Get You Good (27 page)

“I trust him,” Sydney said.

Maritza smiled and shouldered her purse. “Dub's not the one you need to be trusting right now.”

Sydney paused for a moment before straightening up.

“So what are you saying?” Sydney asked, turning to face Maritza, who was halfway to the door. “I should just leave Dub alone?”

“I'm saying you should work on your vertical relationship with God before you start working on your horizontal relationships,” Maritza said. “And since you're catering Sean's birthday party at the end of the month, you probably shouldn't give up that oven quite yet.”

“Maritza!” Sydney whined. “You just told me to stay away from Dub. Now you're inviting me to a party where you know he'll be?”

“Uh-uh,” Maritza said, wagging her finger. “I am not inviting you to attend. I don't need that kind of drama up in my husband's birthday bash. I am inviting you to cater. You know how Sean loves that Key lime cheesecake from Decadent. He would eat it every day if I didn't stop him. I think he's been in withdrawal since the store closed.”

Sydney laughed. Maritza was right. The reason they had become such good friends was because Maritza had been in the store almost every week getting the cheesecake for her husband.

“OK, fine,” Sydney said with a smile as they headed toward the door. “I'll make the birthday cake and the cheesecake for Sean's birthday. Do you want slices or tarts?”

“Slices, please,” Maritza said, slipping on her sunglasses as she stepped outside. “We're thinking it will be around two hundred people, but I'll call you with the final numbers for the order next week.”

“OK,” Sydney said, switching off the lights before pulling the door to the shop of her dreams closed.

“And speaking of calls”—Maritza unlocked the car with the key remote—“don't you have a call to make?”

Sydney sighed. “Oh, yeah.”

She dug out her cell phone and pressed the redial button. The line answered after two rings.

“Hey, it's me, Maritza,” she said. “I need to cancel my appointment.”

S
ydney lay in bed and watched the numbers on her bedside clock turn from 4:29 a.m. to 4:30. She had woken up almost half an hour earlier and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. She had planned to get up a little earlier today—it was the day of Sean's party and she had to make thirteen cheesecakes as well as several platters of mini empanadas to serve as hors d'oeuvres. Maritza had come over when Sydney had been experimenting with a new recipe for the empanadas and, after “sampling” half of Sydney's batch, had decided that she wanted them for the party, too. Sydney was glad for the work, but she had had to call in Lissandra and Mario to make sure the whole thing was done in time for the five p.m. start of the event.

She wasn't worried, though. All the ingredients were sitting in the huge kitchen at 572 College Street and she had worked big orders like this with Lissandra and Mario before, so they knew what they were doing. Besides, she had done a test run in the oven and found it worked even better than she thought it would. But despite all of that, her mind didn't feel at ease.

By the time the numbers turned to 4:35, she realized she wasn't going to get any more sleep. She got out of bed, pulled a robe around her, and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She put on the kettle, took out a mug and the box of berry tea, then went into the living room to wait for the kettle to hiss. As she sank into the couch, she saw the open book on the coffee table. Sydney knew it would be there. It had been there every morning for the past two weeks. And just like every morning before, she took it up to look at the portion that had been marked off the night before.

JJ's Bible was old. It was actually Leroy's father's Bible, which she had found in a box in the basement while they were clearing out the house after Leroy died. Sydney had always assumed that the highlighted sections were from their grandfather. But it suddenly occurred to her that they could be from her sister, because highlighters hadn't been around that long.

This morning the marker was at first Corinthians thirteen. Sydney read over the verses, which talked about love. She got stuck on the last two verses:

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Everything she had done, she had done out of love for her family. Or at least that was what she had convinced herself. But none of what she had done matched what the text said love was.

What truth? The last few months of her life were saturated with lies. Lies to her family. Lies to her boyfriend. Lies to herself.

She sighed again, closed the Bible, and placed it back onto the table.

“See something you don't like?”

Sydney looked up to find JJ standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“How come you're up so early?” Sydney asked, ignoring her sister's question.

JJ smiled and closed the space between them, sinking into the couch beside Sydney.

“I'm always up this early,” JJ said. “I just let you have the living room while I stay in the kitchen.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “So you knew that I was down here snooping in your Bible every morning?”

JJ chuckled. “You can't snoop in a Bible, Syd. It's not a diary. But yes, I've known. Why do you think I always leave it open the night before?”

Sydney smirked. “I should have guessed. Saint Judith. Always seeking the lost.”

“Yeah, whatever,” JJ said, putting her feet up on the coffee table. “So what part of first Corinthians did you have a problem with this morning?”

“The part where it says love is letting people take advantage of you.”

“Ahh, chapter thirteen. The love chapter,” she said knowingly.

“Yes, that part,” Sydney said. “It's great in theory, but it's not very practical. What if I had let fly everything Sheree had done to us? I only did what I did out of love for my family.”

“Of course,” JJ said. “You betrayed your boyfriend, lied to your family, and almost got Sheree and yourself killed for love. That makes sense.”

“Come on, JJ,” Sydney said, turning to look at her sister. “You can't think this could have turned out any differently.”

“I don't know,” JJ said with a sigh. “Sometimes I think that if we had given Sheree a chance . . .”

Sydney's eyes widened as her sister trailed off.

“Given her a chance to what?”

JJ bit her lip. “Maybe if we had given her a chance to be our sister. If we had shown her genuine love, treated her like family, maybe she wouldn't have run off with the money.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? Essie said she's already pulled this stunt twice. You think some TLC could have kept her from her plan this time?”

“I don't know, Syd,” JJ said with a touch of frustration. “I've just been thinking about it, and you said Hayden said Sheree never had a family. She never had a father in her life, she barely saw her brother, and her mother is a bit of a nut job. She never had anyone show her real love, Syd. Maybe if we had done that with her, things could have been different.”

Sydney didn't say anything, but she turned the words over in her mind. She wanted to believe that Sheree was just evil to the core. Her actions should have been proof enough of that. But if people were going to judge others based on what they saw of them, then Hayden had just as few reasons to forgive Sydney as she did to forgive Sheree.

“You know, when we found her, she said I was just like her,” Sydney said, breaking the silence.

JJ turned to look at her.

“She said I pretended that I wanted the money for Dean, but really I wanted it for me,” Sydney continued. “Sometimes I think she's right. Maybe I
am
like her.”

“Or maybe she's like you,” JJ said quietly. “Like all of us. We all think the reasons for what we do are justified. If we were in Sheree's head, as scary a place as it may be, we would probably have done exactly what she did. She was just looking out for herself.”

JJ let out a sigh and leaned her head back against the couch.

“You know what I figured out, Syd?” she said after a moment. “It all comes down to love. We're all doing things out of misguided love. You killed yourself at Decadent out of love for Dad. You schemed to catch Sheree to prove to Dean that you love him, despite everything that happened. Hayden lied to you to prove to Sheree that he loves her. And Sheree stole so she could feel good enough about herself to love herself.

“Everyone in this world is just looking for real love. And when we get something that looks like it might be real, we scheme and lie and cheat to keep it, not realizing that if you have to do those things, it can't be love. Real love grows when you give it freely. The problem is, giving it away is hard. Loving people, with the patience and kindness and humility that real love from God requires, is really hard. Because in many cases you might end up getting hurt.”

“You can only get hurt so many times in life, JJ,” Sydney said. “When you've been hurt too much, you forget how to love.”

“That's too bad. 'Cause the poison is the cure,” JJ said. “Love is what is going to heal us from all that hurt. Sheree may be a mess, but I believe that loving her could have changed things. Just like it's changing you.”

Sydney turned to look at her sister.

“Hayden loves you, Syd,” JJ said. “If he didn't, he would have taken back the shop a long time ago and had you arrested for everything you did. You need to figure out how to love, Syd.”

The exact same words Maritza had said to her a little over a week earlier.

“What if I can't?” Sydney could barely speak the words.

The kettle began to whistle in the kitchen, and JJ got up.

“You can't,” she said as she headed to the kitchen. “Not without God.”

 

 

Sydney closed her eyes. “God, I don't know how to do this. But if you want me to, show me how.”

The soundless words floated up to the ceiling and, Sydney hoped, much higher than the roof on the house. Now she would have to wait and see what happened.

 

“Hey Mario, can you grab the last set of empanadas off the top oven?” Sydney asked as she carefully sliced the final cheesecake.

“Got it, boss,” Mario said as he placed the long tray on the cooling rack. “I'm gonna start packing the cooled ones as soon as I finish this.”

“Sydney, are we plating these beforehand?” Lissandra asked as she began removing the previously sliced cheesecakes from the refrigerator.

“No.” Sydney gently removed the cake divider. “Maritza's kitchen is ridiculous. We can do it there. It will be easier and less risky.”

“All right, then,” Lissandra said. “In that case, we need to bounce. We've got to claim some space before the other caterers get in the mix.”

Less than an hour later, Lissandra and Sydney were in the van, with Mario following in his car behind them. Out of the corner of her eye, Sydney saw Lissandra give her a once-over.

“That's what you're wearing?” Lissandra asked as they paused at a stoplight.

Sydney glanced down at her black slacks and matching wrap top.

“Yes,” Sydney frowned. “What's wrong with what I have on?”

Lissandra shrugged. “Nothing.”

Sydney narrowed her eyes at her sister.

“What?” Lissandra asked.

“What's wrong with what I have on?”

“Nothing,” Lissandra insisted. “But if I was going to see the man I was in love with, for the first time in almost a month, I would bump it up a notch, you know what I'm saying? Put on some lipstick, show some cleavage.”

Sydney rolled her eyes. “I am not going to see Hayden. I am going to deliver an order to my friend's party. I'm going to go in, set out the appetizers, sit in the van until the main course is down, then set out the dessert. After that I'm going to collect my check and go home.”

“And you don't think you might run into Mr. Man during that time?” Sarcasm dripped from Lissandra's voice.

“Doesn't matter.” Sydney eased down on the gas as the light changed to green. “I'm the help. I'm there to work, not to talk to Hayden. And since I know he definitely isn't interested in talking to me, I don't think either of us will have a problem.”

And she had almost convinced herself that her little speech was true, until she almost dropped the last tray of appetizers when she caught sight of Hayden coming through the front doors. Only Lissandra's quick hand kept the empanadas from sliding off the tray onto the white tablecloths of the appetizer table.

“No problem, right?” Lissandra whispered.

Sydney lowered the tray onto the table with more attention than before and used a serving fork to quickly rearrange them evenly before dashing back into the kitchen.

She could hear Lissandra's footsteps behind her, but she couldn't stop. Pulling the cap from off her head, she pushed through the back door into the dusky evening, sucking in huge gulps of the night air. Her heart was beating so fast, she couldn't hear anything else above its echo.

Deep breath in. And out. In. And out.

She felt the blood stop rushing to her head, and only then did she realize her sister was talking to her.

“. . . Syd, are you OK?” Lissandra asked, a touch of concern in her voice. “Girl, I thought you were about to pass out in there.”

Sydney took a few more deep breaths. “I'm fine.”

“You didn't look fine,” Lissandra said with a shake of her head. “Who knew you would see him that soon. This thing hasn't even really started yet. And with Samantha? Man, does a brother move fast. . . .”

Sydney began to walk away from Lissandra. She knew her sister was not really the consoling type, and Sydney wasn't in a place where she could deal with her bluntness right then. Seeing Hayden had been bad enough. Seeing the Dolly Parton wannabe with him had been like a punch in the gut.

But she didn't have time to deal with this now. She needed to focus. Work came first. Maritza was depending on her, and she couldn't afford to have a mini-meltdown. Just two more hours, and a quick stop on the way home at Banjara, and she would be fine. She could do this.

She pep-talked herself all the way back to the kitchen, where she found Mario and Lissandra hanging around at the back doors.

“Have they finished setting out the buffet for the main course in the dining hall?” Sydney asked before they could say anything.

She saw the look exchanged between them but didn't acknowledge it.

“Uh . . . not yet,” said Mario.

“OK, as soon as they've moved all the food out of the kitchen, we're going to start plating,” Sydney said. “I'm going to see if we can have the same wait staff set out the dessert so it doesn't look like a hundred different people are handling the catering.”

And also so she wouldn't have to go back out there again.

“OK, whatever you say, boss,” Mario said.

Sydney looked across at Lissandra and she nodded her assent.

“OK, then,” Sydney said. “Let's clear out a space so we can get started.”