Free The Cake Therapist by Judith Fertig Page B

collapsed at the end of each long day.
    Ben had won a football scholarship to QCU, and it was there that he became Luke’s go-to receiver, quarterback to tight end. We’d heard about Luke before college, of course—he was already famous to us for being a superstar athlete at neighboring Fairview High, first scouted by the NFL when he was only sixteen. But both of us got a lot closer to Luke in college than we’d ever expected.
    By our sophomore year, I had managed a combination of student loans and a scholarship, so I didn’t have to waitress anymore. Once again, Ben and I were on the verge of romance. We were on our first date at a keg party when Luke finally noticed “that girl from the bakery” and I was starstruck. When Ben took me home that night, we hugged a little awkwardly, and he said, “Our timing sucks, Neely. You know that?”
    I knew that now, thirteen years later.
    “I heard you were back,” Ben said, giving me a look I couldn’t quite read.
    “Bakery start-ups cost too much in New York,” I replied. This was true, but of course, it was not the whole truth.
    “You must be busy,” he said.
    I took in his crisp blue shirt and khaki pants under a down parka. Fleece-lined leather gloves stuck out of his pocket. The parka made him look even more imposing. A Bluetooth hovered over his ear.
    “You’re working this evening?” I asked.
    “Yeah. We’ve got a private fund-raiser in Fairview. I’m just here picking up dinner for the guys working on the grounds.” After Ben’s shoulder surgery ended his NFL career, he started his own private security business.
    “If they want people to pony up the big bucks, they should be serving some of Neely’s cakes,” said Roshonda. “I know I’ve put on ten pounds since she opened that damn bakery.”
    Ben chuckled. He and Roshonda always did get along. “You always look good, Ro,” he said gallantly.
    The cashier put Ben’s order up on the counter, and Ben went back to get it. On the way out, he stopped at our booth again.
    “Stop in some time,” I said, all of a sudden. “It’s not quite coffee and doughnuts, but we’ll see what we can rustle up. We’re right across from Finnegan’s Pub.”
    “I’d like that,” he said. “We’ve all missed you.” Again, he gave me that look.
    For a moment, I wondered what my life would have been like if I had been with Ben. He was smart, a little shy, funny in a dry-wit sort of way. Surprisingly kind and so, well, solid. When my mom and I lost our house, he helped us move in to Gran’s. He just showed up with his dad’s pickup truck, and a good thing, too, as Mom hadn’t coped very well.
    When Ben kissed me, I remember it being more of a warm glow that started in my heart and spread everywhere else. When Luke kissed me, it was like an electric current that ran from somewhere I won’t mention to all points beyond. Why couldn’t I have been happy with a glow instead of a jolt?
    When Ben left, the chili parlor suddenly felt much emptier.
    Then my chili spaghetti arrived. The first bite was tangier than usual. A trainee cook, perhaps.
    I piled on soft tangles of shredded cheese and tasted to see if that mellowed it. Nope. I piled on even more cheese.
    “Does this chili taste the same to you?” I asked around the table, stirring my four-way chili with a fork.
    “Mine’s fine,” said Gavin. They all nodded in agreement.
    “Well, I think they went a little heavy on the sour this time.”
    “You’d think everything would taste sweeter to you at this particular moment,” Gavin said slyly, slurping up the dregs of his iced tea through a straw.
    Roshonda didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, especially since you just got you some big sugar, Sugar.”
    DECEMBER 1932
    Edie sat cross-legged, rapt with attention, in front of the bulky RCA Victor console radio-phonograph with its central, drop-down door that hid the big turntable.
    “Do we have to listen to this again?” Olive complained to her mother, who looked