How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [122]
He points to a cone-shaped juniper. “The sparrow condos. There must be forty birds who live there. They love the berries.”
“It wouldn’t suck to be a bird, would it?”
“Summers wouldn’t be bad. Winters would be a drag.”
I nod.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
In a weary voice, I recount the story. “My mother will be there soon, and she’ll handle everything. I just feel so terrible for him.”
“Why don’t you drink your wine and I’ll go get Katie and we can all watch a movie after dinner?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should go home.”
He holds my hands, rubbing his thumbs over the heels of my palms. “If that’s what you want. But maybe you don’t have to hold up the whole world, either.”
I half smile. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“I was.” He stands up. “At least come have some supper now. There isn’t anything you can do for anyone else right now. You might as well let me take care of you.”
I look at him, nod, and let him lead me inside.
Katie
Monday is the flower show, and Katie is so excited she wakes up very early and takes a shower so she can be ready. Ramona is downstairs in the bakery, talking to someone, and Katie heads down there. “Hi!” she says cheerfully. “Do you want me to make you some coffee?”
Ramona is in deep conversation with a man wearing blue coveralls. He has a big toolbox and he’s working on the hot-water heater. “Thanks, hon, but I’m kind of busy right now.”
“Okay. What time do you think we’ll leave?”
“Leave?”
A ripple of worry crosses Katie’s belly. “For the flower show?”
“Oh, Katie, I forgot!” Ramona comes forward, stepping over the toolbox. “I can’t go. There’s no way. They’re installing the hot-water heater today.”
“You promised.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, waves a hand at the workman. “Sometimes, emergencies come up, Katie. That’s just how life is. Maybe he’ll finish in time and we can go before the day is over.”
“No! That’s not fair! First Lily bailed on me, now you?”
“I’m not bailing, Katie. My business is closed and I have to be here to supervise this!”
“Why can’t Jimmy do it? Or Heather?”
Ramona gets a steely look on her face, and before she even speaks, Katie knows she’s lost this round. “Go upstairs. Right now. I’ll meet you there in two minutes.”
Katie stomps up the stairs, Merlin panting behind her, and sits down with her arms crossed. When Ramona comes around the corner, Katie gives her the hardest glare she can muster.
“Oh, stop it,” Ramona snaps. “You’re acting like a two-year-old, and I’m tired of it. If I could go, you know I would take you.”
“Everybody and everything is more important than I am,” Katie says, and she’s shocked that she actually said it out loud. “I’m sick of coming last.”
Something odd crosses Ramona’s face, and then it’s gone. “Well, that’s hardly true, but what if I call Jonah? Maybe he would take you.”
“Forget it!”
Ramona stands there for a little while, and Katie sees that she looks tired. She knows that Ramona is worried about the bakery, and for one long second she feels kind of guilty. Finally Ramona says, “Suit yourself. I have to get back downstairs.”
Katie sits there fuming for a few seconds, then she jumps up and stomps—loudly—down the back stairs to the garden. The sun is not hot yet, so she yanks out some weeds and flings them across the yard. Milo bolts out from beneath the umbrella leaves of a squash plant and leaps on them as if they’re bugs or snakes, but Katie doesn’t even laugh.
She is mad. Doesn’t anybody care about her feelings?
“Hey there.” The old woman looks over the fence. This morning her hair looks almost like smoke. She has a necklace with red stones around her neck, and she’s wearing an apron with little cherries all over the front of it that is just like one Ramona has. “Who are you so mad at, sugar?”
“Everybody!” Katie growls as she yanks out a tumbleweed. Right now it is sturdy and green and the roots probably go all the way to Malaysia. It comes free with a big clump of dirt and goes sailing across the garden, where the clump slams against