All my worries aside, I was over-the-moon to learn I was pregnant. It was a nice surprise since I hadn’t been feeling the normal pregnancy symptoms. I didn’t even think of it when my period didn’t come. My cycle wasn’t always that precise, and it would be off a week or so most of the time; therefore, I hadn’t thought there was anything to worry about.
When the doctor gravely advised “bed rest,” I knew I wasn’t fully expected to be on my back twenty-four seven, but on the fourth day of rest, I was ready to throw in the towel from boredom.
Seriously, how many hours could one dedicate to watching television? How many days and nights could one watch movies and documentaries? It was selfish, but I was itching to go back to work.
Masie didn’t even bat an eyelid when I told her the news and that Drake suggested hiring someone to help at the bakery. Masie merely obliged him. She and I had discussed hiring a few people since the business was slowly picking up. With Valentine’s Day coming up in a couple weeks, it was in our best interest to not lose any business while providing excellent service and still make incredible cupcakes. As much as we both loved working together, it was high time we took on help to carry some of the workload.
One of the highlights of my days was getting calls from Drake, which was rather sad. When he called, I tried to sound upbeat, as if watching any more Cake Boss shows was better than being at work, making my own dream happen.
“How about I bring some lunch over tomorrow? Would you like that?” he said while I reached for the remote to mute the television.
I knew he was extremely busy after Hugh’s sudden stroke, and trying to balance out his hectic schedule so he could still cater to me was beyond touching.
“Babe, I’d love that, but you don’t have to. I have Skully to keep me company,” I tried to reassure to no avail.
“My schedule is crazy, but I’ll always try to make time for you, Lil, so please don’t argue with me on this one. Anyhow, I called Mom earlier to make sure she drops by later.” He paused, as if waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he continued. “I don’t know if you had a talk with your mom about this, but I thought you’d want another woman to speak to about pregnancies and babies and all that …”
“That’s nice of you to do that, but seriously, you didn’t have to pester poor Patricia on my part. I’m sure her plate is full as it is.”
“It is—trust me—but this is her grandchild, after all, so she’s just as invested as I am. She’s been dying for me to make babies for as long as I can remember.”
Did that happen while he was with Shannon, too? The thought made me shiver.
“All right. If you insist,” I finally relented to his request.
Drake and I spoke for another five minutes before he had to cut the call to get back to work, much to my dismay.
I supposed there was not much to do other than watch television and sleep until Patricia decided to show up.
*
My sweet godmother, who is also my mother-in-law, came by while I was napping out on the patio. Skully instantly started barking his tail off because there was someone else to pester for more attention.
It was funny how she always brought something for me to snack on. This time, it was her amazing mini-blueberry muffins, an absolute favorite of mine.
“Someday, I hope to get my hands on this recipe. These are divine,” I gushed as I took half a bite of the baked goodie, shutting my eyes and feeling almost giddy at the buttery taste and sweetness of the fresh blueberries. “So … good,” I said just as I finished off the rest before licking my fingers.
Patricia looked like she was having the time of her life watching me devour her present. “I’ll bring in my recipe book. I’ve accumulated quite a lot through the years, though some were passed down through the generations.” Her eyes lit up, as if she had just had the most brilliant idea. “You know, why don’t I bake here next time? That way, you can learn it as we go since you know how these things work. The recipe guides you, but it’s our tongue and gut feeling that measures its perfection.”
That much was true. How often had I started back from scratch when the recipe I was presented with didn’t taste right? Most especially with baking, overdoing or underdoing the process could shift the taste of the outcome.
“I would love that. I don’t think I’ve seen you bake with that red apron of yours since I was what? Ten years old?” Grinning, I plucked another muffin out of the basket before peeling the moist wrapper off. The memory of her baking in that red apron was one of the things I remembered from childhood that made me think I wanted to be a baker like her. My mother wasn’t particularly fond of baking; as a result, my having the trait could only be accounted to those good memories I had of Patricia.