“I’m serious, Lil. I want to make pies. Let’s talk.” Bryony grabbed two mugs and headed for the coffee pot.
When presented with the steaming coffee, Lillian took the mug, and with a deadpan delivery said, “Okay, if any other customers come in, I’ll have Mister Parker tell them to serve themselves and leave the money on the counter.”
Bryony rolled her eyes. “The morning rush is over. Let’s split a bagel. I’ll bring a few chairs behind the counter.” She was already moving toward an unoccupied table to collect the chairs.
“I’ll butter the bagel,” Lillian said, the concern on her face shifting to an expression of humoring one who may have gone bonkers.
Unconcerned about whether or not Lillian thought she was bananas, Bryony situated the chairs far enough away from the customers to allow for privacy, but close enough to tend to anyone who approached the counter. She settled onto one chair and patted the other. “C’mon, Lillian. Sit. Let’s talk.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I want to start my own business.” She remembered the strength behind Etta claiming her space. Bryony wanted her own space, too. She wanted to delight in the messy reality of what it would take to visualize and create a business doing what kept her centered in her own superpower. She wanted to bake pies.
Lillian sat against the chair back, her spine straight, hands clasped in her lap. “When did you decide this?”
“I have realized”—Bryony lowered her voice further—“that I am going to die an utter failure if I don’t do something meaningful, memorable, fun, starting now.”
“Excuse me.” Susie leaned over the counter as if searching for someone back there to help, though Bryony and Lillian sat in plain sight. “I’d like a refill. Can I get service here?”
Lillian started to rise, but Bryony rose quicker. “You sit. I’ll do it.” She took Susie’s cup, refilled it, and passed it back across the counter.
“Thank you, Bry,” Susie said. “Love your outfit. You always did know how to make classic seem a little less dull.”
All through high school, Susie had made fun of Bryony’s clothing. Was she still mocking her? Without thinking, Bryony quoted Coco Chanel. “‘Fashion has two purposes—comfort and love.’”
Susie looked up and paused, her fingers a few inches from the mug handle.
Bryony followed up with, “I go for both, and if it looks good, that’s a bonus. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“My, oh, my,” Lillian said when Susie was out of earshot, and Bryony again sat opposite. “What’s gotten into you? You’re on fire.”
“I’m tired of not being heard, of not making my mark in the world.”
“I think you can do anything you want,” Lillian said. “And if pie is your thing, then I’ll back you up in any way I can. I’ve been running this shop for ten years, and no one thought I’d make it.”
“No one?” Bryony asked. “Not even Rick?”
“He thought it would sink us both, but he loves me, so he took the risk.”
Bryony thought of Cal. He’d been the first to articulate the idea of selling pies, but she realized now the notion had been brewing in her since she started making the pie list so many years ago. Would he be as encouraging if he would be impacted by the outcome?
“Excuse me.” Susie leaned over the counter again. “Can I buy some bagels to go?”
Again Lillian started to rise, but Bryony moved faster.
“Sure, Susie. What kind would you like?” Bryony snapped open a paper bag and positioned herself in front of the bagel bins.
“Which are the freshest?” Susie asked.
“All made fresh today.”
“You make them here?” Susie asked.
“We have them shipped raw from a shop in Columbus, and we bake them here.”
Susie deliberated, one finger lodged in her right dimple.
Seconds passed. Bryony counted. By ten, her irritation decreased. By twenty-five, she wondered if Susie tested her. By forty, she knew Susie played some kind of game. By sixty, Bryony knew who was winning. She stopped counting and smiled. “Take your time, Susie. I’ve got all day.”
Susie flipped her hand away from her face and said, “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Put a variety in a bag. I’ll take a dozen.”
Bryony filled the bag and rolled the top to close it. Triumphant, she handed it to Susie and ran her card.
Before leaving the counter, Susie said, “I’m hosting a gathering at my parents’ house this Saturday night. A few of the girls from high school will be there. Would you like to come?”
In any other circumstance, Bryony might have pointed out the “girls” were in their mid-to-late fifties, but she stood on the polite side of the counter. “What a nice invitation,” she said. “I’m busy, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“Come on over if you change your mind,” Susie said. “You know the house, right? The party starts at eight.” She started to leave, but stopped, throwing a final jab. “Oh, and leave your husband at home. You are married, aren’t you?”
Bryony took a breath and held her ground. “No, not married. Hope you have a great time.”
Susie smiled and walked to the door to join Charity, who waved at Bryony before departing. Bryony lifted her hand, then returned to her seat facing Lillian.
“Where do I start?” she asked. “With a business?”
“CAL COME HOME”
