Have Your Cake (20 page)

“Noon.”

“Wanna go fishing?”

Asher chuckled. “Now, there’s a good idea.”

W
hen Cyana opened her gaze, she expected to see the little angel in the small bed across the room. He wasn’t there. She sat up and noted the time. A toddler not tucked in at three in the morning wasn’t any reason for alarm in the Huffing house. A mix of joy and excitement showered over her while a yawn tugged its way from her body.

She went to the kitchen where the family activity seemed to consolidate. Mama was in the glider and held a finger to her lips. The cherub missing from his bed snuggled against her shoulder. Cyana smiled and nodded, then headed to the workout room for a moderate yoga session to get her going. In another hour, the whole family would be up and dedicated to claiming space in the kitchen.

After yoga and a shower, she noticed Josiah sleeping in his bed again. Mama had finally escaped. She followed the scent of fresh brewed coffee. Mama sat at the laptop with a large mug in her hand.

“Morning Mama.”

“Mornin’ Baby. Getting an early start?”

“I may have been traveling a lot these past years, but I know how valuable space is in this kitchen. I wanna be outta the way as much as possible. I’d rather mix the mousse and icing on the island and dirty ice at the table since the cake pieces are so large.”

Mama nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Are you double checking your grocery lists?” Cyana asked, while going to the pantry to grab the chocolate and sugar.

“Yeah, but it looks like we got everything we need. I believe Mr. Wilmington will be providing the extra staff of dishwashers and servers. We just gotta cook. I can’t wait to see this kitchen he’s put together.”

She sighed. “It’s lovely, Mama.”

“Are you two gonna be okay? Together, I mean.”

She shook her head. “Mama, I can’t go through with starting a relationship right now. I, uh, I told Asher yesterday I just couldn’t. I’ve gotta think about Eric. He can’t work, play ball and keep his grades up all at once. At least I can do the first part for him, so long as he handles the rest. Then Mr. Wright offered to mentor me through the startup phase of Huffin Muffin. Did you see his offer?”

“I did. I want you to think real careful about it.”

“Iona told me Huffing Kitchen considered his proposal to invest a few years back.” She gathered the eggs, cream and vanilla from the fridge. “What made you back out anyway?”

“Your daddy’s will, honey. It was his wish no one outside of the Huffing family ever get more than twenty percent of the family business. Now, Mr. Wright wanted forty percent. Way more than the limit.”

“And you were still considering?”

“Well, honey, every business he’s put money and time into increases their sales by a fifteen percent margin in the first five years while most new startups fail. Mr. Wright has a proven track record. He is a nice man. Smart, with great ideas. I’m always up for negotiating. But he wouldn’t come down below thirty. I won’t give him so much of your daddy’s legacy.”

Cyana smiled at Mama’s ruthless business sense.

“Your company, on the other hand, isn’t a part of the Huffing Kitchen estate. So, you can do what you want. Balance your dream with a heaping spoon of realism and you’ll be all right.”

“Thanks, Mama. My life can use a heapin’ spoon of realism right now.”

Mama chuckled. “Coupled with faith, baby. Your sista and I believe Huffing Kitchen will have a building, even without Mr. Wright’s investments. You should trust all of what’s going on with you and Asher will work itself out.”

She sighed. “Am I really so easy to read?”

“Baby, you just need some time to think is all.”

Before long the kitchen buzzed with mixers. Cyana was content in her world of chocolate, piping the barrier of cream cheese icing around each layer of cake needing filled with mousse. Iona entered the kitchen, hair still wet from her shower. They all greeted each other.

“What time’s the walk through today?” Cyana asked.

“Five thirty,” Iona said. “When does Eric get in?”

“His last text said he’d be checking into his room at noon and catching a nap before we met for our reservations at six thirty.”

“K. Then we’ll get your hair done before Mama and I go.”

The light blue dress Iona lent Cyana shimmered against the light and matched the iridescence of the silver pumps inlaid with rhinestones. Cyana admired her sister’s taste in clothing while sitting in the comfortable chair of the vanity. A long shawl and a matching clutch topped the look while Iona buzzed around her, securing one more of her kinks into a loose French roll.

“There,” Iona said. “You look fabulous.”

“Thank you.” Cyana stood and gave her a big hug. She smiled at Iona in her Huffing Kitchen Chef uniform. “So do you, Ms. Executive Chef of Huffing Kitchen. Are you sure you don’t need me at the Milway?”

“Girl, your boy drove forever to get down here ahead of his team and take his mama out. All we’re doing is taking notes and performing equipment checks. Prep’s tomorrow. We might need you then. Tell my nephew I love him.”

“I will.”

“K. Gotta go drop Josiah at Trina’s.” Iona kissed her cheek before heading out the door.

T
he Milway’s commotion finally calmed down. Asher settled into one of the foyer chairs. Exhaustion took its toll. He was grateful to see Laura arrive and take over the organizing. His mother’s personal assistant proved to be worth every penny of the salary he paid. With Herman in town, Sally made sure to spend every moment she could with Pops.

Asher needed to get his suit for the wedding. He could send Laura to the cleaners and deal with the chaos of putting the final touches on the Milway, or he could pick it up himself.

He checked his watch.
Five fifteen.
He secretly waited for this time. He didn’t know if the Huffings would have Cyana with them or not, but if so, he wanted to get a glance of her before turning them over to Laura. The sound of Iona’s laugh outside the doorway straightened his posture. He stood, swallowing at the heartbeat thumping in his throat. His chest ached. For a moment, he fisted his hands. The bell rang. He swung open the door to two wonderful smiles.

“Mr. Wilmington,” Iona greeted.

“Good evening, lovely Huffing ladies. Please, come inside.” The two women entered. He lingered at the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilmington. It will just be us,” Mama Huffing said.

He closed the door and turned to them with a sting in his chest. “Of course. Let’s not delay and have you ladies out for too long. I’m certain we’re all busy with our plans. Laura, Sally’s personal assistant, has come by today to instruct all the vendors on their locations and functions. She certainly would know more about the organization and planning of the event then I would. Follow me. I’ll introduce you.” He whipped out his phone and texted Laura to meet him in the house kitchen.

“Oh my,” Laura said, entering the kitchen. “Mr. Wilmington, you look exhausted.”

“I am.” He nodded. “Can you take care of the ladies of Huffing Kitchen while I run out and get my suit?”

Laura smiled. “Of course. Ladies, follow me.”

C
yana could see Eric’s tall figure sitting on a bench along the road in front of Chef Marshall’s. He was incredibly dark skinned, tanned from the time on the football field. His head was shaved. He looked like a perfect gentleman in a white button shirt, black tie and slacks. The blazer hung over the bench while he soaked up the sun, which had finally peaked through after the cold front passed.

She couldn’t help but commend herself on what a handsome young man the Huffing women had raised. Tears threatened her eye makeup as she parked and swallowed at the knot forming in her throat. Her baby had been all grown up for a while now. She still got emotional about it.

“That’s enough, Cyana Huffing,” she scolded herself and fanned at her face. “Get yourself together.” Eric had already spotted her in the Gremlin and stood to come over to the car.

He opened the door before she could.

“Ma, are you crying?” he accused, with a big grin on his face.

She placed a hand to her chest. “Me? Never, boy. Why would I be crying?”

He took her hand to help her from the car while he laughed.

“Mama says it’s not good to lie,” he picked at her.

She smacked his arm while coming to a stand.

“Give your mama a hug, boy,” she said and gave him a squeeze.

He was a bundle of hard muscle fibers and laughter. Balance was always key in the Huffing house and a good dose of laughter came with anything.

“You look great, Ma,” he said, releasing her and closing the car door.

“Thank you.”

He stuck out his right elbow. She twined her hand into the crook while he walked them to Marshall’s entrance. “Did you enjoy the game?” he asked.

She smiled, looking up to him as they rounded the corner of the lot towards the main road to enter the restaurant. “Yes. That was an impressive fifty yard touchdown. You really capitalized on blocking the ball during fourth quarter.”

Eric’s chest stuck out. “Yeah, I’m good,” he boasted. They laughed.

A
sher groaned before waking. The scent of leather permeated the spacious interior of his vehicle. He lay there a moment, staring at the overhead light in his reclined position. He wasn’t ever much for dealing with the hustle and bustle of wedding events. He just liked seeing the beauty of his work being used, admired and appreciated. He didn’t feel at all bad about catching a nap in the dry cleaner’s parking lot and leaving Laura in her element. The side of the building provided enough shade to keep the truck cool while running the air conditioner on low.

He took another slow inhale, glancing at the added scent cartridge on the air conditioner vent in the center of the dash. Peppermint. He sighed. Maybe Pops was right. He did have it bad.

Cyana’s favorite fragrance comforted him enough to sleep soundly. He lifted the handle on the side of the seat and brought himself upright. The energy from his nap seeped into his muscles. He rolled his neck; confident he could finish the day out strong and get enough rest to be fresh for the rehearsal dinner the next day. He reached for the stick shift and froze to a familiar tapping sound. He sat back in the seat, noticing Cyana in her car. The vehicle slowed, entering the heavily shaded parking lot across the street.

Intrigue settled in him. He glanced around to make out why she’d be downtown parking at Weynor County’s only Four-Star French restaurant. A tall gentleman sitting out front, tugged on the blazer to his suit and went toward the shaded lot, protected from the sun by a mix of mature oaks and maples.

Tension zipped down Asher’s spine at the possibilities. The man approached Cyana’s car. A rock formed in his gut. Cyana embraced the stranger.

Jealousy roared into Asher’s chest. Anger darkened his vision. Cyana hit the light, holding on to the young man’s arm. Lust roamed to Asher’s thighs as the shimmer of the blue gown she wore swayed over her curves.

“Son of a bitch.” Confusion clouded his thoughts. The couple disappeared into the restaurant. Asher gripped the wheel. Was this why she rejected him? Did she walk away because she didn’t want to start a relationship with a white boy when she already had someone? He eyed their behavior through Chef Marshall’s large front window as the maitre d' showed them to their seats. His Cyana was shy. By the looks of how she smiled and reached out to the man, she was familiar with him. She laughed. Asher’s chest ached with the need to hear her.
Dammit.
Was she leaving him to go to Chicago alone, or with this guy? Had she strung him along this entire time?

No way. Not fair.
His grip loosened on the wheel. She’d given him enough hints she was resistant to his attention. Asher sensed an attraction he’d never felt before and took full advantage. His bull-headed ass charged in determined to break that filly. His jaw twitched. He’d been stubborn as hell. It was his fault things went as far as they had. Still, she should have given more of a fight if she was someone else’s.

“
C
ome on, Ma.” Eric held out his hand once she’d cleaned away as much dessert as she wanted.

“What’s this about, boy?” she asked.

“I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said.

“You’re blowing a lot of smoke.” She smiled, taking his hand. “You still haven’t told me why you dragged me from my cake and took yourself away from your studies.”

She followed him to the dance floor and took his shoulder so he could lead.

“Okay, Ma.” Eric sighed. “I’m coming back to Georgia.”

“What?” The word croaked out.

“I’m comin’ home, Ma,” he repeated.

“Boy, you did not have me dragging you from football practice to football practice, camp to camp, college to college so you can
not
play ball when you want to play ball. You’ve always loved playin’.”

“Ma, we both know I’m out of the scholarship funds as soon as the semester is over.”

“I don’t care about the money running out. I will work three jobs, if I have to, to keep you at school.”

“Ma, stop.” Eric insisted. “Just stop.”

She clammed up at the plea.

“I don’t want that anymore. I’m done with it.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m tired of you always giving up your dreams to support me, Ma. Now, I know you’ve always wanted your own pastry shop and Weynor has the market for it. This wedding Auntie got is a big opportunity for you to start moving on your dream. You have enough capital to get started. I want you to go into business with Auntie and Grandma. They’re doing very well and could use a chef like you.”

“So, you’re on their side. Orchestrating this whole event to get me to come down here just so you can tell me you’re quittin’ ball?” Her heart was breaking at the realization.

“I’m not quitting, Ma,” he said. His words set her back. She stopped swaying with him in the dance. “I’m my own man now, Ma. I want you to be happy. I’m a good ball player and an A student in Biogenetic Engineering,” he boasted. “I shouldn’t have to pay for college. I got a full scholarship to play for UGA. You won’t have to help pay for anything. I’ll be close to home so you can stay with Auntie and Grandma and not have to live by yourself.” He shot out the information with a big smile.

“What!” She squealed hopping up and down. “My baby got a full scholarship.” She leapt into his arms. He lifted her off the ground in a bear hug. He set her down amongst the dancers who parted against her outburst. She didn’t apologize. Instead she beamed with pride, gently telling them about Eric’s accomplishments and rendering congratulations.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” She took his face in both hands.

“I’m proud of you too, Ma. You’re ready to start your shop. You deserve it.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” The tears started to brim. “You know better than to make your mama cry, boy.” She smacked his chest; then gave him a hug while he laughed.

Eric didn’t stay long. He’d taken a few hard hits earlier and wanted to get back to the hotel to settle in with the team before the game. Cyana understood. His college schedule and her work schedule didn’t always mesh for get-togethers. At this point, they had gotten used to meeting and parting.

He is right
. Cyana got into her car and took a long breath. She’d given up much of her life to raise Eric, but never gave up on the dream of owning a pastry shop. He was three years old before she’d saved her first hundred dollars towards her patisserie. She paid her way through college, focused on baking and business management while tending to his every need. The tears the memories brought accompanied her smile.

The news he’d shared tonight was like a thousand weights dropping off her shoulders. She leaned back against the headrest and enjoyed the sense of freedom. Now she could move on and get started by débuting her skills at the largest wedding event in Weynor history.

Cyana pulled into the drive at Mama’s. She ran up the entry steps in the high-heeled shoes and flung open the door.

“I’m comin’ home,” she squealed as soon as she made it inside. Mama and Iona were sitting at the island looking at the computer. Iona had Josiah on her lap. He held his duck out to her. They each stood at the sound of her excited shriek. She fell into their loving group hug.

B
y the time Asher came up the drive, Laura was outside the Milway speaking with the last vendor. He took the truck off the left of the house into the parking lot, hidden by a tall mature line of boxwoods. He hoofed up the stone path to the front of the porch.

“Hey Laura—”

She held up her hand. “Don’t you even fake apologize to me, Mr. Wilmington. We both know you aren’t crazy about this portion of the process. I love a wedding most when it’s three days out. That’s why you hired me. Different strokes for different folks.”

He chuckled. “Thanks a hellava lot for looking out.”

She smiled. “Sally may boss me around, but I know whose name is on my check. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Wilmington.”

“You’re a gem.” He walked Laura to her car and opened the door after she hit the unlock button on the keyless entry. The moment she drove off, the storm inside him was brewing. He needed to put on a face to get Laura away from the house and gain the quiet he craved.

He entered the foyer and locked the door. He strolled to the open floor, surveying the rainfall chandeliers on opposite sides of the stairway, drifting from the high ceiling in thousands of shards of crystal. The hardwood dance floor and cloth-draped tables set a decent flow over to the double doors. The landscape out the large back windows was lit up against the darkness. His gaze floated over to the bar.

The work was done. The house would be bustling with decorators tomorrow but, for now, there was complete silence. He strolled to the bar, selecting scotch to pour a large glass. The colonial room seemed to call to him to make one final check to ensure it was back in order after the meetings. He leaned against the doorway with one arm folded over the other, leaving the scotch-laden hand on top. The glass made it to his lips by the time he analyzed the sofa, the writing desk, the coffee table and the hutch. All with memories which heated his blood.