Mark

“Son, I know you’re going to make a great lawyer. You’ll be next in line to carry on the family name. After all, we’re the founders of Dulver Springs. I’m so proud to call you my son, and what’s even better is you’ll have a job waiting for you when you get home. How about that?”

I let out a hard sigh, my hands shoved deep inside my Old Navy slacks as I move up the line, stressed out being the word of the month. It’s hard to lie to your family for so long. It takes a mental toll.

Agitated, I sink my fingers into the part of my neatly cropped hair, making sure the line in the middle is still there. Yep. I still look like a preppy lawyer-to-be. Technically, I am. I just haven’t completed the law school bit yet.

I roll my tight shoulders back, cricking my neck. Nice li’l place… Bright and airy, it’s still got that hometown, nostalgic air to it with vintage floral tablecloths and some weird little wildflowers in mason jars that Melody likes.

Interesting, but hey it’s my best friend’s kid sister. Whatever. Frowning, I think it through.

Why haven’t I come here already? The line dissolves and I get a little closer to seeing Melody’s face.

Oh, that’s right. She ran two years ago, and then you ran, and you pretty much don’t want any more reminders of Dulver Springs if you don’t have to have them.

I scoff lightly, scanning my eyes over the place, because it’s got Cramer—the other founders of Dulver Springs written all over it.

The good news is there’s a familiar burning aroma lingering in the air. Melody’s known for it back home, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s boosting my bruised and beaten ego just a little.

What’s a little ribbing gonna hurt? Clearly, she’s doing a better job than me with this line around the block.

I’ve come to check out my best friend’s kid sister’s cupcake shop. I’m curious… But the smell of burnt cupcakes is the perfect distraction to start my day.

Damn girl. You still burning them?

I can’t quite see her face yet, but I can hear her sweet little wholesome voice. It’s giving me these strange tingles, but I ignore them.

There are too many people in line, but as I keep trying to catch a glimpse, I spot the signage in the right hand corner.

Closing down sale? What?

She must have a bigger spot. I knew she would make it. Wow. The Cramers and their baking strike again.

Depression kicks in, the boulder shoulder knots burrowing their way in further, because now, I really feel like a disappointment, and this is going to be the classic moment of success meets failure.

Shit. Maybe, I should just turn right around and go back home. Where is that again?

I’m not staying in Boston. It’s over.

You’re gonna have to make up a story, Mark. You can’t do that. You’ve gotta go home for Founders’ Day to face everyone. She’s gotta go too.

“I can’t wait for you to be here for Founders Day. All the family will be together. You didn’t come last year, so it’s going to be a real treat!”

“Mom, you say that every year, and it’s just the same.”

“No, it’s not the same because my Marky Mark is coming home. Ooooh, I can’t wait to give you a big hug.”

“Mom…”

What? I can’t express my love for my son?”

“Yes. Yes you can. I’ll be there.”

“You’re father’s delighted. He’s telling everyone at the newspaper!”

I recall the painfully awkward conversation, hating that I’ve been sequestered to return home for Founders’ Day. It’s not going to be the “delight” they think it is when they find out I’ve dropped out of law school.

I don’t even know what I wanna do with my life, and here’s my best friend's kid sister—Melody—hitting the cupcake jackpot.

An impatient elderly lady with a bouquet of floral perfume that reeks like toilet spray drags me out of my whirlwind of thoughts.

“Why is this line so long?” I hear her ask, as I watch people with their large cardboard containers filled to the brim with colorful, yummy cupcakes exiting the store.

Well, they look good, and my mouth’s watering so she must not be doing too bad a job after all.

My eyebrows shoot up as the burnt crispy smell dissipates, replaced with a heavenly aroma of apple pie, cinnamon, oranges, and all these other blends of scents my nose enjoys.

Straining my ears, I hope to hear insider news of how she and her Cramer-transplant shop is going.

“It’s the last day that’s why. Normally this place is deader than that raccoon I killed last week on my back porch. They’re out now, you know. Little tiny-fingered bandits. Anywho, I’ve come to get my fill.”

Closing down? A wide smile spreads over my face. This is gonna be good. I shift up in the line with the golden oldies, tapping one of them on the shoulder for more information.

“Ah sorry ladies. Did I hear that right? Did you say this place is closing down? It’s not expanding?”

“Oh. Be still my beating heart. You are a handsome young man.” If only you knew ladies, you wouldn’t feel so good about this college dropout.

I smile sweetly at them both, remembering my small-town manners. “Thank you both. You look lovely today.”

“Yes, such a shame. Her recipes are really excellent. Business is tough.”

Oh, Melody Cramer, what a great day it is…actually.

I glance up to a tightly controlled, but cute little mouth, suspicious hazel eyes with spitfire blazing in them.

Wait. I don’t remember her like this.

I only saw Melody two years ago. She can’t have changed this much. More hips. Looks good on her. Longer chocolate brown hair in a ponytail with waves in it.

One hand perched on the curve of her 5’5” voluptuous frame with mild disgust on her face. A cute, crumpled up button nose. Flushed petunia cheeks, and I bet my last dollar if she could throw a cupcake right at my nose I’m sure she would opt-in.

Order in the court. Melody Cramer doesn’t look happy to see me, but I tell you what—I’m happy to see her.

“Hellllooo Melody. Long time no see. Cramer Delights, is it?” I snicker as the elderly ladies take their order, stepping to the side.

Melody swipes a tendril of hair out of her face, tilting her chin up. “That’s right Mark, Cramer Delights. What can I do for you?”

Chuckling under my breath, I watch her fingers drumming lightly on the counter, and I can’t resist a little teasing. Just enough for me to feel a little better. “Cramer Delights? You couldn’t think of a more original name?”

“Mark if you came here to—”

A loud, boisterous voice interrupts. “Hey! Mark, homey. What’s up?”

Uh-oh. I know that voice. Shut the hell up. I close my eyes, exhaling a breath. Don’t come near me.

“Bryson,” I grit my teeth, willing him away with daggers, but he’s not one to catch on too quick. In fact, he has no ability to read social cues whatsoever.

I stick out my hand for him to slap as a greeting. “Hey buddy! Sorry to hear about the law school dropout thing. The boys told me at drinks the other night. You’re going home, right? That umm”—he snaps his fingers and the temporary dose of fake confidence I had withers away—“wait a minute.” He turns sideways, his eyes squinted, trying to recall. “Don’t tell me! I’ll get it.”

He’s fucking up my game right now and a titter of giggles from Melody covering her mouth makes it ten times worse. Her shoulders are literally shaking with laughter.

“Dulver Springs,” I blurt. “It’s Dulver Springs, fuck!” I say angrily as he stares at me dumbfounded in shock as to why I might be mad at him.

Melody’s laughter gains exponential momentum, and I’m pretty sure she’s snorting.

Is she laugh-snorting at me right now?

I stand firmly, my shoulders drooping, but I trying to keep the exposure of my failure from coming to light.

“Boston Law School? Oh what? You thought you were gonna pass the bar?” she chimes in bravely, a glint in her sparkly hazel eyes.

Touché, Melody. Touché. We’re both Dulver Springs failures. I’m gonna need more than a cupcake. I’m gonna need a miracle…