Sugar Rush

Mae watched him leave and shook her head once more. “Told you we should’ve got rid of that thing.”

“I know, Grandma, I know.” Sophie shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but nothing worked to lessen the pain.

“What were you doing up there, anyway?”

“Trying to reach those boxes.” She pointed over her head. “Have Wayne get them down while I’m gone. We have to get that order for Centerfield Academy ready by Tuesday.”

Seeing her grandmother’s distant expression, Sophie frowned in worry. There was so much to do, and only Sophie knew that Mae Anne was no longer up to the task of running a busy bakery. A fact she’d tried hard to keep from the rest of the family.

She knew Wayne could easily manage the day-to-day stuff, but she needed to be there to help with the new clients. And then there was the new baker she’d hired.

The baker no one but she knew about. The baker they could not really afford but needed desperately. Sophie had thought it best not to say anything to the others until he arrived. Mae would not take well to being edged out of what she considered her kitchen. And she knew Wayne, Lonnie and Dante would probably be less than eager to accept an outsider, especially given his sophisticated background. Sophie knew she would probably have to referee for a while. Which was why she needed to be at the top of her game over the next few days, not hobbling around with a bum ankle.

What a lousy time for this to happen. “Grandma?”

Mae blinked rapidly, as if startled. “Yes, I heard you. Have Wayne get the boxes down.”

Sophie nodded, satisfied that the task would be completed.

Mae’s wrinkled face took on a troubled expression. “What if it’s more than a sprained ankle?”

“It’s not. I’ll go to the emergency room, get a bandage and some painkillers, and be back here by nightfall.” She reached out and touched the older woman’s arm. “Don’t worry.”

Mae nodded in agreement, but it did nothing to allay the concern in her eyes. Just then Wayne walked back in from the alley.

“Wayne, I need you to get the Centerfield order ready to go.” Sophie looked up at him, grateful to have such a competent assistant.

“No problem,” Wayne answered, watching as the paramedics maneuvered the stretcher through the narrow hall that lead to the back kitchens.

“And keep an eye on Lonnie. You know she doesn’t handle stress well.” She sighed, trying to think of all the things that would need to be done in her absence. “And have Dante clean that tunnel oven in the back.”

“Uh-huh,” Wayne muttered, moving to the side to make way.

Despite his seeming lack of interest, Sophie knew from experience that Wayne’s mind was like a trap and he would remember precisely everything she was saying.

“And if you have a chance can you review that contract for the Fielding wedding? Sheila Marks called this morning; apparently she and her fiancé are beefing again. Check the cutoff date for the deposit return.” She shook her head. “This is the third time she’s done this to me.”

After checking her vitals, the paramedics gently lifted her to the stretcher. “Oh,” Sophie added, “and remember to—”

“Sophie!” Wayne snapped.

Sophie’s eyes widened. Wayne hardly ever raised his voice.

“I got this,” he said, returning to his typical monotone. “I got this.”

Sophie took a deep breath. “I know.” And she did, but the habits of the last five years were not easily broken.

They heard a commotion at the front of the building.

“I’m going with you,” Mae announced, pulling her stained apron over her head.

“Grandma, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“Hush, child.” She glanced at Lonnie and Dante as they led the way into the back area. “Lonnie, run upstairs and get my purse.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl hurried away.

Sophie started to argue, but what was the point? It was a well-known fact in Selmer that Sophie Mayfield had inherited her stubborn nature directly from her grandmother.

Wayne and Dante watched in silence as the paramedics rolled her down the hall leading to the storefront.

“Back to work, guys,” Sophie called playfully. “We have a growing business to support.”

“I want to keep you overnight.”

“What?!” Sophie stared up at her doctor. “But you said you could just cast it and send me home.”

“That was before I saw the X-rays.” Dr. Michelson frowned at her over the top of his bifocals. “That break left a pretty nice tear, young lady. For it to heal properly you are going to have to stay off your feet.”

“Fine—send me home and I’ll stay off my feet.”

He huffed in disbelief.

Sophie frowned. That was the problem with a small, tightly knit community. Sometimes your neighbors and friends knew you too well. “But, Dr. Michelson, I have a business to run.”

“Well, it looks like Mae and Wayne are going to be on their own for a while.” Dr. Michelson continued to scribble something on his pad. “I’m confining you to bed rest for the next six to eight weeks.”

“Six to eight weeks?!”

“Sophie, I would appreciate it if you would stop screaming in my ear.”

“Sorry. Dr. Michelson, but we just signed this really important contract. Is there anything you can put on it to protect it? I know—maybe if I were on crutches or even in a wheelchair…”

Eric Michelson watched her for several seconds before crossing the room to pick up one of the X-rays. Holding it up to the light, he pointed to a blurry white patch. “See that? That is the broken bone. Because of its location the healing could go either way. If I set it and you keep it still for the next six weeks, it should heal completely and you will be as good as new. If not, the bone will not heal properly—and for the rest of your life, you will probably have chronic pain in your ankle. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then let me do my job. That bakery was standing long before you were born, and since I delivered you I can attest to that fact. Trust me, it will survive without you for six weeks.”

Sophie bit her bottom lip to keep from expressing her own doubts about that. Before she was born her grandmother was a young woman working alongside her new husband, helping to build their family business. But today, her grandmother was an eighty-year-old woman with a failing memory. And Sophie had noticed that a few times Mae seemed to just stop paying attention right in the middle of a conversation. But when Sophie had asked, Mae was too proud to admit that anything was wrong.

“Sophie,” Dr. Michelson said. He watched her with compassionate eyes. “You’re a grown woman. When I release you tomorrow you, of course, can do what you want. But I want you to understand the price you’ll pay for the stubborn streak you seemed to have been cursed with.”

She nodded. What was she supposed to say? Yes, Dr. Michelson, I want to be crippled forever. As much as she hated it, she knew she would take his advice. It was the only reasonable thing to do.

As he turned to leave, her mind was already calculating what needed to be done over the next six weeks. “I’ll go get you a room and let Mae know what’s going on,” he said. As he opened the door, Mae shuffled past him.

She wrapped Sophie in a tight hug, as if Sophie had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.