Wedding Girl by Stacey Ballis Page B

stretch, all hocking their lotions and potions. Why can’t there be two very different bakeries near each other. Four blocks might as well be four miles; you can’t even see her place from our place.
    You can’t even see her place from our place.
    Which also means that if you swing by her place and see lines or crowds or no parking, you have to know we are here for us to get overflow business. And as far as I can tell, only a few dozen people know we’re here. My heart sinks anew. If we are going to stay, we have to figure out some way to at least get our name out there. I stop myself. Herman’s name. Get Herman’s name out there. After all, he’s right about the build; it could take a year, depending on what she is planning. Do I really think I will still be here in a year?
    Herman and I bake and bag the challahs, working in companionable silence, occasionally popping out to the front to deal with a customer. Whatever his bravado was with his son, with me Herman is still fairly quiet for most of the day, and when the skies darken around four p.m., he sends me home ahead of the storm, telling me that things will be very quiet in the rain and that I came in early and should get back so I don’t have to run home in the wet. And I have to say, I’m grateful for the release.
    When I come through the door, Snatch greets me with happybarking, resplendent in a new sweater I haven’t seen before, an ivory fisherman’s number with traditional cabling and design. He looks like a little roly-poly longshoreman in need of a black watch cap.
    â€œHello, sweet boy. Is this a new sweater? You are very handsome.”
    He yips in reply, and Bubbles appears in the hall, drying her hands on a dish towel.
    â€œHello, schnookie. How is Herman?”
    I head over and kiss her cheek. “He is doing great actually, not worried at all. Says that what MarySue does and what we do are so different we shouldn’t even think twice.”
    Bubbles nods. “And what do you think?”
    â€œI think that I hope he’s right.”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œBut he might not be. Right now we are the only game in town, so to speak. She’ll be bigger and brighter and newer and more up-to-date. I don’t think we’ll lose our devotees, but I can’t imagine how the doors are staying open now, let alone if we lose the people who use us more as ‘the only local option’ as opposed to ‘our favorite place.’”
    She nods thoughtfully. “Well, it is Herman’s place, so all you can do is what he needs.”
    â€œTrue enough. I see your compatriot here has a rugged new look.”
    We peer down at Snatch, who gives a little spin as if he is auditioning for
America’s Next Top Model
.
    â€œHe had one like it before, but there was an unfortunate dog park incident.”
    â€œI’m not even going to ask.”
    â€œProbably best.”
    I give the dog a head scratch and go upstairs to get my computer, the pug staying close at my heels. Herman might befeeling confident, but I still think my best play is to take advantage of my early dismissal to get out another round of job queries. I grab my laptop and get onto my bed. Snatch snuffles and snorts, doing his level best to join me, but the bed is tall and his vertical leap is roughly that of a small newt’s. In Bubbles’s room he has an elegant little staircase.
    â€œHey, fat boy. You wanna come up?”
    He snorts in agreement. I lean over and grab the sweater, using it as a sling to haul him up onto the bed. “Damn, dog, you are leaden.”
    Snatch sniffs around on the bed, finally plopping himself down next to me, resting his head on my knee, his warm weight a comfort.
    â€œOkay, buddy. What do you think? The Ritz-Carlton or the Peninsula?”
    He raises his smooshed little face and lets his tongue loll out the side.
    â€œYeah, okay. Both it is.” He puts his head back down on my