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Robert likes living in Maple Bay. He likes, in no particular order: the view, the cemeteries, the endless horizon. He likes Mary, who is a companionable drunk, and he likes Damien well enough (since Mary does). The one thing he doesn't like is that there are hardly any late-night shops that cater to his sweet tooth on his nightly walk back home from Jim and Kim's. A man needs whiskey, and then preferably some good chocolate cake after that.
Mat catches him loitering outside Coffee Spoon, staring hungrily at the pastries behind the window.
"I'm not going to chase you away," Mat says, pushing the door open. "Do you want to come in?" His smile is gentle and amused.
Robert jerks a thumb towards the display, trying not to look too desperate. He's spoken to Mat at Joseph's weird meet-the-neighbour barbecues, but never properly one-on-one outside of a social situation. "Your lights are dimmed. It's closing time, isn't it?"
Mat waves him over. "I always have extra cake for a neighbour." Emboldened, Robert walks into the shop, and the warm smell of roasting coffee envelops him. The floor has been swept and mopped, and Robert definitely does not look back at his visible footprint. Shouldn't have taken Betsy to the cemetery, but she was hyped up before he left the house. He shoots a silent apology in Mat's general direction, wherever he is behind that enormous counter of baked goods.
"Thanks," Robert says awkwardly. "I know it's a pain."
Mat flashes him a casual thumbs-up and a grin. "Hey, man, just relax. I get my fair share of the munchies at night too." More rattling, and the pneumatic hiss of a mini-fridge door closing. "These are what I have, pick your poison." There are three slices of cake neatly packed up in Tupperware containers, and Mat slides them across the counter to Robert.
He's watching, Robert knows this.
"Is this chocolate cake?" Robert asks cautiously, lifting one and peering at the bottom through the plastic.
Mat laughs. "I call that Chocolate Magic Orchestra: Firecracker."
"YMO was a phenomenon, though I don't think the kids get it," Robert acquiesces, and Mat's look of delight is enough to send something warm wriggling into his stomach (probably not the whiskey). Talking isn't Robert's strong point, so he trails off before he can say anything too dumb that might lose him some late-night cake.
Mat takes it from him and opens up the lid, offering Robert a whiff. "Chocolate and chilli and a musical legend. It's a combination that works." Robert gives it an obliging sniff, and Mat pushes the other two cakes towards him. "Come on, let's see if you can tell what the other two are."
"Okay, okay," Robert mumbles, and picks up the second one. The shape is distinctive enough, and he cracks the lid open. "Vanilla bundt cake." Without the lid in the way he can see how airy the cake is, and the black specks of vanilla scattered throughout. The smell is heavenly, and the thin glaze of icing only makes it look more appealing.
Mat nods sagely. "It's the Coffee Spoon's very own Devendra Bundt-hard."
Robert can't keep the smile off his face. "As a fellow dad I am compelled to high-five you for that. Val was crazy about him what, six? Seven years ago? I had to listen to his stuff on repeat after she got the Nick and Norah DVD."
"Lover is actually a tune," Mat says, and Robert laughs.
It feels good. The whiskey has burned its way through his veins, and he can't help but lean into Mat. "Okay, okay. Who's the final candidate?"
"She's a beauty, actually," Mat says, and hands the box over. "Still unnamed though."
Robert is in love. Call off the dogs, the hunt is over-- the cake is a magnificent black forest, delicate whorls of cream piped between the layers peep up at him through the cake, and the cherry filling wobbles when Robert gives it a little jiggle. "Wow."
"Do you want to name her?" Robert looks up at Mat, who is watching him. There's something intense behind that gaze that Robert can't quite place, but he looks back down at the cake and makes up his mind.
"Cherries were made for eating," he says decisively. It's not a pun by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a reference to an obscure film.
Mat tilts his head, puzzling over the name. "Haven't heard of that before..." He trails off, waiting for an explanation.
Robert has never liked explaining himself. Or his film choices. Or his music choices. He doesn't like talking, really, ever since Val left, but he finds himself telling Mat all about Hausu. Mat listens, enraptured, and laughs when Robert calls it 'the fever dream that spawned truly good horror films'.
"I figured it would win me brownie points," Robert explains, and Mat gives in and laughs. It's a rich, happy laugh, and to his horror Robert feels it bubbling up in his own throat as well.
They walk back together, and Robert goes home with the black forest cake, and absolutely does not think of inviting Mat over.