The Cupcake Diaries (10 page)

“Why?” She stared at Gladys as if seeing her for the first time. “Why would you want to look at the cupcakes?”

“I used to be a baker,” Gladys said, her eyes bright. “Before my husband died, I worked in a bakery. Then I lost him, and the sound of the ocean has become a balm to my soul, helping me get through each passing day. I bought a beach house, the one with the balcony across from your stand. And I walk. For hours and hours I walk and pretend my husband is still by my side. He used to hold my hand as we walked. We were a team, he and I.”

S
TACEY SEARCHED FOR
the other half of
her
team at the Captain’s Port later that night. Several people were gathered at one end of the room around the microphone and karaoke screen. Others sat on stools lining the L-shaped wooden counter, laughing and slamming oyster shooters, while more crowded around the square tables filling the center of the room, eating mouth-watering dinners of fresh-caught halibut and butterflied shrimp.

Like she should be.

Stacey had arrived at exactly six o’clock. Waited and waited. Called and left a message on Dave’s cell phone. Texted him twice. But after an hour went by, she had to come to grips with the fact that once again—probably because he’d already got what he wanted—her date was a no-show.

Her stomach ached, but not from hunger. A cold chill ran up and down her spine, and her eyes stung so bad she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the tears at bay. She swallowed hard.

The adage
If something seems too good to be true, it probably is
came to mind, and she felt as if everyone in the room was looking at her—standing by herself, once again . . .
alone
.

Slowly, with more dread than she’d ever felt before, she accepted her fate, turned around, and headed for home.

F
RIDAY,
A
UGUST 29,
Stacey slept late, then followed the trolley tracks as she walked along the Astoria waterfront, and finally arrived at Creative Cupcakes in the afternoon with Gladys by her side.

“We’ve talked to Dave and agreed to sell his ice cream in the shop,” Rachel announced. “Isn’t that great?”

“Jake thinks he’ll make a fantastic partner,” Andi added, cuddling Jacob in her arms.

“Wonderful,” Stacey murmured, but she knew she couldn’t work with Dave after he’d stood her up. If he was indeed their new partner, then it meant she’d have to move once more.

“Who’s this?” Rachel asked, nodding to the woman by her side.

“Gladys Gould,” Stacey introduced, “is going to help me bake for the state cupcake competition.”

“What?” Rachel demanded. “Without asking
us
?”

“She used to work in a bakery,” Stacey explained, “and has lots of experience. Since neither of you can help me in the competition, I thought I’d ask her to help.”

“Oh, you did?” Rachel’s face turned an odd shade of grayish green, and she covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Morning sickness usually goes away after the first trimester,” Andi encouraged.

Stacey didn’t think it was just morning sickness. The way Rachel spoke made her think her cousin was sick over the fact she’d brought in Gladys to help.

Rachel ran to the bathroom, and when she returned she gave Stacey a nod, her face drawn. “I have to perform in the play, but Andi will be here, supervising, even if she has to hold the baby, and Kim is on her way home from her honeymoon. Hopefully, she and I will both be back here before the end of the night.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Stacey asked, her gut clenching over her cousin’s reaction. “I thought you said I was part of the team. You didn’t mean it, did you?”

She should have known. She shouldn’t have hoped.

Before Rachel could respond, the door opened, and Dave walked in, smiling, as if nothing were wrong.

“Hi, Gladys,” he greeted. “Nice to see you here today.”

Then he turned toward Stacey, but when he moved in for a kiss, she gave him a push that would have made Kate proud. “Where were you last night?”

Dave did a double-take. “What do you mean?”

“The Captain’s Port?” she reminded him. “Six o’clock?”

His jaw dropped. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“Yes. Your ex-wife stopped by the stand yesterday and gave it to me loud and clear.”

“Carla? What did she say?” He shook his head as if puzzled. “I couldn’t meet you because—”

“It’s time!” Rachel shouted, nodding to the three judges coming through the front door. “I’m off to the theater, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Stacey glanced at Dave and promised, “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Chapter Nine

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand.

—Emily Kimbrough

S
TACEY CONSIDERED HERSELF
a people watcher and had watched many pass by her stand this summer on the beach. She used the same scrutiny to size up the three judges standing before her now.

The first was a large, robust man in his early thirties with a grizzly goatee to match his mustache, sideburns, and hair. His stomach stuck so far out in front of him he could use it as a table to set the cupcakes on. Stacey guessed he’d eaten quite a few while acting as a judge. He’d be hard to impress. They’d need to show him that their cupcakes were unique.

Second in line stood a forty-something, tall, skeletal woman with short brown hair who looked as if she’d never eaten a cupcake her entire life. How could
she
be a judge? They’d need to impress her from the very first bite because one bite may be all she took.

Third was a shorter woman in her late sixties, neither skinny nor fat, but saggy all over. She had saggy bags under her eyes and saggy cheeks, arms, chest, stomach, and rump—with a saggy expression to match. Stacey got the impression this woman would need a
very
tasty cupcake to brighten her mood and give them a high score.

“I know that woman,” Gladys said, sneaking a peek through the double doors as Stacey entered the kitchen. “She used to work in the same bakery as I, many years ago.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Stacey asked hopefully.

“Heavens, no. When there was room for only one person to stay on after the summer and they let her go, she called me many hateful names. If she sees me here, it could ruin your chances of winning the competition.”

Stacey gasped. “The judges are coming into the kitchen any minute for a tour. What should we do?”

“I’ll hide in the pantry,” Gladys said and hurried away.

W
HEN THE JUDGES
returned to the front of the shop with Andi and Jake, Stacey called, “Gladys, you can come out now.”

The old woman emerged with a mischievous grin, and Stacey handed her a pink apron with the embroidered Creative Cupcakes logo and a pink bandana scarf to cover her hair.

“Do you have one of those for me, too?” Dave asked, entering the kitchen.

Stacey stared at him, not sure what to say. “This time we’re not just handing out cupcakes, we’re actually
baking.
”

Dave shrugged. “I’ll follow your lead. After all, we’re a team.”

“Teammates communicate with one another,” Stacey said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Stace—I left you a note in the Cupcake Diary and dropped it off at the shop so Rachel could give it to you. I was positive you’d see it. I’m so sorry. I should have called.”

She hesitated, thinking back to the previous morning. He
did
leave her the diary, but she hadn’t looked inside. Without a word she moved toward her backpack, which she’d placed on the floor by the sink. Then she unzipped the front flap, took out the binder, and read the entry on the last page.

Can’t make dinner tonight. Heard about a one-of-a-kind close-out deal in Portland. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Promise. Love, Dave

She glanced back at him and held his gaze. Okay, so he did leave her a note and hadn’t meant to stand her up. But she was still miffed he’d choose bargain hunting over a date with her. Why didn’t he offer to take her with him? He knew she loved a good sale.

“Here,” she said, tossing him a pink apron. “See if it fits.”

Dave tied the apron around his waist and grinned. “What do we do first, boss?”

S
TACEY AND
G
LADYS
measured ingredients into various bowls following the five recipes Andi, Rachel, and Kim had chosen. Dave used the mixer, which he claimed was similar to the ones he used to mix his homemade ice cream. Eric manned the ovens and cooling racks. And Theresa and Heather served as go-to girls, fetching supplies and carrying dirty dishes to the sink.

“Does this say half teaspoon or quarter teaspoon of salt?” Gladys asked, pointing to the cookbook. “I forgot my glasses, and it’s hard for me to read.”

“I can’t find the cupcake wrappers!” Theresa cried, running up to the main worktable. In her haste she knocked a bowl of cupcake mix on the floor. “Oops! Oh, no! I didn’t mean to—”

“Wipe it up,” Stacey instructed. “Heather, can you—”

Heather turned and bumped into Eric, who had just taken a hot tray of cupcakes out of the oven.

“Ow!” he yelped, then shook his hand. “You made me burn myself.”

“Sorry,” Heather apologized.

Meanwhile, the tray of cupcakes fell upside down and smashed onto the tile by his feet with a clatter.

Stacey glanced toward Gladys and Dave but knew she couldn’t depend on them to calm the chaos. This kitchen was her ship to steer, and she was the one who had to direct their course. Andi, Rachel, and Kim were depending on her. She had to be
Kate.

“Eric, run your hand under some water,” she instructed. “Heather, take the next batch of cupcakes out of the oven. And, Theresa, no running in the kitchen. Find the wrappers in the pantry next to the sprinkles and bring them back to me. Gladys, is the first cupcake tray ready to frost?”

Gladys nodded and using a plastic-coated piping bag with a spiral tip, swirled pink strawberry preserve frosting onto the freshly baked Strawberry Parfait cupcakes.

“Dave,” she said, as he turned off the mixer and brought over his bowl, “thanks for being here.”

“No other place I’d rather be,” he teased, giving her a little sideways bump.

Stacey didn’t read too much into his comment as they worked side by side to scoop the new mixture into the cupcake wrappers lining the trays. She had more important things to think about, like how to impress the three judges and keep her job. Rachel had told her,
“Sell enough cupcakes this summer so come fall we can afford to keep you.”

While her sales had been good, she wasn’t sure she’d sold enough to prove her worth, and if she failed to win the competition . . . well, that might be the clincher.

Stacey took Kim’s premade fondant creations and carefully placed them on the tops of the first round of cupcakes, praying they wouldn’t break. The petals on each of the edible red roses were so intricate that one would swear they were real. If the cupcakes tasted as great as they looked, she might have a chance.

Dave held open the kitchen door, and with the first round of cupcakes in her hands, Stacey stepped into the front of the shop and caught her breath. She’d forgotten about Rachel’s promised publicity.

Jake’s photographer friend, Caleb, from the
Astoria Sun
and other news crews with video cameras stood behind the judges, who were seated at a round white table. Beside Andi and Jake and their four children stood Trish, Oliver, and Evan. Grandpa Lewy was there with Bernice, Guy Armstrong with Sarah.

She also recognized some of Creative Cupcakes’ most loyal fans: members of the police department, the romance writers’ group who met in the shop on Tuesdays, families of the kids enrolled in the after school baking program, and ladies from the Saturday Night Cupcake Club.

Then she spotted Martha Slater and a younger look-a-like by her side, no doubt her daughter who owned the bakery that was competing against them for the state title.

As Stacey made her way around the counter, she saw William Burke walk in through the front door and glance at Ms. Slater, who then lifted her nose in the air and promptly ignored him.

Why were Ms. Slater and her daughter even here?

A moment later she got her answer when the judges stated that Creative Cupcakes was the last shop they needed to judge, and the winner of the competition would be announced this very night.

Stacey placed the first round of cupcakes on the table in front of them and murmured the flavor.

“Speak up,” the judge with the goatee told her. “We can’t hear.”

“Strawberry Parfait cupcakes with strawberry preserve butter cream frosting and rose petal fondants with sugar pearl trim,” she said, raising her voice.

The goatee man took a large bite, swallowing nearly half the cupcake. The rose fondant fell onto his plate and broke into three pieces.

Skeleton woman took the faintest nibble.

Depressed, saggy woman bit into her cupcake with a blank expression, chewed for a moment, and pushed the rest away.

Then all three scribbled in their notebooks, wrote numbers on their dry-erase paddles, and held them up in the air.

Goatee Man held up an eight, Skeletor an eight, Saggy Lady a seven.

Stacey took one glance at Andi’s worried face, groaned, and ran back into the kitchen.

“Two eights and a seven,” Stacey told her crew. “Not good. The judging is from one to ten, and we need nines and tens to win.”

Mia followed her, carrying her own paper judging paddle, and reported, “The fat judge said he liked another shop better.”

Andi also came into the kitchen. “Did you follow the recipe with exact measurements?”

“Of course,” Stacey told her.

“I’d come in and help you, but I have to feed the baby. Please . . . do your best.”

Stacey nodded. “We will.”

The second and third round of cupcakes scored slightly higher. They received more eights, some nines, one ten from goatee man on the Fudgy Mocha cupcakes with chocolate coffee ganache. Then on the next batch Theresa burned the vanilla custard filling while heating it on the stove.