Chapter 5: Horizons


    “Nadia, could you take these out front for me?”


    Arden hands a tray of mini chocte ganache cakes to her baking assistant, a twenty-three-year-old


    woman fresh out of culinary school. Naddy is still green around the edges. But she''s been a godsend.


    “Sure.” Nadia takes the tray of desserts from her, and starts to back out of the double swinging doors of


    the kitchen. Then she stops and ducks her head around the corner to speak to Arden. “Oh, and there''s


    a gentleman waiting for you at table six.”


    “Elliott?” Ardi starts to breathe a little easier. Maybe he was able to move some things around on his


    schedule and will be joining her and Casper at the museum after all.


    “No, ma''am.” Nadia licks her lips. “This tall drink is of the hot chocte variety, and British.”


    “And very married,” Arden adds. She needs to remind herself of that fact.


    “What a waste.”


    “Tell him I''ll be right out, please. And try to control yourself, Naddy.”


    “No guarantees.” Nadia winks at her, before backing out of the door.


    Arden''s stomach goes back to doing backflips. What is he doing here?


    They agreed to meet at the museum. That would have given Ardi more time to prepare herself to be


    alone with him and his disarming charm. Instead, he''s caught her off guard at work.


    She can''t hide in the back all afternoon. There are things she needs to handle before she can leave.


    She considers not going, making up an excuse about being too busy. The bakery is always teeming


    with business. So that wouldn''t be too far fetched.


    Arden realizes that whatever she decides to do, she will still have to go out there and speak to him.


    See him. Be close enough to be ensnared in the seductive clutches of his smile.


    “Get your shit together, Arden. He''s just a man.” She continues arranging macarons for a waiting


    customer''s order and ranting to herself. Soon, her anti-Casper pep talk takes a whole other turn.


    "He''s just an intelligent ... tall..." She sighs to herself. "Well-spoken, sexy ... man.”


    “Well, you know. What can I say?”


    Arden jumps, dropping one of the macarons. She turns to find her brother leaning against the wall,


    stroking his chin. He grins at her with their mother''s hundred-watt smile, the same one Arden was


    blessed to inherit along with her defined, button nose. They have their father to thank for their deep,


    brown eyes.


    “Look what you made me do.” Ardi gestures to the fallen pastry.


    Heughs and grabs something to clean up the mess. Then he kisses her cheek.


    “I''m sorry. Just wanted to check on my sister.” He steals one of the little meringue cookies from the


    parchment-lined tray. “And seems like I need to. You''re talking to yourself now?”


    She pops his hand when he reaches for another macaron. His surprise visits are the reason she makes


    more than she thinks will sell every day.


    “I was thinking out loud.”


    “Who were you thinking out loud about?” He leans on the counter and nudges her side. “Eli? ...”


    Arden doesn''t answer.


    “Oh ... someone else.”


    “None of your business.” She bumps him with her hip. “What are you doing sneaking up on me


    anyway?”


    “Had a lunch date with Dad. Decided to stop by on my way back to the hospital.”


    “And why wasn''t I invited?”


    “Guess, he just doesn''t like you, Elmer.” He chuckles.


    Arden frowns. “Stop calling me that, Adam.”


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    “It''s not my fault you talked like Elmer Fudd until you were seven.”


    “But you''re the reason it stuck. Even Gran calls me that sometimes.”


    He grins. “Mission aplished.”


    “Get outta my kitchen.” She aims a bent spat at his face.


    “Come on. Don''t be like that ... I was just ying.” He tries the puppy dog eyes.


    She ignores him and points to the back exit without looking up from her work. “The door, Adam.”


    “Okay, okay. I''m leaving.” He turns and Arden calls him back.


    She pulls a cake box from the shelf ofpleted orders waiting for pickup and ces it on the


    industrial stainless steel counter.


    “Don''t forget this.”


    Adam nces at her lowered head, as he examines the pastel package''s contents. A selection of his


    favorite sweets is tucked inside between sheets of parchment.


    “You do love me.”


    “Only because I have to.” She smiles.


    He taps her foot with his. “Take those off as soon as you get a minute. Give your feet a rest.”


    “Yes, doctor.” She sighs.


    Adam gives her another peck on the cheek and leaves the same way he came.


    She checks the order and carries the stack of boxes to the front of the bakery.


    Arden catches Casper''s eye and shoots him a polite smile, careful not to seem too pleased to see him.


    Ardi presents a smash cake, a sixyer strawberry cake, and a variety of macarons to a young woman.


    The order is for a first birthday party. Hence, the smash cake. Arden gets several requests for the small


    cakes a week. Though, she does consider it a waste to spend so much effort on baking and decorating


    a cake that will end up stered on a toddler''s hands and face.


    She takes one more look at her colorful creations, before securing the boxes with the bakery''s


    trademark seal.


    “Lulu, is going to love this, thank you.” The woman is so pleased with Arden''s work, she even


    purchases a few items from the bakery''s lunch menu.


    After she finishes the transaction, Ardi makes her way over to the corner table where Casper is seated,


    staring out the window. He smiles and stands to greet her.


    His eyes travel from her nude heels, over her white pencil skirt, up to her turquoise cardigan and the


    bubble gum pink belt entuating her waist. He lingers over her lips, before meeting her almond eyes.


    Arden pushes a stray lock of hair back into the mass of curls pinned behind her ear. She wishes she


    had thought to nce in a mirror, beforeing out to meet him.


    His gaze falls on her shoes again. “You work in those every day?”


    “No, just for today.” She nces down at her leather mesh, t-strap heels. “My brother would kill me if I


    did.”


    “Why is that?”


    “Wearing high heels on a daily basis can cause permanent damage to the feet and leg muscles,” Arden


    smirks. “Adam''s an orthopedic surgeon and virtual know-it-all.”


    “Maybe, he''s right. You shouldn''t put too much strain on your legs. Especially, since your ... you know.”


    Arden is puzzled by the concern in his voice. Then it dawns on her that maybe he''s been doing some


    reading, and her heart sinks.


    She takes a trembling breath. “Since what?”


    “Since you''re on your feet all day.” He pulls out a seat for her.


    Okay, good . . . Maybe he doesn''t know about the ident. She smooths out her skirt and eases onto


    the hot pink wooden chair, crossing her ankles. Casper reims his seat across from her and sits


    gawking at her. A bit unnerved by his stare, she makes an attempt at conversation.


    “So . . . change of ns?”


    “No, I was looking for an escape from the boredom at the office.” He looks around the cafe, studying


    the collection of vintage tes on one wall. “And this is anything but mundane.”


    She follows his eyes to the coral, wrought iron chair that''s been converted into a light fixture. Encased


    in an ivory cage of timber and light bulbs, it''s a consummate conversation starter.


    “Yeah, that''s my fault. I decorated this ce like it''s my house.”


    The bakery is Arden''s second home. So, it seemed fitting to her that it should feel that way. Her shop


    sits at an odd angle, catty-corner to an intersection in the heart of South Homewood, SoHo to the locals


    (an attempt to seem more metropolitan. But try as they might, they''re still in quiet bama).


    The building''s triangr structure emtes the shape of the street, lending itself to the quirky and


    cutesy branding she had in mind.


    A pastel pink and gray, cherry blossom wallpaper ents the walls of the dining area. Tables and


    chairs in various bright colors, that were distressed by Arden''s own hands, give the space a casual,


    lived-in feel.


    Antique cake disys, side tables, and other things salvaged from the archives of the past are


    everywhere. Anything with a hint of old-school, kitsch catches her attention and ends up in a


    shadowbox on the walls of SoHo Sugar.


    Casper grins at her. “I like it. It''s very inviting.”


    “Thank you.”


    They sit in silence, ncing at each other like two kindergartners too shy to exchange their Valentines.


    “Would you like something before we go?”


    “I offered ...” Naddy walks up behind Arden and rests a hand on the back of her seat. “But he declined.


    I think he has a taste for something sticky and sweet ... Arden, isn''t that your specialty?”


    Naddy bites her bottom lip and runs her string of pearls through her gloved fingers.


    Arden shakes her head. “Nadia, one of these days, I swear you''re gonna get me sued.”


    “Oh, calm down. I don''t bite.” Nadia winks at him. “Unless you ask me real nice.”


    “Neither do I. It''s just good manners.” He winks back.


    “Please, don''t encourage her.” Ardi sighs.


    Casper smiles at Arden, then addresses the young woman. “So, Naddy, is that short for something?”


    “Nadia.”


    “That''s beautiful. It''s nice to meet you, Nadia.”


    “Thank you.” She grins, shing that endearing gap in her front teeth. “And you are?”


    “Casper.” His ent is undeniable, stronger than usual. It warms the two women like the smell of fresh-


    baked bread. Both are caught in his web.


    Ardi snaps back to reality first. “Nadia, could you please go see what Joseph is up to?”


    Naddy continues to gaze at Casper, sweeping her hand across her neck over and over. “Joseph is at


    home sick today.”


    “All the more reason to check on him.” Arden peeks up at Nadia, who gives her an irritated nod.


    “I should get back to work before the ve driver here gets upset.” She nces at Arden, who rolls her


    eyes.


    “Casper, it was a pleasure. I hope to see more of you in the future.”


    Casper takes Nadia''s hand and kisses the white glove covering her ebony skin. “The pleasure was all


    mine, mademoiselle.”


    Nadia saunters away with a smile wider than her swing skirt.


    Arden watches her leave, then looks at Casper. “I can''t have you seducing my staff.”


    “Seduce? ... Nah.” He leans back and grins. “I have someone else in mind for that.”


    Certain her burnt sugarplexion just went beet red, Arden excuses herself before she says


    something she might regret. “I''ll be right back.”


    Her fitted skirt, while of a respectable length, has a sizable slit at the back. She makes each step long


    and slow, hoping he''s watching.


    Arden slips behind the disy counter and reaches into a case full of enough sugar to rot the teeth of


    the entire neighborhood.


    She returns to Casper with a sampling of macarons and a pot of saffron tea. Arden sits the copper tray


    on the table and pours him a cup.


    “I feel like I should have taken an etiquette lesson before I came.”


    “Because of the gloves?” she asks.


    He nods, and Ardi smiles.


    “Theyplete the look. The ''50s was a great decade for women''s fashion. Very demure and


    morous. ssic movies from that time period always fascinated me. And since I pay the bills, I get


    to treat my employees like paper dolls.”


    The uniform of the members of the SoHo Sugar team includes swing skirts kissed with polka dots, knit


    cardigans in bright solids, colorful jewelry, and their signature white gloves. Even her two male


    employees get a makeover in fitted pants, ssic button-downs, and colorful bow ties. Though, not


    everyone is as happy with the look.


    Leo, one of her waiters, shows up in jeans and one of the bakery''s more masculine branded tees most


    days. But her host, Joe, loves it. The standard dress is his everyday style. He even sports a long


    pompadour. Arden misses Joseph''s vibrant personality when he''s not here. He makes a long day seem


    so much shorter.


    “It all works ... very well,” Casper says.


    His eyes are on her again. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him studying her backside. It''s hard


    to ignore her curves in the snug material. The ensemble shows the slightest wisps of her skin. But it


    highlights her figure like a number from the pages of Agent Provocateur. Arden pours herself a cup of


    tea and sits down, putting a temporary end to the peepshow.


    Casper takes a bite of a macaron. The second the dessert hits his mouth, he closes his eyes. “This is


    by far the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.”


    Arden sips her tea, trying to hide the satisfaction on her lips. “Thank you. That''s sweet of you to say.”


    “It''s the truth.” Casper takes another few bites, then settles his smoldering stare on her again. “I know


    you can bake your ass off. What else should I know about Arden?”


    “What would you like to know?”


    He leans forward with a flirtatious sparkle in his eye. “Everything.”


    Arden adjusts her sweater and leans back in her seat. Her imagination is going wild with things she''d


    love to do with this man. And her resolve is weakening by the minute. She has to find something else


    for them both to focus their attention.


    "Maybe we should get going." She begins to clear their table.


    "Here, let me." Casper gets up and starts to help.


    His hand brushes against hers as they reach for a te at the same time. He''s a breath from her face


    and she has to resist the urge to turn and kiss him. She shakes her head, desperate to regain her


    "I''ve got it." She quickly takes the other items from him. "I''ll um... meet you at the museum."


    He licks his lips. And she takes a visible gulp of air.


    "All right, love. See you in a bit."


    Arden watches him leave, hoping no one catches her staring after him. She clears up the table and


    heads into the kitchen. Before Nadia can descend upon her again, she ducks into her office at the


    back. She takes a moment to touch up her hair and apply a little more lipstick. Midway through her


    primping, she realizes how ridiculous it is to be readying herself for a man who is definitely not her


    husband. She rolls her eyes at her reflection and slips out the bakery''s back entrance.


    Casper is waiting for her outside the Birmingham Museum of Art. Once she''s parked, he makes his


    bowlegged walk over to her car and open''s her driver side door. He extends his hand to her and smiles.


    "Ready?"


    She takes a deep breath and takes his hand. "Lead the way."


    They head inside the building and start in no particr direction. Casper sees signs for an African


    diaspora exhibit and guides them in that direction. They make light conversation, asking about each


    other''s home lives.


    “Twelve years of marriage, and no kids?”


    Arden steps away from Casper, her focus pulled to an intricate African ceramic. She stares at its


    smooth lines, letting the ymunicate the artist''s emotions to her.


    “Elliott doesn''t want any more kids.” Her voice is heavy, almost too low for him to hear.


    “What about you?” Casper joins her at the disy. “Do you want children?”


    A faint smile crosses her lips. “I thought I did when I was younger. Before ...”


    “Before what?”


    Before my mother was stolen from me.


    Arden continues down the long corridor, trying to keep her mood casual. This is not the time or ce to


    have a mental breakdown.


    Sheughs to keep herself at ease. “Before I got old.”


    He leans into her. “You have plenty of time.”


    “I''m thirty-five, Casper.” She runs her fingers over a gold card with an engraved description of a


    vase. “All eggs have an expiration date. And mine is fast approaching.”


    “Women in their thirties and forties have healthy babies all the time. If kids are something you want,


    you should discuss how you feel with Elliott. I''m sure his decision isn''t set in stone.”


    “Eli had a vasectomy a year before we met.” She smirks at Casper. “I''d say that it''s pretty definite.”


    “How the hell could he marry a woman in her twenties, knowing he couldn''t have kids?”


    “Because that woman assured him that she didn''t want any.” Arden blurts out the statement with more


    force than intended.


    He stays silent a moment. “Is that still the case?”


    She sighs. “If it isn''t, what does it matter now?”


    “The procedure is reversible.”


    “Yeah, but my decision isn''t. Why put him through that when I''m not sure?”


    “What aren''t you sure about?”


    She stares at Casper, looking through him to a tapestry on disy behind his head.


    Ardi would love to hear the pitter-patter of little feet that share half her DNA. But she''s afraid the guilt


    and resentment would overwhelm her.


    Lillian has already missed her daughter''s wedding. Arden can''t bear to think of first birthdays, ser


    games, and graduations without her mom around to share it with her.


    She resolved the guilt she felt when she married Eli. There was a limit to her happiness with him. They


    would never have children.


    “You wouldn''t understand.” Arden walks up a ramp into another level of the museum.


    Casper catches up to her. “Now, you''re irvoyant?”


    “I just . . . Why don''t we pull back the reins on my life for a while?” She turns on her heel to face him.


    “Why aren''t there any little Caspers or Karmas wreaking havoc on the world?”


    He chuckles, stepping behind her to examine a collection of ceremonial pots.


    “Karma''s career is her baby. And I''m her husband on special asions.”


    Arden stands next to him, studying him in her peripheral. A sadness tugs at the edges of his smile. She


    feels a connection with him then.


    They''re bothtchkey spouses, sitting in empty homes and waiting for that key in the door.


    “Even though, your better half is out fighting the good fight. It''s hard not to feel abandoned.”


    “Elliott miss a few meals a week?” He returns her understanding nce.


    “Sometimes even when he''s home, his head is still with his work.”


    Arden notices the way Casper is looking at her like he wants to make up for Eli''s shorings. The


    urge to let him do so fights hermon sense. She forces her feet to carry her weakening resolve


    farther from him.


    “What exhibit did you want to see, again?”


    They find their way to the outdoor Sculpture Pit where a number of the twelve figures thatprise the


    Horizons exhibit have been interspersed.


    Casper offers his arm to Arden as they walk. But she pretends to be too engrossed in the androgynous


    sculptures to notice.


    The life-sized figures watch in silence, as Arden''s heels y tag with Casper''s oxfords. His feet chase,


    while hers dodge.


    The mid-afternoon sun hits Arden''s white skirt, making her seem like a cloud floating among the


    shadows of Thorarinsdottir''s iron sculptures. But she''s more uneasy on her feet than her outfit would


    suggest.


    Each unique figure has one simrity—a ratherrge piece of ss inserted into its center.


    Arden ambles between the impaled models, struggling to keep a very specific memory at bay.


    She''s doing fine until they reach the one seated figure. Her body bes as rigid as the iron casting.


    Casper stops next to her and cocks his head to the side. “Wonder what the ss is supposed to


    represent?”


    His question doesn''t register. Arden is somewhere else.


    The sculpture makes her think about Adam. About the day they both had to grow up. The day the perils


    of the world became all too real.


    Arden ... sweetheart ... Can you hear ... me ... Adam ...


    A voice ys back in her head, muffled yet amplified.


    Adam ... Wake up, baby ... Arden ...


    The despondent chant reverberates through her, crowding out all other stimuli.


    She puts her hands to her ears and tries to shake the gurgling sounds that are choking the melody of


    her and Adam''s names.


    Casper puts his hand in the small of her back. She drops her bag. He retrieves it.


    “Are you okay?”


    “No ...” She staggers backward.


    Blood on tanned leather. ss scattered across the pavement. Adam pinned and unconscious in the


    backseat. Her mother''s gentle voice in her ear.


    It all bombards her with a vivid ferocity like never before.


    Her legs begin to give way. Casper reaches out to catch her. She crumples against him. Frantic grief


    distorts her bright eyes.


    “Arden?”


    “Get me out of here—please.”


    Casper sweeps her into his arms and does as she asks.