A Pretty Sweet Deal

“So, what’s the catch?” the devil asked.

“No catch,” Martha insisted as she poured him a cup of coffee. Black with far too much sugar, exactly as he’d requested. “I just thought a fella like you’d be interested in making a deal.”

She settled into the old kitchen chair opposite the devil. He looked much younger than she’d expected. Otherwise, she’d pictured him perfectly. Dark, slicked-back hair. A neatly trimmed beard. Sharp eyes that stared at her like a hungry predator.

“I don’t tend to get called up by little old ladies,” the devil said before taking a deep gulp of scorching hot coffee. “How’d you find the proper incantation, anyway?”

Martha beamed with pride. “My granddaughter taught me how to use the Google. I told her I was looking for a new pecan pie recipe.”

“Bearing false witness? You must have been desperate to meet me. Let me guess.” The devil waved a hand over his mug. Steam curled around his fingers and formed the image of a beautiful woman. “You want to be young again?”

Martha laughed. “And go through menopause a second time? No, thank you.”

He curled the steam around his fingers again until it formed a sturdy tree with many branches. “A longer life? Or perhaps immortality?”

She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t imagine living forever. Not with my arthritis always acting up.”

The devil swept the steam away. “What, then? You summoned me and asked for a deal. You want money? Power? Revenge? I can give you anything you want, so long as you’re willing to pay the price.”

Martha wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. The warmth soothed her aching joints and helped her think. She’d been to church almost every Sunday for the last seventy-six years. She’d heard sermon after sermon about the devil and his trickery. But there wasn’t much information on how to safely make a deal with the devil, should such an occasion arise. Not even on the Google.

“Well, I know how tricky you can be,” she said. “And I know the kind of deals you like to make involve the selling of one’s soul.”

“That’s the business I’m in,” the devil agreed.

“I imagine it can be quite a lonely business.”

He raised a brow. “What makes you say that?”

Martha shrugged. “I’m sure the souls you take aren’t very fond of you, considering you trick them into eternal torment. And even though I’ve never met a demon, I get the feeling that they don’t care much for conversation.”

The devil took another long sip of coffee. He drummed his fingers on the table for a while before he spoke again. “If you’re looking for someone to keep you company, you should get a cat.”

Martha shook her head. “A cat can’t help me eat pecan pie.”

She stared at the devil. Her eyes weren’t what they used to be but she swore she saw the tiniest hint of a smile teasing at his lips.

***

Many conversations were held over warm cups of coffee. She told him about her family. Her late husband - God rest his soul - who she’d first met while she was in nursing school. Her kids who grew up and had kids of their own. She told him about how happy she was when they came to visit her. But with each passing year, the visits came less and less. 

The devil didn’t do too much talking at first. That was until Martha figured out he had an insatiable sweet tooth. A few sugar cookies or a slice of coconut cake was enough to get him into a chatty mood. 

As the years passed, she noticed some peculiar things happening around her. 

Her cookies never burned no matter how long she left them in the oven. Her joints ached a bit less on rainy days. Her kids started calling her twice a week.

“I hope you aren’t charging extra for the little favors,” she said one Friday afternoon as she served him a generous slice of cheesecake.

Confusion crossed the devil’s face. “What favors?”

She pointed the crumb-coated knife at him. “Don’t try to deny it. Every time I bake a cheesecake, it comes out with a great big crack down the middle. But this one’s so pretty you could put it on the cover of a magazine.”

He smirked. “I guess all those years of practice have finally paid off.”

The kitchen chair creaked as she sat down. “I know you’re up to something. Just remember I only have one soul to sell you.”

The devil scratched his beard. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to discuss the terms and conditions of our little arrangement.”

The words made her heart jump in the most unpleasant way. If she’d had cardiac troubles like her late husband - God rest his soul - she would have collapsed right to the floor.

She smiled and hoped he didn’t notice her distress. “Have you gotten tired of this silly old woman and her stories?” 

He shook his head. “Quite the opposite. Our conversations have quickly become the highlight of my eternal existence.” He ate a forkful of cheesecake. “And I certainly can’t get food like this down below.”

She wrapped her hands around her empty coffee mug. “What’s the problem, then?” 

“I take souls as payment because there’s nothing else of value to me. What would I do with money? What use do I have for castles and empires? Souls are the only currency I consider when offering my services.”

He pointed the tines of his fork toward Martha. “And then you called me up. A little old lady willing to sell her soul just to have someone to talk to. I thought you’d be my easiest score yet. I wouldn’t even need to use any of my demonic powers. But the more time I spent with you, the more I realized this deal was unlike any I’ve ever made.”

She leaned forward. “How so?” 

“Because I’ve never experienced anything like this strange, unexpected friendship of ours. I consider it a far more valuable form of payment than any soul. So I’ve decided that you can keep yours.”

Martha loosened her grip on the mug. “You’re going to let my eternal soul go free?” She eyed the devil with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

He chuckled. “No catch. I simply couldn’t accept both your friendship and your soul as payment. I’d be charging you twice for the same service. And that’s just terrible business practice.”

Martha slowly reached across the table. “So, the matter’s settled?”

The devil nodded and shook her hand. “Settled.”

She turned her efforts toward cutting herself a slice of cheesecake. “Well, it’s about time. I thought I would keel over before you changed your mind.”

A look of confusion soon gave way to a wide grin. “You had this whole thing planned out, didn’t you?”

“What was that?” Martha asked, barely able to contain her smile. “I’m afraid my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.”

The devil finished his cheesecake. “And here I thought I was the tricky one,” he muttered.