help her tonight with the refreshment station at the Second Baptist Church’s carnival.”
Callum closed his eyes and chuckled. “And I promised Addy we’d go, and that I’d buy her ten tickets to the cakewalk. She wants to win my mother’s Oreo cake, and since my mother’s in charge of the booth . . .”
“I hope you like Oreos,” she said, leading the way down the sidewalk as they returned to his bike. “Or at least have room in your freezer.”
“My mom . . .” He stopped as he handed her a helmet, frowning down at his own. “She’s not the least bit shy when it comes to sharing her ideas on, well, anything. But especially on how to keep me from screwing up again.”
“Are you going to?”
“And risk losing everything? My business, my daughter . . . what do you think?”
She thought that Callum Bennett Drake would never make a wrong choice in his life again.
TEN
Brooklyn couldn’t remember the last carnival she’d been to that wasn’t a work-related event. For thirteen years she’d attended autumn and Halloween carnivals, bobbing for apples along with cakewalks; winter and Christmas carnivals, singing carols along with cakewalks; spring carnivals with sack races and yeah—cakewalks.
For tonight’s refreshment table, she’d baked an old family favorite, a banana cake her mother had made often. The recipe had come from her maternal grandmother, and was just as easily made into a sheet cake as it was layers. The sheet allowed her to cut individual rectangles and wrap them much like the brownies from Two Owls Café.
“Thank you so much for bringing these,” Dolly said, taking the basket Brooklyn carried and setting it against the wall of the church gymnasium along with the rest of the items to be set up for sale. “It certainly wasn’t necessary but it is so very appreciated. Strange as it may seem, not everyone likes chocolate.”
“Anything for the cause,” Brooklyn said, looking around at the decorative streamers and balloons in pinks and reds as if someone had gotten a good deal after Valentine’s Day. “I would hate to show up for the fun without contributing something.”
“You’re contributing your time, and that’s plenty,” Dolly said with a pat to Brooklyn’s shoulder. “Especially since I don’t believe you’re a member here?”
“I’m not,” she said, leaving her purse in a plastic bin next to Dolly’s, which sat on top of the refreshment table’s cash box. “Though I do come sometimes with Jean. My husband was Catholic, so I always went to mass with him. But I haven’t been going anywhere regularly for years. I need to. For the fellowship as much as anything.”
“Then I’m going to be sure and introduce you to everyone, even though teaching here for as long as you have means you probably know as many people as I do.”
“It’s a very real possibility,” Brooklyn said, laughing as she took a stack of red-and-white-checked plastic tablecloths from Dolly’s hand.
“Just spread these out over the tables. I think we’ll set up the goodies on the sides, and we can sit at the one in the center to take payments. And don’t worry about collecting the exact amount for the items. If someone is a dime or a quarter short, that’s good enough,” Dolly said, then sidled nearer to add, “Unless Shirley Drake is close enough to notice.”
After the last week, Brooklyn wasn’t surprised at the comment, just that Dolly had been the one to make it, though she understood—and sympathized with—the frustration behind the words. “I’m beginning to think the Shirley Drake I know from school as Adrianne’s grandmother isn’t the same Shirley you know from church and Jean knows from Pearl’s.”
Dolly took a deep breath, blew it out, pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Brooklyn, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I’m still on edge after volunteering with her on Wednesday afternoon, and I’m blowing off steam. I shouldn’t be blowing it in your direction. Especially with you being such good friends with her son.”
“I don’t know that we’re such good friends,” Brooklyn said, snapping the first tablecloth into place and hoping to hide the color she felt in her cheeks. “I mean, we’ve only just met . . .”
Hearing Dolly’s soft chuckle, she let the sentence trail; then Dolly added, “Get Tennessee and Kaylie to tell you about just meeting.”
Brooklyn laughed, not quite ready to tell the other woman that she was right. That even now Brooklyn was wondering when Callum would get here, if they’d have time to talk, or if