The Icing on the Cake by Janice Thompson

“Ugh.” She looked at the long line of customers streaming in the door. “Well, I hope Armando makes it back in time.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” With a wave of my hand, I dismissed any concerns. He would make it back. No problem.

  Still, it seemed a little odd that he’d gone into Houston.

  Not that I really knew that much about what he did in Houston. He’d been pretty closemouthed about that part of his life, hadn’t he? But I hadn’t asked either. It wasn’t like we were a couple, necessarily. Oh well. I’d better focus on the upcoming rehearsal.

  A familiar young woman entered the restaurant carrying a sketchbook. Bella greeted her with a smile, then turned to me.

  “Scarlet, you remember Gabi, right?” Bella nodded at the beautiful woman to her right.

  I did recognize the petite, dark-haired beauty. “Yes. You work at the bridal shop, right?”

  “That’s right.” Her lovely Hispanic accent sounded like water trickling across rocks. “I measured you for your maid of honor dress for Hannah’s wedding.”

  “Oh, right. The woman with the measuring tape.” I groaned inwardly, realizing this girl knew my measurements. No one else on planet earth knew them. Even I didn’t know them. Still, she didn’t seem terribly shaken by my numbers, whatever they were.

  “Gabi’s helping me plan ahead for a fall wedding,” Bella said. “She’s got the best designs.”

  “You’re a designer too?” For whatever reason, I thought alterations were her bag.

  A shy smile crossed her face. “I try my hand at a few things. Hannah’s dress is my first real creation.”

  “Wait . . . you designed Hannah’s dress?”

  She nodded. “But don’t tell my boss, okay? He doesn’t know I’m doing this on the side.”

  “Gabi works for Demetri Markowitz at Haute Couture bridal.”

  “Ooo, I know him. Not the nicest guy in the world.”

  “Hence the need for silence.” Bella quirked a brow.

  “Well, mum’s the word then. But Gabi, if Hannah’s dress is any indication, your designs are light-years better than Demetri’s.”

  Gabi’s gaze shifted to the ground. “Thank you.”

  “She’s got a lot more too.” Bella opened Gabi’s sketchbook, and we looked through it, oohing and aahing at every page.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t sold all of these to a famous design house,” I said after a few minutes.

  Gabi shook her head. “I really don’t know if I want to go that route. I kind of like being here in Galveston. If I got an offer from a big house, I’d end up having to move to New York or something. I don’t want to leave my mama and my grandmother. I’ve lived on the island all my life.”

  My imagination kicked in—along with a lot of jealousy—and I pictured Armando falling for this dark-haired beauty. Yes, the two of them would end up married with a couple of gorgeous, dark-haired, non-chubby children.

  Stop it, Scarlet.

  I smiled weakly as I gazed back down at her sketches. Gabi was beautiful. And talented too.

  After a while, Gabi glanced at the clock and gasped. “I have to get back to the shop. My boss is so particular.” She looked panicked. “Promise you won’t tell anyone about my designs?”

  I promised, but I wondered why it mattered. Did she really fear for her job?

  She disappeared from view, and I glanced at the clock. Was it really after six? No way. I’d better get on the road.

  I’d just headed to the door when I saw Rosa coming in. She offered a broad smile and put her hand on my arm. “Scarlet, good to see you again, sweet girl. You’re looking great.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Good to see you too, Rosa. How’s Laz doing? Recovering nicely?”

  “Yes, but he’s feisty. Ornery.” She laughed. “The man was never very good at resting and relaxing, so this whole recovery thing is really getting on his nerves. And I probably shouldn’t say it after coming so close to losing him and all, but he’s getting on my nerves too.” She clamped a hand over her mouth, then pulled it away. “Is that awful?”

  “Nah. Probably 100 percent normal.”

  “Good.” She patted my arm. “So glad I caught you. I had an idea I’d like to share with you, honey. I really think you’re going to like it. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  I glanced at my watch, a little concerned about the time. Still, I couldn’t disregard her, especially after all she’d done for me. If she wanted to talk, we would talk.

  Rosa carried on, clearly oblivious to my concerns about the late hour. “You’re trying to raise money for this trip to Nicaragua, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re also hoping to draw customers to your shop. Though I don’t think you need to worry about that. Now that you’ve won that bake-off, they’ll come in droves.”

  “They already are.” I gave her a thumbs-up and smiled.

  “Perfect. Well, here’s my thought. As good as your cakes are, I know something that’s even better. We’ve all been talking about it, and we’re in total agreement that your sticky buns are the best on the island.”

  Okay, I almost choked at that comment.

  She clapped her hands together and grinned. “So why not host a sticky buns extravaganza one morning next week? Let people know it’s for the fund-raiser. All proceeds can go to the missions group.” She grinned. “And just so you know, Laz and I want to fund this venture. We’ll provide whatever supplies you need to bake as many as you like.”

  “Oh no. Please.” I couldn’t allow them to do that, not with Laz in such frail shape.

  “Honey, we can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for us. Covering my spot on the show—and winning—has been the icing on my cake, as it were. You’ve blessed me so much. And I know how much this trip means to you. Armando has talked about it nonstop.”

  “He has?” That surprised me.

  “Well, sure. He’s so proud of you. I’ve never heard him go on and on about anything like this.”

  “Really?” Knowing that made me feel better. It also reassured me that he would turn up for tonight’s rehearsal.

  She continued to share a detailed explanation of how the sticky buns fund-raiser could go down, and I thanked her for the suggestion. I gave careful thought to her words as I headed off to the church. The fund-raiser idea was a good one, but how could I put together something else with all I had on my plate? Seemed impossible, at least in the moment.

  One day at a time, Scarlet. One day at a time.

  First I needed to get through tonight’s practice. Then work like a dog tomorrow morning on Hannah’s cakes. Get them clear-coated and refrigerated. Spend tomorrow evening with Hannah in full-out maid of honor mode. Enjoy the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Then spend as many hours as I could—When? In the middle of the night?—decorating her wedding cake.

  All while running a bakery.

  No problem. I could do this. As long as tonight’s rehearsal went well.

  I arrived at the church to find Uncle Donny in his older-model pickup truck waiting outside. He climbed out, carrying a large saw. Okay then. Looked like the show was on the road. Literally. He warmed up, making all sorts of unusual noises.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a shiny Cadillac pulling up. The three Splendora sisters spilled out, dressed in all their glittery splendor. Twila’s sequined top was positively blinding. It didn’t help that the evening sun hovered so low overhead, catching the sequins and dazzling me with their brightness. Jolene looked pretty snazzy in her green satin dress, and Bonnie looked downright delicious in her cotton-candy-pink capris and top.

  The ladies greeted me first and then turned their attention to Donny. Bonnie Sue in particular seemed smitten. Of course, the other two ladies had husbands. But that didn’t stop them from gushing over him. On and on they went, singing his praises and giving me the scoop on his upcoming saw solo.

  Alrighty then.

  “You know Donn
y’s quite the hero in Splendora.” Bonnie Sue’s eyes sparkled as she looked his way. “His truck stop got a big write-up in our local paper. So did his rendition of ‘Amazing Grace,’ which he played on his saw at the grand opening.”

  I nodded, unsure of how to respond.

  “And speaking of write-ups in the paper, I saw that your gig on television made the papers.” Donny waggled his thick, gray brows. “Very nice promotion for your business. And for your aunt’s too, I noticed.”

  “Yes, I think she’s pleased with how things turned out.”

  “Well, no doubt. You did her proud. And the Rossis too. I’d say you’re everyone’s little darling right about now.” He gave me a playful wink.

  “Thank you so much.” I managed the words, but my thoughts shifted at once to Armando. Was I his little darling? A couple of nights ago, I would’ve said yes. No doubt in my mind. But he certainly hadn’t stayed in touch today, had he? I glanced at my phone, wondering if maybe I’d missed a call from him. Nope.

  Oh well. He’d be here soon.

  He’d better be, anyway. We couldn’t very well manage this rehearsal without him, now could we?

  I led the way into the sanctuary and glanced at the clock—6:35. Good. We still had twenty minutes before the others arrived. Well, all but Kenny, who entered the room right behind me.

  I found my father straddling a ten-foot ladder at the front of the sanctuary, where he had apparently pulled down several wet pieces of Sheetrock. They lay strewn all over the stage, creating an unexpected and horrible mess. From the looks of things, we were going to need every minute to get this mess cleaned up so that no one got hurt.

  “Dad?”

  He glanced down from his perch and released a groan. “I know, I know. Terrible timing. But that storm blew in more than a strong wind. Apparently there’s a leak in the roof. The roofers came earlier and patched it, but I couldn’t afford to pay anyone to replace the Sheetrock, so I’m doing it myself.”

  Kenny looked up at him. “I’ll help you, sir.”

  “Son, I don’t mean any harm by this statement, but how are you going to help with that bum arm of yours?” My father muttered something under his breath and climbed down from the ladder to begin the task of picking up the wet Sheetrock pieces. He glanced Kenny’s way. “No, you just do me a favor and help my girl here. She’s going to have a doozy of a time trying to work this rehearsal around the mess I’ve made.”

  And I did have a doozy of a time, starting with my feeble attempts to get the new lightboard up and running while they worked on cleaning up the mess. Talk about clueless.

  Armando, where are you? Didn’t you promise to come early?

  The Splendora sisters got involved at one point, Twila leading the way. “I’ve worked hundreds of lightboards in my day, honey.” She did a little magic on the board, and voilà! We had lights! Well, sort of. Turned out she only knew how to get the board running, not how to work the individual levers and knobs. Oh well. A little light was better than no light at all, right? Except for the fact that it highlighted the gaping hole in the ceiling and wet Sheetrock on the ground.

  I kept checking my phone to see if Armando had called. Nothing. In the meantime, Kenny worked alongside my dad at the front—er, top—of the sanctuary. I could hear hammering and sawing going on but didn’t pay much attention. With the kids now in attendance, I needed to stay focused on them.

  Or not. Something else stole my attention for a minute. At ten minutes till seven, Kenny approached the sound booth, looking dejected.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I think I messed up your dad’s saw.” He sighed and plopped down onto the seat next to me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what I get for trying to help him with a bum arm. I busted the teeth out of his good saw.”

  “Aw, man.” I looked at my father, who remained perched atop the ladder at the front of the church, saw in hand. “No, wait. It’s fine. Rest easy.”

  “But I . . .” Kenny looked over at the saw he’d just placed on the sound table, his brow furrowed. “If that’s not your dad’s saw . . .”

  I looked at it and shrugged. Then I realized what Kenny had done.

  “Oh no!” we both cried out at once.

  I gasped, then clamped a hand over my mouth. This was awful.

  Ironically, Uncle Donny chose that moment to approach. He grinned as he glanced down at the saw. “There’s my little Lucille. I thought she’d gone missing.”

  “Lucille?” Kenny paled.

  “Yep. Named her after my precious wife, who passed away years ago. What a godly woman. Such an inspiration. Always left a song in my heart.” He picked up the saw and held it close, as one would hold an infant. “This blessed instrument has been with me for years. I think you’ll be tickled to hear the beautiful music Lucille and I make together.”

  “O-oh?” Kenny looked as if he might be sick at any moment.

  After giving the saw a closer look, Donny appeared concerned. “Wait a minute. What’s happened here?” He gazed at the saw up close. “Lucille? Darlin’? What happened to you?”

  He turned back to face us, and Kenny rose. “Sir, I’m sorry. I had no idea I was using your saw to help Pastor Lindsey. I really thought it belonged to him. Surely you can see how easy it would be to mix them up. To me, one saw looks like any other.”

  “Are you saying that you . . .” Donny’s eyes misted over. “You used my little Lucille to actually cut something?”

  “Yes, sir. Well, sort of.” Kenny groaned. “I didn’t know. And I accidentally—”

  “You . . . you broke her teeth?”

  Fear registered in Kenny’s eyes, along with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to, sir. And if I’d known she was your . . . your . . . instrument, I never would have used her in the first place. I just got so distracted helping Pastor fix the busted ceiling.”

  Uncle Donny looked so sad, I thought he might cry. And Bonnie Sue? Well, she approached looking as mad as a hornet. She headed Kenny’s way, tongue clucking. “Young man, you’ve decimated my man’s saw?”

  “I didn’t mean to, ma’am.”

  Poor Kenny. He would never live this down. I could tell he would go on beating himself up over it for some time.

  And one more thing: if I had any question in my mind about how Bonnie Sue felt about Uncle Donny, she’d just answered it. She was smitten, as Armando would say. Then again, Uncle Donny didn’t look as enthused. But he wouldn’t be, would he? Not with his attention so fixed on his busted saw and all. No doubt he couldn’t see past Lucille’s teeth to any other woman in the room.

  After a moment of quiet reflection, Donny looked at Kenny and sighed. “No worries, son.” The older fellow patted him on the shoulder. “I have a whole case of saws at home. Never you fear. I’ll be back on the night of the show with Prince William. He’s my favorite. I only brought Lucille here to practice on because I don’t want to run the risk of anything happening to my favorite.”

  Ack. I knew he was just trying to make Kenny feel better, but judging from the look on Kenny’s face, it wasn’t working.

  Uncle Donny cradled the saw like a baby, and I was pretty sure I heard him say, “You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille,” as he walked down the aisle.

  Of course, hearing the name Lucille put me in mind of Lucy. I had to wonder what she would do on a night like this, when Ricky didn’t show up and the show unraveled right in front of her. She would probably cry those big, gut-wrenching, overly dramatic tears of hers. And then the scene would end with the cheerful background music playing over and fading away, offering the television audience hope for funny episodes yet to come.

  And so, as always, I took my cues from my heroine. I slinked away to the ladies’ room, where I spent a few minutes in one of the stalls, a washed-up mess. I boohooed big, dramatic tears that would’ve made Lucy proud. Then I tried calling Armando. He didn’t answer, but someone else did.

  A female some
one.

  A female someone named Cynthia, who claimed she didn’t know where Armando was.

  Well, perfect. If that just didn’t make my night, I didn’t know what would. And so I blubbered all over again, this time for being such a fool over Armando Rossi. For thinking that he cared about me one whit. What a blithering idiot I’d been, putting my heart out there to be stomped on.

  After a while, Mama came and found me. She offered a few encouraging words, helped me dry my tears, and sent me on my way with a “What would Lucy do?”

  I told her very plainly that I was already doing what Lucy would do . . . and Mama just hugged me.

  Fine. Lucy would dry her eyes and get back to work. She was a consummate pro, after all. With that in mind, I pushed aside my angst and made up my mind to focus on the kids once I made it out of the restroom. Well, the kids and the adults who had agreed to participate.

  Only one problem: the trio of Splendora ladies found their way to the ladies’ room before I could leave. They’d somehow figured out I’d been crying, and they offered to hold an impromptu prayer meeting to see me through. Now, I’d prayed in a multiplicity of places before, but never pressed up against a bathroom sink. Not that I minded, necessarily. In spite of the awkward setting, the ladies prayed the house down. Er, prayed the stalls down.

  I headed back out to the sanctuary to assume the role of director. Somehow we forged ahead, and by 7:10 everyone was there. Well, everyone but Armando, who was still MIA. I had no idea why he didn’t show but decided he wasn’t worth crying over. No man was . . . right?

  Is he really a man? No, he’s acting like a boy. Just not showing up? Childish!

  To be honest, I didn’t really know him very well. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to change and settle down as I’d thought.

  We began the rehearsal, and Kenny did his best on the lightboard, but he didn’t really have a clue what to do to emphasize the various acts. Without Armando’s soundboard, we ended up with a squeaky, squealy sound, but we were kind of used to that, so it didn’t matter so much. Still, I felt disappointed. Keenly.

  “Bummer,” Devon said when a squeal pierced the room. “Thought it was gonna be better than that.”