Page 43 of Witchful Thinking
“Poe. Call me Poe.”
“Thank you, Poe. I’m Lucy. This is Alex.”
“Don’t mention it,” Poe said. “We’re all here for a good cause.”
Poe returned to their table to make last-minute changes. It seemed that Poe had made a classic birthday cake completely covered in multicolored sprinkles. Lucy measured the garland twice, then snipped it to make sure the length was correct.
“I didn’t ask. What does the cakewalk raise money for?” Alex asked.
Lucy kept taping up the garland on her table as she said, “We’re raising money for the Jersey Shore University Hospital Fund. I wanted to bake something that would pull in a generous donation. The hospital took great care of Nana. Even if I don’t get any bids, I’ll bid on myself.”
“Same here,” Poe said. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll bid on yours if you bid on mine.”
“Deal.” Lucy returned the tape and scissors to Poe. Alex gave Poe a fist bump, which they reciprocated. It was nice to know that Lucy had someone here on her side with the cakewalk.
She looked at Poe’s rainbow confection and gave a deep sigh. “Your cake is a technicolor delight.”
“You’re too kind. I think your table’s perfect,” Poe said. “The spiders really tie the table together. Halloween’s my favorite holiday.”
Lucy faced Poe. “It’s my favorite, too. I wish my cake looked as good as the decorations.”
“Looks can’t make up for flavor. I bet your cake is probably just as good as the lopsided carrot cake from that baking show,” Alex said.
“He’s right. I saw that episode of Baking Battles,” Poe said. “The judges thought the cake looked terrible, but they couldn’t stop ranting about the taste.”
“You’re a fan of Baking Battles,” Lucy said to Alex.
“I never miss an episode,” he responded without missing a beat.
He admired those talented people who took raw ingredients, mixed them together, and made food that defied logic. Alex must have angered the kitchen gods in another life because he couldn’t toast a bagel without burning it.
Poe’s phone rang. They went to answer it. Lucy returned her attention back to her cake.
“I see you picked the stacking method,” Alex pointed out.
“I couldn’t attach the puffs to that Styrofoam tower. They kept sliding down like contestants on an obstacle course. I added more and more caramel, but—ack.” Lucy stopped, her face twisting in the memory. “Nothing went right.”
“At least you know for next time,” Alex said. He hoped she didn’t give up.
“Tell me. How does it really look?” Her voice had softened. She stared down at her ballet flats. Alex gave her cake a closer once-over. The cream puffs were arranged in a sticky pyramid of spun sugar and caramel. It was a little crooked, but there was a homemade feel that made it more meaningful. He rubbed his thumb with his forefinger, the fingers he used as a kid when he’d sneak a cookie out of the porcelain goldfish jar that used to be in his kitchen. He’d forgotten about that memory, but looking at the cake, a feeling of want came over him. Alex took out his phone and snapped a few shots of her croquembouche.
He moved around, getting different angles of it, then turned his screen to Lucy to show his pictures.
She peered at them; her eyes sparkled with delight.
He leaned in next to her. “See? It looks good. I really want a bite.”
Lucy looked up at him. “Go ahead and take a bite. I won’t tell,” she said in a teasing whisper. He didn’t move. Neither did she, and they stared at each other. Something shifted between them in that moment. They weren’t just friends from high school anymore, instead they’d become adult friends who were building their secret history of inside jokes, private looks, and smiles. There was an undercurrent of yearning in him that filled him from head to toe.
“Good afternoon! May I have your attention!” a voice called out.
They broke off their heated stare and turned to the front. Poe hung up their phone. It was Ursula waving her clipboard at the podium.
“Hello, all. Welcome to the annual Freya Grove Cakewalk. My name is Ursula Caraway, soon to be Walker. I’m the head of the cakewalk committee for this year.”
She waited for applause, which was low but enthusiastic. Lucy gave a loud cheer for Ursula.
“Before we get started with the rules, we have an announcement. After last year’s…um…issues, we’ve made a new rule: Bakers can’t bid on their own desserts. Bakers also cannot bid on each other’s desserts.”