A Date With Fate (21 page)

Larissa was proudly smiling when I burst out in delighted laughter to hear her quoting Billy Carlson, my other store manager. He’s a great guy with a great, big heart. It seems simple enough on the surface, but it’s a leap of fantastic progress for Larissa if she’s comfortable enough with Billy to be intentionally joking about his sayings.

A few minutes later, I was sitting and drooling at the Fare counter while waiting for Anna to be done with her work. My eyes were reluctantly drawn away from the bakery case when I noticed the water level in the bottle sitting in front of me shake, and a second later, shake again.

This will always remind me of the build-up scene in the first Jurassic Park movie when something was coming and the puddle did the tremor. I feel the same dread now. I turned on my stool to observe Aunt Lily thumping her way down the main aisle towards us. Her head was swiveling side to side as she glared around Bel’s Books. You’d swear she had entered a den of iniquity instead of what most sane people refer to as a used bookstore. I’ve heard her dogmatic opinion ad nauseam of the dark sin that lurks in any books not of a non-fiction, Christian genre. I’ve got nothing against believers, but Aunt Lily’s not a woman you want as your poster girl. Any organization she reps gets a bad rap just by being associated with her fanatic, mean self.

Her sparse, gray hair is worn scraped back in a wincingly tight bun. Her black brows resemble furry centipedes in motion across her broad forehead. They shade the beady, unblinking eyes of a carrion predator. She has a beefy nose with wide, flaring nostrils. Her mouth is perpetually twisted, as if sucking nonstop on a lemon. If that wasn’t scary enough, she has a massive body an aspiring lumberjack would be proud of, even at her age. Aunt Lily is the stuff of nightmares. Not quite as terrifying as a T-Rex, but pretty damn close.

On the crook of one meaty arm hung her purse she’s carried forever. It’s a huge, black monstrosity circa 1900. It’s shiny and furry looking. It’s possibly constructed out of an animal she killed and tanned herself for fun as a child. Hanging daintily from the other elbow, and incongruously out of place, is a familiar pink bakery bag. Firmly clenched in her right hand is the black cane that resembled a long chunk of basalt. She certainly doesn’t need the cane for walking, but used it purely for intimidation purposes.

It worked.

To keep current with food trends in her café, Anna likes to do what we term ‘spying’. Spying involves periodically visiting different surrounding towns and checking out the competition to see what’s cookin’.

Our spying adventures began, in part, because of Aunt Lily. Since the opening of Laissez Fare, Aunt Lily takes perverse pleasure stopping by Bel’s with food from other eateries about every second month.

After watching her depress Anna once too many times, I always try to wander unobtrusively over to the Fare’s counter when she stomps down the main aisle trailing her miasma of malevolence. Aunt Lily’s main goal seems to be driving home to Anna how her cooking doesn’t measure up to whatever’s in the bag. Yeah, she’s a real sweetheart of an Auntie.

I am positioned perfectly for the interception today. Aunt Lily’s big on proper posture, so I slump lazily on my stool. My back and elbows rest slovenly on the counter behind me. My legs are sprawled apart while I wait to make my move.

“Oh my, onward Christian soldier.” murmured Trent in my ear, leaning down right behind me. The high school girls had wandered off, and except for the oblivious Anna banging trays around behind us in the sink, we were alone watching Aunt Lily’s forward progress up the aisle. “Didn’t she bring a bag from the Northfield Bakery last time she graced us with her charity? On the subject of charity, what would you say if I told you I was signing up for ChristianSingle.com?”

I answered out of the corner of my mouth. “I’d say, “What did the Christians ever do to you?” that’s what I’d say.”

“God, Anabel!” Trent exclaimed in a fervent undertone. “I love your sassy mouth. Are you sure you won’t reconsider and go out with a younger man with the soul of an old degenerate?”

I stifled my giggles with difficulty. “Quit it! Don’t make me laugh.”

Trent straightened up to his full, impressive height and said with exaggerated courtesy, “Why hello, Ms. Johnson.” He leaned forward, one arm resting on the top of the cash register. “Are you having the best day of your life today?”

Ignoring Trent like he was invisible, Lily Johnson placed the pink bakery bag on the counter. After looking me up and down, Aunt Lily pinned me with the glare of virulence she keeps reserved for Liberals, Infidels, and Jezebels. She snorted angrily at my wide smile of greeting, and at my thighs swaying indecently opened and closed.

She turned her attention to Trent and continued her pleasantries.

Her cane hit the edge of the counter with a loud crack a scant inch from Trent’s hand. He jumped back in stumbling haste at the unexpected attack. He sidestepped behind me. I felt his hand clutching the back of my vest like a talisman to ward off evil.

Aunt Lily started thundering. “Young deviant, the best day in the life for the devout will be the day they meet the One True God and His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Renounce your ways and fight the devil inside you before it is too late!” Oh yes, did I forget to mention Aunt Lily is convinced Trent’s a despicable homosexual? “Be saved or beware! You do not want to face Our Father come Judgment Day as the sinner that stands before me.” She paused and ordered menacingly, “Now, boy, be useful and inform my niece I’m here.”

Anna turned off the water at the sink, saw her Aunt, and came hopping over to join us at the counter. Aunt Lily spread her lips in a scary grimace that was supposed to pass for a smile.

The Behemoth cooed. “Anna, come taste these divine Cruellers from the Northfield Bakery. Chef Leonard received his training at the International Culinary Center in New York City.”

She said the words with a malicious reverence, as if the school was located in the Garden of Eden and not just NYC, and the training received guaranteed a quality of baked goods comparable to that of manna from heaven, and not a basic recipe anyone could follow.

Anna blinked once, her happy smile of welcome wobbling. It disappeared at the sight of the Northfield Bakery bag.

Before Aunt Lily could stop me, I snatched the pink bag off the counter. I glanced inside.

Disdainfully, I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t you mean Crullers?”

The crull in Crullers rhymes with skull. Not to be confused with Cruellers. That is pronounced like the word cruel. As in the cruel and unusual punishment Anna’s aunt was attempting to deliver right along with the pastries. Anna had plans to attend that school in New York, but cancelled and went local when Aunt Lily had a “heart attack” and desperately needed her niece by her side.

Aunt Lily’s eyes were slits of hard obsidian. She reached for the bag. “No, Anabel Axelrod. Chef Leonard said these are Persian Cruellers.”

I held the bag back. I shook my head decisively in the negative. “They most certainly are not. Cruellers are twisted and shaped round. They’re also generally thought to be of French origin. What’s with Chef Leonard and the pretentious Persian name? What a poser. Persia’s isn’t even a country anymore. He may as well have called them Prussian Cruellers or Rhodesian Cruellers.” I snorted derisively. “No, these are crude donut sticks that are knock-offs of the more elegant, delicate Cruellers. New Yorkers call them Crullers. They sell them on the street out of those icky carts.”

I tilted my head while I took in the sight of the angry, red-faced woman standing in front of me. “Do you have any idea why this Cruller is shaped like a rectangular stick, Aunt Lily?”

After getting an eyeful of Aunt Lily’s working mouth and clenched fists, Anna broke in tentatively. “Umm, maybe we should try one and…”

Trent interrupted Anna. He was feeling braver a few feet out of thrashing range, and was my obliging straight man.

“Tell us, Anabel! I’m very interested to know why these Crullers are shaped like a stick.”

I met Aunt Lily’s basilisk glare with a relaxed, cool smile. I was totally at my ease with certain people wishing me dead after they’ve had the pleasure of beating me bloody with their cane. Using a napkin, I reached into the bag and pulled out a sugar glazed pastry.

The Cruller glistened under the light from the pendants hanging over the counter.

I held the pastry aloft with two fingers like it was dog poop. “I’ve been told on good authority, this Cruller shape came about because New Yorkers found it too difficult to fit the original, circular Crueller into their coffee cups for dipping.” I smiled angelically at Aunt Lily. “It never crossed their minds to break them in half.”

Trent guffawed loudly and Anna let loose a giggle before hurriedly covering her mouth. Aunt Lily continued to stare at me with a flat expression somehow more ominous then if she was enraged and swinging.

I made a face at the Cruller in my hand, and continued to pour gasoline on the blaze of my eternal hell-fire. I took my time inspecting the pastry while making soft, negative noises in the back of my throat.

I finally finished my careful exam and looked up at the trio watching me.

Thighs still lazily swaying to and fro, I sighed. “Okay, not real thrilled here with the weight or looks of this thing, but time for the ultimate test. How does it taste?”

I pinched the tiniest, most miniscule sample bite humanly possible. After barely allowing it to touch my tongue, I sat up straight and promptly spit it out into the napkin with a loud, disgusted exclamation.

Gagging, I shuddered. “If you think these fat-filled disasters are divine, Aunt Lily, you’ve been sampling your soup kitchen food too often. Ugh! Majorly greasy grossness!” I spit again for good measure.

If I have my way, Aunt Lily the Unloving doesn’t leave any happier then when she arrived. Today, she furiously did an abrupt about-face and thumped out of the store without another word to anyone. Not to be immodest, but I have to pat myself on the back here. I think it was my personal best ever Interception of The Behemoth.

Trent leaned across the counter and twirled me around to face him. His grin was wicked. “I want you for my bride. Think about it. In the meantime, don’t hog the bag. Man, I love these things!”

I had stuffed half a Creuller in my mouth the minute Aunt Lily was out of sight. Chewing while rolling my eyes in heavenly agreement, I passed over the pink bag. Trent and Anna dived in.

Anna aimed a swat at me. Over a mouthful, she garbled, “Way to go, Junior. I have to live with that woman!”

I protested around my own mouthful. “Don’t call “it” a woman. You choose to live with it and will get no pity here, Miss Martyr.”

Stella came over and grabbed the bag from an unsuspecting Trent. She looked inside and scoffed. “No more cancer Cruellers for any of you. I can pour some poison down your throats if you’re still hungry. It’s the same thing as eating all this leaf lard, refined sugar and bleached flour.”

Trent put his hands around his head, as if hugging his bursting brain. “My GOD, I love the women in your family. You are all so mean! Stella, please, you can pour anything down my throat—even leaf lard, whatever the hell that is. I promise I’ll swallow and die a happy man. I’m waiting for you to hit legal drinking age, and then I am moving in, girl.”

My niece folded her arms and snickered. “Trent, aren’t you in school learning to be a Pastry Chef? Leaf lard is pig fat found deposited around the kidneys and loin of the poor pig. It’s used in baking because it doesn’t have much pork flavor and gives pastry crusts that flaky texture.”

On a dirty laugh, he repeated the only word a man would hear. “The loin, eh?”

Stella threw up her hands and walked away. The brat took the pink bag with her. Trent hopped the counter and followed, protesting loudly.

Anna regularly insists on fairly evaluating the treats Aunt Lily drops off. Normally, I wouldn’t eat them if Anna paid me considering who delivered them. In fact, Trent was right and Aunt Lily must be slipping. The bag of chocolate chip cookies I’d brought over to Reggie’s the day I met Luke were the last offering Aunt Lily had delivered to Bel’s, and had also been from the Northfield Bakery. Chocolate chip cookies were easy for me to resist. Plus, I figured if the Behemoth sprinkled them with poison my brother’s cast iron stomach could handle it. It was an added bonus that Cousin Candy was there that day and ate several.

Even my fear of being poisoned by Aunt Lily, or refined sugar and bleached flour, couldn’t hold out against a bag of fresh Persian Cruellers. They were finger-licking fabulous. Although, the whole leaf lard thing was now ricocheting around in my cranial cavity; right up there with those poor cow teats.

‘
Damn, I hated when Stella ruined another one of my life’s little pleasures.’

Chapter VIII

“Would I Lie To You?” by The Eurythmics

Saturday, 11/17/12

10:23 AM

Anna and I were finally heading out the back door to the double garage on the southeast edge of my property in the parking lot. I let out a long sigh of relief to finally escape the building for the next few hours
.

We hopped in Lady Liberty. I drove the couple of blocks through town, crossed the Water Street bridge over the Cannon River, and then we were headed north on Highway 3.

Farmington’s a small town a straight shot north about twelve miles. This was our first stop on today’s agenda before heading to the Grand Avenue neighborhood in St. Paul. I didn’t waste any time. Verbatim, I started filling Anna in on my conversation with Crookie from earlier this morning.

Anna got to know Crookie pretty well our senior year in high school. It was usually a package deal back then—if either Anna or I made a new friend, so did the other. Anna was even starting to like him-like him a few years back, but couldn’t be convinced to tell Crookie. It was frustrating for me because the giant nerd was completely oblivious of her interest. Anna always thought he was a hottie with a body. I thought they’d make a cute couple, but then there was “The Day of Infamy” and here we are today; cursing his soon-to-be ex-wife to hell and back.