Chapter Twenty-Two: Sam
Last night, Zara and I had a confessional of sorts. Turns out we’re falling in love with one another and my life couldn’t be better. Well… that’s a bit of a lie. There are some things I have to take care of with my Mom and sister, but everything with Zara is peachy keen.
We switch off driving up to her Mom’s bakery and I eventually come around to her unhealthy road trip lifestyle. That first Twinkie nearly killed my soul, but after a few more car snacks, I came around to Zara’s way of road tripping. It’s fun not thinking about anything. I’ve never eaten so much sugar and fat in my life. I’m going to have to double my exercises when I get back to the city.
We finally arrive in Zara’s hometown and she’s driving us to Baker’s Corner. One more turn around the corner and she pulls into a parking spot in front of a darkened store front. I can immediately tell we’re here because of the large sign above the door. We both step out and Zara unlocks the door. I follow her inside and look around the empty bakery. Its lack of patrons gives it a low-key melancholy ambience, but I can understand why Zara is so attached to the place. With a little imagination, it’s easy to see how lively and cozy this place could be – and with Zara’s baked goods in the mix, this place could be a home away from home.
“So, this is where you grew up?” Zara laughs through her nose, still looking around at all the chairs and tables.
“Yeah.” She motions for me to follow and we go behind the counter. She points to the menu at an item called ‘Zara’s cuppies.’ “That was my first original recipe. They were more of a joke, at first. I was like five and my Mom had me put whatever I wanted into some batter. Over time, I’d improve on them and they aren’t half bad now. Unfortunately, I could never get her to change the name. ‘Cuppies’ is what I used to call cupcakes.” There’s some sadness behind the tale. Zara is still obviously processing her Mom’s death. They must have been close.
“You’ll have to make them for me.”
“If you want?” I can’t tell if that’s a promise or her way of dodging the request. We spend the next hour or so going through Baker’s Corner, Zara pointing out different parts of the bakery that held a special significance to her. No wonder she wants to save the place. Letting it go would be like letting go of her entire life. And I could never let that happen.
We’ve reach the end of our tour and Zara has a little surprise for me. She has made Zara’s cuppies and they were sitting in the cooler the entire time. That explains why she was so territorial over the car snacks, not allowing me to even look in the bag. I take a bite and they are better than not half bad – they’re some of the best cupcakes I’ve ever had. Everything Zara makes is some of the best anything I’ve ever had because she is a true artist in the kitchen.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“Thanks for bringing me.” She’s showed me the center of her heart and I promise to take care of it. “And thanks for bringing me into your life. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll spend my days making up for it.” She playfully swats me arm.
“Shut up, Sam. Of course, you deserve me. We deserve each other.” Her hand stays on my arm, comfortingly rubbing it. We sit quietly for a few seconds and I take another look around the place. It has so much potential. Its décor is nice, but a little outdated. It was probably a hotspot back in the day and with Zara as the baker and some renovations, I bet we could get this up and running. We, huh? Before I jump the gun and start planning out a whole new bakery, I should probably ask if I’d be allowed to be a part of the updating process.
“Zara?”
“Mmhm.” Her words are lazy, our trip having been a long one. I touch the hand on my arm and bring it to my lips.
“I have another proposition for you.” This piques her interest. Her eyes light up, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.
“What is it?”
“I want to help you fix up the bakery. I think it could be amazing again. I mean, the way you talk about it – with you here, there’s no way it’ll fail.” There’s a smile dancing at the edge of lips, not quite making its debut just yet.
“And what’s it going to cost me, Mr. Wood?” It’s not an accusatory or angry question. In fact, she sounds amused. I’m guessing she’s expecting me to make some kind of lewd request, but I have something on the complete other end of the spectrum in mind.
“It’ll cost you nothing, Miss. Coleman. In fact, you don’t even have to help me with the cake for my Mom’s party.” She seems taken aback by my suggestion, even going so far as to remove her hand from my body.
“Don’t you even dare! I wouldn’t abandon you like that. I’m not helping you because I feel like I owe you. I’m helping you because I love helping people.” I should have known she couldn’t leave me like. Zara is too caring a person, but she adds more. “And I especially love helping you. I’ll never stop.” What I need to stop doing is doubting the way Zara feels about me. She’s told me time and time again that she cares about me and I need to act like it.
“Well, then let’s shake on it.” She leans back slightly, her eyebrow hinting at her confusion, but her lips exposing her amusement. The two of us get up and I hold out my hand, waiting for her fingers to wrap around it. Once she does, I start with a handshake, but then I pull her into a hug, her face tilted up, so I can kiss her. She happily obliges and kisses me back. We break apart, our bodies still touching. “It’s a deal.” Zara laughs and pecks my lips.
“It’s a deal,” she echoes back to me. Almost immediately we get to work. The next two weeks are spent collaborating on ideas. Zara is receptive to everything I have to offer and this feels like a true partnership, something I’m not sure I ever had.
We also bake a lot. We’re still getting ready for my Mom’s birthday and while I’m getting better at baking – Zara even joked and said one of the more recent cakes I made was better than hers. I thought she was just being nice – she did laugh while saying it, but she laughs while saying a lot of things. She’s a very happy person. I still don’t think it was true, but I am pretty impressed with myself.
Right now, we’re trying to figure out the kind of cake I’ll bring to my Mom’s birthday. Zara is having m write down all the things she likes. At first, I thought it was just going to be what she liked to eat – it is a cake after all – but Zara told me write down whatever comes to mind. The list ended up being quite long – and revealing. Having all of my mother’s interest on a piece of paper gave me some insight into her I didn’t really have before.
Once it’s done, I hand the list to Zara. She scans it, circling a few items. She puts it down on the table and I get to see what she’s think.
“So, I’ve circled what I think we could use and drawn lies between potential combinations. An idea I had for your sister’s cake was to do alternating layers, so make two batters and do one on top of the other. You wrote down a few fruits and it could work with some fruity combos. Another idea is – you have pearls written down – so something with a bit of a bite, but with a nice soothing frosting. I know that sounds weird, but we can bring that out in the flavor. We can also use decorations to elicit a certain mood or feeling or object. There’s really a lot of wiggle room.” This is where Zara truly sets herself a part as a baker. She puts so much thought into what she makes.
We settle on making my mother a cake inspired by her time in Italy. We’ll be drawing inspiration from cannoli and gelato. It all sounds rather complicated, but Zara is going to help me out with bringing this vision to life, so I don’t have any apprehension towards this undertaking. I don’t have any apprehension about any part of my life concerning her part in it.