Page 21 of Kandie Shoppe

“Alright?” he whispers, a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright.” Suddenly shy, I turn away from him, tucking my head down, knowing like I know the sun is shining, that therumor mill is going to be busting with the news that Nathaniel and I are courting. And so what if we are? We’re not, but so what? I deserve nice things — a nice man, even if I don’t want them.

“Got my Italian cream cake ready, hunnie?” Ms. Ernestine asks moments later as soon as I let people know I’m ready.

“Yes, ma’am.” I smile over at the woman almost as tall as her husband, Bubba-T, standing right behind her with their two sons doing their best to catch up in both height and brawn. “You could’ve made an order at the shop,” I say, sitting the already packed preorder on the table and sliding it over to her, which Bubba-T reaches over and picks up for her.

“I like the ten-dollar discount.” Winking she holds out twenty-five dollars.

Waving away the money, I say, “That one is on the house. Bubba-T looked out for me the other night at The Shack.”

“And didn’t do a good job, by the looks of it.” Throwing a scowl over her shoulder, she pins him with a fierce look. “Why didn’t you make sure she got home?”

“I told him not to,” I cut in, taking up for him. “They probably would have come to my place if they saw him drop me off and it would have been more than them running me off the road.”

“Them boys from Epes did this?” Bubba-T’s boom is so jarring, several of the ladies behind them in line jump.

“Hush,” Ernestine and I both shush him at the same time.

“Uh-uh, don’t y’all hush me. They don’t come over here hurting our women and thinking they are going to get away with it.” He swells up so big with each word I think he’s sure to combust.

“Brutus-Brandon Taylor, I want you to think really hard about what you’re saying and where you are saying it,” Mrs. Ernestine tells him in a low voice, before turning back to me.“Hunnie, I swear he talks in school and out,” she says, grabbing her cake.

I already know he, along with a few of my uncles and cousins, is going to be riding out on them boys. I could tell from the look Mama-Pete gave me earlier that I was going to be grilled at Sunday dinner.

The next few people come and get their preorders of bread, cakes, and pastries. Some ogle my bruises or outright ask what happened, being nosey. It comes with the territory of being in a small town and I’m not a hypocrite because I’m a known town gossip. If it were in reverse, I would be spilling the tea over pieces of cake and coffee sold at The Kandie Shoppe. If you want to know about anything going on in this town, you can come by The Kandie Shoppe and find out.

“Are you going to be at the market festival?” Little Aliah Robinson asks as she picks up a cinnamon roll.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure will.” I smile down at her.

“Yay, that’s my birthday.” Dipping her head, she licks the icing before munching a big bite out of the roll.

“No way.” I look at her beaming mother and daddy, who has a small frown playing around the corners of his mouth as he regards me.

“Ah, I’ll make you something special for sure,” I tell her, not sure what his problem is, well, other than me looking like I had my ass beat.

I don’t have to wait long when he hangs back. “Kandie, everybody likes you.” I nod in acknowledgment. “A-and I know you don’t care what we think, but these little girls — they look up to you. I know you didn’t ask for that, but they do.”

Dropping a fifty-dollar bill into the donation jar, he moves on before my notorious temper flares. He needn’t have bothered because one — we’re at church and two — I knew full well what Iwas getting myself into coming here today, but I’ll be damned if I hide because I said, ‘no’.

“Ms. Kandie.” I turn to the twin girls in matching blue dresses, smiling over to me. “Esmerelda and Emmaline Cruz, I swear y’all get prettier every time I see you.” Smiling at the girls, I glance at their father, Sebastian Cruz, our new mayor. I return his nod of acknowledgement, wondering if he, too, will be hanging back to lecture me for daring to show up after being attacked.

“Red velvet for my best customers,” I say, sliding the cake over to the mayor.

“Gracias,” the girls chime together.

“Thanks, Ms. Kandie,” the mayor says, moving on without any words of admonishment.

“I didn’t make a preorder, but I was hoping you’d have a caramel cake back there,” the soft frail voice of Marlene Shelby, our sheriff emeritus, says. They let her keep her position so that her chemo could be paid for. Them being cut off from the family’s wealth has never been a secret and as proud as they were, the people of this community loved Hezekiah and Marlene just as much.

“Now you know, I always have a caramel cake for you,” I say, ignoring the behemoth standing behind her wheelchair as I turn to get the cake box with her name already printed on it.

“Hopefully, I will be able to eat a little of it. If not, you don’t have to worry, it won’t go to waste. Ulysses will tear it up. You know it’s his favorite?”

“Um, I think you mentioned that five hundred times or two,” I joke, pushing down the pang of knowing exactly when I first knew it was his favorite. Knowing and perfecting the recipe just for him all those years ago. Swallowing back the lump in my throat and the searing ache in my chest, I dare a glance up to his face.

He’s not even looking my way or paying us any attention. His eyes are narrowed and trained on LaShaun Montgomery, fresh off her divorce from city councilman, David Montgomery, who got caught messing with his secretary.

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