With my aunt visiting so early to chat about work it brought forward the pre-event buzz; I was a little hyper with excitement. I raced back downstairs to the warmth of the kitchen where she sat cradling a cup of coffee and munching her way through an almond cronut, her latest venture, a croissant-donut hybrid that sold out as quickly as she could bake them.
She flashed me a grin. “Did you convince her?”
“I think you convinced her. When she heard the word ‘donut’ things suddenly changed, and the coffee definitely helped.”
Aunt Bessie laughed, and yet her face didn’t wrinkle at all. Even at such an ungodly hour of the morning she was fully made up, her bleached-blonde hair set, and her body encased in her signature form-fitting ensemble. She was a breath of fresh air, and glamorous to boot.
I plucked a cronut from the pile, and bit into the pillowy softness. Between mouthfuls I said, “You all set for the expo? Do you need a hand with anything?”
“Nope, I’m all set. I’ve got my neighbor Miranda coming in to help me bake and a whole host of ideas for recreating those stuffy wedding cakes into delectable donut towers. Now, down to business. You know how glamorous dessert buffet tables can look? Well, I’m thinking of doing one of those. It’s going to look spectacular. From Boston cremes, to French cullers, candy-cane flavored, and gingerbread custard, I’ll have every base covered. Donuts can be gourmet, you know, and this is my chance to prove it.”
“I know,” I said, hiding a smile at her suddenly solemn tone. My aunt took her donuts very seriously indeed, and I knew the idea of a donut buffet instead of a formal dessert would be tempting for our brides-to-be. Everyone wanted something different and donuts were making a comeback; better, bigger and bolder than ever in the foodie world. Especially the creative samples my aunt baked. They were more like art on a plate, or in some cases on a milkshake – where she stacked donuts on top, layered with whipped cream and custard, and candyfloss to finish. Using vibrant icing, it was a kaleidoscope of colors, flavors and textures. “Sounds like you have everything under control, Aunt Bessie.”
The water pipes rattled upstairs, the usual accompaniment to Amory’s morning shower and a sign I had my aunt alone for a few more minutes, at least.
I stood to refill our coffee cups and smiled. It was a comfort to have family around again. I’d missed it in New York. Mom hadn’t visited me there, and Aunt Bessie had only come once, claiming the crush of people made her nervous. The big city was a huge culture shock when you came from a town as small as Evergreen.
Returning to my seat I reached out for her hand, “Thank you so much for helping out with the expo. I really appreciate all the time and effort you’ve had to put in. It means a lot to me.”
Lifting a shoulder, Aunt Bessie squeezed my hand. “Well, of course… what’s family for?”
Speaking of which… “Have you spoken to Mom lately?” I asked, hesitant to bring it up, but knowing I didn’t have a choice if I wanted some answers. Aunt Bessie read Mom’s moods better than anyone, and I knew they confided in one another.
My aunt’s eyes shadowed. “Yeah, she told me you’ve been visiting. You’re a good girl for that, Clio. I know it’s not easy.”
“I wish she’d respond to me. Talk to me, and not just because she has to.” I struggled to find the words. “I feel like, since coming home, she’s even further away from me. I don’t know how to bridge the gap.”
Her face fell, and all at once she looked every inch her age, as if the constant worrying about Mom pulled her down. “I shouldn’t have forced her to come to Cedarwood to help out that day,” she said, shame coloring her cheeks pink. “I had no idea it would be that difficult for her after all this time. I honestly thought it would be some sort of closure for her. That she’d see how much you’ve done with this place, that it was different now. But obviously she could only see it as it was back then. And those ghosts, they haunt her.”
“What’s with this running loop of secrecy about Cedarwood? Honestly, Aunt Bessie, I can’t be much help if I don’t know.” Aunt Bessie was usually as straightforward as they came, but in this, she was a trapdoor, refusing to budge.
As usual the question was evaded. “She loves you, Clio, you know that, right?”
I nodded bleakly. Mom loved me as much as a houseplant as far as I could tell. “She does, trust me, that’s why she’s scared.” Aunt Bessie slid her gaze away and dusted crumbs from the table into her palm.
No matter how old I got, I still pined for that mother-daughter relationship, knowing it’d probably never come to be. Still, I had Aunt Bessie, who was a wonderful, vivacious woman and mother-by-proxy in times like this.
Aunt Bessie played with the handle of her mug. “If only you knew her the way I do, the way I did. Some people are built differently, and a mistake can push them over the edge. She’s spent this whole time clawing her way back up. There were times I didn’t think she’d get there. So, please be patient. Better we have her like this than not at all.”
Shivers coursed through me. I knew exactly what Aunt Bessie meant, and that was my biggest fear. That one day the business of living would all get too much for Mom. “Can’t you just tell me, Aunt Bessie? What happened to her at Cedarwood? Maybe I can help.”
She lifted her palms. “That’s for her to tell you, baby girl. It really is. I’d love nothing more than to explain it to you so you understand, but I promised her, just like you did about keeping the maze secret.”
Part of me realized that they’d kept the secret for good reason, and unearthing it could send my mom toppling back down the rabbit hole, but I just couldn’t let it go. Who would I tell anyway? Surely they could trust me, of all people? It seemed half the town knew, so why not me? It hurt, not knowing.
“Was Dad involved?”
She shook her head. “No, honey, he wasn’t in her life at that point. But in my opinion I think he rescued her from herself, and when he died, well… it started over again.”
I only had blurry recollections of the man, a big, ruddy-faced guy with an amiable smile who’d died when I was a child. I’d have given anything to remember him better, to have five more minutes with him. But I guess you couldn’t wish a person back just because you needed them. Aunt Bessie moved to hug me tight, as if letting me know I could always come to her. At least we had each other and, between us, could help Mom navigate the next part of her life. The part where I was in it.
In a cloud of spicy-scented perfume, Amory entered the kitchen, her hair a tangle of wet curls. “Morning, again,” she threw me a faux-dark look. “Aunt Bessie!” she exclaimed, kissing her on the cheek before her gaze darted to the pile of donuts on the table.
“Perhaps we can trudge up that mountain after all? Do a spot of midnight yoga?” she asked me sweetly.
Aunt Bessie and I caught each other’s eye and laughed. “Just eat the damn donuts.”
Amory let out a sigh of longing. “I’m so used to saying no. No sugar. No carbs. No…”
“No fun stuff.” Aunt Bessie lifted the plate of donuts and held them in front of Amory’s nose. “Don’t let anyone tell you no. These are artisanal donuts and I don’t like to see them go to waste.”
Amory
