The familiar tinkle of a bell enchanted the silence as I entered the cool air conditioning, a safe haven from the moist heat outside. I breathed in the scent of flour as I scanned the warm welcome of the cream yellow walls. Home. Well not exactly. Alessandra’s Baked Goods it was called; christened after my middle name and Italian grandmother by my mom. I remember how mom had insisted on painting the room yellow---a happy color, she said. Strange sense the only reason we needed this place was because of my father. A thin strip of yellow and black flor da lee patterned wallpaper circumferenced the room. Three pairs of small, simple booths lined up on the left wall, the right a screen of glass. A youthful-looking brunette stood behind the counter display of sugar frosted beignets, gooey trays of king cakes, Louisiana crunch cakes and many other Louisianan delicacies. She affectionately rubbed her inflated belly, which was covered by a royal blue apron.
“Caitlin? I thought you were working tomorrows night shift.” I asked puzzled, as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Yes well, your friend Elisabeth showed up insisting on baking and having me work out here to wait for you---thinks baking’s too much for me---sweet girl.” she added.
I could feel the color drain from my face.
And the most likely person to cause death-by-beignet. I though darkly as I swiftly marched passed her through the swinging doors. In the kitchen was a disaster. Right when I had planted my foot on the ground, I nearly fell on my face from stepping on a run-away egg yolk. I grabbed on to an unexpected Liz’s shoulder to catch my fall in the knick of time. Consequently, she tumbled down and whatever horribly intoxicating concoction Liz had been whipping up went flying everywhere---the hand-held electric blender still whirring like a savage animal.
After I leaped up to switch off the blender, I laughed---a rare occurrence for me.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I am so sorry Trinity!”
“Are you kidding?” I bellowed with laughter. “If anything it’s my fault, I just pushed you to the floor!”
I took in the scene of Elisabeth’s batter-coated hair and the splatters of whatever she was trying to make all over the floor, walls, wooden cabinets and even the ceiling. This caused me to guffaw even more. Only the amazing Elisabeth could pull off a stunt like that. My outfit wasn’t given any mercy either--- my favorite blue jeans had tan, gooey splotches.