Page 7 of Sweet and Salty
A few moments later, she sets a box of pastry bags on the counter. Still sniffling. “Just these, please.”
“Sure.” Guilt slows the movement of my fingers over the cash register. “I’m Jesse, by the way. I’m sorry. My conversational skills are rusty. Very rusty. Downed plane lost in the rainforest rusty.” I slide her box into a paper bag and take out one of the items in the bowl marked Emergencies Only. The plastic crinkles but she doesn’t seem to notice. I give her my favorite flavor, cherry red.
The faintest hint of a smile creases her cheeks. “I’m Laura. You take care now.”
“You betcha.”
My small concession pays off in the nod she gives me, more strands of her curly dark hair escaping from her headband.
I do my best not to pay too much attention to her walking away, but she’s impossible to ignore.
Or forget.
CHAPTER FIVE
Laura
I swirlthe finishing touches on my kransekake and step back to admire the towering confection. Not too bad for a day of massive, crushing self-doubt. My eyes keep falling back on the small paper bag from Moe’s, filled with stuff I don’t need. Okay, I always need more pastry bags, but still. I was just trying to be neighborly, not pushy or clingy. If Jesse didn’t want a little common courtesy, why move to St. Olaf? He could just as easily have stayed in Grump City or whatever antisocial town birthed him. I never even got my darned lollipop, and even though I’ve spent the rest of the afternoon bathing in sugar, I can’t erase the urge for the sweet-tangy treat with the gum in the center.
My phone buzzes with a text from my mom, asking me for my ETA.
I wash my hands before typing out my reply to her.
Maybe I’ll stop off at the pharmacy after dropping the kransekake at Dr. Sieber’s office and get my lollipop there. I’ll end up buying an entire bag of the suckers, but oh well. It’s nearly impossible to satisfy a craving this deep. Not just for thehit of nostalgic sugar, but for the comfort, for the pleasure of eating it. I can fantasize about that all day.
My phone buzzes again, and my spirits momentarily lift when I see the ID. I swipe the bar to answer the call. “Hey, Daph.”
“Hey, hon.” My best friend, Daphne Sieber, yawns loudly. “How’s life?”
“Not bad.” My chest feels lighter for the first time in a while. “How are you?”
“Chicago’s fun. You should come visit.”
“I’d love that.” I have no idea when. It’s difficult, finding time away from the bakery. “How’s work at the hospital?”
“So frustrating. I don’t even want to talk about it. I feel like I’m always post call lately.”
“Are you looking for a new job?” The hope around town is that Daphne will return to St. Olaf to help out at her dad’s practice, but I know that’s never going to happen. It’s not even worth bringing it up.
Daphne yawns again. “I want to hear about you. Any new fancy cake ideas?”
“I’ve been working on a new blueberry muffin series. Almond flour, citrus. Sort of a cross with key lime pie.”
Daphne makes an orgasmic kind of sound. “Seriously. Send me a batch. Please.”
I shrug. “They aren’t really working out so far. It’s not quite what I was hoping. I made one but it worked better as a crumble.”
“I still want to try it.”
“I’ll send you some.” I stare over at the pastry bag. “I spend too much time fantasizing about sweet treats.”
“That sounds like toxic Chris junk.” Daphne’s voice is stern.
“Maybe.” I pause. “He’s been texting me.”
“Girl. No.” I hear the creak of Daphne’s sofa as she sits upright. “Absolutely not. Tell me you don’t respond.”
“Of course not. I delete them. They’re nothing horrible, just odd. Things like he misses my smile, or has been thinking of me…”