How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [65]
It’s not until they get outside, carrying flat boxes of bedding plants Lily says she’ll help Katie plant, that Katie realizes she has not thought about anything. It’s as if her brain just turned off.
Weird. But good weird.
That night she writes to Madison again, though Madison has not written one single letter yet. Not even an email.
Dear Madison,
Today I planted flowers for six hours with Sofia’s grandmother, and it was the most fun I ever had. My arms are super-tired and I got a sunburn a little bit, but now I had a long hot bath in this beautiful bathroom here and I feel like I could sleep for six years.
I like it here. I wish you could come visit. We could go to the flower show Lily told me about, which has all kinds of flowers and people try to win prizes. She’s going to take me.
My dad is doing okay. He doesn’t have a leg and he has burns, but Sofia says he’s all right. I wish he would wake up and write to me, though, so then I would know he was going to be okay.
I haven’t heard anything from my mom yet, but I guess I will sometime. WRITE ME BACK! What are you doing this summer?
Your BFF,
Katie
Ramona
Not twenty minutes after my mother leaves with Katie, I’m cleaning the kitchen when the bakery phone rings. Tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder, I say, “Mother Bridget’s Boulangerie. This is Ramona.” I shake the dish towel over the sink.
“Hello, Ramona,” he says. “This is Jonah.”
I think of the first time we met. “Our names rhyme. That’s so funny.”
“It is.” There is warmth in his voice. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee or something? Is this a good time?”
“It’s perfect. Shall I meet you at Bon Ton’s in about a half hour?”
“Yes. I’ll see you then.”
Leaving the rest of the chores, I dash upstairs and take a ten-second shower to rinse the sweat and work of the day off my body. I think about running up and down the alleys looking for Merlin, and the baking, and the email from Sofia. Soon I will need some sleep. When I wipe the steam off the mirror, there are bluish circles beneath my eyes, and I can see worry lines at the corners of my mouth. I purse my lips and relax them three or four times, but the lines don’t go away. There is Sofia’s tragedy, right on my face.
I brush the flour out of my hair and put on some lipstick. The green sundress hides some of the extra weight I carry around my middle. Before I leave, I lock Merlin upstairs so he’ll be safe, then head out to meet Jonah.
The café is only three blocks away, and I am a little early, but Jonah is there already, sitting at an outdoor table with a view of Cheyenne Mountain. A tree shades the table from the high-altitude sun. When he sees me, he stands, and for a moment I pause, feeling oddly nervous. What will we even say to each other after so long?
Then he smiles, and a part of me that is still sixteen melts ever so slightly. I give him my best smile as I come forward. He extends his hand, but on impulse I stand on my toes and hug him instead. It’s a quick fierce greeting, old friend to old friend. His neck smells of ginger, and his hand comes around me, touches my back lightly. I close my eyes, swept into another time, another me. “I’m so glad you could come,” he says, letting me go.
“Me, too.” I sit down and the waitress hurries over.
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Well,” I say, and lean back, inclining my head to take in the details I was too rattled to register earlier. He’s wearing jeans and a thin cotton shirt that buttons up the front, with long sleeves he’s rolled up his forearms. His hair is still the same thick dark chestnut, wavy and shiny. His face is so much the same it’s eerie, but he’s somehow grown into the angles. There is a gravity that was missing. Finally I say, “You really don’t look very different. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you in your yard.”
“It’s been a long time.” He folds his hands on his belly. “The advantage goes to me, because you have such distinctive hair.”
I pull a thick