Tess in Boots (17 page)
Authors: Courtney Rice Gager
There were doilies everywhere.
Absolutely
everywhere.
According to Natalie, Lulu Millwood was the town’s go-to source for wedding cakes. I sat in her living room, sipping hot tea out of a porcelain cup covered in hand-painted flowers, and eating a scone she served on a matching plate lined with doilies.
“You’re so precious!” she squealed for the third time since I’d arrived.
“
Thank you, Ms. Millwood.”
“
Would you like another scone?”
“
Oh no, I’m fine, thank you.” I’d already eaten two of them, which was more than I’d eaten all day yesterday. Since learning the truth about Thatcher, a heavy lump formed in my stomach and I didn’t have much of an appetite. But even without an appetite, I had to admit the scones were good. “These are delicious, though. I understand you’re quite the baker.”
“
My apple pie won first place for six consecutive years at the county fair.” She lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip in an attempt to conceal a smug smile. “And I understand
you’re
quite the entertainer,” she said.
My teacup slipped out of my hand and landed noisily on the saucer I was holding.
“Oh, no, Ms. Millwood, I—”
“
It’s
okay,
dear. I was young once, too. I know how it is.” She placed a hand on my knee and gave me a knowing nod.
Oh boy. It was time to get out of this town.
“But sooner or later, you’ll have to find a
proper
job. Either that, or marry well and get a hobby. Like baking!” She beamed at me. “Are you sure you don’t want another scone, dear?”
I shook my head and tried not to laugh. This lady was too much.
“I’m sure. Ms. Millwood, I’m here because I’m looking for a wedding cake.”
“
You’re getting married? Oh, how wonderful! And not a moment too soon, I’m sure. What are you, about thirty?”
I placed my
cup and saucer on the table and took a slow breath, forcing my face into the most pleasant expression I could muster. “Twenty-nine, actually. And it’s not for me. It’s for a wedding we’re having at Carl’s Creek Vineyard, right up the road. I’m the wedding planner. Do you know the place?”
“
Carl’s old place?” She looked up with interest.
“
Yes. My brother and his wife, Sara, own it now.”
S
he lit up. “Sara! How is my sweet Sara doing? I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“
She’s fine.” I sat up straighter in my seat. “Anyhow, Ms. Millwood, I know this is such short notice, but I need a cake for twenty people next Friday. I didn’t know where to turn, and Natalie said—”
“
Friday, you say?”
“
Yes. Like I said, I realize it’s short notice, but I’m hoping you can help me. I’m in a bind, and I’ve heard you make the best cakes around.”
“
I do make good cakes…” Her voice trailed off a little. “And you’re so precious.” She regarded me for a while, sipping her tea and tilting her head to the side as if she were trying to decide whether I was worthy of her good graces. Flustered, I reached for another scone and took a bite.
“
Yes. Yes, I’ll do it.”
I was so relieved I leapt up and flung my arms around her neck.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I heard a clattering sound as she struggled not to drop her teacup.
“Whoops! Careful, dear.”
“
Sorry, Ms. Millwood. I don’t know what came over me.”
“
Quite all right.” She placed a hand over mine. “Would you like to see some pictures to get an idea of what I could do?”
I nodded.
“Yes. I would like that very much.”
Thirty minutes later, we decided on a two-tiered white fondant cake topped with green gum
-paste grapes. It was simple, elegant, and perfect for the vineyard.
I agreed to pay a rush charge to accommodate Ms. Millwood’s special trip to the baking supply store two towns over, and to account for the inconvenience of her missing next week’s Bridge Club meeting.
She wrote up an invoice on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to me as I left. “Here you are.”
“
Thank you. Again and again. I’ll have a check sent out to you right away.”
“
Of course.”
“
When should I pick up the cake?” I asked.
She smiled.
“No need to come all the way back out here, dear. I’ll have my grandson deliver it on Friday morning.”
“
Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“
No trouble at all. He does it all the time.”
“
Thank you very much. Have a great afternoon.”
“
You too, dear.”
I had one foot out the door when she called after me.
“And Tess?”
I turned around, propping open her storm door with my arm.
“Yes?”
“
Don’t fret. You’re a pretty girl. You’ll get married someday. Before you know it, you’ll be back to see me about
your
cake.”
I felt my cheeks getting hot.
“In fact,” she continued, “I know the perfect young man for you. Come to think of it, I’m sure you must know him. Thatcher James. Such a nice boy. He’s back in town, isn’t he?”
My heart
dropped at the sound of his name. Forget seeing him. I couldn’t even escape
hearing
about Thatcher.
“
I don’t know him,” I said. It was true. I thought I knew him. But I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“
Perhaps I could introduce you. He has the most handsome dimples you’ve ever seen. He’s a professor, you know.”
A ringing sound came from inside my purse.
“Thank you, Ms. Millwood, but I have to take this. It’s probably about the wedding. I’m so looking forward to your cake.”
“
Would you like a scone for the road?”
“
No, thank you.” I reached inside my purse for the phone. “But I’ll take a rain check.”
She smiled and waved, closing the door behind her. As she did, I took the call.
“Hello?”
“
Hi. Yes, I’m calling for a Tess Dougherty?”
“
This is Tess.”
“
Oh, good. This is Bill, from the Brass Kickers? I’m returning your call. Your message cut out a little, and it almost sounded like you said you were calling about a gig next weekend, but that can’t be right.” He let out a loud belly laugh.
“
Hi, Bill. You heard right. The gig’s next weekend.”
There was silence on his end of the line.
“Bill? Are you there?”
“
Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
“
Oh, good. Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I’m looking for a brass band. I got your number from a friend, and she said you’re the best around.”
“
Aw, I don’t know if I’d say that.” He sounded pleased.
“
I’m certain you are,” I said. If buttering him up would help seal the deal, then I’d slather it on thick.
“
Well, that may be true, but we’re booked up next weekend.”
“
It’s a Friday wedding. Does that help?” I asked.
“
Hmm…” I could hear him mulling it over. “No. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. We have an out-of-town gig Saturday afternoon and we have to hit the road Friday to make it there on time. I’m real sorry.”
I sighed, defeated.
“I expected as much.”
“
Well, best of luck to you, Miss.”
“
Thanks, and you, too.”
I hung up the phone and leaned against my car. Now what? Maybe I could rent some equipment and make a playlist. But I had my heart set on the band. I needed to somehow change Bill’s mind. I
paced in the grass. How could I make this happen? What would Viv do?
And then it hit me. I dialed the number back and held the phone to my ear, willing him to answer.
“Hello?”
“
Bill? It’s Tess again. Tess Dougherty. What are they paying you? We’ll pay triple.”
There was a clanking sound, and then muffled chatter in the background.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I dropped the phone. Triple, you say?”
“
Yes. Triple.”
“
You’d have to pay half up-front, you know,” he said.
“
Done. Just tell me where to send the check. I’ll have it in the mail tomorrow.”
More muffled chatter. Then Bill came back on the line.
“Miss Dougherty? You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Yes! Yes, yes, yes!
Things were starting to come together. I did a silent victory dance right there on Ms. Millwood’s front lawn.
Maybe I should pick it up.
No. Don’t do it, Tess. Don’t you dare answer that call. Let it go to—
“
Hello?” I sat sideways on a barstool in the barn, tallying up the invoices from the wedding when the phone rang. I tried to talk myself out of taking the call, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I couldn’t resist.
“
Tess.” Logan sounded surprised to hear my voice.
I wasn’t quite prepared for this conversation. Why was he calling after all this time? What did he want?
There was a stretch of strained silence as I waited for him to speak.
“
You’re really gone, aren’t you?” he asked.
“
What?”
“
I went by your apartment again. I thought maybe you were bluffing. But you’re really gone. Where’d you run off to?”
Don’t tell him, Tess. Stay strong. Make him suffer. Don’t
—
“
I’m with Jake,” I said. “In North Carolina.”
I didn’t mean to give in. But there was something about hearing him on the other end of the line.
“Well… when are you coming back?”
“
I don’t know. Not for at least a couple more weeks. I’m planning a wedding.”
“
You’re planning a wedding?”
“
It’s a long story.”
“
Could I come see you then?”
I hesitated. He wanted to come
see me?
I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw a man in a brown uniform standing in the doorway. He waved to get my attention.
“
Tess? Are you still there?”
“
One second.” I put my hand over the phone and turned to the man. “Can I help you?”
“
Delivery for Ms. James?” He thrust a clipboard in my direction.
“
I’m sorry, who?”
“
Ms. James? Ms. Sara James?”
“
Right here.” Sara whisked through the doorway and took the clipboard.
“
You Ms. James?” the man asked.
“
I used to be.” She used the attached pen to scribble her signature, and he handed her a parcel envelope before he left. Sara breezed out the door without looking at me.
I almost dropped the phone.
Sara James? As in… Thatcher James?
They had the same last name?
Or, they used to, she said. Which meant… she and Thatcher were once… married?
No. No way.
But then again, it would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? The conversation I overheard between them, and the way she answered when I asked her how they knew each other.
“It’s a long story,”
she said.
“
Hello? Tess? Are you there?”
“
Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” I tore my gaze away from Sara and turned my attention back to Logan.
“
Good. So can I come see you?”
A
band of sweat formed along my hairline. “I… I don’t know. I’m busy. The wedding’s next Friday. I’m really swamped, Logan.”
“
I’ll come after the wedding. Saturday, maybe. I have some things to tie up around here anyway.”
Like what?
I wanted to say.
Another relationship?
“
Please, Tess. I love you. I miss you.”
He
loved me
? He
missed me
? What was he trying to pull, calling me like this?
“
I’m coming,” he said. “It’s final. You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to, but I’m coming.”
I sighed.
“I guess… okay. That’s fine.”
“
Good.” There was silence on his end of the line.
“
Why
, Logan?” I closed my eyes and placed a hand on my forehead.
“What?” he asked.
“Why are you calling, after all this time? And why are you coming here?”
“Because I miss you. It’s been too long since we’ve talked. I thought I’d hear from you by now.”
I wanted to leap through the phone and wring his neck.
It’s been too long since we’ve talked?
I thought I’d hear from you by now?
As if it were
my
fault he ran off like a coward and refused to call me for weeks? As if he’d been the one waiting around for
me
to call? He said he missed me, but I had a hunch it was because something must have happened with this other woman he was seeing. I wanted to shout at him. To demand answers. To tell him to lose my number and forget my name. But instead, I whispered into the receiver, “I know.”
What was my problem? What was it about him that made me so weak?
“I’ll see you next weekend. Goodbye, Tess. I love you.”
He hung up
, and I stared at my phone, recalling the details of our conversation and trying to remember when I turned into such a coward. I had so much to say to him. But instead of giving him a piece of my mind, I let him call the shots. It was always that way with Logan, wasn’t it?
I remembered the first time he came to my apartment. We cooked a meal together, and he riffled through my drawer of kitchen gadgets.
“I can’t find your garlic press,” he said.
“My
what
?”
“I guess that explains it.” He pulled a tattered potholder out of the drawer and held it up with two fingers. “Why are you keeping this?”
I smiled. “Jake made it for me at summer camp when we were kids.”
“Do you use it?” he asked.
“Well… no, but—”
“You need to clean this drawer out, Tess. Your kitchen will be a lot more functional if you
organize
it.”
“I think my kitchen is fine.” I shrugged.
He dropped the potholder in the drawer and snapped it shut. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”
And he did. Over the next few months he organized every drawer, closet, and crevice of my apartment. I cringed as he boxed away homemade birthday cards and tarnished soccer trophies. We were making my space more livable, he explained. It was time to grow up, time to get things in order.
It was one of the countless ways Logan rearranged my life to fit his perfect standards. And just like always, I sat back and let him do it.
Well not anymore.
It was time for a change. I had a little over a week before he’d be here. A little over a week to grow a spine.
And I knew just the thing to give me some practice.
I tucked my phone in my pocket, gathered my paperwork, and headed off in search of Jake.
