Calmed: HOW SWEET IT IS

Judy picked up her steaming cup of coffee, blew on it and set it back on the counter. The woman seated to her left gave her a disapproving look. The coffee cooled, became wishy washy tan before her sunny-side eggs/bacon on the side arrived. She asked the waitress for a coffee replacement and the toasted English muffin  PDQ., before the eggs got cold.

 

There were only six at the counter that holds twice that many. The early bird crowd had already left so service should have been good. It wasn’t. She put her fork into the hard yellow eyes that stared helplessly  at her, put the fork down and was about to walk out the revolving door when her waitress and the manager blocked her exit.
‘Miss, you forgot to pay your check,’ the manager more or less politely said. Judy calmly explained her reason, received an apology and was offered a free breakfast. Still huffy, she turned it down. Her aim had been to be at the Balmer Bank of Easton, just around the corner, when the door opened.

 

Several police officers who were lined across the street in a row were turning back all pedestrians.’‘What’s going on, Officer?’ she asked the one closest to her. He gave no answer. ‘Is the bank being robbed?’ No reply.’ Hell’, she muttered, turned, pushed her way thru the growing crowd and went back towards the diner, not bothering to look in.

 

Across the street was a Dobriner bakery. The smell of sugared petit fours and chocolate lady fingers tickled her nose, forced her to cross the busy street at the traffic light and open the door to the bakery. A young waitress, her hair in blond braids topped with a Dutch starched cap, smiled, seated Judy at one of the small wooden tables and offered her a menu. Not needing one, Judy asked for a steaming cup of their special Swiss hot chocolate with marshmallow topping and an eclair. Guilt almost gagged her. A vision of herself getting fatter and fatter didn’t stop her. The yearning, hunger for satisfaction had to be removed.

 

The eclair was served on a dainty white paper doily, warm chocolate sauce already enisleing it. Small frothy bubbles topped the hot chocolate. A taste of the eclair sent her half way to heaven. Anger, anger at the diner, the silent police, disappeared.

 

The waitress was clearing away the almost licked clean plate when someone gently tapped Judy on the arm. There beside her was a nice looking man wearing a tan tweed sport coat, rusty brown Italian knit blousey shirt and dark pleat less slacks. ‘Remember me?’ he asked. For a moment she didn’t and then she did, the manager that she had stiffed. ‘Yes, yes, I remember you but you are all dressed up and look different. What are you doing here? Who’s minding the careless dump?’ ‘Not I,’ said the manager. Today I had to open the place, set up the register, etc. etc. and now I am off the rest of the day thru the week-end. This place draws me like flies to sugar. At least once a week I treat myself to its delights and now there is an extra one here. I’m having a piece of Dobriner’s seven layer mousse cake. I’ve suggested to one of the bakers I know they should make it ten layers, raise the price. Customers would devour it and not mind the increase.’

 

Judy started to leave. ‘How about sharing a piece of that cake with me? I’ll give you four layers and I’ll take three. ‘ Regretfully she told him she couldn’t possibly eat more sweets. ‘Sure you can.’ He signaled for the waitress. Judy sat still. ‘By the way,’ he said. ‘My name is Joseph P. Randall. What’s yours?’  ‘Judy Bierfeld.’

 

Their seven layer cake arrived and disappeared slowly. Judy didn’t get to the bank until Monday.