Page 16 of Cupcake of the Month
“Well, fine. In addition to prying into your personal business, I’m also rescinding the offer to be our special events coordinator. So there.” Brandi gave her a wink, showing off her unusual half green, half brown eye. She nodded at her cousin. “When you didn’t respond with the enthusiasm that Wendy and I had anticipated, we realized you might think we were pressuring you into taking the job.”
“I think it best you hire someone else. But the offer wasgreatly appreciated.” Jordan loved these two women like the sisters she never had, but she had her own business. Her own life. Which she had on hold, but still.
“You can continue in your unofficial position of person-who-does-everything-we-ask until you deem us no longer worthy of your many talents,” Brandi said.
“Which we hope won’t be anytime soon,” Wendy chimed in. “Because you’re…what is it your people say about family?Mashugana?”
“Mishpocha. But, really, crazy can be the same thing.” Jordan shook her head. “Thank you. Do you want me to put up a job listing?”
“I did it last night,” Brandi said. “I had a feeling you’d say no. Oh, and we got a lead on a temp chef. Someone on the alumni boards mentioned a caterer that might be interested.”
The conversation moved to other topics, and Jordan breathed a little easier. She knew her friends had her back, but actually voicing what was happening with her business was too close for personal comfort. It was like she had failed, and it rankled.
“So. Your temple’s morning services.” Brandi scraped her leftover bits of food onto Jordan’s plate and stacked them. “Single men there?”
“Are you asking for me or for you?” Jordan said.
Wendy nudged Jordan with an elbow. “Doesn’t your mother want you to find a nice doctor or something?”
“My mom wanted me to be the doctor.” Jordan stood up and put her mug in the sink. “I’m not going there to find a man.”
“True.” Brandi smiled. “But a man might find you.”
***
Josh stared at his closed box in the post office lobby, the key gripped in his hand. It had already been an endless Sunday shift at Essie’s. Emma had alternated between hair flipping andpouting at him in her crusade for alcohol. Kenny had smelled like brownies from Colorado. Josh had taken initiative when a customer had been struggling with putting together different flavors for a dinner, but George had taken over and sent Josh off to sweep the damn floor.
Five more years.
The mailbox taunted him, dared him to leave without checking it. Times like these, he completely sympathized with Schrodinger’s Cat. Right now, the contents contained endless, if unrealistic, possibilities. A postcard from Jordan. Mail from a lawyer saying the courts released his parents’ funds, so he and his brother no longer had to scrape by and live paycheck to paycheck. A notice that an unknown relative had passed away and Josh was her heir.
Opening it would slap him back to his existence. It’s not like there’d be anything new that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
He hoisted up his gray backpack, got on his bike, and pedaled the few miles to his apartment, arriving a sodden, sweaty mess. He secured his bike and entered the foyer, ignoring those mail boxes as well. He unlocked the door to the lobby with its peeling wallpaper décor, letting the sweet breath of the air conditioner steal over his body.
Josh’s phone rang, and he shrugged out of his backpack before reading the display. Bonus – it wasn’t a federal prosecutor asking him yet again if he knew where Marian and Clint were. They checked with him every few months and it was about that time. “Hello?”
“Is this Josh Lukasik? My name’s Brandi Clayton, from Fountenoy Hall.”
“This is him.” Her face immediately came to mind – blonde and beautiful with different colored eyes. Fountenoy Hall was familiar to him because of catering talk, though he thought it was owned by an older lady.
“I think I…did we know each other in college?”
Her name slammed into place. They had met, while he and Jordan were doing their pre-mating rituals. “Yeah, I think so. Softball, right?”
“Right.”
Berry clunked down the stairs, hauling a ladder and with a bucket resting in the crook of his arm. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement as he rested the ladder against the wall near his front door. The maintenance man did his best to keep the residents happy with the meager funds sent by the absent owners. Josh returned the greeting.
“So, listen,” she continued. “We’re in a bit of a peach jam over here. My aunt is taking a long-awaited, well-deserved Paris vacation, but she won’t leave until she has someone she can trust to take over the breakfast service.”
“Okay.”
“You work for Barb at Barb’s Catering, right? And I think I’ve seen you at Essie’s doing cooking demonstrations. You looked familiar but I couldn’t place you.”
“Yeah that’s me.” Was she for real? Two days after Jordan witnessed him prostituting himself at Essie’s, he gets a call about working from her friend?
“Someone recommended Barb, but when we called her, she gave us your name as a possibility. If you’re interested, we could really use the help. First you have to meet my aunt and pass muster. Then we’d have you in for a week of training with her, and then the two weeks she’s gone, and then time after she comes back for her to settle in. We have someone else coming to cook dinner, but he can’t do every day, so there’s opportunity there for you as well. Sound good?”
