Chapter 12

"I do hope we're not late," Emma said worriedly. Charlie was driving the car with Charles seated next to her and Emma in the backseat.

"We won't be late," Charlie assured her. She glanced over at Charles, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead of them. He had been unusually quiet all morning and Charlie was slightly concerned about this. She wondered what type of malicious plan he was devising in that cruel, eerie mind of his.

After driving in silence for a short amount of time, Charlie was startled to hear Charles speak at last. "Emma, I hope you don't mind. I was hoping that perhaps after we return from the baker's shop, I might have Charlie take me around the town for the afternoon. We have much catching up to do, you know."

"Oh no! I don't mind at all," Emma said cheerily. Charlie shifted her eyes towards him in a panic.

"No!" she said intensely. "That is… I don't think I can today, Uncle Charlie. I have to work on the wedding invitations and- well, with the wedding coming up, I don't know how I could possibly spare an afternoon."

"Why, Charlie!" Emma exclaimed. "Your uncle came all the way to Santa Rosa and you can't even spare a few hours for him?"

Charlie stared ahead of her, not sure of how to respond. "Well, I'm sorry, Mother, but-"

"Don't apologize to me, dear," Emma replied. "I can take care of the invitations today. And you'll have all day tomorrow to work on them as well. I don't think you have any plans tomorrow, do you?"

"No, not exactly…" Charlie said quietly. "But still, I don't think that today is-"

"Don't worry, Charlie," Charles interjected with a disconcerting smile on his lips. "If you want to work on your invitations today, by all means do so."

Charlie glanced at him, quite positive that his smile signified that he was hiding something from her. "All right… Thank you very much."

"I'm sure if you did have free time this afternoon, you'd rather spend it with your fiancé anyway," Charles said, still smiling. She pretended that he had not spoken and continued driving.

At last they arrived at the baker's shop. Jack was already there and of course was not particularly pleased when he saw who had decided to accompany Charlie and Emma.

"We meet again, Mr. Oakley," he said. Though he grinned, his tone was somewhat less than enthusiastic. Charles gave him a slight nod and turned his eyes towards a short, older woman who was approaching them.

"Hello, Mrs. Newton!" the woman exclaimed, smiling brightly at Emma.

"Mrs. Lincoln! I can't thank you enough for doing this for my dear Charlie," Emma said, pulling Charlie towards her.

"Yes, thank you very much," Charlie said, trying to mask her distressed tone with cheeriness.

"I'm more than happy to help you, my dear," Mrs. Lincoln replied. "And who have you brought with you?" She was now looking at Charles, whose eyes had been fixed on her ever since they arrived.

"This is my brother, Charles Oakley," Emma replied. Charles removed his hat, smiling with his usual element of charm.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Oakley," Mrs. Lincoln said with a slight giggle. Charlie tried to suppress a sigh. She couldn't understand what it was that caused so many older women to fawn on him. Obviously it was due to his charming nature, but nevertheless she wished it could be different for obvious reasons. "Anyway, if you'd all come with me to the kitchen, I'll have you try several of my best choices." She led all four of them to the kitchen, where the counters were lined with tall plump cakes, gushing with icing of various colors. "Here we have white cakes… Chocolate cakes… red velvet… cinnamon… and of course maple cake, but I'm sure you wouldn't want that for a wedding cake."

Charlie glanced at several of the scrumptious desserts, not entirely certain of which to choose. "Ma'am, would it be possible for us to try samples?" she asked politely.

"Of course, my dear! That's why I wanted to have you today." Charlie continued to eye the cakes, not even noticing the fact that Charles was standing directly behind her.

"You should try the maple cake," he said quietly in her ear, causing her to jump.

She didn't reply but quickly moved a little further from him. "Really! Who would have a maple wedding cake? Shouldn't I have white or chocolate?"

"Well, that would be what the average bride and groom might choose," he replied, cutting off a small sliver of maple cake and placing it on a plate before her. "But I doubt you're the average bride. I won't comment on the groom, however." As he said this, he noticed Jack approaching them.

"Charlie," Jack said, a plate of chocolate cake in his hand. "I think the chocolate would be best. Don't you?"

Charlie picked up a fork and took a small bite of chocolate cake from his plate. It was quite delicious. As delicious as an average chocolate cake should be. "Charlie," Charles called, once again standing directly behind her. She turned to him reluctantly and found him holding out the plate of maple cake. "Try this type. I'm certain that you'll love it." After a moment of hesitation, she lifted her fork and stabbed the smallest amount of cake from his plate. As the soft, sugary dough melted on her tongue, she couldn't help but smile. It was definitely superior to any dessert she had tried yet. It was far from average, to be sure. "Well?" Charles asked quietly. She forced the smile off her mouth and turned back to Jack, who was watching her with discontentment.

"Surely chocolate would be more appropriate for a wedding cake, Charlie," he said rather forcefully.

"Come, Charlie. Do you really care about what's 'appropriate'?" Charles asked, well aware that she would not be able to disagree with him. "It's your wedding, after all. Shouldn't you be happy with it?"

"Think of the guests, Charlie," Jack said, lifting the chocolate cake closer to her. "Here. Try this one again."

"Think of yourself, Charlie," Charles said. "Who will remember this cake in fifty years- your guests or you? And wouldn't it be delightful to stand out as being the bride who served maple cake at her wedding, rather than the average chocolate or white cake?"

"Nothing's wrong with being average," Jack said, clearly becoming annoyed.

"No, not for some people," Charles replied, staring at him intensely. "But Charlie is hardly an average girl."

"Really," Emma interrupted. "I… think we're all taking this perhaps a little too seriously. After all, it's just a cake, isn't it?"

"Well, Charlie?" Jack asked, staring at her intensely. She stared back at him and eventually glanced up at Charles, who clearly had no intention of making any further comments on the subject.

"Well, as Mother said… It's not really something to take so seriously. It's just a cake… Perhaps… for the guests' sakes…. I'll just go with the…" She found herself looking up towards Charles, who had a judgmental expression on his face. She frowned deeply at this. Why did he feel that he had the right to judge her after all that he had done? "Chocolate," she said at last, with a tone of defiance in her voice as she stared at her uncle. If nothing else, she at least knew that Jack would be pleased. This was one source of relief for her. Charles subtly shook his head, placed his hands in his pockets, and casually strolled towards the other side of the kitchen. She had wanted to agitate him and prove that he no longer had any control over her. Yet, if this were the case, why did his disapproval still leave her with such a miserable feeling?

She stood near Mrs. Lincoln as she wrote down Charlie's order, continually glancing towards Charles, who still was distancing himself from the rest of the group. Jack had had the same idiotic grin on his face for the past five minutes and Charlie was beginning to feel exasperated by it. "Jack…" she said at last. "Could you… go out to our car? I'm feeling a little chilly and would like my jacket, if you wouldn't mind." Eager to please her, Jack passed by Charles triumphantly and exited the kitchen.

As Mrs. Lincoln wrote, Charlie noticed her constantly glancing up at Charles with a bright grin on her face. Charlie couldn't help but feel a little awkward witnessing this. At last Mrs. Lincoln spoke in a low whisper. "It's nice that your uncle came with you today, Charlie."

Charlie hardly wished to respond, but was obligated to do so. "Yes, of course it was."

"Where's he from?" Mrs. Lincoln asked, still watching him.

"He lives in the east. He hardly ever stays in one spot for very long," Charlie replied quietly.

"Such a nice, charming gentleman! You don't see very many of those!"

Charlie hesitated before replying. "Yes, he definitely has his charm."

"And of course…" Now Mrs. Lincoln was speaking in such a quiet whisper Charlie herself had a hard time hearing her. "He's quite a handsome fellow." Charlie definitely did not wish to respond to this, but Mrs. Lincoln would not allow her to avoid it. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Charlie glanced towards him, not meaning to stare, but finding it difficult not to do so. As soon as his eyes met her own, she turned her head back towards Mrs. Lincoln. "He's… without doubt… One of the handsomest men I have ever seen." Charlie could hardly believe that she had said this. She certainly never meant to sound quite so enthusiastic about it and was slightly worried that her tone had raised when she spoke. She glanced towards him once again to see if he had heard her, but he was still looking over the various cakes, quite oblivious to their secret conversation.

"Yes," Mrs. Lincoln said, no longer bothering to pretend that she was writing. "It's a shame that you don't look a thing like him." Charlie raised her eyebrows in shock. "Oh!" Mrs. Lincoln exclaimed. "Dear! I didn't- I didn't mean it like that! Oh, I misspoke. You're quite a pretty little thing to be sure. It's just that I'm surprised-" Before she continued, she checked her volume. "I'm surprised that you don't look anything like your uncle. Generally family characteristics can be seen throughout generations. You look quite similar to your mother but… I don't know. Your uncle doesn't really look a thing like any of you." Charlie found herself staring at him once again. She had never noticed this before, but was quite surprised to see that what Mrs. Lincoln said was rather accurate. Before this conversation could continue, Jack reentered the kitchen with Charlie's jacket.

"Here you are, dear," he said, attempting to help her into it.

"Really, Jack!" she snapped, taking the jacket away. She could tell from his expression that her irritability had startled him. "I mean… I'm sorry. But I think I can put the jacket on by myself."

After several minutes, the four of them made their way out of the baker's shop and strolled towards their separate vehicles.

"Oh, Charlie, before I forget," Jack said, crossing towards her. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to see you tomorrow. I'm being called away to San Diego for a few days. They won't tell me exactly what's happening, but apparently an old case is being reopened and I've been asked to look into it. I tried desperately to get out of it." At this, he glanced coldly towards Charles. "But for some reason they're insisting that I come. I'm afraid I can't escape this time."

"That's all right," Charlie said indifferently. "I'll see you in a few days then."

Jack smiled and leaned in to kiss her. But as always, as though it had become a matter of habit, she turned her cheek towards him. He pecked it briefly, waved to the others, giving Charles one last negative glance, and made his way to his car. Charlie noticed for the first time that Charles had started to smile. It was the same malicious smile that he had used the night before when he was taunting her in her bedroom. She let out a small groan of embarrassment, wishing for the first time in her life, that she had just gotten up the nerve to kiss Jack right then and there in front of that cruel, smiling agitator. But that would be a rather ridiculous thing to do simply to prove a point.

They all got into the car and Charlie drove towards the house. No one spoke a word the entire ride, until they pulled into the drive way and Charlie put the car in park. Then, Charles turned towards the backseat to speak to Emma.

"I have an idea," he said pleasantly. "You two should work on the invitations today. Get as many finished as you like. I promise I won't bother you." Charlie would have been relieved, but somehow she knew that there must be a catch. "But…" he continued. Charlie closed her eyes in dread. Her suspicions had been correct. "Tomorrow, since Charlie has nothing better to do, I think I'd like to take her on an outing. A day trip, if you will. Her fiancé won't be here to distract her and since the wedding won't require much of her time, I think it would be the opportune day for us to catch up."

"Oh! That sounds lovely! Doesn't it Charlie?" Emma was so pleased with the idea, that she didn't even notice the look of abject horror on Charlie's face.

"Well, Charlie? Isn't it lovely?" he asked tauntingly. "Of course, we wouldn't have done anything quite so time-consuming or extravagant had you agreed to go with me today…"

"That's just marvelous, Charles!" Emma stated. "If you had agreed to go out today, Charlie, you wouldn't have been able to spend nearly as much time together. Now you'll have an entire day!"

"She's right, Charlie," he added, still smiling mockingly.

At last, Charlie found her tongue. "I… I don't know."

"What's wrong now?" Emma asked, surprisingly impatient with her daughter. "Charlie, if you keep making excuses as to why you can't associate with him, your uncle is bound to think that you don't even want to see him!"

"My feelings will be terribly crushed if you deny me this outing," Charles said, knowing that she was quite trapped now. Charlie sat in the driver's seat, turning from her uncle to her mother, both of whom were quite set against her happiness.

"Fine," she said at last. "If it's really that important to both of you."

Emma smiled merrily, climbing out of the car. "Come, Charlie. We'll do as much today as we can in preparation for the wedding. That way you won't have to worry at all tomorrow. You can just enjoy your day with your favorite uncle!"

The other two stalled a bit while Emma entered the house, not even noticing that they were no longer following her. Once she was out of sight, Charlie turned to her uncle defiantly.

"What is this? Some kind of punishment for not choosing your favorite type of cake?"

"Why would you say that?" Charles asked innocently. "Do you think of spending the day with me as a 'punishment'?" His voice was filled with artificial pain. They were interrupted by the arrival of her younger sister, who was strolling around the corner of the house, a book in hand.

"For heaven's sake, keep your voice down."

"She's enraptured in a novel. I doubt she cares to listen to us," he replied irritably.

"I don't know." Charlie eyed Ann suspiciously. "I'm never quite sure just what she 'cares to hear'."

"What do you want me to tell you, Charlie?" he asked impatiently.

"Nothing!" she whispered threateningly, glancing from him to Ann, who still hadn't looked up from her book. Charlie stood by the car for a moment staring pensively at the ground. "We'll continue this conversation later," she said at last, crossing towards the backstairs to the house.

"I never doubted it," he replied, smiling dryly. At this, he walked towards the front porch and entered the house, slamming the door behind him.