Page 8 of House of Desire

“You were going to say yes?” he asks.

“Yup,” I say, popping the ‘p’.

“So, I don’t have to buff the floor then?” He holds still in expectation and I almost give in. Almost.

“No, that was the agreement I accepted. You leave early on Saturday and I get a freshly buffed floor on Sunday.”

“But you were going to say yes!”

“Sounds like you learned not to put all your cards on the table until you see what the other person is going to do,” I tell him, jokingly, but it’s an important lesson. One I had to learn through similar trial and error. I’ll never forget the four weekends I had to spend helping Mom with the gardens to go on a school canoe trip.

His shoulders slump and I feel a little bad for him, so make a mental note to talk to my father and see if he can come help him with the buffing. The whole family loves Liam, but Dad especially.

“He’s a good kid,” he tells me every time he sees him, like I don’t already know.

Liam joined my shop last school year as a way to earn credit for a business class. It meant his first class period of the day on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were spent here with me, opening the shop and helping our early morning guests. When the school year came to an end, he asked if I would take him on as part-time help. Considering I wasn’t the only person to fall in love with him, my customers and family did too, I happily agreed. His presence allowed me to take on a few additional custom orders a month, covering the expense of paying him.

“Don’t look so sad, kiddo. Sophia is going out with you!”

His smile is as dazzling as a disco ball. The bell above the door tinkles as our first customer of the day walks in, and we prepare ourselves for a busy morning.

I rush into Lorelei’s bathroom where a makeup artist is dusting my friend’s face with some sort of powder.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry. I was finishing up a cake for a client and then I got some inspiration for another one and anyway, here I am.”

I had rushed home to shower and change before coming over to take advantage of the glam team Lorelei hired for herself. My boobs are tapped in almost every direction under my t-shirt in preparation for the backless, deep plunging dress Lore had picked out from the designer friend for me. Lore said she had many stunning pieces from her time on the awards circuit with her various projects, and was happy for them to receive a night out, but they both agreed this one would show off my assets the best. I happen to agree, even with the inconvenience of the tape. I pull my phone out, answering Dad’s text I received while driving.

Dad: Liam ran out of polish. Small section to go. Where?

My parents remain unconvinced they have unlimited text messages no matter how many times I’ve called their phone company and had them explain it. Because of this, my father uses as few words as possible to keep from sending more than one text. Normally, I can figure out the message. Other times, I just have to call him and ask.

Anya: There’s more in the back closet, on the bottom shelf, behind the mop bucket

I told Liam he would have some help with polishing the floors and he said he’d change my name in his phone to “The Benevolent Boss”. Originally, I was simply “Bakery Lady” so I feel like it’s an improvement.

Anya: Is everything going okay?

My father sends a thumbs up emoji, his favorite, and I put my phone away.

“It’s okay, babe. I told you earlier than you needed to be here in anticipation of this. You’re right on time.” Lorelei smiles at me.

I would be offended, but she’s right. More often than not, I am going to run late. I do my best, but sometimes creativity strikes at the worst time. Unfortunately, the disorganization and changing plans for cakes at the last minute has led to some lost business.

“Did Liam tell you how his date went?” Lorelei asks as the hairdresser curls her tresses, while I plop into the chair next to her.

The week after we met, Lore stopped by to grab a variety of cookies and desserts from the shop for the executives at her job. Liam had stopped by after school to make a few extra dollars, and his eyes almost popped out of his head when Lorelei came strutting in.

With the shameless optimism of a teenager, he flirted with her as he filled her order. Hearts were bouncing around his head like in a cartoon. Lore has had a soft spot for the boy ever since, talking to him about his life whenever she comes into the shop.

“From what he said, his ice cream fell to the floor when he licked it a little too hard. He was convinced she’d never be attracted to him after that. But she gave him a kiss on the cheek at the end of the date and her phone number, so I think he’ll survive,” I tell her as my makeup artist begins working on my closed lids.

“Good for Liam! Alec never orders cones for his ice cream after a similar event. Our mom refused to buy him a new one since she had warned him against the double scoop.”

“Always have to listen to Mom,” I tell her, laughing. “Dom never did either, and he suffered the consequences a time or two.”

She doesn’t respond, and I open my eyes, looking over at her. Her eyes are downcast, no smile on her face, and I know I stuck my foot in it. One night, sharing a bottle of wine, Lorelei and I sat cuddled under a blanket on her outdoor couch, looking over her and Tank’s backyard. As we talked, the topic turned to family, and she shared how her mother tragically died while she was in high school.

“Lore,” I say, but she picks up the pieces of her broken smile and fits them back together on her face. Not quite the same, but a good approximation.

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