More Than Words

“You’re going to burn your hand.” Violet, co-owner of the bakery and Ivy’s cousin, flipped her chocolate-colored braid over her shoulder. Violet’s white capri pants were still pristine, despite sitting at a picnic table in the backyard outside Sugar Babies.

“Band-Aids, first-aid ointment, and aloe are in the basket,” shot out the redhead brandishing the margarita pitcher. Kennedy Lowell, the bakery’s third partner, had insisted only tequila would go with sparklers. “Jilly? Margarita?”

“Just a half,” murmured Jilly Martin. Jilly helped Ivy in the kitchen while Roxie handled mostly front-of-the-store business.

Working at Sugar Babies and with these women, Roxie reminded herself, was amazing. Before the bakery, her job as an assistant at Trident Records had nearly killed her creative spirit. But when a really bad day had turned into a job at Sugar Babies, she’d thought she could just get back to that part of her life. Roxie dumped her dead sparkler into a water-filled mason jar in the middle of the table.

Ivy lit a fresh sparkler and handed it off to Roxie. She took the fire-spitting stick and twirled it in the air, writing out a giant R in the darkened Nashville night. Despite the music and nightlife a few streets away on Broadway, it was fairly quiet on Hale Street. They’d closed the shop hours ago, but the five of them had stayed late working on catering plans for a Labor Day weekend event. After two hours, Ivy had dragged them outside, declaring they should have some fun on a Saturday night. Using her other hand, Roxie lifted a wineglass hand-painted with dragonflies and enjoyed the tart hit of margarita.

“I think we should have a party.” Violet slid the words in as smoothly as frosting on a cake.

“Not another one.” Kennedy sat down on the bench next to Violet. “Can’t a girl just live in jean shorts for a while?”

Violet nudged Kennedy with her shoulder. “Not a formal party, but kind of a block party. Something that all the people on Hale Street can attend.”

Kennedy’s hazel eyes narrowed. “I smell a theme.”

“Fiesta!” Ivy raised her own margarita, this one in a glass covered in cupcakes.

At Ivy’s enthusiasm, Jilly gave a small smile. Jilly had loosened up a bit in the month since she’d started, but she was still careful with all of them. Roxie was dying to ask her why she dressed in oversized clothes with her gorgeous hair in a perma-ponytail. As Jilly was sister to a country star with three Top 40 albums, Roxie would have thought she would have more polish. Or wear rhinestones. Or cowboy boots. Hmmm. There was a song in there somewhere.

“We’ve already done a fiesta,” grumbled Kennedy. “There’s no way we’re going to beat Nick in a mariachi suit.”

Ivy laughed even as Violet shook her head. “No themes necessary. Something like a potluck, getting to know each other.”

“Business owners only?” asked Kennedy.

“Nope. Everyone. Owners, employees, residents. I’m thinking we might close the street down between Peach and Wentworth Boulevard.”

“Frank should bring his blueberry pie,” breathed Ivy.

Since her neighbor had been on her mind since Roxie’s aborted attempt at writing, she had a thought. “Have you considered what Lurlene might bring to a potluck?”

The table went absolutely silent.

“Bacon-wrapped grasshoppers,” muttered Ivy.

“Arsenic-laced spinach dip,” put in Kennedy.

“She’ll be fine,” said Violet. “We’ll give her guidelines.”

“She’ll bring a very, very nice turtledove casserole,” said Jilly.

The four of them stared at Jilly for a minute before descending into laughter again at the brunette’s spot-on impression of Lurlene.

“Poor Snowball,” said Kennedy. “I wonder what she feeds him.”

“Poor Snowball my rear end,” blurted out Roxie. “That ferret is mean as a snake to everyone but Lurlene. Has he ever hissed at you? Gave me bad dreams for a week.”

“I wonder what Lurlene dreams about,” mused Ivy.

“Oh, no,” muttered Kennedy to Violet. “I think the tequila is getting to her.”

“No, really.” Ivy reached to the center of the table and grabbed a tortilla chip. Then she passed one to Jilly on her left. “I mean, we all have dreams. What’s Lurlene’s dream?”

“I shudder to think what Lurlene might dream of.” Kennedy wiggled her shoulders.

“Too trippy to think about.” Violet ran her fingers over her braid. “These days I dream about cupcakes and profit margins.”

“And Nick,” put in Ivy.

“And Nick,” agreed Violet. “What do you dream about, Gypsy Chick?”

Ivy tossed her blond hair over one shoulder with a ring-bedecked hand. “There’s a tiramisu cupcake I’ve been trying to get right, so mostly I dream about mascarpone.”

“Ivy,” warned Violet.

“Okay, okay.” Ivy took a deep breath. “I want to redo the Dragonfly Lake house.”

Violet blinked and then blinked again as a clear sheen of tears filled her eyes. “Ooh, Ivy.”

“Don’t cry, Vi.” Ivy waved a hand. “Or you’ll start me too.”

“Hell.” Kennedy looked up toward the night sky and blinked three times in quick succession.

“Just some updates.” Ivy took a deep breath. “Maybe an addition so my family can come any time they want.”

“Do you think Aunt Margie and Uncle Johnny will use it?” asked Violet.

“No. I meant you guys.” Ivy squeaked as Violet rushed around the table and gave her a hug. She rolled her eyes at Roxie, but Roxie could see how Ivy loved her cousin. Ivy looked at Kennedy. “Before this descends into a crying fest, how about you, Ken? What dreams do you have these days?”

“Besides world domination, you mean?” Kennedy smiled wide, still blinking moisture from her eyes. “I’d like to get a companion for Rebel. And get Hale Street on a list of top places to shop and spend time in Nashville.”

“Are you trying to distract me with a kitten?” Violet teased.

“Maybe a fluffy orange one.” Kennedy ducked her head and her cinnamon-colored hair swung forward. “Or a white one.”

“Definitely going with distraction.” Ivy sipped from her glass. “How about you Jilly?”

The tortilla chip in Jilly’s hand split in two with a snap. It was a moment before she answered, “Working for you guys is a dream. What else could I want?”

“A fluffy kitty?” suggested Kennedy.

Jilly’s gold-and-green eyes fluttered down for a moment before she smiled, lips together, cheeks forced upward. “I’m not sure I’m kitty material. What about your dream, Roxie?”

Roxie blew her bangs out of her eyes and noticed she needed to refresh the blue streaks in her hair. “Well, if world domination is already taken, I’m thinking that I’d try to work on a cupcake that actually burns calories. The more you eat, the more you lose!”

The rest of the girls laughed, willing to go along to smooth things over for Jilly.

“Next project: Negative-calorie cupcakes. Check.” Ivy bumped her shoulder against

Roxie’s. “Now tell us for real.”

She’d told the girls about her writing once, but it wasn’t something she talked about much. It was too personal. Tonight, though, the girl time and the tequila had made her brave enough to say it out loud. “I want to get back to writing lyrics. Something that makes people say, ‘Yes, I feel like that too’ or stop and catch their breath or push through whatever crap-tastic thing they’re going through.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Violet’s blue eyes once again glittered with unshed tears. “What can we do to help?”

The sincerity in Violet’s voice made a lump rise in Roxie’s throat. Who had ever asked her that before? Wanted her to nurture her dream? Sure, her parents had said they supported her, cheered when she’d sold the cat food jingle, but when no further offers came, when the disappointment continued, they wanted her to work on her backup plan. A backup plan that had morphed until there hadn’t been room for writing songs.

Until she’d gotten fired. She shifted her shoulders at the memory. Not her favorite day. Without permission, her brain flashed on a pair of intense blue eyes, inky dark hair, and a masculine jaw. She’d had a strong attraction to the man. Before he turned out to be a jerk. She shook off the memory and reminded herself things had worked out. “Nothing,” she finally said in answer to Violet’s question.

“There’s got to be something,” Violet prodded. “Fewer bakery hours? You can work on songs during downtime.”

“Thanks, Violet, but that’s not it,” Roxie answered.

“So what is it?” Kennedy asked.

She thought about her recent efforts, balled up on yellow paper and sitting in a trash can. And Lurlene banging on her door. “Can you get rid of Lurlene?”

“You bet,” answered Ivy instantly.

Violet glared at her cousin.

Roxie laughed and then explained. “She interrupts me more often than not. And when she doesn’t, I look around at my apartment and think about the laundry I should be doing.”

“You need a space,” said Ivy, “where you can let your creativity loose.”

“Renting space gets expensive.” Roxie didn’t mention that, even though she loved what she was doing with Sugar Babies, it wasn’t quite the salary she’d made working for Trident. Sure, she saved money on the bus fare every day, and not having to deal with her former boss, a Christian Grey wannabe, was definitely a bonus, but she still had to be careful with her spending. She had a healthy nest egg put away, but she wanted to avoid dipping into it.

“There’s probably a room somewhere in that beast of a hotel of Burke’s,” Ivy put in.

“I’m sure he’d be willing to let you use one of them.”

Roxie’s shoulders tensed at the thought of asking Burke for a favor. “Thanks, Ivy, but I don’t think a conference room is what I need.”

“Joey is on the road a lot,” said Jilly. “You could use her room if you wanted.”

Roxie started to throw her arm around Jilly, her Italian genes surging to the surface in affection, but she didn’t think Jilly would handle that well. Instead, she patted her hand. Jilly froze but didn’t remove her hand from under Roxie’s. “Jilly, you’re a peach. But I’m not sure that will work either.”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Violet.

“Uh-oh,” said Kennedy. “You’re in for it now.”

“Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?” Violet asked Roxie.

“Sunday is my weekly visit to my folks’ for dinner, but after about three o’clock, I’m free.”

“Cool.” Violet smiled widely and raised her glass in a toast toward Roxie. “Meet me here at 3:15 and wear tennis shoes.”