Page 25 of Stronger Than Blood
I bowed my head, not wanting the doctor or Granny to see me smile. The old doctor looked as though he was on the verge of retirement himself. He couldn’t be more than a decade and a half younger than Granny, and I’m sure none of his other patients talked to him like he was a spoiled kid any longer.
I figured if either of them saw me smiling, one or the other might take to pulling my ear or some other old-fashioned punishment. “If you agree, we’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow morning to transport you."
“No, sorry, doc, I’ve got to work tomorrow morning, and I’d prefer to be with her if they’re going to transfer her to the nursing… um, I mean the rehabilitation facility.”
Granny gave me a pointed look at my almost saying nursing home. A place she swore she’d kill herself before going to. “Well, it’s Friday, so the best I can do is hold them off until afternoon. Can you be here by then?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I appreciate this, doc,” I said and felt Granny’s hand patting mine. I knew she was afraid of going to the nursing home, and I understood why. She’d told me her mom had been put into one back in the 1970s, and the place had been nothing less than a Halloween horror show. No, I didn’t want her going, period, but I wasn’t trained to give her what she needed at home. So, the very least I could do was be there when they transferred her.
***
Working with Brenda was everything I’d hoped. She was her usual happy, cheerful self. Of course, she was a perfectionist, just like her aunt, but I’d been taught to meet those expectations long ago. Besides, there wasn’t anything she wanted me to do that I hadn’t already done time and time again.
“Now, I don’t usually do meringue pies, but I’ve already had a dozen requests for your chocolate pie, now word’s gotten out that you’re working for me, so if you don’t mind whipping up a few of those, we’ll forgo the cobblers since folks can just come on over here and get those if they want them.”
“I’ve had a hankering to make chess pie lately. Those are always a favorite. Should I make up a couple of those too?” I asked, causing Brenda to beam.
“Oh, Mrs. Crouther asks for that all the time, but I never have time to make them. Yes, please. Tomorrow, I’ll have you bake a couple of cakes, just like you did at the grocery store. Folks will be wanting to take both to their family lunches. Oh, this is just wonderful,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been wanting to do better withthat sweet little shop over at the hotel, but I just didn’t have time or the staff,” she said before bouncing out into the main part of the café. The crowds didn’t get busy early in the morning, but there was always a lot of prep to do, and I happened to know for a fact that Fridays were insanely busy.
I knew the pies were going to be displayed in the big glass coolers in the hotel. I wasn’t really one for the monster meringue toppings, but because those cases were so big, I figured I needed to boost the height a bit, at least.
Granny Ida had taught me how to make pie crust shortly after I’d moved in, so I’d had plenty of practice. Now, I could make them in my sleep. I decided I’d make ten pies, two sweet potato, and two chess for the top shelf. Then, six meringue pies for the lower shelf, and even after they were cut, they should still look pretty.
It only took me an hour to finish them all. I usually made twice that many at the grocery store, so I had plenty of time left. The other case in the hotel often sat empty. According to Mrs. Danforth, the lady who ran the hotel, she didn’t have the clientele to buy up that much. I didn’t believe that for one minute.
There were people all over Piston Creek who would go to the little shop to grab dessert, provided we made it desirable enough, especially with the park on one side and the cute little convenience store on the other.
So, I fixed up a whole bunch of banana and chocolate pudding cups. Luckily, Brenda had a lot of bakeable cups she used for her cobbler, which was a legendary dessert on her buffet. But why would someone buy it there when they could come over here and get all-you-can-eat? So, the moment I saw them, I knew they were exactly what I needed.
I still had a couple of hours left on the clock, so I made some banana and zucchini muffins using the same cups. I had justpulled those out when Brenda came in. “Lord have mercy, Mick, when did you have time to do all this?”
I laughed. “Well, I would’ve been faster, except I had to spend time finding everything I needed.”
“It’s a lot. I’m just not sure there’s enough of a market… but let’s get it over to the store,” she said, and I wondered if maybe I’d overstepped.
It was just after nine o’clock as we loaded the food into Brenda’s food van, which she sometimes used for catering. I’d helped her a couple of times on those gigs, so I knew how to store all the pies and stuff to prevent anything from getting bumped.
We drove the three blocks to the hotel and Brenda’s shop. Mrs. Danforth opened the door for us, and we were carting stuff in as people began arriving. “Oh, I’m so happy you’ve come to work with Brenda,” Linda Fox, a woman who’d been Joann’s secretary when I was in high school, said.
“Oh yes, we all agree,” several other ladies said, and they gathered as we carried the food in. By the time we were unloaded, poor Mrs. Danforth was in a frenzy, dishing up pie slices to go.
When the mayor arrived, she smiled happily at the display, which, to be honest, was haphazard with all the rushing around. “Looks like we’ve got a new celebrity in town,” she said as I grabbed a pair of gloves and began scooping up orders as well. Brenda, of course, had to get back to the café, but she looked sympathetically at us as she left.
“I’m not sure about celebrity, but I know how to fatten the townsfolk up,” I teased and got a backhanded tap on my shoulder from Mrs. Danforth. “Shh, no one wants to hear that when they’re tanking up on sweet Southern treats.”
“Listen to her, son,” Ms. Johnson said before taking a big bite of one of the muffins.
I stayed and helped as we basically cleared out the merchandise I’d cooked for the day. “Um, what happened?” I asked.
“Well, like the mayor said, before she all but got forced out of line, we have our baking celebrity in town.”
“We sold out, though. I mean, do you usually sell out?”
She shook her head. “No, we have a few regulars that come in for coffee and whatever Mrs. Kennedy has cooked up, but no, besides that, we don’t sell that much.”
I sighed. “Well, do you think we’ll get another run tomorrow?”
Mrs. Danforth winked. “Yes, it’ll be much worse tomorrow ’cause every one of the women you saw here today will tell everyone how delicious your pies were.”
