The Sweetness of Forgetting (67)

Alain glances at me again, and I pretend to be busy filling a tray full of miniature Star Pies. My fingers shake a little as I form the lattice crusts into star shapes.

“I mean that love is all around us,” Alain says. “But the older we get, the more confusing it becomes. The more times we’ve been hurt, the harder it is to see love right in front of us, or to accept love into our hearts and truly believe in it. And if you cannot accept love, or cannot bring yourself to believe in it, you can never really feel it.”

Annie looks confused. “So you mean Mamie and Jacob fell in love because they were young?”

“No, I believe your great-grandmother and Jacob fell in love because they were meant for each other,” Alain replies. “And because they did not run from it. They were not scared of it. They did not let their own fears get in the way. Many people in this world never fall in love that way, because their hearts are already closed, and they do not even know it.”

I slide a tray of Star Pies into the smaller oven on the left and wince as I carelessly smash my hand against the oven door. I curse under my breath and set the timer.

“Mom?” Annie asks. “Did you love Dad that way?”

“Sure I did,” I say quickly, without looking at her. I don’t want to tell her that if she hadn’t been conceived, I never would have married her father. It wasn’t a love for him that made me create a family; it was a love for the life growing inside me.

But what had Mamie been thinking when she met my grandfather? She’d believed, apparently, that she’d already lost Jacob, and somewhere along the way, she’d lost the child she was carrying. Her life must have felt tremendously empty. Had loneliness driven her into the arms of my grandfather? How had she been able to lie beside him at night, knowing that she’d already had—and lost—the love of her life?

“So how come you got a divorce then?” Annie asks. “If you loved Dad like that?”

“Sometimes, things change,” I reply.

“Not Mamie and Jacob,” Annie says confidently. “I bet they always loved each other. I bet they still love each other.”

In that moment, I feel terrible sadness for my grandfather, a kind, warm man who was endlessly devoted to his family. I wonder whether he realized that his wife had apparently given her heart away long before she met him.

I look up to see Alain gazing at me thoughtfully. “It’s never too late to find true love,” he says, locking eyes with me. “You just have to keep your heart open.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, “some of us just don’t get that lucky.”

Alain nods slowly. “Or sometimes, we are that lucky, and we are too frightened to see it.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh yes, there are men coming out of the woodwork, wanting to woo me.”

Annie glances at me and then at Alain. “She’s right. No one asks her out. Except Matt Hines, but he’s, like, weird.”

I can feel myself blushing, and I clear my throat. “Okay, Annie,” I say brusquely. “Let’s get moving. I need you to prep the strudel, okay?”

“Whatever,” she mutters.



Our open goes better than I’d expected that morning; with Alain’s help, we’re ready for customers by six. Gavin comes in at about six forty, but the shop is busy, so we hardly have a chance to talk as I hand him his coffee, thank him again for his help, and wish him a good day on the job at Joe Sullivan’s place.

Alain stays with me when Annie heads off to school, and after the morning rush is over, and I’ve tersely answered questions from a dozen nosy customers about where I’d vanished to for the last three days, we’re alone in the bakery.

“Whew!” Alain explains. “You do a good business, my dear.”

I shrug. “It could be better.”

“Perhaps,” Alain says. “But I think you should be thankful for what you do have.”

What I do have is a situation of mounting debt and a mortgage that will soon be yanked out from under me, leaving me without a business. But I don’t tell him that; no reason to burden Alain with my problems. I’d imagine they pale in comparison to the worries of his lifetime anyhow. It makes me feel as if there must be something terribly wrong with me if I get so easily overwhelmed by the little things.

The day flies by, and Annie arrives after school with a big stack of papers in her hand.

“When are we going to see Mamie?” she asks as she hugs Alain hello.

“Just as soon as we close up,” I tell her. “Why don’t you get started on the dishes in the back? We might be able to close a little early today.”

Annie frowns. “Can you do the dishes? I have some phone calls I gotta make.”

I stop pulling slices of baklava from the display case and frown at her. “Phone calls?”

Annie holds out the sheaf of papers she’s been clutching and rolls her eyes. “To Jacob Levy. Duh.”

My eyes widen. “You found Jacob Levy?”

“Yeah,” Annie says. She looks down. “Well, okay, so I found a whole lot of people named Jacob Levy. And, like, that doesn’t even count the ones who are listed as J. Levy. But I’m gonna call them all until we find the right one.”

I sigh. “Annie, honey . . .” I begin.

“Stop, Mom!” she snaps. “Don’t be negative. You’re always negative! I’m going to find him. And you can’t stop me.”