“I will.” I give Coco another hug, taking a deep inhale of her sweet little girl scent. “Go with Granny now.”
“Grandmother.” My mother corrects me. “Come, Colette.”
“Let’s go, Granny!” Coco wiggles out of my arms to the floor then hops out like a kangaroo.
Tabby snorts behind me, and my mother’s eyes narrow. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”
With that she strides out, and I push the door closed behind them, resting my forehead against the glass.
“I swear, if that little girl were any less stubborn, I’d be worried about her,” Tabby says from behind me.
I watch them a few seconds longer—my mother trying unsuccessfully to hold Coco’s hand while they walk the four blocks to her house, the old house where I grew up.
“She’ll be okay a little while longer,” I say, feeling like my heart is hopping away from me, batting at her grandmother’s hand with every bounce.
“Old battle axe. I guess you survive
d living with her.”
“She wasn’t like this before Minnie died.” My voice is quiet, repeating a memory.
“Says who.” It’s not a question. It’s a skeptical retort from my bestie.
“Aunt Agnes. She said my mother used to know how to have fun.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“To be honest, I’ve never believed it either.” I don’t even remember my older sister.
“You’re too independent for her. She can’t handle it. She almost lost her mind when you took up with Jackson Cane so young—”
Cutting my eyes, I stop that line of conversation. “We don’t talk about him.”
“We should.” Tabby studies my face. “He’s the only guy you were ever serious about.”
He said he’d come back, and he never did…
Exhaling deeply, I return to my phallic creation. “Ancient history. Now let’s finish this thing before it’s too late.”
I ditch the marzipan idea and opt instead for a skin-toned buttercream. Tabby starts cleaning up, and I’m almost finished frosting when the bell over the door rings again.
“What is this, Grand Central?” Tabby mutters.
“How’s it hanging, girls?”
“Jesus!” Tabby jerks around with a gasp, running to meet Betty Pepper, Oceanside Village’s busiest of the ancient busybodies.
“Hi, Miss B!” she calls too loudly, intercepting the old woman. “What brings you to the store this evening?”
Betty glances around. “You should have items to sell if it’s a store.”
“Soon, Miss B… Just you wait,” I call out. I’ve finished frosting the balls, and I reach for the bowl of dark chocolate shavings to sprinkle over them.
“How’s my order coming?” Betty asks, and I’m pretty sure Tabs swallows her gum.
“Just finishing now,” I call over my shoulder.
“Wait!” Tabby holds out her hand. “Hold the phone. Betty Pepper ordered that?”