Wedded Bliss Page 3

  “Aneurysm.”

  “Yes, well, that. Anyway, it won’t be a problem.”

  Bliss wiped her hands on the towel, then tossed it into the hamper. Regret tinged with love for her mother softened her voice. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that I cannot let myself be afraid of my condition. I’ve never backed away from anything, and I’m not going to let this thing—”

  “Aneurysm, honey.”

  Bliss shook her head as she chuckled. “Yes, I’m not going to let this aneurysm go unchecked. It’s small. It’s under control. And the minute that changes, the doctors are prepared to remove it. Now, how about I treat you to dinner tomorrow after work? We can have that crawfish pie you like so much.”

  “Oh, honey, that would be lovely. Can I bring anything?”

  “Just yourself. Now go on to bed and stop worrying about me. I’m a grown woman, and I’m listening to my doctors. If it’ll make you feel better, you can come along with me to New Iberia next month for my checkup. Would you like that?”

  “I would, honey,” Mama said, “but not for the reason you think.”

  “Oh? What’s the reason then?”

  Bliss snapped off the bathroom light and padded down the hall to the front window. The tiniest sliver of a moon grazed the tips of the ancient magnolia at the corner. Four streets over, Mama most likely sat in her recliner with the shopping network on mute.

  “I consider every day since your accident a gift,” her mother said. “Spending a whole day with you, well, that would just be lovely. I don’t seem to have much to fill my hours anymore. Not since we sold the sawmill.”

  She had to consider a second how to respond to this rare admission of Mama’s loneliness. “Have you thought about going back to work somewhere, Mama?”

  “Work?” Mama said. “Who would want to hire an old woman like me? Besides, if I worked, I’d miss that appointment with you. And I couldn’t miss that. I’m looking forward to it already.”

  “And it doesn’t hurt that your favorite shoe store’s around the corner from the hospital, does it?”

  Her mother’s laughter put Bliss in mind of a woman far younger than the one now holding the other phone. She pulled the cord to lower the blinds and smiled.

  “Shame on you, Bliss.” Another giggle and a long pause. “That is about the time they put on their big spring sale, now that you mention it.”

  “Oh, Mama, may you never change,” she whispered a few minutes later after hanging up. “And may I never take a day for granted again.”

  The next morning, she carried that thought to work and smiled when she recalled Mama’s shoe sale comment. She had inherited her penchant for fancy footwear from her mother.

  Unfortunately, the pair Bliss had chosen today pinched as much as they sparkled. As soon as she had the batter mixed up for Lizzie Spartman’s red velvet cake and the timer set for the half dozen pumpkin breads the church ordered for Wednesday’s women’s event, Bliss kicked off the pretty pumps and donned a more comfortable pair of leopard-patterned velvet slippers.

  She padded through the rest of the morning in those slippers, then made a sandwich and waited for the red velvet cake to cool. A hazard of her profession was tasting the goods, and rich cream cheese frosting was her favorite.

  “Maybe just a smidge to be sure it’s fit to sell.” Bliss dipped a teaspoon in the icing, then lifted it to her mouth. It was every bit as good as she expected, tasty enough, in fact, to have just one more. . . .

  “Bliss?”

  The spoon clattered to the floor, and Bliss bent to retrieve it. “Hey, I haven’t see you in a week, Neecie.” She tossed the spoon into the sink and wiped her hands on the corner of her apron. “Come on back. I was just making lunch. Have you. . .” Neecie appeared in the doorway holding her cell phone to her chest, a stunned look on her face. “Oh my, what’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” Neecie shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Maybe you ought to sit down.” Bliss gestured toward the nearest stool. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

  “No, I’m fine, really. I just wondered if you might, well. . .” Neecie clutched the phone tighter. “I’ve closed up the shop for the afternoon.” She thrust the phone at Bliss. “The only reason this will ring is in case of a bridal emergency.”

  Bliss caught the phone after bobbling it twice. “But I don’t understand. I thought you threw that sign away years ago.”

  “I made a new sign.” Neecie jumped off the stool and shook her head, then closed the distance between them to embrace Bliss. “You always were dependable. I owe you one, Bliss.”

  Before Bliss could protest, Neecie was gone.

  Three

  Exactly 4:00 p.m.

  Bliss turned the Open sign over and locked the door. This Wednesday afternoon had been quiet—a half dozen telephone inquiries as to the costs of cakes and two orders for summer-time weddings.

  Thankfully, Neecie’s phone only rang once, and it was a wrong number. Bliss glanced over at the phone, now sitting atop the glass case beside the cash register.

  “I wonder if Neecie’s back from wherever she went in such a hurry.”

  She leaned forward to study the smattering of cars still parked at the curb in the hopes her friend’s blue SUV would be there.

  It wasn’t.

  “Wherever you are, I hope everything’s all right,” she said as she flipped off the lights and padded over the old floorboards toward the kitchen in her leopard slippers, her calendar under her arm. As an afterthought, she returned for Neecie’s phone, placing it on the counter as she filled her teakettle.

  She hadn’t taken a walk in almost a week, and the lack of exercise showed in the stiffness of her knee and the beginnings of an ache in her back. While she waited, Bliss rose to reach for the tin of Earl Grey tea. Mission accomplished, she eased onto the stool and rested her feet on the opposite seat and let out a contented sigh.

  Much as she missed her days running the kitchen at the Bentley, there was something to be said for sitting quietly and waiting for water to boil. As if on cue, the phone rang. Bliss nearly fell off the stool scrambling for it.

  “Cake Bake,” she said before she heard the dial tone and realized the ringing had come from Neecie’s phone.

  The phone rang again. “Oh, right. It’s Neecie’s.”

  Her palm closed over the still-jangling phone, and she punched the button, then lifted it to her ear. “Cake Bake, um, I mean Wedding Belles.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord. I thought you weren’t going to answer.” The deep voice held more than a note of urgency. “Now open up before I huff and puff and blow the house down.”

  “Blow the house down? Oh my.”

  With her heart pounding and her hands shaking, Bliss tiptoed over the creaking floorboards to the door and peered out in the direction of the sidewalk in front of Wedding Belles. A broad-shouldered man in jeans and a brown leather jacket stood with his back to her. He had dark, disheveled hair and a phone pressed against his ear.

  Something about him seemed familiar. Of course, in Latagnier, everything and everyone was familiar. The fellow could be anyone from a distant cousin to an ax murderer.

  Okay, so he wasn’t carrying an ax. Still, he could be trouble.

  And he could be a stranger. Despite the fact most traffic turned off at places like New Iberia or Lafayette before they ever reached Latagnier, a few were known to stray farther south.

  And he did say he would blow the house down. Could his statement mean he’d resort to violence to get inside Neecie’s shop?

  Maybe he’s a bill collector. Or an ex-boyfriend.

  Whoever he was, the word trouble still seemed the best description. With that in mind, Bliss moved slowly toward the kitchen and the store phone she’d left on the counter.

  The 911 system hadn’t yet arrived in Latagnier, but on Bliss’s first night in town, Mama had made her input the police station’s number into her speed dial at the shop and upstairs on her home pho
ne. She’d done the honors of saving the number to her cell phone herself.

  Better to remain in sight of the stranger than to risk disappearing into the kitchen for even a minute. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered as she patted her apron pocket and felt for her cell phone.

  “Did you say something?” The man heaved a sigh that she could hear and see, and Bliss’s heart did a flip-flop. Yes, definitely trouble.

  “Neecie, are you all right?” Mr. Trouble said. “You sound different. Something wrong with your voice?”

  She watched him walk toward a big dark truck, one of those cowboy conveyances that gave no heed to the price of gas, and lean against the bumper. When he turned back in her direction, mirrored sunglasses glinting in the afternoon sun, Bliss ducked away from the window.

  “What? No, I’m sorry.” Bliss paused. What was wrong with her? “This is, well, I’m not her. Not Neecie, that is.”

  While she watched, he retrieved a briefcase, then slammed the door. “If you’re not Neecie, then who are you?” he said when he returned to the sidewalk. “I need to talk to Neecie.”

  “This is her, um, emergency service.”

  Mr. Trouble set the briefcase on the sidewalk and now stood in front of the truck, one booted foot resting on the bumper. He seemed to be contemplating the toe of that boot, or maybe the bumper beneath it.

  The man ran his free hand through his slightly-too-long hair and studied the toe of his boot. “Well, then, I’m in luck, because I’ve got an emergency.”

  “All right.” Bliss ducked as the stranger’s gaze swung her way. “Leave me your number, and I’ll have Neecie call you back.”

  “No!”

  The harshness of the man’s tone made Bliss jump for cover. She looked up to check that the lock was secure on the door, then returned her attention to the caller, ignoring the twinge of complaint from her knee and the beginnings of the tea-kettle’s whistle.

  “Look, pal.” Bliss swallowed hard and called to mind the difficult customers she’d dealt with in Austin. “I’m going to ask you once more. Do you want to leave a number or not?”

  “No, I—”

  Bliss clicked the phone off, her heart pounding. “Neecie Trahan, who in the world is this guy?” she whispered. “I hope he’s not someone you’re considering dating, because he really needs to learn some—”

  Knock. Knock. Knock. “Anyone here?”

  The man was back, and this time he’d come to her store instead of Neecie’s place. What to do?

  If she stood and ran toward the back, he could see her. The sound of the teakettle grew louder, giving her no choice but to jump up and skitter toward the kitchen.

  “Hey, I see you in there.” The knocking grew louder. “Please answer the door. It’s an emergency. I’m looking for your neighbor Neecie. Have you seen her? Hey, come on. I said it was an emergency, and I’m not kidding.”

  “It’s going to be an emergency, all right.” Bliss lifted the teakettle from the stove and turned off the burner. “One more knock and I’m calling the law.”

  With shaking hands, Bliss prepared her daily cup of Earl Grey and settled onto the stool. From her vantage point, she could see the alley and the iron steps leading up to the second floor. Thankfully, the back door was barred and bolted during the day, so there was no chance the troublesome fellow would be coming in through that door.

  The front entrance, well, that was another story. Bliss closed her eyes and prayed the Lord would send someone to diffuse the situation and cause Mr. Trouble to go about his merry way. Or, rather, his cranky way.

  He did seem to be a volatile sort.

  A quarter hour passed, and Bliss finished her tea in silence. After washing the cup and setting it to drain on the sideboard, she decided to brave a peek outside. Sliding across the wooden planks on tiptoe, she kept to the shadows and never allowed her gaze to move from the front window.

  So far, the only signs of life were from the few cars that traveled downtown after four. There was certainly no sign of the troublemaker with the mirrored shades.

  Bliss expelled an audible breath as she checked the clock. Four thirty. Time to start supper. Mama always liked to eat early. At least the prep time today was minimal. She’d put the crawfish pie together earlier. Now all that remained to be done was to put it in the oven for an hour of baking time.

  “Mission accomplished,” she said as she set the timer. “Now what to do?” Her gaze landed on the calendar, and she retrieved it. “Let’s see what next week looks like. Maybe I can get a head start on the list for the grocery store.”

  Ten minutes later, she’d made notes on items to purchase at the market and updated her calendar on her computer. A neat calendar filled with dates and deadlines, as well as the details of each event, spilled from her printer, and she caught it before it landed on the floor.

  Tacking the thing on the fridge with a big crawfish-shaped magnet, Bliss took a step backward and stared at the page. Two weeks in business and she was completely booked through April with the month of May nearly full, as well.

  Bliss let out a contented sigh. For all the complaining she had done since the accident, the Lord had come through for her.

  “As if He wouldn’t, silly,” she said aloud.

  But there had been so many times when she felt sure He’d forgotten all about her. Terrible times of doubt followed moments of anger over the fact that God let her hit that patch of ice, that He had allowed her car to go through it rather than around it.

  That He had sent her through this new phase of her life rather than around it.

  She glanced down at her slippers and wiggled her toes. Back at the Bentley, she’d be barking orders in high heels.

  Perhaps there was something to be said for following the Lord’s plan rather than your own. “To say the least,” Bliss whispered. “Father, forgive me for fighting You on this.” She touched the calendar, then let her finger trail down the cold length of the refrigerator door. “Next time, stop me, okay? I’d rather You be in charge, even if I don’t always act like it.”

  Neecie’s phone rang, and Bliss nearly jumped out of her skin. She peered out the kitchen, past the display cases, and toward the front door.

  The phone rang again. Bliss took a step toward it.

  No one appeared in the door, and no ranting males seemed to be pacing the sidewalk. She picked it up on the third ring, prepared for battle.

  “Bliss, it’s Neecie.”

  “Oh, Neecie.” Bliss felt her shoulders slump. “I’m so glad to hear from you. Is everything all right? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She paused. “I’m sorry I ran out like that earlier. I really appreciate you minding the store for me. Did everything go okay?”

  “Pretty much.” Bliss cast another glance outside. “There was this man. Irate fellow, actually. He demanded to speak to you. Said it was a wedding emergency.” An idea dawned. “Hey, you weren’t playing a joke on me, were you?”

  Neecie giggled. “No,” she said, “but it would’ve been a good one. Did this man say who he was?”

  “No, he just kept asking for you. I tried to get him to leave a number, but he wouldn’t do it.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Yeah.” She considered her words as she spoke. “Neecie, is there something wrong? Something I can help with?”

  Her friend sighed audibly. “I wish you could, hon. Keeping an eye on the phone was a big help.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Yes, well, you’re closed this Saturday, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” The smell of crawfish pie made Bliss’s stomach growl. She padded toward the kitchen to check the progress of her dinner. “I’ll be open two Saturdays from now. I decided it’s easier for customers to remember I’m open the first Saturday of the month and closed the rest of them. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her response sounded rushed. “Bliss, I wonder if I could trouble you to slip the phone through the mail slot. I would send Ha
nnah or one of the boys over, but—”

  “Oh, there’s no need for that. I’ll drop it in.” She closed the oven door. “You just enjoy your evening and call me if you need anything else, you hear?”

  “I will, hon.” She paused. “And, Bliss?”

  “What’s that, Neecie?”

  “I’m really glad you’re home.”

  “Me, too,” she said as she hung up. And, strangely, she meant it.

  Now to take the phone back before she forgot.

  ❧

  Finally.

  It didn’t take a genius to know that if he waited long enough, the woman from the cake store would emerge. Bob hadn’t yet figured out why this gal had possession of Neecie’s phone, but he aimed to ask Neecie come Sunday morning. He also planned to tell her she needed to find someone more professional to handle her calls.

  Either that or hire a temp when she couldn’t be there.

  At the thought of hiring a temp, Bob suppressed a groan. He couldn’t wait to welcome Yvonne back. Come next Monday, life would be good again. He would be at work, and Yvonne would take care of everything else.

  Today, however, he still had the matter of Amy’s wedding to handle.

  The woman still stood in the doorway of the Cake Bake. Bob eased down in his seat and adjusted his collar as he watched her through his aviator shades. It wouldn’t do to scare her again. He’d have to make his move slowly, deliberately.

  Losing the last link to his mission was something he could not do. Especially since Neecie and everyone else associated with Amy’s wedding seemed to have gone AWOL.

  The woman closed the shop door and, curiously, walked away without locking it. “Must have one of those old-fashioned door locks,” he muttered. “Figures someone not smart enough to answer the phone right wouldn’t know about proper security, either.”

  Keeping to the edge of the sidewalk closest to the building, the woman eased her way over to the door of Neecie’s shop. She ignored the door handle and instead pressed on the mail slot.