C.A.K.E novel Chapter 5

“Nadia, could you take these out front for me?”

Arden hands a tray of mini chocolate ganache cakes to her baking assistant, a twenty-three-year-old woman fresh out of culinary school. Naddy is still green around the edges. But she's been a godsend.

“Sure.” Nadia takes the tray of desserts from her, and starts to back out of the double swinging doors of the kitchen. Then she stops and ducks her head around the corner to speak to Arden. “Oh, and there's a gentleman waiting for you at table six.”

“Elliott?” Ardi starts to breathe a little easier. Maybe he was able to move some things around on his schedule and will be joining her and Casper at the museum after all.

“No, ma'am.” Nadia licks her lips. “This tall drink is of the hot chocolate variety, and British.”

“And very married,” Arden adds. She needs to remind herself of that fact.

“What a waste.”

“Tell him I'll be right out, please. And try to control yourself, Naddy.”

“No guarantees.” Nadia winks at her, before backing out of the door.

Arden's stomach goes back to doing backflips. What is he doing here?

They agreed to meet at the museum. That would have given Ardi more time to prepare herself to be alone with him and his disarming charm. Instead, he's caught her off guard at work.

She can't hide in the back all afternoon. There are things she needs to handle before she can leave.

She considers not going, making up an excuse about being too busy. The bakery is always teeming with business. So that wouldn't be too far fetched.

Arden realizes that whatever she decides to do, she will still have to go out there and speak to him. See him. Be close enough to be ensnared in the seductive clutches of his smile.

“Get your shit together, Arden. He's just a man.” She continues arranging macarons for a waiting customer's order and ranting to herself. Soon, her anti-Casper pep talk takes a whole other turn.

"He's just an intelligent ... tall..." She sighs to herself. "Well-spoken, sexy ... man.”

“Well, you know. What can I say?”

Arden jumps, dropping one of the macarons. She turns to find her brother leaning against the wall, stroking his chin. He grins at her with their mother's hundred-watt smile, the same one Arden was blessed to inherit along with her defined, button nose. They have their father to thank for their deep, brown eyes.

“Look what you made me do.” Ardi gestures to the fallen pastry.

He laughs and grabs something to clean up the mess. Then he kisses her cheek.

“I'm sorry. Just wanted to check on my sister.” He steals one of the little meringue cookies from the parchment-lined tray. “And seems like I need to. You're talking to yourself now?”

She pops his hand when he reaches for another macaron. His surprise visits are the reason she makes more than she thinks will sell every day.

“I was thinking out loud.”

“Who were you thinking out loud about?” He leans on the counter and nudges her side. “Eli? ...”

Arden doesn't answer.

“Oh ... someone else.”

“None of your business.” She bumps him with her hip. “What are you doing sneaking up on me anyway?”

“Had a lunch date with Dad. Decided to stop by on my way back to the hospital.”

“And why wasn't I invited?”

“Guess, he just doesn't like you, Elmer.” He chuckles.

Arden frowns. “Stop calling me that, Adam.”

“It's not my fault you talked like Elmer Fudd until you were seven.”

“But you're the reason it stuck. Even Gran calls me that sometimes.”

He grins. “Mission accomplished.”

“Get outta my kitchen.” She aims a bent spatula at his face.

“Come on. Don't be like that ... I was just playing.” He tries the puppy dog eyes.

She ignores him and points to the back exit without looking up from her work. “The door, Adam.”

“Okay, okay. I'm leaving.” He turns and Arden calls him back.

She pulls a cake box from the shelf of completed orders waiting for pickup and places it on the industrial stainless steel counter.

“Don't forget this.”

Adam glances at her lowered head, as he examines the pastel package's contents. A selection of his favorite sweets is tucked inside between sheets of parchment.

“You do love me.”

“Only because I have to.” She smiles.

He taps her foot with his. “Take those off as soon as you get a minute. Give your feet a rest.”

“Yes, doctor.” She sighs.

Adam gives her another peck on the cheek and leaves the same way he came.

She checks the order and carries the stack of boxes to the front of the bakery.

Arden catches Casper's eye and shoots him a polite smile, careful not to seem too pleased to see him.

Ardi presents a smash cake, a six-layer strawberry cake, and a variety of macarons to a young woman. The order is for a first birthday party. Hence, the smash cake. Arden gets several requests for the small cakes a week. Though, she does consider it a waste to spend so much effort on baking and decorating a cake that will end up plastered on a toddler's hands and face.

She takes one more look at her colorful creations, before securing the boxes with the bakery's trademark seal.

“Lulu, is going to love this, thank you.” The woman is so pleased with Arden's work, she even purchases a few items from the bakery's lunch menu.

After she finishes the transaction, Ardi makes her way over to the corner table where Casper is seated, staring out the window. He smiles and stands to greet her.

His eyes travel from her nude heels, over her white pencil skirt, up to her turquoise cardigan and the bubble gum pink belt accentuating her waist. He lingers over her lips, before meeting her almond eyes.

Arden pushes a stray lock of hair back into the mass of curls pinned behind her ear. She wishes she had thought to glance in a mirror, before coming out to meet him.

His gaze falls on her shoes again. “You work in those every day?”

“No, just for today.” She glances down at her leather mesh, t-strap heels. “My brother would kill me if I did.”

“Why is that?”

“Wearing high heels on a daily basis can cause permanent damage to the feet and leg muscles,” Arden smirks. “Adam's an orthopedic surgeon and virtual know-it-all.”

“Maybe, he's right. You shouldn't put too much strain on your legs. Especially, since your ... you know.”

Arden is puzzled by the concern in his voice. Then it dawns on her that maybe he's been doing some reading, and her heart sinks.

She takes a trembling breath. “Since what?”

“Since you're on your feet all day.” He pulls out a seat for her.

Okay, good . . . Maybe he doesn't know about the accident. She smooths out her skirt and eases onto the hot pink wooden chair, crossing her ankles. Casper reclaims his seat across from her and sits gawking at her. A bit unnerved by his stare, she makes an attempt at conversation.

“So . . . change of plans?”

“No, I was looking for an escape from the boredom at the office.” He looks around the cafe, studying the collection of vintage plates on one wall. “And this is anything but mundane.”

She follows his eyes to the coral, wrought iron chair that's been converted into a light fixture. Encased in an ivory cage of timber and light bulbs, it's a consummate conversation starter.

“Yeah, that's my fault. I decorated this place like it's my house.”

The bakery is Arden's second home. So, it seemed fitting to her that it should feel that way. Her shop sits at an odd angle, catty-corner to an intersection in the heart of South Homewood, SoHo to the locals (an attempt to seem more metropolitan. But try as they might, they're still in quiet Alabama).

The building's triangular structure emulates the shape of the street, lending itself to the quirky and cutesy branding she had in mind.

A pastel pink and gray, cherry blossom wallpaper accents the walls of the dining area. Tables and chairs in various bright colors, that were distressed by Arden's own hands, give the space a casual, lived-in feel.

Antique cake displays, side tables, and other things salvaged from the archives of the past are everywhere. Anything with a hint of old-school, kitsch catches her attention and ends up in a shadowbox on the walls of SoHo Sugar.

Casper grins at her. “I like it. It's very inviting.”

“Thank you.”

They sit in silence, glancing at each other like two kindergartners too shy to exchange their Valentines.

“Would you like something before we go?”

“I offered ...” Naddy walks up behind Arden and rests a hand on the back of her seat. “But he declined. I think he has a taste for something sticky and sweet ... Arden, isn't that your specialty?”

Naddy bites her bottom lip and runs her string of pearls through her gloved fingers.

Arden shakes her head. “Nadia, one of these days, I swear you're gonna get me sued.”

“Oh, calm down. I don't bite.” Nadia winks at him. “Unless you ask me real nice.”

“Neither do I. It's just good manners.” He winks back.

“Please, don't encourage her.” Ardi sighs.

Casper smiles at Arden, then addresses the young woman. “So, Naddy, is that short for something?”

“Nadia.”

“That's beautiful. It's nice to meet you, Nadia.”

“Thank you.” She grins, flashing that endearing gap in her front teeth. “And you are?”

“Casper.” His accent is undeniable, stronger than usual. It warms the two women like the smell of fresh-baked bread. Both are caught in his web.

Ardi snaps back to reality first. “Nadia, could you please go see what Joseph is up to?”

Naddy continues to gaze at Casper, sweeping her hand across her neck over and over. “Joseph is at home sick today.”

“All the more reason to check on him.” Arden peeks up at Nadia, who gives her an irritated nod.

“I should get back to work before the slave driver here gets upset.” She glances at Arden, who rolls her eyes.

“Casper, it was a pleasure. I hope to see more of you in the future.”

Casper takes Nadia's hand and kisses the white glove covering her ebony skin. “The pleasure was all mine, mademoiselle.”

He stays silent a moment. “Is that still the case?”

She sighs. “If it isn't, what does it matter now?”

“The procedure is reversible.”

“Yeah, but my decision isn't. Why put him through that when I'm not sure?”

“What aren't you sure about?”

She stares at Casper, looking through him to a tapestry on display behind his head.

Ardi would love to hear the pitter-patter of little feet that share half her DNA. But she's afraid the guilt and resentment would overwhelm her.

Lillian has already missed her daughter's wedding. Arden can't bear to think of first birthdays, soccer games, and graduations without her mom around to share it with her.

She resolved the guilt she felt when she married Eli. There was a limit to her happiness with him. They would never have children.

“You wouldn't understand.” Arden walks up a ramp into another level of the museum.

Casper catches up to her. “Now, you're clairvoyant?”

“I just . . . Why don't we pull back the reins on my life for a while?” She turns on her heel to face him. “Why aren't there any little Caspers or Karmas wreaking havoc on the world?”

He chuckles, stepping behind her to examine a collection of ceremonial pots.

“Karma's career is her baby. And I'm her husband on special occasions.”

Arden stands next to him, studying him in her peripheral. A sadness tugs at the edges of his smile. She feels a connection with him then.

They're both latchkey spouses, sitting in empty homes and waiting for that key in the door.

“Even though, your better half is out fighting the good fight. It's hard not to feel abandoned.”

“Elliott miss a few meals a week?” He returns her understanding glance.

“Sometimes even when he's home, his head is still with his work.”

Arden notices the way Casper is looking at her like he wants to make up for Eli's shortcomings. The urge to let him do so fights her common sense. She forces her feet to carry her weakening resolve farther from him.

“What exhibit did you want to see, again?”

They find their way to the outdoor Sculpture Pit where a number of the twelve figures that comprise the Horizons exhibit have been interspersed.

Casper offers his arm to Arden as they walk. But she pretends to be too engrossed in the androgynous sculptures to notice.

The life-sized figures watch in silence, as Arden's heels play tag with Casper's oxfords. His feet chase, while hers dodge.

The mid-afternoon sun hits Arden's white skirt, making her seem like a cloud floating among the shadows of Thorarinsdottir's iron sculptures. But she's more uneasy on her feet than her outfit would suggest.

Each unique figure has one similarity—a rather large piece of glass inserted into its center.

Arden ambles between the impaled models, struggling to keep a very specific memory at bay.

She's doing fine until they reach the one seated figure. Her body becomes as rigid as the iron casting.

Casper stops next to her and cocks his head to the side. “Wonder what the glass is supposed to represent?”

His question doesn't register. Arden is somewhere else.

The sculpture makes her think about Adam. About the day they both had to grow up. The day the perils of the world became all too real.

Arden ... sweetheart ... Can you hear ... me ... Adam ...

A voice plays back in her head, muffled yet amplified.

Adam ... Wake up, baby ... Arden ...

The despondent chant reverberates through her, crowding out all other stimuli.

She puts her hands to her ears and tries to shake the gurgling sounds that are choking the melody of her and Adam's names.

Casper puts his hand in the small of her back. She drops her bag. He retrieves it.

“Are you okay?”

“No ...” She staggers backward.

Blood on tanned leather. Glass scattered across the pavement. Adam pinned and unconscious in the backseat. Her mother's gentle voice in her ear.

It all bombards her with a vivid ferocity like never before.

Her legs begin to give way. Casper reaches out to catch her. She crumples against him. Frantic grief distorts her bright eyes.

“Arden?”

“Get me out of here—please.”

Casper sweeps her into his arms and does as she asks.