Mrs. C grabbed his cheeks and gave him a smacking kiss on the lips that had Hank’s face turning red.
“You left a box at home,” he said in a soft, gruff voice.
“And you brought it right on over. Is he not the best man you ever met, Lani?”
“The very best,” Lani said, tying on her apron. “Morning, Hank.”
“Lani. Hope you don’t mind, but I fed Buddy a bone we had left over from dinner. He’s out back gnawing on it now.”
“He’s not really my dog, but sure, he’ll be happy with that.”
“Sure looks like he’s yours.” Hank gave her a gentle smile as the doorbell rang again.
“Don’t you come in here with that sour face, Millicent Lawrence. You’ll curdle my frosting!”
Where Mrs. C was happy and vibrant, and yes, over the top, Millicent, or Militant as the locals called her behind her back, was the opposite. The two women glared at each other.
“I need a cake.” Ms. Lawrence’s mouth formed a tight line.
“Well, who for?”
“They’ve been friends for years and always speak this way. Tomorrow night they’ll abuse each other at bridge,” Hank whispered to Lani.
“Henrietta is having a birthday, and because finally you’ve found someone who doesn’t decorate every cake you make in bright pink and purple flowers, I want one.”
“People love my flowers!” Mrs. C leaned closer so they were eyeballing each other.
“No, they don’t.” Ms. Lawrence didn’t back off. It was an interesting battle of wills.
“Once, they actually slapped each other,” Hank whispered.
“No way. Really?”
“Yup. My girl was in the wrong that day and had to apologize.”
“Well, what do you want on it?” Mrs. C snapped.
“Birds. Henrietta likes them. I want it for Saturday. Tea will be at my place at 2:30 p.m. Don’t be late!”
Ms. Lawrence stomped out of the shop.
“That woman’s face could curdle milk,” Mrs. C muttered.
“Shall I put the order in the book?” Lani went behind the counter and opened it. “What flavor?”
“Henrietta likes apple and cinnamon, and maybe add some arsenic in a single slice and I’ll serve that to Militant!”
Deciding now was a good time to change the subject, Lani asked about the window display. “With Thanksgiving so close, shall I change the window now to fall colors?”
“Would you?” Mrs. C clapped her hands, and her bracelets collided. “I have things I’ve bought. Be a dear, Hank, and grab the box from upstairs marked Thanksgiving, will you, sweetie.”
Hank dutifully did as he was told.
“We have two dozen cupcakes to ice for the seniors home this morning, Lani. It’s Mrs. Harris’s birthday, so they wanted them delivered for afternoon tea.”
“Okay, I’ll do the window, then get on to them.”
“I’ll make the mix and pop them in the oven. I like what you’ve done with shop. Looks more open somehow.” Mrs. C spun on her heel as she took in the changes.
