The Dolls(27)

“Did you invite any of your new friends?” Bea asks hopefully as she hands me a pastry-decorating bag filled with lemon-thyme icing for the olive oil cakes.

“A few,” I tell her as I carefully pipe the pale yellow icing. “I texted Drew, but he’s been out sick. There’s a girl Liv at school who might make it, and maybe this guy Max too.”

The timer goes off on one of her ovens, and she turns to remove a baking sheet full of chocolate mint meringues. “And how about Peregrine and Chloe?”

“I didn’t ask them.”

“They might come with their mothers,” Aunt Bea says lightly. “I felt like I needed to invite them since they were such close friends of your mom’s.”

“Makes sense.”

Aunt Bea peers at me curiously. “You aren’t getting along with them?”

“I’m not not getting along with them,” I hedge. “They’ve actually been pretty nice to me. It’s just that they’re so . . . different.” She waits for me to continue, and after a moment, I add, “I guess I don’t really get why they want to be friends with me. They’re completely opposite from me in every way.”

Aunt Bea turns away and begins to frost a big tray full of chocolate lavender cakes. “Tradition means a lot in this town,” she says.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” I say, “but I have to be friends with them just because my great-great-grandma liked their great-great-grandma?”

“It’s more than that. But I’m glad you’re a little skeptical. It’s important that you remember who you are and how I raised you.”

Three hours later, the bakery and sidewalk out front are filled with at least a hundred people. Everyone seems to know Aunt Bea and Boniface, and I watch with pride as they circulate among the crowd.

Along with the chocolate lavender cakes, the lemon thyme olive oil cakes, and the chocolate mint meringues, Aunt Bea has also prepared butter sage cookies, rosemary popcorn balls, pear and bay leaf tarts, and several other herb-based confections. “I wanted to honor my sister, Sandrine, whom many of you knew,” Aunt Bea says in an impromptu speech on the front step just past six thirty. “She loved flowers and herbs, so we’ll specialize in just that: baked goods with an herbal or floral twist. I hope you enjoy tonight’s party, and please do come see me again soon.”

The crowd applauds and goes back to chowing down. I feel proud of Aunt Bea and especially connected to my mother as I jump behind the counter and help the two harried waiters fill up champagne flutes. Liv and Max make a brief appearance and thank me politely for inviting them, but they disappear soon after, Liv mumbling that this isn’t exactly her crowd. I don’t have time to feel bad, though, because Peregrine, Chloe, and the other Dolls sweep in a few minutes later.

“So sorry we’re late, sweetie,” Peregrine says as she glides over to me. She’s wearing a floor-length leather coat, a leather miniskirt, a sheer silk blouse, and leather stiletto heels that lace up to her knees. Her stone necklace catches the pale light of the bakery and shimmers against her dark skin. “But it’s dreadfully tacky to arrive on time, don’t you think?”

I open my mouth to reply, but Chloe beats me to it. “We really did mean to be here earlier,” she says. “But Pascal couldn’t decide on a pair of shoes.”

He looks offended. “I have over a hundred,” he says. “And I wanted to look just right.”

“You look nice,” I say. And aside from his smarmy expression, he does. He’s in a tailored black suit with an eggplant-colored shirt that’s unbuttoned at the collar. The expensive-looking tasseled leather loafers he’s wearing complete the look.

“They’re Italian,” he says, gesturing to his shoes. “Custom made.”

Chloe looks like she’s channeling vintage Carrie Bradshaw in a frilly pale pink tutu made from a hundred layers of tulle. Her legs look long and tanned, and she’s wearing camel-colored stiletto ankle boots, a tight, military style camel leather jacket, and an intricately beaded white tank top to complete the look. Like Peregrine, she’s wearing her black stone necklace. Justin, in designer jeans and a suit jacket with a lime green pocket square, is draped on her arm like an accessory. “This place is gorgeous, Eveny,” he tells me before asking if that was Max and Liv he saw just a few minutes ago. He looks weirdly disappointed when I tell him they’ve already gone.

Arelia and Margaux are there too, wearing nearly matching little black dresses.

“Where’s Caleb?” I whisper to Chloe as the others move toward the bakery counter to grab drinks.