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.I got it.But I am not going to the hospital.I don’t have time.You said Nanny’s out of it anyway.”Dad absentmindedly picks up a spatula and turns it over like he’s flipping imaginary burgers.“She’s better today.So come with me now, and I’ll help you later.”“Yeah, right.”“Sheridan, I grew up in this bakery.I could make a buttercream rose before I knew how to read.”Mr.Roz chuckles and walks back to the front of the 206shop.I don’t need him chuckling at me.“I don’t need help.I mean, thanks, but I have it all planned out.Tell Nanny I say hi and that I’ll see her soon.”“Look, we’re going.Finish up,” Dad says like the total dictator he is.Mr.Roz walks back in, comes to my side, pats my back.I flinch.He inspects the cake and grins.The man is always smiling.Drives me nuts.“Dis girl has the magic touch, no? What a beautiful cake, eh?” he says to Dad, who is busy sending a text.“It’s not done yet,” I say.It’s not bad.But there’s something missing.I stare at it from all angles.No, it’s not right.I close my eyes, think of her.What’s missing, Mom?“Hurry up, Sheridan.We need to get to the hospital,”Dad says.“No.I said I have too much to do.”“You need to visit your grandmother.We won’t be long.”The bell on the front door jingles.“Ah, dat would be Mrs.Ellis,” Mr.Roz says.“Here—I help you put cake in box.” He grabs a piece of flat cardboard and begins to fold it.“Okay, I’ll wait in the car, Sheridan.Get that cake out of here and let’s go,” Dad says, and walks out the back door.“Hello?” a woman calls from the front.“It’s not done,” I whisper.Mr.Roz is crowding my space, so I nudge him out of the way.“Something’s not right.”207“Oh, it’s perfect!” Mr.Roz glides in front of me, picks up the cake, and places it into the box he’s made.“One minute, Mrs.Ellis!” he calls up front.I slide the box and cake away from him.“It is not done.”I pore over every inch of the cake.What will make it perfect? I’m drawing a blank.He reaches for the box again.“Don’t!” I bat at his arm.“Sheridan.” He laughs, like I’m joking, and whisks the cake away from me.Again.“It’s just what she ordered.She will love it.Now is time to let go.”Let go? No.I won’t! Who is he to tell me when my cakes are done?But he takes it up front before I can stop him.I can hear the woman oohing and aahing over it.What does she know? Then I hear the cash register open and close, and hear my client walk out with an imperfect cake.I am furious.I toss some pastry bags into their storage bins, and am throwing metal tips into the sink when Mr.Roz comes back, whistling.Really, whistling? He goes to the sink and acts like nothing happened.“You got homework tonight?”“Of course I do,” I bark.He washes the tips, his back to me.“You good girl, Sheridan.I think you becoming a very fine woman.You have many gifts.”“Yeah.I’m like my mother.Except she never would have 208let that cake go unfinished.” I throw the buttercream into the walk-in cooler.Mr.Roz is quiet for a moment, then turns off the faucet.I look at him; he is staring at me.“Yes.Your mama was good—good for cakes.Nice with customers.But she did not make good choices.You make good choices.”I step back.It’s like he’s smacked me across the face, insulting her like that.Good choices and bad choices?“Really?”He turns back around and picks up a towel to dry the tips; he still hasn’t picked up on my tone.“Who are you to tell me about my mother? You have no idea why she left.” The words seep from my mouth like poison.He turns around slowly.Now he knows I’m mad.“You have no clue.” I’m finished cleaning up the counter, so I grab my schoolbag, still facing him.“But she loves me.I’ll bet she tells everyone about me.Tells everyone how proud she is of me.And she’s coming back, too.So don’t you dare judge her!”His large eyes turn downward.“Yes, I think she is very proud of you.” Then those eyes meet mine, and they are filled with so much love I can’t stand it.“You are wonderful girl.We al very proud of you.”I shake my head and push in a stool, banging my toe in the process.“Ouch!” I shout, much louder than necessary.Roz runs from the sink and catches my elbow.“What happen? You okay?” I wrench my arm out of his hand and 209hobble away, my bag on my shoulder.“I am fine! And don’t say another word about my mother.I talked to her, and she’s coming here.And stop acting like you’re part of my family.You are not my family!” I yell that last sentence and regret the words even as they roll off my tongue.But it’s too late to take them back [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]