I was nearly back to normal when something happened that made my blood pressure jump two dozen points. My ex-husband Max showed up.
"Speak of the devil, and he appears," I said, wondering what was important enough to bring him back into my life.
A GOOD BEGINNING DONUT
This donut is a good place to start your morning, or your donut-making career. It's a fairly simple recipe that yields good results, and with a little practice, it can be your go-to recipe when you need a quick fix.
INGREDIENTS
4-5 cups bread flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
2 dashes of salt
1/2 cup sour cream
1 egg, beaten
1 cup buttermilk
DIRECTIONS
Combine the flour, sugar, baking soda, nutmeg, cinnamon, and salt in a bowl and sift it into another bowl. Add the beaten egg to the dry mix, then add the sour cream and the buttermilk to the mixture and stir it all in lightly. You may need more buttermilk or flour to get the dough to a workable mix. This varies based on temperature and humidity, and the dough should resemble bread dough when you're finished. That is, it shouldn't stick to your hands when you touch it, but it should be moist enough to remain flexible. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it soon enough. Knead this mix lightly, then roll it out to about 1/4 of an inch. Then, take your donut hole cutter--a simple
circle with a removable center--and press out your donut shapes, reserving the holes for a later frying. The cutters are inexpensive, and worth having on hand.
Set your fryer for 375 degrees, and when the oil is ready, put 4 to 6 donuts in the basket, depending on the size of your equipment. This can also be done in a deep pot, but I find the precision of the fryer worth the money, especially if you're going to make donuts fairly often.
Let the donuts cook for about two minutes on one side, then check one. If it's golden brown, the shade I prefer, flip it over with a large chopstick or wooden skewer, and let that side cook another two minutes.
Once the donuts are finished, remove them to a cooling rack or a plate lined with paper towels, being sure to drain them thoroughly before serving. You can coat the top with butter and then sprinkle them with powdered sugar, cinnamon, or eat them plain.
Makes approximately 1 dozen donuts.
CHAPTER 2
Max gave me that beautiful smile of his, and I felt my knees weaken, despite our sordid history together. "Now is that any way to talk to me? I just heard about what happened this morning. I'm worried about you, Suze."
"Get in line," I said, intentionally keeping my voice firm with him. Max was gorgeous, too handsome for his own good, with wavy brown hair and the deepest brown eyes I'd ever seen in my life. What was worse was that he knew how good he looked, and took full advantage of it. Suze had been his pet name for me during our marriage, though I'd never cared for it.
"My name's Suzanne, remember," I said as I stared into his eyes.
He nodded slightly. "All right then. Suzanne, I miss you, and I don't care who knows it. I want to be a part of your life again."
It might have worked on someone who didn't know him better, but I fully realized that I couldn't
believe this confession was the whole truth, or any part of it. Frankly, there was no way I was ever going to let him off the hook for his infidelity. "I bet you said the same thing to the prom queen after I divorced you."
He shook his head sadly. "Darlene was a mistake. I strayed one time in the entire course of our marriage. You have to forgive me."
I studied him closely. Was it possible he was telling the truth? I'd be lying if I said there was nothing about him that still got to me, but that didn't mean I'd lost every last shred of my dignity and respect. "Okay, I'm calling your bluff. You say you've changed. Let's see you prove it."
He looked startled by the challenge. "How do I do that--not sleep with Darlene again? Consider it done."
"You're not getting off that easily," I said, "and you know it."
"Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."
I frowned at him. "Don't be like this, Max. Not today."
"Like what? What am I doing that's so wrong? I love you, and I want to be a part of your life. Help me out here, Suzanne."
I didn't even know how to answer that at first, but suddenly, I knew what to say. "Go away, Max. That's all I want from you right now."
I expected a fight, but he just nodded, walked to the door, and then turned toward me before he left. "I'm going to respect your wishes for the moment, but I'm not giving up, Suzanne."
After he was gone, I stared after him, thinking
about my ex much longer than I should have. Did Max really want me back? It wasn't for my money; that was certain. Could I find it in my heart to ever forgive him?
If I was being honest about it, I just wasn't sure.
An hour later, Terri Milner and Sandy White came in and stood at the register looking over the day's offerings in the two large glass cases behind the counter. Terri was the mother of eight-year-old twin girls, and Sandy had a nine-year-old son who caused more havoc than both twins combined.
"Glad you two could make it this morning," I said.
Terri grinned. "Are you kidding? This place is so nice; we might just leave our husbands and move in here full-time."
Sandy matched her smile with one of her own. "I love the way you decorated this place. Most donut shops have those awful benches and hard plastic seats. You have these soft couches. It's like being at home."
Terri added, "If there weren't any children there."
"Not that we don't love our kids," Sandy added quickly.
"We just need a break sometimes." She looked up into the air. "I love the CD playing. Is it new?"
"I thought a little light classical music would be nice," I admitted.
"Delightful, as always," they said. I got them their donuts and coffees, and they settled onto one of the couches where they could relax and watch the world go past. It had been my goal to make the place
somewhere local folks--and women in particular--would like to come to relax, and so far, I'd managed to garner quite a crowd of regulars. Not that I didn't welcome the men who came in, as well.
As I finished bussing a few tables after some customers that had left, Grace Gauge came into the shop. She worked as a corporate sales rep for a national cosmetics company, and more importantly, Grace was without doubt my best friend in April Springs.
"I just heard what happened," she said. "I looked outside, but I didn't see any chalk outlines of the body on the road." Grace is blonde whereas I'm a brunette, and she is as trim as I dream I'll be again someday, but I don't hold any of that against her. She works out more than any one woman in her right mind should, and eats dried and tasteless things I wouldn't touch on my worst day. If it comes right down to it, I'd rather have a few more curves and a bright smile than be as skinny as she is. Not that Grace is ever grumpy--her regime seems to fit her--but I would be a snarling bear if I ever tried to live a moment of her life, especially if I only got to eat what she ate.
"They took pictures before they left," I said. "Do they even make those outlines anymore?"
She rolled her eyes. "When are you going to start watching CSI and catch up with the rest of us?"
I smiled at her. "I guess I'll start watching when they show it right after the network news at seven. I'm not even awake when most shows come on now."
"There are reruns on cable at all hours of the day and night, you know."
I laughed. "Momma doesn't want cable television in the house, and honestly, it doesn't bother me,
since I'm in bed by seven or eight most every night, anyway."
"I truly don't know how you do it," Grace said. "How on earth are you ever going to find a boyfriend with hours like that?"
I shrugged. I wasn't going to tell her about Max's recent declaration, at least not until I'd had a chance to mull over his words. "There's always third shift, and if I get desperate enough for male companionship, I could check to see if Jack Long has any friends at the hospital." Jack was a male nurse I went out with sometimes, though the relationship wasn't the least bit romantic for either of us. We were good company for each other, and that was it. Still, it was nice to be able to call him when I felt the need for some testosterone in my life, and if he was free, he was always interested in a movie and some popcorn at the West-bridge Theater. If they ever stopped having matinees there, I don't know what I would do for a social life.
Grace shook her head. "You are hopeless, you know that, don't you?"
I smiled. "Said the kettle to the pot. Now that we've talked about me, should we spend some time discussing your love life?"
She blew out a hearty puff of air. "I'd rather not, if you don't mind."
"A change of subject it is, then. Where are you off to this morning?"
"I've got a store reset in Charlotte," she said. "The good news is that I get to wear jeans, but the downside is that I have to handle dusty things all day."
"Somehow I'm sure you'll manage. Have fun," I said as I grabbed a paper coffee cup and filled it for
her with fresh brew. I'd tried a handful of new lowfat donut recipes for her since I took over the store, but I still hadn't come up with anything that didn't taste faintly of cardboard, though I wasn't ready to give up yet. She would settle for whole wheat if it came to that, but I was afraid even that recipe wasn't healthy enough for her. In my opinion, donuts are meant to be a hedonistic experience--at least they are if they're done properly--but I wasn't licked yet in my search for something Grace would enjoy.
By the time I shooed the last of my customers out the door and locked up, I glanced back at the display case and saw that it was almost empty. I'd had a steady stream of customers all morning long, and I couldn't help wondering if Lester's on-air plug had revved up my business, at least temporarily. I wasn't happy about what I'd seen earlier, but then again, a full cash register was never a bad thing. I cleaned the place up, boxed the donuts that were left, got the bank deposit ready, and was just locking up when Gabby Williams from next door knocked on the glass. Gabby is a trim woman in her fifties who always looks nice, but there was an edge beneath the surface of her smile today, and I knew from talk around town that her teeth could be razor sharp. Gabby ran ReNewed, a secondhand clothing store that featured some of the better preworn clothes in the area, as Gabby liked to call her wares.
"Good morning," I said, wondering what she wanted as I unlocked the front door for her. Gabby knew everyone in April Springs, and consequently
had a map of exactly where all the bodies were buried. She was a good woman to have on your side, and a bad one to have as an enemy. We'd danced that fine line since I'd bought the shop--neighboring storekeepers, but nothing more--and I was going to do my best to stay on her good side without making my personal life any concern of hers. Gabby prided herself on her figure, and loved to wear some of the nicer things that came into her shop. Consequently, she always appeared to be mingling below her station in life when she chatted with me, an impression she did nothing to dispel. Today she was wearing a gray wool suit that was topped off by a prim pillbox hat. I half expected her to be wearing matching gloves, but none must have come in, or she would have surely been sporting them. I always felt terribly underdressed in my blue jeans whenever she was around, and today was no exception.
"It must have been dreadful for you, dear," she said.
"It was just another day," I said, fighting to suppress my sigh.
Her eyebrows arched. There wasn't a soul left on earth who remembered their original shape. For some odd reason, Gabby had tweezed her brows into oblivion, carefully redrawing them every morning with a heavy eyebrow pencil that fooled no one.
She asked archly, "Do you mean to stand there and tell me that you find bodies outside your shop every morning?"
"Oh, that. It happened so quickly, I'd nearly forgotten about it." I only wished that were true. Unfortunately, I wondered if the image would ever fade,
though George's words of encouragement gave me hope that someday it would.
"Come to my shop and tell me all about it," she said.
I considered making my excuses, but if I did that, I'd end up in Gabby's daily gossip report as a likely suspect, I just knew it.
"I've only got a minute," I said as I let myself be led into her shop after bolting my front door closed. With all of those old clothes in her inventory, I always expected the place to be a bit musty, but I had to give Gabby credit. She ran a tight shop, though the lavender scent ever-present in the air was a little strong for my taste.
We walked through aisles of clothing to the back register where she had a teapot staying warm on a fancy little hot plate. "Care for some Earl Grey?"
"Just a smidge," I said, putting my bank deposit on my seat.
Gabby poured a full cup, then she handed it to me. It appeared that I was going to be there for some time. I'd just recounted what had happened for the third time when my cell phone laughed at me. I'd changed the ring tone on a whim, and instead of a proper summons, it now laughed maniacally whenever I had a call. I was questioning that choice now--and vowing to change it at the next possible opportunity--when I answered it before it could laugh again.
"Hello?"
"It's George. Where are you? I'm at your shop and you're not here."