“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m quite ready to be their caretaker, but that’s where it’s leading.”
“Would Ford or Palmer help out?”
I shake my head. “They have their own lives. I’m the one here. I’m the one who knows them the best. I might not be ready, but I know I’m the one for the job.”
We turn the corner, and Nora’s bakery comes into view. I can’t help but smile. Of course this is where she’d take me for dessert. The white brick building is lit up, with large-bulbed Christmas lights outlining the door and the windows. As we approach, I take in the window display, which is filled with an animatronic Mrs. Claus feeding cake to Santa.
“Where did you get those?” I ask her, entranced at the spectacle.
“My dad special ordered them years ago. I think they’re amazing, so I always make sure to put them on display every year along with a Christmas-themed cake. We went with sugar poinsettias as the theme this year. I think it came out beautiful.”
I take in the four-tier cake as Nora unlocks the door to her bakery. It is beautiful.
“You create beautiful cakes,” I say, and I mean it.
“Thank you,” she says as she opens the door for me.
I step into the building, and I’m immediately assaulted by the rich, sugary scent of her bakery. There’s nothing in the cake display by the register, which is situated in the back, but it’s outlined by Christmas lights, along with the perimeter of the ceiling and every doorframe.
“You decorate like my mom—if you can hang something on a wall, you do it.”
“It’s not Christmas if you don’t make it gaudy and in your face.” She flips on a light switch, which turns on a single light over the cash register. From the side of the store, she drags a stool over to the register counter and points at it. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”
She takes off through the archway that connects the front of the store to the back, where the kitchen is located. I can hear her shuffle around in there, clang some things, and then . . .
“Ooof, you son of a bitch.”
“Everything okay back there?” I call.
“Yes, just some containers being difficult.”
“Need help?” I ask.
“No . . . I . . . got it,” she says in a rush as I hear something pop open.
I smile and crane my neck to see if I can catch a glimpse of what she’s doing. When she doesn’t come into view, I decide to be patient. I wasn’t expecting to step inside her bakery tonight, but I’m kind of excited. My family has always ordered cakes from Nora and her parents, and there’s a reason—they’re really freaking good.
And after some drinks and nachos, I could totally eat some cake.
After a few more minutes, Nora comes back holding a tray. She carefully sets it down and pulls up a stool as well, settling herself across the counter from me.
I glance down at the tray and hold back my smile at the sight of her holiday cheer. On two plates are multiple cake samplings, garnished with some pine leaves and berries. In the middle are two glasses of what I can only assume is eggnog based on the thickness.
“Okay, are you ready for the spiel?”
“There’s a spiel?” I ask.
“Always. I have to present the cake to you.” She squares her shoulders and then puts on a smooth, professional voice. “Thank you so much for taking a seat with us today. As you can see, we have four varieties of cake for you to taste test. As I go through them, please feel free to ask me any questions. We will start on the right.” She gestures to it. “This is a slice of our b?che de No?l. A flourless chocolate cake rolled in a whipped frosting, covered in a chocolate buttercream and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Our next cake is the glazed rum cake. A yellow sponge soaked heavily in rum, with a brown sugar glaze and sprinkled with pecans.”
“Can you get drunk off the cake?”
“Can’t be sure.” She winks. “And to freshen your palate, we have our candy cane cake. Peppermint-infused yellow sponge with buttercream frosting and pieces of broken-up candy canes sprinkled throughout the cake. And then, last but not least, my favorite—our gingerbread fruitcake.”
“Fruitcake?” I ask skeptically.
She rests her hand on my arm. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the kind of fruit cake that your crusty old aunt brings to the holiday gathering that no one touches. This is a gingerbread-base sponge, infused with chopped pecans, cherries, and pineapple. It’s covered in a sweet cream cheese frosting and a dusting of cinnamon. Trust me when I say save it for last. And then, to wash it all down, some spiked eggnog.”