The Cakes of Monte Cristo (3 page)

I hoped he wasn't getting ready to challenge my decision. I was
so
not in the mood for another round with him. I retrieved a rubber band from my pocket and pulled up my hair, trying to look as if his question didn't bother me. “Not much. Just that she's Estelle's niece. But before you get started, let me just say that I know it's kind of risky, but I don't think Estelle would recommend her if she wasn't up to the job.”

Ox quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe you should do a little checking before you commit.”

I buttoned my jacket and counted to ten. “I'm sure it will be fine,” I said. “How about introducing me to your cousin?”

“In a minute. I'm not sure hiring this girl is the best idea.”

My temper sputtered a couple of times. I tried to douse it,
but it flared to life anyway. “Listen, Ox, I know you have your opinions and I know they sometimes aren't the same as mine but it's been more than two years since Miss Frankie made me her partner and we both know I've proved myself. I'm not going to play this game with you every time I make a decision.”

My outburst seemed to surprise him. “What game? What is it you think we're doing?”

Was he serious? “You know how much I value your input,” I said. “And I wouldn't want to do this job without you. But this”—I waved my hand around as I searched for the word I wanted—“this constant second-guessing me is getting old.”

He stood up straight and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I'm not second-guessing you, Rita. I'm just asking what you know about the girl.” He glanced around again and lowered his voice. “I only know a couple of Estelle's nieces. Both of them are good kids and all, but if this is someone new, I wonder if that makes her—what was her name?”

“Zoey?”

“Right. If she isn't one of the girls who worked here last year, does that mean she's the niece Estelle was so worried about? If so, that could be a problem.”

My stomach dropped with a
kathonk
I swear everyone in the room could hear. “I don't think I heard about that,” I admitted. “What was Estelle worried about?”

Ox barked a laugh. “Seriously? Come on, Rita, you
must
have heard about it. She talked about it nonstop for at least a month. Anyone within fifty miles probably heard about it.”

It was true that Estelle liked to talk about her family, but that didn't mean I liked to listen. I gave Ox a sheepish smile. “I may not pay strict attention to everything Estelle says. Why don't you remind me?”

Ox rolled his eyes in frustration but his next words took some of the sting out of his irritation. “I don't remember all the details, but I'm sure Isabeau does. What I
do
know is
that the kid was dealing with depression. I think she stopped going to church, stayed out late . . . that sort of thing.”

I laughed, remembering my own teenage years. “I think that kind of behavior is pretty normal for her age. Is that all? There's nothing worse?”

Ox shrugged. “Her mother was worried. Thought she might be doing drugs at one point. I don't think they ever found proof of that though.”

“Then I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Are you going to introduce me to your cousin?”

Ox looked as if he wanted to argue, but he thought better of it and shrugged. “Sure. Hey, Calvin, come on over here a minute, wouldja?”

Calvin pushed away from the counter and came toward us wearing a friendly grin. He pumped my hand a few times while Ox performed the introductions.

“Calvin's going to be working with our aunt Odessa while he's here,” Ox said as he finished.

I'd met Ox's aunt, a voodoo priestess who called herself Mambo Odessa. As voodoo priestesses go, she seemed relatively harmless, but Ox didn't share her beliefs or approve of her practice. In fact, he rarely talked about her at all.

Isabeau looked away from the cutting board covered with pear cubes, a sparkle in her blue eyes. “Isn't that great? I mean, working with Mambo Odessa would be so fun!”

Much to Ox's chagrin, Isabeau was fascinated by his aunt. Unbeknownst to Ox, Isabeau consulted Mambo Odessa regularly. She'd sworn me to secrecy, though. It was a promise I regretted making.

Ox scowled at her. “Good thing you're busy here then.”

Calvin ignored Ox and grinned at Isabeau. “I used to help out when I was a kid. I'm looking forward to getting back there.” He swept his grin across the rest of us. “If y'all need anything in that line, just come and find me. I'll hook you right up.”

Isabeau gave a happy bounce and went back to work. Calvin shifted his attention to me, as if he expected me to place an order for a shrunken head right then and there.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I'm not really into voodoo and . . . that kind of thing. Are you from around here?”

Calvin nodded. “Born and raised. Left for a few years after school. Got a great job in Baltimore, but all good things must end so I'm back home for a fresh start. You know how it is.”

I knew how it had been for me after my divorce so I nodded. Judging from the scowl on Ox's face, I wondered if Calvin might be escaping some kind of trouble. I was trying to think of a delicate response when my cell phone sang out the familiar ringtone for Zydeco's office manager, Edie Bryce. She's been struggling with her role as a single mother since her son's birth a little over two months ago, so I didn't want to ignore the call.

“Sorry,” I said. “I have to take this. It's Edie,” I explained to Ox, knowing that he would understand. “It's nice to meet you, Calvin.”

“Likewise,” he assured me as I scurried away.

I wasn't sorry to cut the conversation with Calvin and Ox short. Family histories can be convoluted, and if there was trouble between the cousins, I didn't want to step into the middle of it. Staying out of other people's business is a rule of mine, taught to me at an early age by the aunt who raised me after my parents died.

Okay, so I didn't follow
all
of Aunt Yolanda's rules. And some of her strictest guidelines were tempered by Uncle Nestor's more pragmatic approach to life. But still, I try to do the right thing. Usually.

Unfortunately, today wasn't the day for avoiding my staff's personal problems. I answered Edie's call and was greeted by a wail so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

“I need help, Rita!” Edie screeched. “And I'm not kidding.”

“Did you hear me, Rita?” Edie demanded. “I honestly think I'm drowning here. I'm going under for the third time.”

I swallowed a sigh and dredged up a heaping serving of patience. Lately, my conversations with Edie required all I could muster. “What's wrong?”

“Can't you hear?” Edie demanded. “JD has been crying for two solid hours. I don't know what's wrong with him.”

Her son, John David, had been born with a healthy set of lungs, and he knew how to use them. But this wasn't the first time he'd exhibited that particular talent, so Edie's reaction seemed a bit over the top to me.

“You've checked all the usual problems? He's clean and dry? Not hungry?”

“Yes. Of course I have. I did all that before I called. He's fine but exhausted, but he won't go to sleep.”

I shoved my own concerns onto the back burner and gave Edie my full attention. I even stepped outside onto the loading
dock so we wouldn't be interrupted—and partly to keep Sparkle from overhearing my end of the conversation. John David the Unhappy is also her brother River's son, and while the family relations were complicated, I didn't want her to worry.

I don't know River well, but what I do know, I like. Sadly, Edie doesn't know him well either. JD was the product of a one-night stand that was either an ill-timed mistake or an act of fate, depending on which of them you're talking to.

River's clearly in the latter camp and Edie's squarely in the former. And Sparkle tends to get caught in between.

While I didn't have time for a baby breakdown, I couldn't just turn my back on Edie. She was an employee, but she was also a friend. A friend who'd asked me to be JD's godmother. Besides, we'd been limping along without her since the end of October. I needed her back at her desk as soon as humanly possible. Edie is more than just an office manager; she's our anchor. The one who keeps everything together. Without her, organization was in short supply. I figured that the sooner she got motherhood under control, the sooner she'd come back to work.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” she moaned in my ear. “I'm so frustrated I don't know what to do. I'm probably the worst mother in the entire world.”

“You're a very good mother,” I said in my most reassuring tone. “You're just tired and overwhelmed. I know it seems like everything is out of control right now, but it will get better. I promise.” It was a big promise and I wasn't entirely convinced about it, but I had to say
something
. Besides, I'd heard Aunt Yolanda say the same thing to other women, and Aunt Yolanda is almost always right.

“That's easy for you to say,” Edie said over another unhappy wail from her tiny son. “You don't have to listen to this for hours on end. You don't have to try to figure out why he's so unhappy.”

“I know you're out of your comfort zone,” I said, raising my voice so she could hear me over the noise. “But believe me, you're doing just fine. You're still in an adjustment period, that's all. Trust me, Edie, if anyone can do this, you can.”

“You can say that because you're at work doing what you do best. I'm stuck here surrounded by diapers and bottles and . . . yuck! I spend all my time wiping up poop and spit-up. I haven't slept in days. I haven't eaten a hot meal in two months, and I don't remember the last time I took a shower. Can you come over?”

“Now?” I could feel someone watching me and a quick glance over my shoulder verified it. Ox stood in the open doorway, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“This really isn't a good time,” I said, lowering my voice to a near whisper.

“But you're John David's godmother. You
have
to help me before I completely lose my mind!”

“I've been gone all morning,” I said. “There's no way I can leave again. Ox would—”

Before I could finish that thought, Ox plucked the phone out of my hand. “She'll be there in half an hour,” he told Edie. “Can you hang on that long?”

She must have said yes because he disconnected and thrust the phone at me. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“But—”

“It's fine,” Ox assured me. “Edie and the baby need you more than we do.”

“Don't say a word about this to Sparkle,” I warned.

“Not a chance,” he assured me. “Now go before Edie has a total meltdown.”

This was
so
Ox. He could be a pain in the neck one minute, and a generous, warmhearted friend the next. That's why I would never fire him, even when he gave me a hard time about work. It's also why I'd move heaven and earth to prevent him
from quitting if he ever reached the end of his rope. I know it's selfish of me, but I hoped that would never happen.

*   *   *

Edie's apartment looked like a bomb had exploded inside. Clothes, dishes, and baby equipment covered every visible surface. A couple of baby blankets lay curled in the middle of the floor next to an empty pizza box, and the faint smell of urine tickled my nose.

I took one look at Edie's frantic eyes and downturned mouth and decided against asking if anyone had survived the attack. Clearly, she wasn't in the mood.

Edie is short and dark, with a round face and almond-shaped eyes that hint at her Chinese heritage. Her normally shiny chin-length black hair hung in limp, dull strands, and several small white stains dotted the front of her T-shirt.

She's a bit of a control freak, so her appearance and the chaos inside her usually pristine apartment told me more than anything she could have said. Edie believes in having a place for everything and keeping everything in its place, but it was clear that she'd abandoned that method of coping. I could see that her life was completely out of control and she was in desperate need of an intervention. I just wasn't sure that I was the most qualified person to give it to her.

But it was too late to turn back now. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, bathing the apartment in shadow. I'm not a demonstrative person, and thankfully, neither is Edie. Instead of a hug, which seems to be the traditional greeting of the South, I offered my most supportive smile and said, “I came as soon as I could.”

To my surprise, Edie launched herself at me and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh my God, Rita, I'm so glad you're here.”

I gave her an awkward squeeze and gently pushed her to
arms' length so I could look at her. “You're being too hard on yourself. You're just tired, that's all.”

As if to prove her wrong, John David let out a wail from the other room. Edie's shoulders slumped and the panic in her eyes turned to fear. “He's awake. Again. Why won't he ever sleep?”

I'm no expert on babies, but John David is my godson and I feel it's my responsibility to help Edie with him. Plus, I adore him and have since the minute he was born. “Let me get him,” I offered. “You just sit down and catch your breath for a minute.”

Edie slid an uncertain glance at the couch, no doubt noticing that there was no place for anyone
to
sit. “I'll move some stuff,” she said. “And I'll warm up a bottle. He might be hungry.”

I left her to it and hurried into the nursery, where John David had already worked himself up into a fine state—and no wonder. Something nasty had exploded in the nursery as well, leaving brown poo goo on the crib, the baby, and his sleeper.

I'm proud to say that my gag reflex has become slightly less sensitive since JD was born. I stripped off his sleeper and diaper, wrapped him in a spare blanket I found on the floor, and carried him into the bathroom so I could hose him off. There was no way to do that without getting into the shower with him. It was either that or sacrifice my own clothes to the goo, and since I knew nothing in Edie's closet would fit me, I did the only thing I could.

Twenty minutes later, the two of us returned to the living room squeaky clean and relatively happy. The warm water had soothed John David and he hiccupped softly as he cuddled up to me. My mousy brown hair had frizzed up in the shower, but I wasn't planning on going anywhere after I left Edie's, so I didn't worry about it.

I found Edie passed out on the couch and snoring lightly, one hand clutching the bottle she'd made for JD. I swept a pile of clothes from the rocking chair, fed JD, and sang him a couple of songs before he fell asleep just like his mother. I didn't want to risk waking him, so I let him sleep in my arms and marveled at how perfect he was and how beautiful.

I'd grown up an only child, at least technically. My parents died the summer I turned twelve, so I'd then been raised by my aunt and uncle along with their four rowdy boys. Though Uncle Nestor and Aunt Yolanda had never treated me any different than their own kids, and the boys had treated me like a sister, I'd been painfully aware that I didn't really belong.

As a younger woman, I'd nursed dreams of marrying and producing a respectable-sized brood of kids. I'd achieved the first goal, but the marriage hadn't lasted and the kids never materialized. Over time, I'd turned my disappointment into a nonchalant disregard for that old dream, but JD's birth had brought the old longing right back to the surface.

I inhaled JD's freshly bathed baby scent and closed my eyes to savor the moment. They popped right back open again when a man's voice broke the silence.

“Rita? You look tired. Do you want me to take him?”

I stifled a little scream of surprise and focused on JD's dad, River. He's early thirties, tall and trim with short dark hair and a friendly smile. Unlike his sister, Sparkle, River goes for a mainstream look. Even though they have different tastes, I could find plenty of similarities between the two, like the dark eyes that now blinked at me from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

He took a step toward me, but I shook my head and clutched JD a little closer. “I'm fine,” I whispered. “I like holding him while he sleeps.”

River stopped moving, but he seemed disappointed. “Yeah. It's great, isn't it?
He's
great.”

“He's perfect,” I said agreeably and pressed a gentle kiss to the baby's forehead. “Did Edie let you in, or did she finally give you a key?”

River's eyes clouded and he shook his head. “I'm not that lucky. She was still awake when I got here.” He glanced at her and a fond smile curved his lips. “I think I'm growing on her, though. She only told me to go away twice before she let me through the door.”

I laughed, as I knew he'd meant me to. Edie was still on the defensive where River was concerned, but she'd mellowed a bit over the past couple of months. The fact that he was standing in front of me at all proved that. I just wasn't sure whether letting him stick around today meant that she was ready to let him be part of her life, or if she was simply too tired to fight him.

As if he could read my thoughts, River sank onto the couch near Edie's feet and rubbed his face with one hand. “Do you think I'm making any progress with her?”

I shrugged. I knew he wanted me to say yes, but another of Aunt Yolanda's favorite sayings was that a dishonest opinion has no value. “It's hard to tell with Edie,” I said. “Just keep being patient with her.”

“That's what you always say.”

“Because it's the only way,” I said. “If she's going to let you in, she'll have to get there on her own. You can't make Edie do anything she doesn't want to do.” JD stirred in my arms and the besotted expression on River's face stirred my heart at the same time. I held out the baby and River took him gladly. “She'd probably kill me for saying this,” I said as the two of them settled back on the couch, “but she needs you, and so does John David.”

“I'm glad you think so,” River said with a weary smile. “I sure wish she would agree with you.”

“So do I, but Edie's a hard nut to crack.” I smiled gently and
stood. “Hold your son,” I told him. “I'll see what I can do in the kitchen.”

I left the two of them alone and stepped into the kitchen, where I immediately regretted my offer. Dishes lined every inch of available counter space and tilted in stacks on the small table. For the first time, I wondered how long it would really take Edie to pull it together and come back to work.

I spent a few minutes clearing the sink and unloading the few clean dishes still in the dishwasher. I scrubbed and scraped and stacked until I had the dishwasher loaded again, then started it up as I wiped down the table and counters, and nosed around until I found a broom and dustpan. I swept the floor and was reaching for the Swiffer when I heard footsteps scuffing on the floor behind me.

Edie looked around the kitchen and blinked rapidly. “It looks amazing in here.” I was afraid she might cry, which would have been awkward for both of us. To my relief, she shook it off and held out her hand for the Swiffer. “I'll do that. You've done enough.”