The Bracelet

 

T
HE
B
RACELET

A Short Story

M
ARY
J
ANE
C
LARK

 

C
ONTENTS

 

T
HE
B
RACELET

S
unday morning business was unusually slow at the Icing on the Cupcake bakery. It was the day after Christmas and customers were tired, overfed and partied out. Many had no desire to get out of bed to buy still more to eat when their own kitchens were stocked with platters of aluminum foil-covered leftovers, not to mention mountains of Christmas cookies. Owner Terri Donovan anticipated the reduction in demand and limited her baked goods production to rolls, cheese and raspberry Danish rings and crumb cake.

“Thanks for helping me this week, honey,” Terri said as she slid a tray into the glass display case. “Cathy really wanted to have some time off with her family.”

“No problem, Mom,” Piper said with a yawn. “But I don't know how you manage to get up so early every day.
So
not for me.”

Terri smiled. “If you had to get up at four o'clock in the morning to be on a set, you'd do it, wouldn't you?”

“Sure, but that's one of the reasons theater is so appealing. Late nights, long mornings in bed,” Piper said as she smoothed her cupcake-decorated apron. She caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall behind the register. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Without makeup, she looked like she had in high school ten years ago, not like the adult she sometimes felt she was pretending to be.

“Well, baking and this store are my theater,” said Terri. She adjusted the thin net over her tinted short curly hair. “I love what I do here and I don't mind getting up early to do it.”

“I know,” said Piper, “and I'm really grateful that you trusted me enough to make the wedding cake for Glenna. It was so nice to have another focus. I love acting and I'm happy when I have a chance to do it. But working on the cake reminded me that I can do more than one thing. Having something else to do, something creative in another way, is good for me.”

“I'm glad, sweetheart,” Terri said as she put an arm around her daughter. “And it's a relief that you now know about my macular degeneration. I'm just not going to be able to see well enough anymore to do the intricate decorations that most people want on their wedding cakes. It will be great to have you to help when you can.”

Midmorning, a tinkling bell and a cold blast of air signaled that someone had entered the shop. An elderly man with a slight stoop approached the counter. He wore a navy wool coat, baggy khakis and black sneakers with Velcro closures. He pulled off his knitted skull cap, revealing a head of snowy white hair.

“Hello, Poppy,” Terri said with enthusiasm. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”

The old man cupped his hands and blew on them. “Very nice,” he said. “Quiet, but nice.”

“I don't understand,” said Terri. “I thought you were going to your son's house and he was having a big crowd.”

The man looked away, his eyes scanning the display case. “That didn't work out,” he said softly. “At the last minute, they decided that they wanted to spend Christmas somewhere warm. They left for Florida on Christmas Eve.”

Terri started to express her dismay but held back as she observed the old man's quivering lower lip. Poor guy. He had been so looking forward to spending the holiday with his son's family. If they hadn't wanted to stay home, would it have killed them to take Poppy with them?

The saddest part was that this was not the first time Poppy had been disappointed by his son's false promises. It happened again and again. But Terri knew that if she vented her anger and frustration with their seeming selfishness and inconsideration, it would only make Poppy feel worse.

“I wish I had known,” said Terri. “We would have loved to have you at our house.”

The old man shook his head. “You and Vin have already been too good to me. You're always giving me cakes and pies and bringing me home-cooked meals. And Vin volunteering to drive me into the city for my treatments, well, that goes above and beyond. I don't know what I would have done without both of you.”

“We're glad to help, Poppy, in whatever small way we can,” said Terri, uncomfortable with the praise. She changed the subject. “I don't think you've ever actually met my daughter.” She turned to continue the introduction. “Poppy, this is Piper. Piper, this is Mr. Enright.”

Poppy looked up and managed a weak smile. “Your mother has told me so much about you, Piper,” he said. “She's so proud of you.”

“Even though she
has
to say that, it's still nice to hear,” Piper said as she reached over the counter to shake hands. “I'm proud of her, too.”

“She told me that you're getting into the wedding cake business yourself. You just made your first cake, didn't you?”

“Yes,” said Piper. “It turned out pretty well.”

“Pretty well? It was terrific!” said Terri. “Show Mr. Enright a picture, Piper. You want the usual, Poppy? Hard roll with poppy seeds?”

Piper's face lit up as the thought occurred to her. “So, is that where you get your nickname?” She turned to her mother. “He's a poppy seed fan?”

“Mm-Hmm.” Terri nodded and smiled. “Poppy seed rolls, bread, muffins, cake. Mr. Enright loves them all. Every time he came in he'd ask for something with poppy seeds. I just started calling him that one day and the name stuck. You don't mind, do you, Poppy?”

The man's eyes brightened. “Not at all,” he said. “In fact I kinda like it.”

As Piper pulled the phone from her pocket, the front door opened again. Everyone glanced over to see the young woman in a purple ski jacket who entered.

“Hey, Zara,” said Piper, immediately turning back to her phone and scrolling around to find the wedding cake picture.

“Zara, dear,” said Terri, giving her daughter-in-law her full attention. “And you're wearing your new jacket! I
love
that color. But I didn't expect to see you today. Are you feeling better?”

The young woman pulled back the faux-fur-lined hood, revealing a mane of jet black hair. Her face was pale but her nose was red from the cold outside. She positioned herself so that she could look at her image in the mirror behind the counter, lifting her chin, angling her head from side to side and positioning her lips in a coy smile as she admired herself.

“I feel a little better than yesterday,” Zara answered, continuing to check out her reflection. “I was thinking about your cornbread, Mom. I'm in the mood for a big piece of that. Do you have any made?”

Piper winced. The sound of Zara calling Terri “Mom” always made her cringe.

“I don't,” said Terri. “But I can mix some up in no time. You hardly ate anything yesterday, Zara. I worry about you.” Terri finished buttering Mr. Enright's roll, poured a cup of coffee, added some milk and put a lid on the container. She set everything on the counter in front of Poppy before heading for the kitchen.

Piper rolled her eyes. Zara was actually going to let her mother go ahead and make the cornbread especially for her. Piper wasn't really surprised though. Zara was used to getting what she wanted. She expected it. Her brother catered to Zara's every whim; why shouldn't the in-laws?

“Here you go, Mr. Enright,” said Piper, holding out her phone.

The old man leaned in to get a closer look. Zara poked her head forward as well.

“Oh, the wedding cake again. We all had to look at it yesterday,” she said dismissively as she took off her gloves and pulled a stick of gum from the pocket of her ski jacket. As Zara's perfectly polished red nails unwrapped the pink paper from the gum, Piper noticed that she was wearing Terri's heirloom onyx ring. She had “borrowed” it to wear to a formal dinner last spring. Borrowed but never returned.

Piper closed her eyes and held her breath.
Let it go. Let it go
.

“Wait. I need to get my glasses out,” said Poppy, patting at his jacket pocket. When he could finally focus on the image, he raved about the appearance of the multilayered cake. “That's really great, Piper,” he said. “You've inherited your mother's baking talent
and
her good looks.”

“Osmosis, I guess.” Piper shrugged. “When you grow up around something, you pick it up along the way. I can't remember a time when my mother wasn't baking and decorating cakes.”

Poppy took his breakfast and sat at the bistro table near the front window. He ate the roll slowly and sipped the steaming coffee. He kept glancing over at the doorway to the kitchen.

He's waiting for my mother to come out again,
thought Piper as she busied herself with straightening the pastry rings in precise lines. She wanted to appear occupied. Anything to avoid having to make conversation with her sister-in-law. But Zara was busy snapping her gum and prattling on about how tired she was.

“I just find the holidays so exhausting, don't you, Piper? All the running around and buying presents, and afterward you just have to run around some more returning things you don't like. I love to shop but it can get ridiculous.”

“How old are you, Zara?” Piper asked without pausing to wait for an answer. “We're way too young to be tired. Maybe you should see a doctor or take some vitamins or something.”

Before Zara could respond, Terri came out of the kitchen. “Okay. The cornbread is in the oven. It will be ready in about half an hour.”

“Yum,” said Zara. “All right, just enough time for a manicure. I'm going to drive over and see if they can squeeze me in.”

“But your nails look perfect,” protested Piper.

Zara shrugged. “Christmas is over. I'm sick of this color. I want something else.”

Of course you do
, thought Piper.
No point in saving ten or fifteen bucks by
waiting until you actually need another manicure.

“And, Piper, I might not be able to find a parking spot out front when I come back. If I can't, I'll call you. You wouldn't mind running the cornbread out to me in the car, would you?”

“Now, why would I mind that?” Piper asked sarcastically.

“Great,” said Zara. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

Take your time,
thought Piper.

As Zara walked toward the front door, Piper noticed that the old man was placing something on the bistro table. It was red and square. A box of some kind. Zara saw it too and paused when Poppy motioned to Terri to come over.

“I have something I want to give you,” he said.

“For me?” Terri asked as she took a seat across from the man.

“Yes,” said Poppy. He pushed the velvet-covered box toward her. “Open it, please.”

“Oh, Poppy. What did you do?” Terri asked with alarm. “I didn't get you a Christmas gift.”

“Don't consider it a Christmas present then,” said Poppy. “It's just a gift of appreciation.”

“For what?”

“For all the kindness you've shown me,” said Poppy.

Terri started to protest.

“Please, don't argue with me,” Poppy interrupted. “Just open it.”

He sat back in his chair, watching with a satisfied smile on his face as Terri opened the hinged box. Her mouth dropped open as she reached in and pulled out a wide bracelet of thick gold rectangular links. Zara retreated and inched closer to get a better view.

“OMG, that's incredible,” Zara cried breathlessly, the strong scent of mint and cinnamon wafting from her mouth. “I love it. That bracelet is absolutely gorgeous. Look at that workmanship. That's not something you can pick up at Fortunoff. May I?”

Terri handed the bracelet to her daughter-in-law.

Zara continued to fawn. “What I wouldn't give for a bracelet like this! But I suppose I'll never have one. Robert could never afford it.”

Did she really just say that?
Piper felt like punching her.

“It
is
beautiful, Poppy,” said Terri, appearing to ignore Zara's thoughtless remark. “Exquisite. Thank you very much, but I can't possibly accept it.”

“Why not?” asked Poppy. “I want you to have it. I bought that for Lois when we went to Italy on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It would make me very happy to know that you'll wear it and enjoy it.”

“Isn't that nice, Mom?” asked Zara. “You'll be making him happy by accepting it.”

“No, Poppy,” said Terri, taking the bracelet from Zara and putting it back in the box. “The bracelet should stay in the family. Give it your son's wife.”

“She wouldn't appreciate it,” Poppy said softly. “She isn't the sentimental sort.”

“Maybe she's not sentimental, but if she's got half a brain she'll see how valuable that bracelet must be,” blurted Piper. “She'd be crazy not to pounce on it.”

“If you don't want to give it to your daughter-in-law, maybe you could think about selling it,” suggested Terri. “Gold is at record prices and that bracelet is very heavy. Wouldn't it be nice to have some extra money? It could pay the rent on that apartment of yours upstairs for a long time.”