"I think we need to tell Jennifer," Joy said, wringing her hands together, face pinched with uncharacteristic worry.
"I promise, he's fine. He won't bother anyone." I pinched the fondant together at the end, then placed the rolled end into the buttercream, one perfect little green leaf sticking out from underneath the blossom I'd made for the top of the cupcake.
"But we've had complaints," Joy whispered.
I lifted my eyes to her. "You mean the one woman who asked why there was a dog outside?"
She nodded vigorously.
"Is that a complaint or a comment?"
Joy froze, eyes darting toward the entrance. Just to the right of the door, Nero had chosen his spot, and he was currently fast asleep underneath one of the wrought iron tables. "I suppose it's a comment."
I set another finished cupcake on the tray and looked up at her. "I promise, if one single customer comes in and says he shouldn't be there, I'll have Levi come pick him up and take him home."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah," I answered.
"And he'd just do that for you?"
"Levi?"
She nodded vigorously.
"You know him? I mean, beyond seeing him pick me up the other day."
Joy gave me a look like I was crazy. "I was a freshman when he was a senior. He's … we all know the Buchanans. Of course, I know him."
"Ahh." Right. One of those moments when my 'sore thumb' status in Green Valley was ever so apparent.
"He's so handsome," she told me as if I didn't look at that face every single damn day.
I shrugged. "He's all right."
Joy's offended gasp made me burst out laughing. Her face looked like I'd just told her that her cupcakes tasted like dirt.
"Jocelyn?" Mikey asked, head poking around the corner into the kitchen. "Can you come out here?"
Joy was muttering about Levi when I wheeled past her. "Just all right," I heard her say under her breath.
I was still grinning when I made my way behind the counter. Mikey was talking to a woman who was ninety, if she was a day, and holding the sides of a walker like it was the only thing keeping her standing.
Swallowing roughly, I tried to imagine being out in public in my walker. My chair kept me moving smoothly and quickly, I could pivot and spin, hop a curb with relative ease, and pop a wheelie if I felt so moved.
Oh, but pride was a bitter pill to swallow, wasn't it?
The fifteen-year-old me trying to get used to my chair never would've imagined that I'd use it as a safety net.
"What's up, Mikey?"
He nodded at the customer who peered over her thick-lensed glasses at me. For a few seconds, she stared at the wheels on my chair, then back up to my face.
"She had a question."
I blinked in confusion. "Okay." Giving her a polite smile, I turned my chair a bit so I was facing her more fully. "How can I help you, ma'am?"
"There's a wild dog sitting outside." Her voice was shaky, but her eyes were unflinching. The skin around them was wrinkled and translucent, spotted with age.
"Oh, that's my dog. He just … likes to stay with me as much as possible, but it's a health code violation to have him inside the bakery."
From the back of her throat, she made a small harrumph sound. "He looks scary."
I smiled at her. "He's very sweet, I promise."
"What's his name?"
"Nero," I answered.
She glanced over her glasses at me. "After the Roman emperor who burned people alive?"
Mikey cleared his throat to cover a laugh.
"Yes?"
"Don't you know your own dog's name?" she asked.
"Yes," I repeated. "I just liked the sound of it. It sounded … tough."
"Huh." She looked at my chair again. "You need him for help getting around?"
Like he knew we were talking about him, Nero stood and stretched his back legs, then plopped down in a sitting position and stared over his shoulder at me.
"Not technically, but sometimes I hook up his leash and harness to my chair, and he pulls me up some of the foothills when I take him out for exercise."
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'll take a banana cake."
At her strange non sequitur, I blinked. "Umm. Okay."
"I'll go box one up," Mikey said.
"Make sure it was made today," she called after him. "I don't want one that's been sitting around for a couple of days."
I bit down on my smile as I told her the total. Very carefully, she counted out exact change from her metallic purple coin purse. It matched the chain on her glasses.
"I had a dog," she said as I was putting her money in the drawer.
"What was his name?"
"Her name was Daffodil." She tucked her coin purse back into an embroidered pocket hooked around the side of her walker. "She was a Shih Tzu."
"Those are very cute dogs," I told her.
Her iron eyes looked over the rim of her glasses again. "Meanest bitch of a dog I've ever met in my life. She bit everyone who tried to pet her."
"Oh," I said dumbly. "I'm sorry?"
"She's dead now, so it's fine."
Where was Mikey with that damn cake? I cleared my throat. If anyone wondered why I hated small talk, it was moments exactly like this one. She was staring straight at my chair.
"You're Ruby's granddaughter, aren't you?"
"I am." I eyed her curiously. "You knew her?"
If someone could roll their eyes without moving a single muscle, she just managed it. I felt her eye roll like she'd shoved it down my throat. "I'm old, aren't I? All us old people know each other here."
I swear, if Mikey didn't show up soon, I'd walk back and get the banana cake myself if it would make this go faster.
"I've heard she wore a purple hat to church," I said lamely.
She puckered her lips like someone shoved a lemon in her mouth. "Shame that she and your momma never spoke much. A woman shouldn't have lost out on a relationship with her only grandchild."
Right. There was no way I was touching that statement.
"You been in
