“I loved the Black Forest cake.”
Her face fell.
“But I think the torte is a better choice for a fancy dinner. My vote goes to the torte.” A wave of grumbling mingled with a wave of elation. He was almost oblivious to it all. His entire focus was on the unbridled joy and happiness firing in Drinda’s eyes.
He’d miss that cake, but he’d done the right thing.
Since the vote was the last thing on the agenda, he smiled at her one last time, grabbed his coat, and left. He grinned all the way home. The elation on her face tickled him. The only question was if it would break a hole in the wall between them.
Work all week was hectic.
Friday was the worst. It was crazy. Someone set fire to a pile of scrap lumber just outside of town. It wasn’t a big deal, but they had to ensure it didn’t light the adjacent barn on fire. After they finally ensured everything was out, they went back to the station. They’d barely finished restocking and inspecting the trucks when a house fire broke out across town.
The fire was enormous and with six other houses at immediate risk, engines from three stations were called in to control the blaze. It was one of the busiest shifts he’d ever experienced.
He was exhausted and tonight was the Valentine’s dinner. For some crazy reason, he’d agreed to be Grammie L.’s date. The worst part? Drinda would be there. He’d called her. He’d texted her. He wanted to apologize and tell her she could stay, and that Oscar could stay too. He wanted to rebuild what they once had, but she was ignoring him. Maybe tonight he could breakthrough to her.
If he couldn’t win her over, at least he could tell her that Oscar could stay. They’d be next door where he could watch over them.
He trudged past his living room, remembering all the times they’d laughed and argued over movies. The kitchen table brought memories of decaf and dessert.
And their fight.
He closed his eyes to erase the painful memory and sucked in a few breaths. And smelled chocolate.
Chocolate? What in the world? He glanced around the kitchen.
How had he missed the enormous pink and blue Coffee Loft box on the counter? Fingers trembling with curiosity and excitement, he peeled away the stubborn tape holding the box closed and flipped the lid.
“Black Forest cake?” He blinked. “How in the world?” He groaned.Grammie L. that’s how. His grandmother had a key to his house. He wanted to be mad, but he was ecstatic.
He was tempted to call and thank his wonderful meddling grandmother. He’d have to hurry to shower and get there on time. He’d thank Grammie L. when he picked her up.
He sliced a generous portion of cake, and ignoring the inner voice that warned him he’d ruin his dinner, or be late, he sat down at the table to savor every bite. He had no idea why Drinda gave him a cake, but at that moment he didn’t care. Not one bit.
The cake was rich, moist, chocolatey goodness with just the right amounts of cherries and whipped cream. He managed to pass up the temptation for a second slice and picked up the box to put it in the fridge.
Beneath the box was a pink envelope with his name written in precise feminine script. That was not his mother, nor his grandmother’s handwriting. He fumbled the cake, nearly dropping it. He set the box aside and picked up the envelope.
He flipped it over and over in his hands, set it down, and picked it up again.
He needed to get ready for dinner.
He needed to read this.
He blew out a nervous breath and flipped open the unsealed flap. The paper inside waspink with two black and white gnomes on the lower right corner. Cute. Very much Drinda.
Ford
Thank you for swinging the vote in my favor. I know torte wasn’t your first choice. I appreciate you giving me the chance to show off my skills. It means a lot. Consider this cake my thank-you.
There was a wide space before the next paragraph as if she’d paused to take a breath before going on.
Please consider this my notice. Oscar and I will be moving out on March 31st. That’s more than the required one month notice as per our lease agreement.
Another space. He could almost hear her breathing. Was she upset? The cake sat heavy in his stomach, and he wondered if it would come back up.
I’m sorry things between us didn’t work out. Have a good life.
