“The movie wasn’t bad,” he remarked as the cab headed down Broadway, dodging cars with the flair of a stunt driver on a slalom course. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do for Bloom’s, but the allegory worked.”

  “What allegory?”

  “Stone Soup. Bloom’s Soup. You take nothing, add good food to it and wind up with something. You take a situation where people don’t realize what they have, and you give them exactly what they have, and they realize what they have is actually valuable.”

  “You saw that in the movie?”

  “It was all there,” he said.

  She pondered his analysis. Maybe it was all there. She just hadn’t been searching for it. She’d been too busy thinking she appeared pale, or worrying that Linus was upstaging her—hell, she’d been upstaged by the collapsing cabin. She’d been upstaged by a potato field. Preoccupied by how well she was coming across, she’d forgotten to pay attention to the overall theme.

  “I don’t think my sister wanted an allegory.”

  “She can work it out with Rick. It’s not your problem.”

  That much was true. Her problem was that Casey had abducted her and was dragging her downtown to his store. Her bigger problem was that sitting in the cab’s rear seat with him turned her on, and he didn’t love her anymore.

  The cab dropped them off at Avenue B and Fourth. Casey paid while Susie stood on the corner, arms folded and gaze deliberately angled across the street so she wouldn’t see the Casey’s Gourmet Breads sign. Once the cab pulled back into the traffic flow, Casey clamped his hand over Susie’s shoulder and propelled her along the sidewalk to his store. The sun glared off the front panes, making it impossible to see inside.

  He unlocked the door and urged her in ahead of him. The place smelled like flour and dust and disinfectant, not a bad smell but not as good as it would smell once the place was filled with fresh loaves and rolls. She briefly took in the shelves, the display cases, the front counter and the industrial ovens in back, and then Casey rotated her to face Linus.

  The six-foot lobster stood front and center, his claws outstretched, a chef’s toque perched on his shell head, drooping slightly over one antenna, and a linen apron tied around his midsection. The apron’s bib featured the same writing as Casey’s T-shirt. “What do you think?” Casey asked.

  She wasn’t sure what she thought—other than that Linus looked kind of cute in a chef’s toque and apron.

  She shifted her gaze from the lobster to survey the store again. The cash register appeared old—Casey would need to replace it with an electronic one that could handle credit cards. The linoleum floor had been washed enough times to imply that whatever scuffs and stains remained embedded in its surface were permanent. The shelves were attractive, though—polished hardwood. Matching hardwood bins lined the front of the counter, beneath which was a glass showcase.

  She turned back to Linus. God, he seemed perfect standing there in his baker’s costume.

  “This is good,” she said, gesturing toward Linus. “He didn’t really match your apartment’s decor, either.”

  “You don’t mind my using him here?”

  “Why should I mind? I gave him to you. He’s yours.”

  “He just seems…I don’t know. At home here. Like he belongs.”

  Susie nodded. Linus looked the way she wanted to feel: at home here. Like she belonged.

  She realized that Casey hadn’t removed his hand from her shoulder. Instead, he tightened his grip and turned her to face him. “Look, Susie—”

  “The other night…” Her words tumbled on top of his, and she silenced herself.

  “The other night?…”

  “No—you go first.”

  “No, you.”

  She sighed. “The other night, I went to your apartment because—well, like I said, I had some insights. Also, I had the van for the night, because Truck-a-Buck didn’t open until 8:00 a.m. so I couldn’t return it, and I couldn’t find a parking space, so I figured, what the hell.”

  Casey nodded, as if this all made perfect sense.

  “But I know you’ve gotten on with your life—as you should.” Her voice wavered slightly and she swallowed. Being a grown-up entailed taking grown-up positions on things, making grown-up pronouncements, accepting grown-up conclusions. “I mean, opening your own business. Leaving Bloom’s. Everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Don’t make me say it,” she snapped, then went ahead and said it. “You’re seeing someone. I don’t blame you. She’s gorgeous.”

  Something flickered in his expression, but with only the afternoon sunlight slanting through the front windows to illuminate his face, Susie couldn’t interpret it.

  “All right,” she continued bravely. “I don’t want to be bitchy, but she’s got the most awful laugh I’ve ever heard. Other than that—”

  “She likes bad knock-knock jokes, too,” Casey told her.

  Was he going to give Susie a complete inventory of the woman’s pluses and minuses? “It’s your choice, Casey. You want bad knock-knock jokes in your life?”

  “No.” His hand relented on her shoulder, his fingers curving gently. “I don’t want bad knock-knock jokes in my life. I don’t even want good knock-knock jokes in my life.”

  “I suggest you take that up with her,” Susie said, feeling enormously grown-up.

  “There’s nothing going on between Eva and me,” he said. “LaShonna tried to set us up, but it didn’t click. At least not for me.”

  “Because of the knock-knock jokes?”

  “And because I didn’t want to have to start wearing condoms again.”

  Susie jabbed him in the stomach. He recoiled slightly, but laughed. Evidently, her best poke felt like a tickle. In a kickboxing bout, Linus would win before the first round ended.

  Susie didn’t mind her lack of boxing potential. She was too delighted to learn that Casey hadn’t slept with Halle. Or Eva, if that was her name. It hadn’t clicked for him.

  Hope gave her courage. “I love you, Casey,” she said. “I don’t want to get married—I mean, not yet. Marriage seems so…adult.” She could be only so grown-up, after all. “But if that’s what it takes, I’m willing to try.”

  “You’re willing to try marriage? What does that mean? You’ll give it a three-month run and then decide whether to renew?”

  She poked him again. “Come on, Casey! I’m laying everything bare here, and you’re giving me shit.”

  He pulled her close, so close she could no longer poke him. “I wish you would lay everything bare,” he murmured before hitting her with one of his nuclear-powered kisses—his lips, his tongue, his arms closing tight around her, his body spreading its heat to her, his hands cradling her hips just the way she loved it. “But there’s too much window glass,” he groaned after breaking the kiss and dragging a ragged breath into his lungs. “Besides, my father’ll be here soon. He’s putting in some new outlets for me and making sure the wiring can handle updated equipment.” He brushed a lighter kiss on her mouth, then pulled back and peered into her eyes, as if searching for her soul. “I love you, too, Susie. Let’s not get married.”

  “Really?” Joy spiraled through her. “You don’t want to marry me?”

  “I tried that route and you disappeared.”

  “I don’t want to disappear. I realized while I was away that I like home. I mean, home is important. It’s essential. I wrote a long, wonderful poem about it. This is my home. This city. This neighborhood.” And your arms are my home, she thought, but saying that would be way too corny.

  “Yeah.” Casey glanced toward the front windows, then turned back to her. “Speaking of this neighborhood, I’m thinking of finding a place to live around here. I’ll have to be in the shop by 4:00 a.m. to get the ovens up and running. Commuting in from Queens would be a pain in the ass. You know of any apartments in the area?”

  “Mine isn’t big enough, plus Anna and Caitlin live there.”

  “I was thinking of my own place. Close to yours, so you could drop by without having to rent a van and not find a parking space, or whatever.”

  “I could drop by a lot,” Susie suggested. Now that he’d taken marriage off the table, she yearned to put something back on the table. “Like, often enough to keep a toothbrush by your sink. If that was okay with you, of course,” she added, aware that when he’d withdrawn the marriage proposal he might have been negating the whole living-together idea.

  “Yeah.” He nodded and gave her a lazy, bedroom-eyed smile. “Yeah, I’d really like to have your toothbrush by my sink.”

  A tap of metal against glass caught their attention. On the other side of the glass front door stood a tall, silver-blond-haired man who resembled a slightly beefier, older version of Casey. Casey opened it and the man entered. “Wow! Nice place!” He peered around. “I think you’re nuts, but when has that ever stopped you? What the heck is that? A lobster?”

  “Yes.” Apparently, Casey saw no need to explain. “Dad, this is Susie Bloom. Susie, my father, Keenan Gordon.”

  “Hey, Mr. Gordon.” Meeting Casey’s father seemed almost as serious as getting married. Susie felt exceedingly mature as she extended her hand.

  “Susie Bloom, huh?” Casey’s father shook her hand, then tossed Casey a glance. “The ex-boss’s daughter, right?” he whispered, although she had no trouble hearing him.

  “The ex-boss’s sister,” Casey corrected him. “How did the audit go?”

  “Great,” his father said. “An hour and a half for the whole thing. And when it was done, they said they owed me twenty-five bucks and change. Can you believe it? They owed me.”

  “That’s terrific, Dad.”

  “I didn’t tell them about the circuit breakers I sold to Jimmy Benedetti,” he confided.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Mr. Gordon turned back to Susie. “So, Casey, is Susie going to help us set this place up?”

  “I hope so,” Casey said, including Susie in his gaze.

  “Just tell me what you want me to do,” she said, then winked at Casey. “And maybe I’ll do it.”

  Bloom’s Bulletin

  Written and edited by

  Susie Bloom

  In search of connubial bliss

  Bloom’s president found happiness.

  Our own Julia Bloom

  And her wonderful groom

  Sealed their vows with a passionate kiss.

  (So when can we hope for a bris?)

  Welcome to the October 7 edition of the Bloom’s Bulletin. In the spring a man’s fancy turns to love, but early this autumn, the Bloom family—and the Bloom’s family—turned love into a fancy wedding. In a ceremony high above the city on the roof of the Bloom Building, Bloom’s president, Julia Bloom, exchanged vows with Gotham magazine columnist Ronald Joffe. The roof was transformed into a paradise of greenery, with coleus vines and multicolored roses adorning the huge tent erected on the roof. The tent proved unnecessary, thanks to the dry, balmy weather, so the walls were tied up and the night invited in. Rabbi Avram Kopelstein performed the ceremony under a traditional Jewish chupa, or canopy, the poles of which were held by Neil and Rick Bloom, both cousins of the bride; father of the groom, Norman Joffe; and family friend and Bloom’s accountant, Myron Finkel. Prayers were recited, Ron and Julia sipped wine from a goblet, Ron stomped on the glass to shouts of L’chaim and Mazel tov, and the writer/editor of this publication gained a brother-in-law.

  “We originally considered holding the wedding in Grandma Ida’s apartment,” Julia said. “But if we’d done that, we would have had to whittle our guest list down. We had so much room on the roof, we were able to invite everyone who works at Bloom’s. They’re all a part of our family.” This would explain the rare early closing of Bloom’s at 5:00 p.m. on the day of the wedding, as employees were sent home early to prepare for the party.

  Buffet tables were heaped high with delicious edibles provided by Bloom’s catering service. Everyone loved the succulent roast beef, steamed fresh vegetables, salads and pastries. Among the biggest hits were the potato “latkettes” and the tiny marzipan fruits decorating the pastry table.

  Julia’s uncle, Jay Bloom, escorted her down the aisle. The groom was attended by his brother, Ira Joffe, and Adam Bloom, the bride’s brother, served as usher. Bulletin writer/editor Susie Bloom (that would be me) was the maid of honor, and everyone remarked that salmon pink was a flattering color on her. Music was provided by harpist Jocelyn Bennett and flautist Errol Stack and by Herschel Katz and the Klezmer Cats.

  The party lasted late into the night. The newlyweds are spending their honeymoon sailing in the Florida Keys, a trip arranged by cousin Neil Bloom, who runs a sailboat charter company. While Julia is enjoying the tropical breezes in Florida, Bloom’s is under the capable management of her mother, Sondra Bloom, who said of her eldest child’s wedding, “It was a lovely affair, even if it wasn’t at the Plaza.”

  Speaking of which…Bloom’s has set up a bridal registry. Sondra Bloom will be available to work with brides-and grooms-to-be on registering food items, gift baskets and must-have appliances from our kitchenwares department. Before you send out the invitations, register!

  Wedding, schmedding—what’s on sale this week? Lots of wonderful items, including some of our most popular kitchen gadgets. Check out the garlic presses, melon ballers and no-stick ice-cube trays on the second floor. Also, pickled everything: pickled tomatoes, pickled beets, pickled artichokes and just plain pickles—sours, halfs and garlic dills. Don’t get yourself in a pickle! Get a pickle into you!

  Employee Profiles:

  At the wedding atop the Bloom Building, many Bloom’s employees (and many Gotham magazine employees, too) were polled on their ideas of love, home and food. Most agreed that a wedding pretty much encompassed all three necessities. “You get married for love—if you’re smart,” Bloom’s cheese maven, Albert Medina, opined. “If you’re not so smart, well, you must be stupid.”

  “Home is a lot better if you’ve got someone waiting for you there,” cashier Lois Schickel said. “To me, home is where you go to when you don’t want to be alone.”

  “Food?” Helen Wacklin, Bloom’s director of Human Resources, mused. “I guess the best definition for that is Bloom’s.”

  “Home is a place in your heart,” insisted Casey Gordon, owner of Casey’s Gourmet Breads in the East Village and also Bloom’s chief bagel supplier. “If you’re looking for home, your heart will tell you when you’ve found it.”

  Wise Words from Bloom’s founder, Ida Bloom: “You want to have a wedding in your apartment? Don’t be meshugge. Have it somewhere else.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5115-5

  BLOOMING ALL OVER

  Copyright © 2004 by Barbara Keiler.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

  www.MIRABooks.com

 

 

  Judith Arnold, Blooming All Over

 

 

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