Forgive and Forget(3)

“He’s just curious, Bea. You know how excited he is about learning medicine. He wants to be a doctor, so he can help people.” Joe gave her what he hoped was his most charming smile. Her scowl deepened. Apparently, his most charming wasn’t charming enough.

“If he thinks that’s helping, he’s got another think coming. And you! You really think those puppy eyes are gonna work on me after all these years?”

Joe smiled hopefully. “Yes?” No. With a sigh, he let his head hang low. “You’re right. It’s my fault. I’m too soft on him.” He heard a few chuckles from around the room and knew everyone was waiting to see whether Bea would give in or Joe would end up flat on his face.

Mumbling a few unintelligible words under her breath, Bea stalked back into the kitchen. A light round of applause broke out in celebration of his victory, and Joe bowed with all the grace and grandeur of a Shakespearian actor.

“Thank you, thank you. You are too kind, my lords and ladies.” He straightened and spun around to the cowering young man, donning his best Groucho impression. “I got a good mind to join a club and beat you over the head with it.”

Donnie snickered, the tension seeming to ease from his boney shoulders. The kid always did like his Groucho impressions.

Being an only child, Joe learned from an early age to rely on his overactive imagination to keep him company on the days his parents were out working hard to earn a decent living—which meant Joe had been pretty much alone most of the time, but he’d been too busy to let the loneliness settle in, what with all the castles to conquer, jungles to explore, and cattle to round up. While most of his school friends were throwing pixelated barrels at big pixelated monkeys, Joe was building forts and labyrinths with the couch cushions and bedsheets.

Living in his own head had been such a part of his existence, when Joe grew up, he had trouble keeping his thoughts in there. Most people figured he had a few screws loose, but he didn’t mind. Sure, sometimes he felt a little embarrassed after getting caught having a rather animated conversation with himself, but never ashamed. It was just the way he was.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Donnie muttered. His bottom lip jutted out as he stared at the floor, kicking up imaginary dust. Wow, the kid was good.

“Say, that’s my bit. Go on, get back to work. And stop dissecting our groceries or you’re gonna be getting an early lesson on broken bones from Bea. Elsie will be here soon, anyway.”

At the mere mention of the young woman’s name, Donnie’s cheeks went pink and he shot back into the kitchen. Elsie was part of their motley trio, also eighteen and just as lanky as Donnie. She was a sweetheart and loved to fuss over Joe as much as Bea did. Donnie was goofy over her and everyone knew it; they were just waiting for Donnie to finish locating his backbone.

Someone called Joe’s name in a singsong voice, and he turned to Miss Rotherford, bowing politely at her table. Before he could open his mouth, she sprang out of her seat and flung her arms around him, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“That was the best pie I’ve ever tasted! And your shop is amazing! I’m having a little shindig in a few weeks, and I was hoping I could pay you to make some of your delicious pies. Everyone will just die!”

“I hope not,” Joe gasped in mock horror. “I’d never get any return customers.”

She giggled and slapped his arm playfully. “Oh, I knew you could bake, but I had no idea you were so charming.” Her boyfriend paid the bill before he helped her into her coat, still smiling brightly. “So, do you think you could whip up five of each pie for me?”

“Five of—” Joe choked. “That’s ninety pies!” He had expected a dozen or so, maybe even two dozen. His mind quickly went through the practicalities of it, thinking about how long he’d have to get the extra ingredients, the added expense, and how he would have to ask Elsie and Donnie to put in some extra hours. Sensing his hesitation, she opened her tiny purse and took out bill after bill, shoving them into his hand. It was more money than what twice that number of pies would cost, and he quickly attempted to give some of it back. The more he put back into her little purse, the more she shoved into his hand.

“Oh, no, please, Miss Rotherford, that’s not necessary…,” he began when Bea materialized like a ghoul from the mist. While his heart slowed to a more nonapoplectic pace, Bea took the money from his hands and stuffed it into her apron pocket, smiling brightly at the couple—which was more frightening than her ghostly reappearing act.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Rotherford. Joe’s just a little shy. Of course we’ll make those pies for you. Your party will be the talk of the town.”

“Fantastic! I can’t wait. I’ll have my assistant call with all the details. I’m going to have to keep everything locked up. If Father finds out, there won’t be anything left by the time the guests arrive! Thank you so much.” She squeezed Joe’s hands, and before a single word could escape his gaping mouth, they were gone. Elsie skipped in just as the couple left. His expression must have said it all, because she looked about ready to turn and make a run for it.

“Is everything all right?” She looked from him to Bea with big brown eyes.

“Fine,” Joe replied through his wide grin and gritted teeth. “Would you mind helping Donnie see to the shop? I need a word with Bea.” He turned to the iron maiden and bowed regally, motioning toward the kitchen. “After you, your majesty.”