Or a bug-zapper.

  He pulled out of the lot thinking about why he and his wife had grown further apart. It would be too easy to blame it on her inherent meanness. The red flags should’ve been obvious way back when Pearl was a cheerleader and intimidating the less-popular girls of Wilson High on a regular basis.

  He still loved her…at least he thought he did. There was no telling how long their marriage may have been on the rocks without him realizing it, but losing their boy a year ago seemed to blow away the fog he’d been walking around in. And here lately, he was beginning to see the world with a little more clarity.

  The western sky purpled with storm clouds as he continued toward downtown thinking about their son. It was supposed to rain overnight, but Saturday was supposed to be clear and beautiful. Ruby had been going on and on about the impending weather at dinner, scared to death it was going to ruin her day. That was Ruby.

  Tommy had been different.

  Evening traffic was light and Charlie was soon parking behind the bakery again in his usual space under the solitary streetlight. With any luck, he could finish putting Ruby’s cake together tonight. Any finishing touches could be done in the morning and he’d have one less thing to worry about. Perhaps then he could spend the rest of tomorrow morning finding that perfect gift for Pearl.

  He thought as he shut off the engine that it might just have to be some piece of jewelry or something of that sort after all. Women often said (so he’d heard) that a man could never go wrong buying something shiny and expensive.

  Kathy’s Volkswagen was gone and the lights were off, but that was to be expected. She’d run the shop all day, cleaned everything like the dedicated pro she was, and gone home for a well-deserved evening of supper, sitcoms, and sleep.

  Bless that woman.

  He unlocked the back door and flipped the switches. Glare from the overhead fluorescents made him wince as he closed the door behind him. Charlie stubbed his toe in the process, just like he did the very first time he brought Tommy along with him to work.

  ****

  It had been a spring morning; one of those perfect early-June days where the sun came up without the fury of July and hung around until late in the evening, with just enough breeze to keep the mercury reasonable.

  “D-Dad, we gonna make bed a-day?” Tommy had said with excitement all over his face.

  “You bet we are, buddy. All kinds of bread. Doughnuts, too.”

  Tommy had just turned fourteen and convinced his father that he was mature enough to be there. The boy told him he hoped to become his Dad’s apprentice and one day become a real baker. Charlie had liked the idea, because it gave him more time with his son and—just as important—it gave Tommy less time around his mother.

  “Let’s get you ready for the day, Champ,” Charlie had said.

  He recalled the pride on Tommy’s face when he helped his son tie on an apron for the first time and wash his hands with the care of a surgeon. Tommy listened close to everything he was told and just like his father, the boy fell in love with baking. Croissants and bagels, cakes and pies, doughnuts and other sweet treats—none of them were too much of a challenge. Tommy displayed a level of function that flew in the face of all the medical experts that had said he’d never be able to tie his own shoes.

  They worked well together, and Charlie soon realized the truth: the kid had a real gift. Tommy just wanted to be what he loved: a baker—with a capital B.

  That was something Charlie could never get others to un
derstand. As far as he was concerned, Thomas Gregory LaRue was just as good as anyone else on earth (and better than most). He just needed a little more time with things.

  ****

  Charlie strolled into the walk-in cooler thinking of those joyous spring days as he removed the six pans of Ruby’s wedding cake he’d baked earlier. He placed them in a row on the prep table and brought out the large container of raspberry-vanilla filling he had already prepared.

  Fillings were not typical with traditional wedding cakes, but Charlie had made a name for himself with such unique ideas. Once spread across the top of each layer, the thick, fruity mix hardened well enough to support the cake above. In no time at all, he had the layers stacked into a perfect tower that would be beautiful once the icing was made.

  He had been saving a surprise in the freezer at home, too: a smaller cake to go on top. It would be the finishing touch and he would just thaw it out tonight at home and bring it in the morning. Made of the exact same batter over a full year ago, it had been carefully preserved and frozen in a special container. The little cake was the last thing his son ever made before he died.

  Charlie’s gaze traveled to an empty workstation across the room. It was the bread table, where all of the tasty loaves were made—and Tommy’s favorite spot in the bakery. Charlie could still see it like it was yesterday.

  “Hey, Dad! How ʼbout some tunes?” the boy would say, and Charlie would always nod approval as Tommy flipped on the radio that sat on the shelf above.

  Also like his father, Tommy liked the oldies. Boston, the Eagles, the Stones—it was all good, and Charlie would often look over to find Tommy kneading bread dough and singing along. It wasn’t Kathy’s kind of music, but when the three of them were there together and the music was right, she had a blast.

  They all made it fun. It became their own little world and the bakery felt like a time machine. Or maybe, Charlie thought, a place where time could stand still. At least for a while.

  “T-too loud?” Tommy would sometimes ask, but more often than not Charlie would shake his head and smile.