Thirty-Three
Alix Turner
“Alix, we need to talk.” Alix tensed. She recognized her employer’s tone of voice and it was ominous. Alix had already had a heart-to-heart with Winter Adams, owner of the French Café, a few days earlier.
Alix had made a costly mistake this morning, her second that week. In both instances the entire batch of dough had to be dumped, wasting the ingredients and the time. Alix knew she was in the wrong, and she knew the mistakes had occurred because she was so agitated, mentally and physically.
Although she’d gone several days without a cigarette, her body still screamed for nicotine. It was supposed to get easier, but it hadn’t. She knew why, too, but that didn’t help.
“Are you going to fire me?” Alix demanded. She stepped into the office and held herself rigid, expecting the worst. It was what she deserved. If having to toss two different batches wasn’t bad enough, Alix had been irritable all week. She was afraid her employer had grown tired of her short temper, and what had happened this morning was the final straw. Winter obviously intended to let her go.
She looked at Alix and sighed loudly. “It’s not what I want to do. If you recall, I asked you to take over as manager next week when I’m on vacation.”
“But you’re doing it anyway, right?” Alix didn’t know why she felt the need to ask. Losing her job now would be disastrous. She and Jordan were living at the lake house, so with saving for a place of their own, increased transportation costs and much higher utilities, their budget was stretched to the limit. She’d had to give up cigarettes out of necessity as much as desire. She simply couldn’t afford to smoke.
“No,” Winter returned thoughtfully. “You’ve been a wonderful employee until just recently. I’m hoping you can resolve whatever’s bothering you.” She looked directly at Alix. “Do you think that’s possible?”
Alix swallowed hard and nodded. It was easy to blame her bad mood on her need for a smoke; however, the reason was more than her craving for nicotine.
The cigarettes were a convenient excuse, but the underlying problem was her fear of motherhood. She yearned for a child; at the same time the prospect still terrified her. Jordan did his best to reassure her but Alix couldn’t help worrying about her abilities as a mother. Her husband was willing to take the risk, willing to believe they’d be good parents. Alix was the one who doubted.
“I’ll work on a better attitude,” Alix promised as she left the office.
“Giving up smoking isn’t easy,” Winter said sympathetically. “It causes mood swings and concentration problems—but with you I sense it’s more than that.”
“It is,” Alix agreed.
“Do you need some time to clear your head?” Winter asked.
“Could I have an hour?”
“Absolutely.”
Removing her apron, Alix decided she’d take a walk. She set out for the small park close to Blossom Street, her strides brisk, her thoughts no less so.
The day was overcast, dark skies threatening rain, but the weather suited her mood. The play section of the park was deserted. Alix sat on a swing and placed both hands on the chain, gently swaying back and forth.
“Hi.”
Alix glanced up to see Casey Marshall standing off to one side, looking morose. They’d talked a couple of times and understood each other, since they shared a similar background, with all the insecurities it engendered.
“Hey, what’s got you down?” Alix asked, putting aside her own troubles.
“I came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“I’m going to my new foster home next week.”
“So soon?”
Casey bit her lip. “It’s a good place. Evelyn told me. The best, she said.”
“I hated moving, too,” Alix told her. She remembered stuffing everything she possessed in a small suitcase, leaving behind friends, pets and life as she’d known it for those months or years. Settling in with a new family was always difficult. She’d hated starting over.
“It’s just that...” Casey left the rest unsaid. She sat in the swing next to Alix and kicked at the ground with the toe of her tennis shoes.
Alix didn’t need her to finish the thought. “It’s hard to leave Lydia and Brad, isn’t it?”
Casey nodded. “They...they’re great. I know I sort of got pushed on them,” she murmured. “They want to adopt a baby... Everyone does, right?”
“Right.” Alix couldn’t argue with the facts. Infants were quickly adopted and older children were often shuffled from home to home, family to family, never having the opportunity to put down roots in any one community.
“When I first came to them, I... I didn’t want to be there. It was only supposed to be a couple of days. Lydia and Brad opened their home to me and...and their hearts, too. I didn’t want to like them, but I did. I do.” Sadness seemed to emanate from her as she stared down at the ground.
“I know.” And Alix did. In the beginning she’d tried to blend in with her foster families, too, trying to prove she could be one of them, that she was worthy of love.
“It didn’t work,” Casey continued. “Everything I did was a disaster.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Alix was well aware of how hard Lydia had tried to make Casey feel welcome and part of their family.
“It is!” Casey cried. “Last night I tried to surprise Lydia and make dinner and then the casserole boiled over and smoke was pouring out of the oven and the fire alarm started beeping and dinner was ruined.” She said this in one giant breath.
“Did Brad or Lydia get upset?”
Casey shook her head. “Brad made a big joke of it. He said the fire alarm should be called the dinner bell.”
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Alix smiled.
“And Cody thought it was cool ’cause we had to order pizza.”
“And Lydia?”
Casey glanced away. “Lydia...put her arm around me and said I shouldn’t worry about it. Then she showed me where she keeps the bigger casserole dish so if I wanted to try again I’d know which one to use.”
“So no one was upset with you.”
Casey jerked her head up. “I was upset with me,” she countered. “This was my way of thanking them and the whole dinner backfired.”
The girl still looked upset; Alix understood that. Casey had wanted to do something nice and instead she’d revealed her incompetence. She was being unnecessarily hard on herself, which was a tendency Alix shared. She exaggerated every little thing that went wrong. At the moment Alix was sure Casey felt her whole life had been one mistake after another and everything she attempted was a disaster.
“That’s not all, either,” Casey said. “Lydia hired me to do small jobs at the store and she even paid me. She didn’t need to do that, but she did and then I goofed up really bad.”
“How?”
It didn’t seem possible that Casey’s shoulders could droop any lower, but they did. “Lydia asked me to put price stickers on a shipment of yarn. There were two different kinds of yarn and I accidentally switched the prices, so the expensive yarn was priced really low. As soon as I got it on the shelf, a lady came in and bought every skein and said Lydia had to give her the price I put on.”
“Did Lydia do it?”
Casey nodded.
Alix would bet Margaret had something to say about that.
“I told Lydia I’d pay her back but she said it wasn’t that big a deal. It was, though, and she lost a lot of money because I was careless.”
“Casey,” Alix said, “everyone makes mistakes. I made a big one this morning at the café and my employer had an excellent excuse to let me go.”
“What did you do that was so bad?” she asked as though it couldn’t possibly have been as bad as what she’d done.
Alix wasn’t keen on proclaiming her stupidity. “I forgot the sugar in the cinnamon rolls. I bake them practically every morning and today I just left it out and the whole batch was ruined.”
“Did everyone get mad?”
“No, but those ingredients cost money, and then there’s also the time involved. Ms. Adams could’ve fired me, with good reason.”
“She didn’t though, right?”
“No, she didn’t, and I’m grateful.”
Casey sat up a little straighter. “So, like you said, everyone makes mistakes?”
“Yeah. What’s important is the lessons we learn from them. You were telling me Lydia showed you where she kept the larger casserole dish so you’d know which one to use next time.”
“Yeah.”
“So when you decide to cook again, you’ll use the bigger dish.”
“Of course.”
“See? Lesson learned.”
Casey gave her a wry smile and shrugged. “Besides, I don’t like cleaning ovens. It’s hard work, even if the oven’s supposed to be self-cleaning.”
“Which is precisely my point,” Alix said. “Jordan always says that failure offers us an opportunity to learn and to grow.” She grinned. “The trick is not to make the same mistake twice.” From experience, including that week’s baking calamities, Alix knew it was a lot easier said than done.
Casey brightened. “If I ever put price stickers on yarn again, I’ll double-check to make sure the right price is on the right skein.”
Alix patted the other girl’s shoulder. “Exactly. See what I mean?”
“Cody makes mistakes, too. Only they aren’t as big as mine.” Casey said with a half smile.
“That’s because he’s younger than you. The mistakes get bigger as we get older.”
“That makes sense,” Casey agreed. “Breaking a glass when he’s setting the table isn’t as bad as ruining a whole dinner.”
“You’re pretty smart for a kid,” Alix teased.
Gripping the chain with both hands, Casey started to swing higher. “I feel better.”
“Good.” For that matter, so did Alix.
“I bet you’ll make a great mom.”
Great mom. Great mom. The words repeated themselves in Alix’s mind like a chant—or a prayer. “You think so?” she asked, unable to disguise her uncertainty.
“Yeah.” Casey pushed herself higher on the swing. “Lydia told me you’re quitting cigarettes so you and Jordan can get pregnant.”
Unable to respond because of the lump clogging her throat, Alix simply nodded.
“Thank you,” she whispered when she could speak again. A great mom. Casey couldn’t have known how profoundly those words had affected her.
Their short conversation was the turning point in Alix’s day. When she returned to work, she went to see Winter immediately.
“Yes?” her employer asked, looking up from her computer.
“I wanted to thank you for letting me keep my job,” Alix said. “I love working here and I’m grateful that you’re willing to forgive my crappy mood.”
Winter smiled. “You’re welcome, Alix. Except for this week, you’ve been a wonderful employee.”
“That’s not going to change,” Alix told her fervently.
That afternoon, Alix could hardly wait to get home. On the bus ride, she tapped her foot nervously, the events of the afternoon tumbling through her mind.
Once she got to the lake house, she picked fresh lettuce from their small garden patch and made a Cobb salad, a favorite of Jordan’s. When she’d finished preparing the salad, she put it in the refrigerator, then set the table outside. After that, she lay in the hammock with a book and fell asleep in the late-afternoon sunshine, waiting for Jordan.
The sound of the front door opening woke her. For a moment she was disoriented and then she knew—her husband was home.
“Alix?” Jordan called out.
“Jordan!” Alix rushed into the house toward him, catapulting herself into his arms. Before he could say a word, she spread eager kisses across his face, her lips moving from his eyes and cheeks and nose before settling on his lips.
Jordan grabbed her by the waist and staggered backward until he was leaning against the kitchen wall.
Alix wrapped her legs around his and hungrily kissed him again.
She lifted her head and smiled at him.
“What’s this all about?” Jordan asked, his voice rough with longing. “Not that I’m complaining...”
“I’m going to be a good mother. A great one.”
“Yes, I know,” he said without hesitation. He supported the back of her head and returned her mouth to his for another series of deep, soul-filled kisses.
She gasped when the last kiss ended. Her lips remained close to his, so that she breathed his breath and he breathed hers.
He kissed her again, then asked, “What happened to convince you?”
Alix pressed her head to his shoulder. “Do you want to talk all night or do you want to make a baby?”
Jordan chuckled and scooped her up, Alix’s arms around his neck. As he started toward their bedroom, he said, “That’s a ridiculous question if I ever heard one,” and her laughter joined his.