So, all in all, I’d say the man doesn’t deserve to say her name in front of me. Not if he wants to keep his front teeth. He robbed me of my sister, and I won’t ever forgive him for that. “Just leave.” I throw an arm out in the direction of the door as I turn.
“Can I at least get the coffees to go?”
“Sure.” I shake my head. Can’t blame him for that. Ours is the best coffee in town.
“And something for the cake.”
“Pushing your luck,” I mutter, even as my gaze meets Annie’s. Reading my expression, she reaches for a takeout box, but then my steps begin to slow as I pick up on his muttering.
“ . . . goddamn narrow escape.”
“What?” His face is a picture as I whip back around. “What did your bitch ass just say?” I save my big girl words for when Wilder isn’t around, or else I get hit with the swear jar. I’d also prefer not to traumatise him with this expression, this pointing finger, and this boiling, roiling rage.
“Now listen here, Kennedy,” the bitch ass says, finally beginning to rise from his chair. “Frankly, I think not marrying Holland was a lucky escape.” And then he screams. Or maybe squeals might be a better description. Whatever. The noise he makes is high-pitched and unmanly as his baby blue button-down paints itself across his torso.
“Oh, Ed,” I say, putting down the water pitcher that I’d snatched up from the table next to the counter. “You have a . . .” Scrunching my nose, I tap my temple. “You have a little lemon in your hair.” I’m not sure Holland would appreciate how his wet shirt highlights the pot belly he’s grown and how his hair is starting to thin, so I decide not to take a quick snap on my phone. This is not the kind of news she needs from home.
“Is that mint growing out of his ears?” Ursula titters.
“Plenty of room in that skull of his,” snorts Betty. “And they let him teach children.”
“Glare all you want,” I tell him, unable to bite back my own laughter. “Come to think of it, that anger might dry you out. Hey, Annie, you ever seen anyone fume?”
“I see it,” she replies. “All that steam.”
Ed pivots and storms towards the door. “You all are crazy,” he spits. “I don’t know why I even considered tying myself to such a notorious bunch of she-devils!”
“Aw, Ed!” I explain, pressing my hand to my chest, “You say the sweetest things.”
As he reaches the door, Jenner beats him to it, opening it from the other side.
“Ed.” Jenner steps back, pulling Wilder and Ethan out of his path. “I see you had a bitty accident.”
“Excuse me,” he mutters, pushing past.
“Mom.” Wilder sighs heavily, dropping a container of Almond Breeze on the counter.
“You’re right, you’re right,” I say, holding up my hands. “But it would’ve been a waste of good cake to smash it in his face.”
Maybe next time I’ll just use my fist.
* * *
The rest of the afternoon passes with a steady flow of customers. Annie kindly offers to take Wilder home with her so he and Ethan can play Minecraft, leaving Jenner and me to play a few rounds of guess the customer’s beverage. As the afternoon draws on and the numbers dwindle, I decide I’ll finally succumb to a piece of lilac and marionberry cake once the last customer makes their way to the door.
“See you, Kennedy. Coffee was delicious, as usual.”
“Thanks, Mrs Kramer. See you next Saturday?”
“You bet.”
I shovel the first forkful of cake into my mouth in all its moist, sweet, deliciousness when the door jingles closed.
“Oh.” I bring my hand to my mouth because I was raised well. From age eight, at least. “This is so good.”
“If there was any justice in this world, you wouldn’t be able to see your feet,” Jenner sasses, nibbling on the corner of a granola bar. “It’s so unfair that you eat cake every day and never put on an ounce. At least get some cavities, would you?”
“You want me to be fat and have a toothache? What kind of friend are you?”
“The good-looking mean one, obviously. You need to stop raining on my parade.”
“We haven’t seen much of that lately, have we?” I duck my head and look out into the late afternoon sunshine.
In response, Jenner offers a noncommittal hum before, “Doing anything tonight?”
“Saturday night.” I rest the fork tines to my bottom lip as though contemplating his question. “Laundry.”
“Liar.” Peeling a nut from the corner of this latest quest for healthier living, he flicks it at me. “Fine, don’t tell me what you’re doing, and don’t tell me what went on earlier.”
“Earlier when?” I feign not knowing what he’s talking about, my eyebrows riding as high as a flag on a pole.