Page 22 of Just Desserts in Pelican Point
"You’re in luck," I say, sliding a plate across the counter. "Last one. You want coffee with it?"
"Yes, please. Half-caf if you have it. My hands are already shaking from the three espressos I inhaled earlier today."
As I pour her drink, an idea begins to form. Something I’ve been meaning to figure out for days but haven’t had the time—or emotional energy—to face.
"Desirae," I say, placing her coffee on the counter and swallowing back the lump rising in my throat, "I know this is super last-minute, and I totally understand if you're too busy, but... I need something to wear to Mrs. Waverly’s funeral."
She stills, her expression softening. "Of course you do."
I fidget with the edge of my apron. "It’s just... I want to honor her. I want something that’s simple, respectful. But still... nice. She always said dressing well was a form of respect."
Desirae smiles, the corners of her eyes creasing. "She wasn’t wrong. That woman had a better wardrobe at eighty than most twenty-year-olds."
I laugh softly. "She really did."
"I have just the thing," Desirae says. "It’s in my studio right now. Black, soft crepe, elegant neckline. Classy, but not flashy with beautiful flowers. And it has pockets."
My eyes widen. "Pockets?"
"Obviously. We’re not savages."
I feel the weight ease from my shoulders a little, and I smile gratefully. "Thank you. Really. That means a lot."
She pats my hand gently. "I’ll drop it by in the next day or two. You just focus on taking care of yourself, okay?"
"Trying," I say with a small sigh. "Some days are easier than others."
Desirae nods knowingly. "Grief is like a wave. Just when you think you’re steady, it crashes all over again."
My cellphone rings and my excitement at the name on the display must be apparent. It’s Marcus.
Desirae eyes me with a twinkle. "And speaking of unexpected sweetness..." she murmurs under her breath.
"Don’t you start, too," I whisper back, cheeks heating as I swipe the green bar.
She grins, grabs her scone and coffee, and heads for the door. "Bye, darling. You’re glowing."
“Hi there,” I answer my phone as I wave off Desirae.
"Busy day?"
"Not too bad. It’s almost closing time." That low heat stirs between us again even over the phone. It’s not overwhelming, but enough to make me feel alive.
"Are you canceling on me or are you still coming tonight?" I ask casually, pretending my heart isn’t trying to beat out of my chest.
He laughs. "I’m definitely not canceling tonight. I called for your address. I could look it up on my work computer, but that would be creepy/stalkerish, so I chose to call the bakery number instead."
I grin even though he can’t see me. "You’re right. That would be creepy. I live at 523 Pelican Way.”
“Got it. I’ll pick you up at seven, we can walk from there.”
“Great. And don’t expect me to go easy on you during Monopoly. I plan to win."
"I figured," he says, laughter in his voice. "Should I bring bail money?"
"You’ll need it when I keep sending you to jail."
He chuckles, “I’ll see you soon.”
