One Cake Over The Line

In the second grade, Margie once got mad at the fact that her mother was too busy cooking one afternoon to play with her. To exact revenge on her mother, Margie hung out in the kitchen instead of playing in her room. Eventually Margie got bored of simply standing around but was too stubborn to simply leave. For lack of anything else to do, Margie started to pay attention to what her mother was doing. The result was that Margie learned how to make chocolate chip cookies. From time to time she'd wander into the kitchen to see what else her mother was making and learned how to make that too.

As Margie got older, she realized that the center of any home is its kitchen. When they had parties, everyone gathered as close to the kitchen as they could. Margie liked to be close to the action wherever she was, so it only made sense that she kept hanging around the kitchen, making herself useful in the process. The kitchen was the heart of a house. What came out of the kitchen flowed like a lifeblood to all of its occupants. Moreover, what happened in the kitchen was important. That meant that the people who worked in the kitchen were very important.

And then came boys. Boys changed everything. Despite their tough exteriors, it turned out that boys really liked good food. Baking a pie was a surefire way to get a boy to kiss you. And apparently boys liked nicely turned out girls who wore high heels with an apron (well, that's how they thought she cooked anyways, not knowing that Margie put on her best clothes five minutes before the doorbell rang, just to make sure they didn't get dirty). Margie didn't need boys to keep her spending time in the kitchen, but they sure helped.

So when the time came it was off to cooking school for Margie to learn the finer points of the culinary trade that turned a hobby into a vocation. Once she'd graduated, Margie wasted no time in starting her own establishment. It was with great pride that Margie watched them hang the sign in the train station that read, "Just What You Needed Bakery" over the white and orange striped awning that welcomed customers.

Naturally the bakery catered to travelers on the go who needed something quick before they missed their train, but that was only due to the fact there was a large demand for that sort of food and it would have been foolhardy not to capitalize on the market. However, Margie didn't like that sort of cooking at all. What Margie did like was making actual things found in a bakery: cakes, cookies, pies, brownies, cupcakes, and other such sweets. Those were the things that brought joy to people and these days a little joy was just what people needed. Sure, they'd come for that quick sandwich, but they'd remember Margie and her bakery because of everything else.

Margie Goodwell was the sort of woman who always had a song in her heart. It went along with her bright smile and sparkling green eyes that lit up her heart-shaped face. She was a fair and clear skinned woman whose thick dark brown hair was beautiful even when it was in the way. Margie worked the counter and register at Just What You Needed as often as she worked in the back cooking. She knew she was pretty and that it didn't hurt sales. Besides, Margie was a people person. She enjoyed interacting with her customers and their little conversations often paid dividends in repeat business.

The lessons of her youth regarding boys and attire had not been forgotten and accordingly Margie dressed for success. She almost never came into the front when she was covered in flour with smears of chocolate frosting on her face. Margie always looked crisp and sharp, often with a clean apron on. Margie chose aprons that didn't obscure her bust too much either. Her chest was a shade larger than it should have been for a girl of her height, but that was all the more reason to make sure it wasn't covered. Margie's outfits, even with an apron, always showed off her neat waist. More often than not Margie wore a skirt because a bit of slender calf wasn't such a bad thing to show the customers. When she wore slacks, it seemed that some of her male patrons asked her for oatmeal raisin cookies quite a bit. It might have had something to do with the fact that the oatmeal raisin cookies caused Margie were kept on the far wall all the way at the bottom, forcing Margie to bend at the waist to get them. Sadly, high heels weren't a good choice to wear in a commercial kitchen, but Margie always kept at least two pairs of stylish flats to slip into.

Today the song in Margie's pert bosom was too big to stay in her chest and she couldn't help but sing it softly and idly to herself as she intently spread vanilla frosting over a small cake.

"One cake over the line, sweet Jesus
One cake over the line
Sittin' downtown in a railway station
One cake over the line…"

***

The rush surrounding the imminent departure of a train was when Margie made money, but the rush was only a blur of grabbing of food and bills. Margie vastly preferred the slow periods well between trains when people ambled into Just What You Needed and she could actually talk to them. At the moment it was just one such period, so Margie decided to spell the cashier and cover the front herself after licking a bit of vanilla off of her little finger.

When she came out into the front, Margie found a young woman, her own age perhaps, looking at the cases full of Margie's wares. In fact, she was looking a little too interestedly at the racks of baked goods. Margie knew that look well.

"The brownies," Margie said out of the blue.

"Hmmm?" the woman said snapping her head up.

"You should get a brownie," Margie clarified.

"That's not what I was thinking of at all."

"No, but you should be," Margie said as she bent over and broke off a corner of a moist brownie, "Try it and see."

Margie placed the bit of brownie on a small napkin and handed it over the display case to the woman who took it and ate it. As she chewed, Margie took the woman in. She was thin—well, maybe she had been a couple weeks ago. However it looked like she'd filled out a little bit since then. There was the slightest strain around the middle of her blouse. Her jeans looked just a smidge too tight around the hips and Margie was pretty sure that the bit of softness to her face was a recent development.

The woman, a blonde, swallowed with a look of approval on her face. "That's a great brownie. I'll take one."

Margie handed the rest of the brownie across to the other woman. "I wouldn't sell them if they weren't awesome," the brunette said proudly, "I once had an entry tray of chocolate chip cookies that tasted off and I threw them all in the trash after one bite."

"An entire tray?" the woman said, agape at the thought, "If your chocolate chip cookies are anything like your brownies then I think they still would have been pretty good. People still would have been happy with them. I don't think it would have mattered that much."

"Everything matters," Margie said seriously, "My mother told me that ever since I was a little child. It's just as true about cooking as it is about life. It matters to be nice to people when you're having a bad day. It matters to get the right amount of butter in a recipe. If the small things don't matter then neither do the big things."

"That sounds horribly stressful," the blonde said with a shudder. She was already halfway through the brownie, which was not that small. Very few of Margie's creations came in small sizes. "I mean if I thought like that I wouldn't stop worrying."

"Oh it's not supposed to be like that," Margie said quickly, "It just means that you shouldn't underestimate the impact of little things on life. For example, a lot of people would think that what I do here is to sell sandwiches, cookies, and cakes."

"Isn't that what you do?" the blonde asked with a questioning eyebrow, holding up her brownie as evidence.

"Well yes, but that's not all of what I do," Margie said, not losing a bit of enthusiasm, "What I really do here is I bring little bits of sunshine into people's lives. Have you ever looked at people in train stations? I mean really looked at them? They walk with their heads down as fast as they can to get to an empty platform where they'll wait for 15 minutes for their train in absolute silence, even if there are twenty people around them.

"Well, when they pass by my bakery the very novelty of it causes them to stop even if they're not hungry. Maybe they don't come in, but I'd like to think that it causes them to smile just a bit on the inside. But more than that, plenty of them do come in. They've got a little time, so why not? They look around and eventually pick something and then they find out how good that cupcake tastes. Maybe they decide to bring home a cake for their wife just because when was the last time they had cake? Or maybe they're having a rotten day and they just need a little bit of a pick-me-up. Like you."

That last bit caught the blonde's attention. "What?" she said through the last mouthful of her brownie.

"Oh I knew what you were about the moment I saw you," Margie said, leaning forward on the display case casually, "I bet for you that out of five things today, four have gone wrong. Today hasn't been a total disaster, but it hasn't been one you'd like to remember. When you passed by a bright, cozy little bakery you said to yourself, 'I think I deserve a little something after today.'"

"Yeah, pretty much," the blonde said, surprised that the other woman had pegged things pretty well.

"And then you were trying to decide what to get and I walked in. I saw that look in your eyes. You were looking for something sinful that would say, 'You know what world? You can kick me all you want but you can't take away this gooey, delicious moment right here,'" Margie said, "And when you're in one of those moods the only thing for the job is a brownie."

"Wow," the blonde said, "That's it exactly."

"You're not alone," Margie said sympathetically, "We've all been there. All of us."

The blonde paused for a moment. "In that case, do you think I could get another brownie?"

"Well of course you can silly!" Margie said brightly.

A couple minutes later the blonde left, her brownie-boosted bubble butt bouncing behind her. Margie smiled to herself and couldn't help but sing a bit.

"I felt the joy and I learned about the pain that my Momma said
If I should choose to make a part of me, surely strike me dead."

Her mother had been right. Everything did indeed matter.

***

Margie came out from the kitchen through the swinging door holding a lemon-filled cake with vanilla icing in both hands. As she did so, she noticed a rather plump customer who was studying the ready-to-go sandwiches.

"Good afternoon!" Margie said brightly.

"Oh! Hi," the woman said, surprised by the sudden appearance of the baker.

As Margie leaned down to place the cake in the display case, she took in the woman looking at the sandwiches. She had straight light brown hair of a decently long length that served to make her round face stand out even more than it usually would have done. The woman was quite pear shaped, thanks to a set of very wide hips. The impression was helped immeasurably by her very large and wobbling thighs.

Indeed, there was so much weight in her bottom half that the rest of the woman looked quite insubstantial, though Margie's eyes could tell that it was not. The woman actually had a rather prominent pot belly and her bust was nothing to sneer at either. In fact, Margie suddenly realized that, akin to the Grinch, something was two sizes too small about this woman—namely the number of the dress size on her pants. Margie really never understood why some women squeezed themselves into clothes that didn't fit. It had to be so uncomfortable. And yet the woman wasn't really unattractive. She just needed a few choice fashion tips, Margie decided.

"Ummm…could you tell me how healthy this sandwich is?" the woman asked Margie.

Margie leaned over the display case to look. "Ham and swiss. It's not bad. If you wanted to be super healthy there's the grilled chicken."

The woman shuddered a bit. "Grilled chicken. That's all I get to have these days it seemed." She sighed and then noticed Margie's inquisitive, but not intrusive, look. "I'm on a diet. Trying to lose a few pounds. Actually, quite a few," the woman said as she looked down at her body.

"Well trust me when I say that you're definitely better off than if you got the ham, bacon, and three cheese sandwich," Margie said, "Delicious, but I definitely wouldn't have it every day."

At the description of Margie's most sinful sandwich, the woman's eyes lit up for a moment before they quickly reverted to their previous dullness. It was clear that she wished she could have had that ham, bacon, and triple cheese sandwich. "I guess I'll get this. I don't think I could take any more grilled chicken even if I wanted to," the woman said, resigning herself to the best possible option under the strictures of her diet.

"All right," Margie said, moving to the register to ring the woman up, "I'm glad you're getting the ham and swiss. Lots of folks would just pick the healthiest thing there is, not even care how it tastes, no matter how much grilled chicken they'd had. Good for you for rewarding your good work."

The brunette's head jerked up. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, just that I think you deserve it," Margie said absentmindedly. Had she not been pecking away at the register, Margie would have seen a shine come into the woman's eyes that eclipsed the previous glint. The brunette turned her eyes towards the display case full of Margie's confections.

"That'll be $4.87," Margie said with her usual pleasantness as she looked up.

"Is it too late to add something else?" the woman asked quickly and with just a little bit of worry.

"Of course not!" Margie said with a large smile. Though it might have seemed a little insensitive of Margie to be so enthusiastic about offering her unhealthier wares to someone on a diet, Margie was still a businesswoman and if the customer wanted to buy then she was ready to sell. Besides, her father had once told her that you could never sell someone something they didn't want to buy…

"Getting one cookie would be an appropriate reward, wouldn't it?" the brunette half asked.

"Sounds good to me! I'll just—"

"Then again, I have been awfully good," the brunette said, reconsidering, "I think a slice of pie might be a little more fitting."

"One slice of pie coming up," Margie said.

"Though, now that I'm really looking, that chocolate cake looks absolutely delicious," the woman said, this time with some finality in her voice.

"You mean the double chocolate cake? It is good," Margie agreed.

"Then I'll take that!" the woman said triumphantly, "I mean, just this once won't ruin my diet."

Margie didn't comment on that as she put the slice of cake into a box for the brunette and rang her up. She simply contented herself with saying, "The double chocolate cake is an excellent choice. I've yet to find another one that you can get that's so moist—unless you make it yourself and have it fresh, that is."

"You know, now that I think about it I had a recipe for a cake like this somewhere. I wonder where I put that cookbook…" the brunette said with a far-off look in her eyes. She suddenly came back to the here and now and quickly paid. "Thanks so much for everything!" she said with a broad smile.

"It's my pleasure. Come back any time!" Margie said pleasantly.

"Oh you can be sure I will," the woman said as she left the bakery, obviously eager to consume her reward for sticking to her diet.

Margie sighed happily as she watched the brunette leave. Happy customers were such a wonderful thing. Margie couldn't help but sing to the empty bakery.

"I sail away a country mile
And now I'm returnin' and showin' off my smile…"

***

Underneath the awning of Just What You Needed Bakery were two tables and four chairs made of thin iron for the enjoyment those of Margie's patrons who were not dashing off to catch a train. Margie thought that they helped invite customers to enjoy their edible experience, rather than simply eat and run as so many people did these days. Margie couldn't be sure whether they actually had an effect on her bottom line, but seeing as plenty of people bought something and then proceeded to eat outside at the tables that she was pretty sure they did.

However, one day Margie was surprised to find an apple-shaped woman sitting in one of the chairs crying rather softly. The sight was enough to cause the soft-hearted Margie to immediately take off her apron and go to the woman.

Margie hated it when she was visibly upset and someone asked her, "Is something wrong?" She always thought to herself, Of course something's wrong. Why else would I be upset? However, even in emotional distress she never let her temper get the better of her and voice such a thought. It did mean that when she gently touched the woman's shoulder Margie said, "What's the matter?"

The woman had dusty blonde hair that was nicely done, but probably wasn't looking its best at the moment. It fit her tan skin perfectly, though Margie was slightly surprised to find the combination on such a large woman instead of on a toned surfer chick. Large was even a very nice word for this woman's physique. She was absolutely corpulent. Or was that being too nice? Yes, Margie decided that the tan blonde was out-and-out obese. It didn't make Margie think less of her—it was just a fact.

The blonde, who was dabbing her eyes so as to compose herself enough to give a coherent answer to Margie's question, didn't appear to be that shy about her round, jiggling form given the way her vast belly visibly stretched her teal shirt in every direction possible. In fact, this woman didn't have a spare tire—she had an inner tube of blubber around her middle. The jeans that she was wearing showed off exactly how mammoth the blonde's hips were and the full chunky extent of her thunder thighs.

"I'm sorry," the blonde finally said, "I shouldn't be here bawling at your table when you have paying customers. It's just that my boyfriend just dumped me over the phone and—"

"You wait right here," Margie said firmly, cutting the blonde off. The baker scampered back into the bakery, through the kitchen, and into the small closet that was supposedly Margie's "office". The brunette rummaged around her large purse until she found a plastic container.

"I made these for a friend, but you obviously need them more than her," Margie said once she had returned outside and set the container on the table, removing the lid in one fluid motion.

Inside were four chocolate confections on sticks that looked unorthodox but delicious. "What's that?" the blonde asked, her curiosity getting the better of her pain momentarily.

"Marshmallows covered in chocolate on a stick," Margie said, "Just a little something I did in my spare time at home last night. They're just the thing for someone who just got dumped by a total idiot."

"Well he wasn't really an idiot," the blonde said, as she gingerly picked up one of the treats.

"He dumped you. Only an idiot would dump you. Ergo, he's an idiot," Margie said succinctly.

"That's awfully nice of you to say without even knowing anything about me."

"Well you're sitting at my bakery which shows that you're awesome. Anyone who'd dump an awesome girl is pretty stupid if you ask me."

Margie didn't get to say anything else for the blonde had just bit into the chocolate covered marshmallows and just about shrieked with delight.

"Oh my God!" she cried, "This is the most delicious thing I've ever had!"

"Really?" Margie asked without the slightest bit of vanity, "I was really unsure of whether or not dark chocolate would have been a better choice…"

"Not for me. Milk chocolate is the best thing in the entire world and on top of marshmallows too…" the blonde said before eagerly tearing off another large bite.

"Then they're all your's," Margie said with a large grin, "Adele is going to be a little miffed but I'll just make some more for her."

"So you don't sell these?" the blonde asked with her mouth full.

"Oh no. The cakes, pies, cookies, and pastries sell well enough and even if I wanted to sell sweets like those I don't have the kitchen space to do everything. And it's not like I could just stop making the other stuff. I couldn't live without making cakes. It soothes my soul," Margie said.

"That's too bad," the blonde said as she started on the second stick of chocolate and marshmallows, "because if you started selling these I'd be here every day. I mean this just makes me happy and I was just crying two minutes ago. That's how good this is."

"Well that's the whole reason we have good food in the first place," Margie said with a large grin.

"You know," the blonde said after a moment of consideration as she munched away, "You're right. He was an idiot. I am pretty awesome."

"Very awesome," Margie confirmed.

"When's the next time he's going to get a girlfriend who's a masseuse?"

"Hold on there. You're a masseuse?" Margie said in astonishment.

"Yeah. A guy who gives up free massages after sex is pretty stupid," the blonde said.

"I'm sorry, this is going to sound so insensitive because you just got dumped and everything but the past few days I have had this soreness right between my shoulder blades and I would be so so grateful if you could maybe help me out with that?" Margie asked. She was slightly embarrassed to even be making the request, but it just wasn't every day she had a masseuse walk into her bakery.

"Oh that's a breeze," the blonde said, setting down the clean stick that had been the third chocolate covered marshmallows. She stood up and moved behind Margie. "Now just relax for me if you would…"

It only took ten seconds before Margie felt absolutely wonderful. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Margie sighed, her eyes closed, "I think you might be my new best friend."

Indeed, Lindsey Shaw did become very good friends with Margie Goodwell from that day forward—and not just because Lindsey was a very talented masseuse and Margie was an excellent cook. Over the next twenty minutes they discovered that they liked the same books, hated the same music, and would both totally do Matt Damon if given the chance. It was just the beginning of a great friendship.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Lindsey said as she waddled off to catch a train, "Make sure you've got some of your cherry pie ready! It looks delicious!"

"See you then!" Margie called after her with a wave.

Margie turned to go back into the bakery to see about starting on a cake when her eyes paused for just a second on the storefront next to Just What You Needed. The space had been empty for the last two months and it had looked so lonely the entire time. Margie's gaze lingered on the space and she began to tap her chin, absorbed in thought. Half a minute later, Margie was on her cell phone to her landlord.

"Hello Tom, this is Margie….Yes, I'm just great, yourself?…Good. Say, I just happened to be looking at the space next to mine….No, everything's fine. I just have a question about it…" Margie said before biting her lip mischievously.

The next day, Just What You Needed Bakery's doors were closed and a sign informed customers that the establishment was Temporarily Closed For Refurbishments, much to the dismay of many train travelers (though not Lindsey who was still able to collect a whole cherry pie). However, the proprietor was still at her place of business, despite the closure. In fact, she stood there looking at one of her walls and as she considered it she sang,

"Who do you love? I hope it's me
I've been changin' as you can plainly see…"

And without further ado, Margie Goodwell settled a pair of safety goggles into place over her eyes, grabbed a sledgehammer, and proceeded to punch through the wall between her bakery and the space that would not remain empty for much longer.

***

The newly reopened Just What You Needed Bakery was twice the size of its predecessor, thanks to Margie's expansion. Not only did it now have twice the front space and twice the display racks, but it also had twice the kitchen space. This meant that Margie could now begin baking and selling plenty of sweet creations in the vein of her chocolate covered marshmallows.

And did she ever. The treats that flowed out of Margie's kitchen were absolutely astounding in appearance and deliciousness. There were peanut butter balls covered in chocolate, chocolate and caramel coated apples, bars of fudge, chocolate truffles, even chocolate-covered toasted marshmallows called "haystacks". What everybody was raving about, however, were the apple pie candy apples. They tasted exactly like a slice of apple pie and word about them was getting around quickly judging by the fact that after two weeks there were none left at the end of the day.

Expansion was always a risky business, but it was paying off for Margie. The added capacity might be increasing her operating budget, but the higher revenue had made her even more profitable than she'd been before. The double sized Just What You Needed Bakery had been reviewed in the newspaper, on several blogs, and even in the Amtrak magazine. Every single mention had been nothing but glowing. All this publicity only increased her business even more. The newly expanded kitchen was always buzzing with activity and trays of treats were constantly being brought out to the delight of hungry customers.

Even so, there were still lulls between trains. However, the bakery was never empty anymore. When one customer left, another one took her place. Therefore, Margie wasn't surprised that as a young woman gleefully skittered off with a haystack that a man walked in on his cell phone.

"Look I—" he started before obviously being cut off at the other end of the line. "No I—" he tried again.

Margie was pretty sure she knew the general content of the other side of the conversation.

"If you'd just—" the tall blond man tried to interject without success, "Baby please—"

He then looked at his phone and sighed. It appeared that his various appeals had fallen on deaf ears and the other party had hung up on him.

"So how badly did you screw up?" Margie asked.

"Would I be too much of a guy to say that she's totally blowing things out of proportion?" the blond replied with a weak smile that said he didn't find anything remotely funny about the situation, despite his best attempts to the contrary.

"Oh not at all. Women do that all the time. Even I get worked up about little things sometimes," Margie said, "I get over them pretty quickly though."

"Any tips to talk her off the ledge?" the man asked.

"I start baking until I feel better. Seeing as I'm a cook, I'm a pretty happy person most of the time," Margie said.

He sighed in disappointment. "Unfortunately, my girlfriend hates cooking. The only time we ever have a dinner in is if I cook it. So I don't think that's going to work."

"Well if she can't cook, the next best thing is to cook something for her, but it doesn't sound like she's going to have the patience for you to do up a nice three course meal for her. Therefore, you should probably just have something the moment you walk in the door and I'm thinking…" Margie ran her eyes across her display cases intently, "Aha! Just the thing! Chocolate cake with strawberry filling and chocolate icing."

"That seems to be overdoing it a bit on the chocolate," the boyfriend said warily, "Maybe that vanilla one with lemon icing would be better?"

"Aren't you silly! When a woman is upset the answer is always chocolate. Chocolate fixes everything," Margie said as she lifted the entire chocolate cake out of the case to put it in a box without being asked, "Trust me. The woman who won't feel better with chocolate hasn't been born yet and never will be."

"So this is going to fix things?"

"No. You're going to fix things. This cake is going to give you the chance," Margie said, "I don't do magic, just chemistry."

The guy hesitated. "All right. Worst thing that happens is that I waste my money on a cake."

"No, the worst thing that happens is that she throws my delicious cake in your face and nobody gets to eat it," Margie corrected, "It's a very slim possibility, but that's definitely the worst case scenario."

The man arched his eyebrows as he handed over his credit card. "So how many distraught boyfriends have you had in here this week?" he said, trying to make small talk.

"You're the third, but the only one who didn't make a beeline for something with chocolate so you obviously have a lot of learning to do," Margie said with a smile.

***

The next day, Margie was not surprised to see the blond man return with to Just What You Needed Bakery with a look of relief and extreme gratitude on his face.

"I would kiss you right now for what you did but I don't want to give Ellie another reason to get mad at me," the man said as he settled for a very enthusiastic handshake.

"See? Getting smarter already," Margie grinned.

"Speaking of which, can I get some of those chocolate peanut butter balls?" the man asked.

As Margie obliged she sang,

"I met all the girls and I loved myself a few, and to my surprise
Like everything else that I've been through, it opened up my eyes…"

"By the way," the man asked, peering over the display case, "Do you cater?"

Margie grinned from ear to ear. "I don't, but there's a first time for everything!"

Profits hit a new high that month.

***

"Good afternoon! What can I get for you today?" Margie asked sweetly as she bustled out of the kitchen with a tray of treats.

"Ummm…whatever you have there looks delicious," the dark haired, round-faced woman with fair skin asked.

"Pralines," Margie explained, "They're new."

"I've never heard of them before," the woman said.

"That's because you don't find them out here much. New Orleans delicacy. I just spent a week there on a vacation, except for tax purposes it was actually researching how to make good pralines," Margie said as she handed one across the counter, "Being a small business owner isn't always fun, but there are very definite perks sometimes."

The woman bit into the creation and immediately approved. "This is incredible!"

"It's amazing what happens when you throw some almonds, cream, and caramelized sugar together, isn't it?" Margie said proudly.

"I'll take four more of these."

"Absolutely," Margie said, hastening to comply, "Oh, and before I forget, I absolutely love your blouse. It's so cute."

"Oh, thanks," the woman said unenthusiastically as she looked down at the red and black number that tied off nearly at a high waist.

She actually had a very nice ensemble on. She clearly wasn't a thin girl, but she actually dressed rather well for her physique, bringing attention to her bust (not the largest in the world, but whose was?) and away from her belly. Her dark jeans helped to slim down her larger-than-average thighs. The woman's cascade of dark brown hair kept her face from looking too round. Indeed, the customer was a rather attractive woman—and yet it actually seemed like Margie's compliment had darkened her mood slightly.

Margie bit her lip awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Huh?"

"Oh, seems like I hit a sore spot," Margie explained as she busied herself with ringing up the purchase, "I just like your shirt, that's all."

"No no, I'm not mad," the woman said quickly, "It's just that…well, I have a bit of trouble with compliments. It comes from not getting them that often."

"Really? I can't see why you wouldn't get them all the time," Margie said, "In fact, you walk into a bar dressed like that and you'd have to be careful you don't get wolf whistles."

The woman gave a short laugh. "No, that's definitely never happened to me. Few men have ever paid me a compliment and admittedly it's nice when it does happen, but pretty quickly I just feel awkward because I'm stressing out that a guy is actually talking to me and showing an interest in me and all I'm doing is standing there awkwardly."

"That's no fun," Margie said sympathetically, "But if you'll take the completely objective opinion of a total stranger, you are worth complimenting. So a good start is to smile. It'll encourage him."

"Thanks. Now if only I knew what to do next," the woman sighed.

"Ask him questions," Margie said without hesitation.

"Excuse me?"

"Ask him about himself. I know the stereotype is that girls just talk, talk, talk but you would be absolutely astounded by how many guys cannot shut up about themselves. They might actually wind up saying something interesting if you give them the chance," Margie said with a grin.

"Well thanks for these," the dark haired woman said, holding up her bag of pralines, "and for everything else. I'll—oh!"

The woman had turned and in doing so had ram right into a young man in a rather snappy suit who hadn't expected the sudden movement. Their collision had caught them both by surprise. "I'm so sorry!" the man said apologetically, "I should have been watching where I was…going…" The man's embarrassment seemed to have given way to a sudden realization that he had literally knocked into a rather cute woman. He recovered himself and said, "Though I am always pleased to run into a pretty woman—quite literally this time."

The brunette could feel herself getting nervous and tongue-tied when she caught sight of Margie over the man's shoulder. She was smiling and pointing with both index fingers to the corners of her mouth. The gesture served its purpose and the brunette smiled broadly.

"That's…nice of you to say," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat, "Ummm…I'm Meg."

"Nice to meet you Meg, I'm John. Do you have some time before you have to catch your train?"

"Yes, yes I do," Meg said as she walked out of the store with John.

Margie sighed happily. To this day she still didn't know a better way to meet people than random encounters. That was why she loved her bakery so much.

"Don't you know I'm just waitin' for the train that goes home, sweet Mary,
Hopin' that the train is on time…"

***

The cover of the Business Journal proclaimed "Margie Goodwell: Entrepreneur of the Year" and featured a picture of the woman in question balancing a cake in one hand as she shrugged with a sheepish smile, all while wearing a bright yellow apron and high heels. The subject of the feature story was intently reading up on herself when suddenly heard someone say, "Hello?"

Margie thrust the magazine down onto the counter with alacrity. "Oh sorry! Just a little distracted. How can I help you?"

The woman who was standing in front of her was a round faced, happy woman whose chest was large, but that only served to disguise the fact that the rest of her was very chunky. But more importantly than that, she seemed like a very pleasant and happy person and that made Margie smile. As the baker assessed her customer, the customer in turn caught a glance at the magazine, looked at Margie, blinked twice, and then simply shrugged.

"What are your five best things here?" the woman asked simply, "And I don't want things that are just okay. I was the best you've got because I'm a mite peckish at the moment."

Margie's mouth broke into an even wider smile. "I can tell I'm going to like you!" she said happily. As she collected an apple pie candied apple, a slice of triple chocolate cake, four pralines, a slice of lemon meringue, and a dozen truffles Margie couldn't help but sing,

"I wanna be one cake over the line, sweet Jesus,
One cake over the line
Sittin' downtown in a railway station
One cake over the line…"

Margie Goodwell never got tired of that song.