chapter 1

Roxy was drawn towards the bake sale for Saint Sergius Church by the smell of good dark chocolate, but stayed there because of the sadness in redhead’s smile.

It wasn’t the smile of a woman who thought she was sad, of course. The lady had probably convinced herself she was happy just as thoroughly as she’d convinced the rest of the church vestry or the PTA or the Homeowner’s Association, although she probably wasn’t cruel enough to be in that last one. No, this was the sad smile of somebody who stayed late at work and still did all the chores afterwards, and was pathetically grateful whenever her man did the dishes or swept the floor, and went on that night to set up her volunteer schedule because she was trying to fill a void that she didn’t even realize was there.

Roxy forked over twenty dollars and downed the tray of mediocre lemon bars without looking away. She acknowledged the gratitude of the nice old lady with a thumbs up, warmth and cold spreading through her in equal measure.

The redhead wore cheap purple sunglasses, her hair in a fetching braid set with a single blue ribbon, and a yellow-green swirl-patterned sundress that said she was keeping up appearances even though she had long given up on trying to win any affection by dressing nice. Although her eyes were hidden, there was just a little dryness of the skin under them where it cracked, a road dug by many unobserved tears, something that enough foundation and contouring for men to think she “looked pretty without makeup” couldn’t completely obscure. Her hands were slender and strong, and of course, set with a ring. It was a plain ring, thin gold set with a single diamond big enough to be flashy but not chosen for a flattering cut or a strong color, cold as a wall.

Gravity always had a very strong tug on Roxy, with the ass that her favorite ex had described as “dump-truck”, the belly that one of her bad exes had described as “big enough for two ugly men”, ham-shaped upper arms and thighs with just a sheet of fat over well-earned muscle. Now this sad, smiling housewife had developed a gravity all her own, because it pulled Roxy past the table of triple-chocolate delights and tipsy puddings. The weight of this woman, who couldn’t be more than 180 pounds, rolled her feet along the curvature of the earth. It was so powerful that, for the first time in her adult life, she walked past a display of cupcakes without grabbing a free sample. They were good cupcakes, too, with buttercream frosting and no fondant, even though they were gluten-free. Roxy’s stomach growled, and finally she tore her eyes away from this lonely married woman to the selection of her desserts.

“Can I help you?” the woman said, pausing to raise her sunglasses. For a moment, those green eyes sparkled with excitement, before she stomped it down inside. “I mean, do you want anything? Do any of my goods interest you?”

Roxy bit her tongue. The heat in her heart raced upwards to her cheek and down to another spot.

“Maybe,” she said, managing to keep a poker face. She reminded herself that she wasn’t a home-wrecker, despite what her 3rd-least favorite ex said, and she was reading a lot into a sad little smile that might just be gas anyway. “What have you got here?”

“Well, I’ve got some rainbow-frosted lemon bars, brandy pillows made with local organic cognac, keto-friendly peanut butter cookies, galaxy-frosted vanilla brookies and these little things I made up called lavender-blueberry delights,” she said, her eyes sparkling and her hands almost flapping with excitement. “I grew the blueberries and lavender myself, and they have little hearts made out of candied—oh, sorry!” she squeaked, and set her hands on the table. “I really ramble on about this stuff. Don’t mind me!” She let out a hopeless little laugh.

“No, please, go on!” Roxy said, wiping the drool from her chin. It wasn’t just that they looked like little works of art, or that they smelled delicious, but the way she talked about them made them sound even better.

“Oh don’t encourage me,” she chuckled. She kept her hands pinned to the table as if afraid they’d run off.

“Hey, this is a bake sale! I want to hear about the stuff I’m going to buy, even if it’s for a good cause. I’ve had to force down enough pretty-looking but barely-edible sugar cookies and chalky labia-shaped chocolates to support community centers and PFLAG chapters.” She bit her lip. Classic oversharing.

“Aw, that’s good of you,” the woman said, putting a gentle hand over Roxy’s, “but I promise I won’t subject you to anything like that. Tell you what, I’ll give you one, and you decide after you taste if it’s worth paying for.”

Before she could say anything, the redhead picked up one of the lemon bars. It smelled of fresh citrus with a hint of orange blossom, and rich buttercream frosting, and the colors were perfectly blended, with equal space given to each of the seven hues. Those agile fingers slid it into her gaping mouth, and the sugary tartness nearly brought Roxy to her knees. There was no acidic edge, no cloying excess, just sweet and sour carefully balanced with the love and attention of a devoted artist. Her fingers lingered at Roxy’s lips, sweet and bitter with frosting and flower.

The woman snatched her hand back, guiltily, while Roxy remembered how to chew and breathe at the same time.

“What do you think?”

Roxy swallowed.

“I’ll take all of them.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’d be glad to make the sale, but they’re five dollars each, and I’d hate to--”

“I’ll take all of them,” Roxy said, firmly, slamming her black leather wallet down on the table. “They’re worth ten dollars each, but I don’t think I can argue you down to that. And I’ll take five each of the other things, except for the Blueberry-Lavender whatevers, I’ll take twelve of those.”

She forked out the tips she got from last night and the cash that greasy guy had given her for punching him in the face.

Roxy at the entire tray of lemon bars, one after the other, right there at the table. The woman started fanning herself in the May heat.
“I’m Roxy, Roxy Falls by the way,” she said, putting out a hand to shake. The redhead’s grip was surprisingly firm.

“I’m Judy,” Judy said. She looked like she wanted to say more, but a family of six came up. Roxy didn’t want to be a bother, so she hurried on. After all, she’d finally found somebody somebody other than unicorn hunters or old ex-girlfriends on that new dating app, and she’d have to clean up after she finished these treats.