“Your dad seems like a real character.”
“Oh, he is. He’s perfect. Really. Best dad a girl could ask for. I feel so blessed.” As I spoke the words I thought about what Derrick had said earlier, about his parents’ breakup. Maybe we’d better change the subject.
Turned out, I didn’t have to. Our private conversation was interrupted when Sienna arrived. She must’ve sniffed out Derrick’s cologne, because she bounded into the kitchen, all giggles and smiles. It looked like she’d been miraculously healed from her headache. She grabbed Derrick by the arm. “C’mon, best man. We’re needed in the living room. The bride and groom want to give us our marching orders.” She seemed to narrow her gaze as she glanced my way. What was up with that? Surely Sienna didn’t think I was treading on her turf . . . right?
Not that Derrick seemed pleased by Sienna’s insistence that he leave me. In fact, he gave me a “Woe is me” look as Sienna pulled him out of the room. I just offered him an “Oh well” shrug. Still, from the smile he gave me as he rounded the corner, I had a feeling I’d be seeing more of this guy, and maybe not just at the wedding.
Two days before the bridal shower and four failed attempts at making the intricately designed teacup-shaped cookies, I finally threw in the towel. Grandma Nellie offered to help, but quickly gave up when she got the consistency of the royal icing wrong.
“Not gonna happen, Mari.” She waggled her finger at me. “We’ll have to order some from a bakery.”
No way, Jose. When I’d revealed our shower theme to my sister, I had promised home-baked, teacup-shaped cookies. I had to deliver them, even if it killed me. Which it might.
In a moment of clarity, I recalled that Derrick’s mother was a baker. It took some doing to locate the best man’s cell phone number. After all, I didn’t want my sister to know I had failed in the baking department, so I couldn’t ask her. Instead, I went straight to Phillip, who was happy to share Derrick’s contact information with me.
I called Derrick late Thursday evening, my nerves a jumbled mess. He seemed a little surprised to hear from me, but from the pleasant tone in his voice, I could tell it was a happy surprise. When I explained my predicament, he offered to call his mother on my behalf. “She usually needs a couple of weeks’ notice to fit in a new job. But she might make an exception if she’s not already booked. I don’t know if she has the ingredients, so she might need to make a run to the store.”
“I’ll bring the ingredients. She won’t have to do a thing.” I sighed. “Well, except the obvious. Teach me how to bake. And decorate.”
Derrick laughed. “Okay. I see how it is. I’ll have her call you, I promise.”
Ten minutes later I received a phone call from Mrs. Richardson, who agreed to help me.
“How many people are you expecting at the shower, Mari?” she asked.
I swallowed hard. “Fifty to sixty.”
“Ah. A lot of work, then.”
“Yes, ma’am. If it’s too much—”
“Nah, I do this all the time. You just come on over to my place tomorrow afternoon. And don’t you dare bring any ingredients. I have plenty, trust me. We’ll knock out those cookies. And if Derrick shows up, I’ll boot that boy of mine right out the door. He wouldn’t be caught baking, but he’s notorious for eating the baked goods.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Derrick eating our teacup cookies.
I thanked Mrs. Richardson—who insisted I call her Nadine—before ending the call.
The following day passed quickly at the bank. Around two thirty I looked up when I heard a familiar voice traveling across the lobby. Derrick?
All the female tellers clustered around him like ants around a piece of candy. I fought the temptation to hide under my desk. Why I felt so embarrassed, I could not say.
Derrick glanced my way, then confusion etched on that handsome face. After politely weaseling himself away from my coworkers, he walked toward me, smiling. “Mari?”
“Mari Hays, personal banker, at your service.” I flashed a professional, over-the-top smile. “How can we help? Do you need a loan?”
He laughed. “No. I stopped by because I’m going to be filming a new commercial for your bank soon.”
“Hey, it’s not my bank. I just work here.”
“You know what I mean.” He gave me a playful look. “It’s the least I can do. Your manager, Bill Henderson, was my first Cub Scout leader. A boy never forgets his Cub Scout leader.” Derrick saluted me. Well, I guess it was a salute. Must be a Cub Scout thing. Regardless, it caused my already skittering heart to go bouncing down to my stomach and then back up again.
“Ah, so it all makes sense now. That’s why you do commercials for Accentuate Bank.”