Page 32 of Priestly Sins

“Aren’t they pretty?” Her whisper is almost reverent.

“You’re pretty. Those cupcakes are—”

“Hi.” Sirona’s tentative voice is juxtaposed with her curious expression, having come face-to-face with me holding her daughter, half-inverted, over the desserts.

“Hi.” I smile, finally feeling some relief from the cares of the week. Seems I’ve been weighed down for too long.

“Did you come for pastries?”

“Cupcakes!” Clara knows the system and is working it to her advantage.

“Of course.” I slide Clara down onto her feet and turn to her. “Pick your favorite that we can split. Is that okay?”

“Yes!” She squeals and runs around the case, arms flailing. “Mommy! Mommy! What’s the pink ones today?”

“Are.”

“Huh?”

“What are the pink ones today?”

“Yes. That.”

“Try it again, baby.”

“Mommy, what are the pink ones today?”

“Pink lemonade.”

“Yuck. What are the yellow ones?”

“Wait! You don’t like pink lemonade?” I ask

“To drink, silly! But not to eat.”

“They’re caramel with caramel vanilla buttercream.”

“Yes!” She spins around. “Poppa Sean, do you like caramel?”

“I do.”

“That one, Mommy!”

With that, she runs to the table and sits down, anxiously awaiting her cupcake.

“Will you join us?” I ask. She usually cleans or busies herself when I’m here.

“I can.” It’s a tentative response. “Coffee?”

“If you have it.”

“I do.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

I sit with Clara and, as she begins to tell me about her day, a cup of coffee appears before me. Another is set in front of Sirona’s empty chair. She leaves again and when she returns it’s with one cupcake, two cookies, and a glass of milk.

“That’s for me.” Clara points at the glass of milk.