When We Touch

Raspberries, strawberries, kiwis, blackberries, and blueberries sit in pretty little green baskets on the shelves. The bell over the door rings and I look up to see my best friend checking over her shoulder as she dashes inside.

Today she’s wearing a red and white gingham blouse with the sleeves rolled up. Her dark hair is pinned around her head in curls, like a classic 1950s pinup. Her eyes are dramatically outlined, and her lips are red velvet—as usual.

“I should keep more fruit in here,” I say, looking in the refrigerator again. “For Coco.”

“Where did you sleep last night?” Tabby actually sounds concerned.

“I stayed at Mom’s.” Closing the door, the ingredients for the custard filling are in my hands. “We didn’t get back until late.”

“Thank g

oodness.” Her shoulders fall with her exhale. “I was worried.”

“About what?” Pressing my lips together, I give her a frown. As if.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She pulls out the stool beside me. “I remember how you two were in high school. Now he’s suddenly back, and looking… as good as ever.”

A little growl is in my throat. “I have more important things to focus on now. Like Coco and this shop.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t still out there.” She nods to my torso. “Or in there.”

Heat filters through my chest. “How are you managing to pay bills on all the money I pay you?”

“What money?”

“Exactly.” I nod, returning to my pastry dough. “Maybe you should get a real job.”

“Rude!” She drops her large hobo bag in the corner. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“Who?”

Her eyes say Bitch, please.

“There’s nothing to say, Tabby. We broke up. Or at least we moved on.” I’m kneading the pastry dough a little too hard. “Everybody else needs to move on as well.”

The doorbell tings, and we look up to see both Betty Pepper and Donna White entering the store.

“Saved by the bell,” I mutter.

“Don’t ever say I don’t deliver,” Betty announces. “You say you need business, and I bring you business.”

“Hey, Miss Betty.” I nod, reaching for my twelve-inch tart pan and lowering the rolled crust into it. “How’s it going, Donna?”

“Hi, Emberly, Tabby.”

Donna White is such the demure wallflower. I confess, I was surprised Betty Pepper got her something as bold as a penis cake for her shower. I wonder if she also gave her toys…

“What can I do for you ladies?” I smile as I carefully press the dough into the tin, paying careful attention to the corners.

“Donna wants to order her wedding cake from you.” Betty holds her hands up as if it’s a victory. “I’m here about… what we talked about at church.”

Tabby frowns like she can’t remember. “What did we talk about at church? My uncle’s sermon on lasciviousness?”

“Tabitha Green, you know very well that isn’t a word.” Betty snaps, and I snort.

“I know what you need, Miss B,” I say. “Chocolate, right?”

Her eyes twinkle. “Right, but I want to be sure you have the proper fillings. The one you made last time was a little on the plain side.”