Authors: Donna Kauffman
Babycakes (4 page)
Lani came around the desk. “Speaking of that . . . the papers never mentioned much about your personal life, other than the Bellamy family history in general.”
Kit gave her a wry grin. “That’s because I don’t have one.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not prying . . . or even asking. I’m just—the only reason I mention it is, if you did, I wanted you to know . . . we’re happy to work with you on that, help with transition—”
“It will just be me. And I’m sure I’ll figure something out”—she flashed Lani another smile as she walked back through the kitchen to the back door—“if, you know, I take the job.”
“I’m also not above using my cupcakes as leverage,” Lani warned. “They’re no Mamie Sue’s Peanut Pie, but they’re pretty addictive”—she looked at Kit with a twinkle in her eye—“she said humbly.”
Kit drew in the sweet scents of vanilla and chocolate and sighed. “Yeah, well, that might be more persuasive than the already taken hot British guy.”
Lani laughed. “You’re going to take this job, you know. You fit here.”
Kit looked around the kitchen. She hadn’t even seen the retail space of the cupcakery, much less the space they were planning to use for Babycakes. But this place felt like something between Grammy’s old kitchen with its lovingly restored antique appliances . . . and the far more cavernous warehouse kitchens that housed all the appliances and equipment used to produce Mamie Sue’s pies on a far broader scale. As the company expanded and grew under Laureen, and later, her own mother’s watch, they had worked hard to keep the ambience of those industrial size kitchens as homey and warm as possible. Mamie Sue had demanded only one thing, that there would always be “real hands, making real pie.” And that’s how it had always been.
Lani’s bakery kitchen was like a tiny slice of that, and Kit felt naturally at ease. It was a place where she felt she could fit in. She glanced back at Lani, who was quietly allowing her to size up the place. Kit could see the pride she took in her shop and the worry that it wouldn’t measure up to Kit’s expectations.
“I do have one very important question.”
“Shoot,” Lani said, worry more evident on her face.
Kit motioned to the Beatrix Potter themed apron Lani had on. “Will I get to wear awesome aprons at Babycakes?”
Lani blew out an audible sigh of relief. “Absolutely.”
Kit left the shop smiling, feeling lighter of heart than she thought she might ever feel again. “You’d like her,” she murmured under her breath, feeling the presence of Mamie Sue, Grandma Reenie, and her mother, as surely as if they were walking beside her.
She’s not a Southern girl, but she understands family.
She’s not a Southern girl, but she understands family.
Kit got in her car and pulled out of the lot with the idea of taking a slow, wandering tour of the island, then coming back to the town square to stroll around the shops, maybe peek through the windows at the space next to Cakes by the Cup that was going to house Babycakes.
In all honesty, the interview had far outshone any expectations she might have had. Partly because she’d worked really hard at not having any. Why set herself up for more disappointment? What was important was to put aside the burgeoning little flicker of excitement and the natural urge she felt to tackle this new challenge and think the whole thing through as rationally and objectively as she could.
But it was hard to ignore the little thrill of anticipation, and the relief that came with it. After the past year, it was a gift she hadn’t expected to receive.
So, given that, it made no sense she was, once again, fighting tears as she took the loop road around the back, ocean-facing side of the island. It was what Lani had said about family. Kit missed hers so much. Even her sister, who, despite everything, she loved. She didn’t know what twist of genetics had made Trixie so different from the rest of the Bellamy women, but Kit understood, on a level far deeper than the superficial irritation and frustration Trixie had elicited from all of them, that her younger sister really couldn’t help herself. Trixie simply wasn’t hardwired like the rest of them. She wasn’t connected to the family, its history, the bond they all shared, the way Kit was. And nothing was ever going to change that.
Which left Kit . . . where?
“Here.” Kit stated it out loud, trying it on for size. Like a confirmation. Or an affirmation. “It leaves me here. On Sugarberry Island.”
She smiled a tentative smile as she imagined herself there. Sugarberry was a surprising blend. The island was small, intimate, with fishing docks on the south end and the lively little town square located just north of that. The cluster of shops and central park area were surrounded by a small grid of narrow lanes dotted with houses. The narrow lanes turned to a lazy sprawl of development ending along the north end of the island, which was largely swamp and wilderness. Cottages periodically dotted the road looping around the exterior of the island. A few faced the sound, but most of them were on the ocean side, ranging in size, spaced somewhat sparsely, and nestled among the dunes, with the ocean lying just beyond.
Kit cruised past the last one, then drove a stretch of road bordered only by dunes and sea grass to her right and untamed, swampy wilderness to her left. A contrast to the developed end, it was what made the place feel like an island, rather than an extension of the mainland that just happened to be across a short bridge. The beach, the dunes, the salt spray. Even with her windows up, she could hear the sounds of the surf.
At the northernmost tip of the loop, she saw a large sign announcing a wildlife sanctuary and research area. Her attention was caught by the image of a sea turtle beautifully carved into the wood. She slowed, curious, but the dunes blocked anything beyond them from view. Well, almost everything. She noted a bright green kite dancing in the sky, far above the skyline. She smiled at the whimsy of it, as it also happened to be a sea turtle. She assumed it was meant to mark the research center, perhaps attract tourists and visitors, but wondered, briefly, how they kept it flying.
Just past the sign she noticed the narrow crushed shell and packed dirt road leading, presumably, to the research center. Glancing at the clock on the dash, she saw she still had plenty of time before her dinner meeting with Lani and Baxter, and she’d already found Laura Jo’s diner, their designated meeting spot, so she knew right where to go when the time came. So . . . why not explore?
Only two vehicles were parked in the tiny lot fronting a rambling, weathered, one-story building. She thought about poking her head in, but found herself drawn down the path through the dunes instead, toward the ocean . . . and the turtle kite. She’d have thought it would be attached somehow to the main building, but maybe there was more to the research facility than that.
She drew her sweater closer around her. It had been a very warm autumn in the South, but it was late afternoon, and the steady winds on the beach were making the temperatures feel a bit brisk. “Good day for kites.”
She emerged from the end of the dune path to find a series of narrow, open air, pavilion-style buildings with what looked like rows of worktables bolted down to cement slabs. Beyond that was a wide stretch of empty beach.
“Look, Lills! Paddle feet are good for flying, too!”
Kit spun around at the sound of a man’s voice. About twenty yards down the beach she spied him holding the kite. A few yards farther down the beach a little girl was crouched down, looking at something in the sand.
Kit watched as he coaxed the kite into staying up in the air while closing the distance between himself and the child. The little girl looked up at him and he bent down, looking at something she was showing him. Then he held out the stick the kite string was wound around.
The surf and breeze snatched their conversation away, so Kit couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but the little girl was clearly skeptical. Finally, the man took her hand and helped her to her feet, then positioned her in front of him, with her body backed up against his. Using his body as a brace and a shield against the wind, he lowered the kite string in front of her. After looking up for reassurance, she took the string. He held on for good measure, then slowly let his fingers lift away.
Kit could clearly see her face when she lifted it to the sky, wonder and amazement clear in her expression. She looked up to the man, then back to the kite. Kit smiled, watching them. Simple things, like flying a kite, could bring so much joy. Her gaze shifted back to the man’s face. She’d expected to see him grinning or laughing, but he was watching the girl with . . . well, she couldn’t exactly say. He was a bit too far away. But she could tell he wasn’t smiling . . .
Until the little girl looked up at him again. Then he immediately beamed back at her. When she looked back to their dancing turtle kite, Kit noted he wiped at his eyes. The wind, maybe?
A moment later his gaze shifted as if he felt the presence of someone else on the beach . . . and fell directly on Kit. His smile turned polite and he nodded a short acknowledgment of her.
Not knowing what to do and suddenly feeling as if she was intruding on a private moment between father and daughter, she automatically lifted her hand in a short wave, giving a brief smile.
Good-looking father, too,
she thought.
she thought.
He was tall and lean, with dark hair a bit on the shaggy side. Or maybe that was just the effect of the wind. But he had a lot of it to blow around. Nice smile. She couldn’t tell from that distance, but she’d bet on warm eyes. The little girl looked a lot like him. She had a small frame, but matched the dark, thick hair, at least if the ponytail sticking out from the back of her little baseball cap was any indication.
Kit’s smile returned. Both had on hoodies—his navy blue, hers pink—and sported sandy, damp knees on their jeans.
Like father, like daughter.
Like father, like daughter.
Pretty charming pair,
she thought, then decided maybe it was best to turn back to the path and leave them to their private moment. Her smile remained as she headed back through the dunes, even as her thoughts turned a bit more poignant. She hadn’t gotten any kind of time like that with her own dad. He hadn’t been the outdoor type. Or much of the dad type, truth be told. He’d followed the male tradition in the Bellamy family started by Mamie Sue’s brother, who’d been too frail for the war and had gone into banking. That was where the men of the family had made their contribution to the family business. Her father had been a shining example, working long hours and showing the same kind of dedication as the women of Mamie Sue’s.
she thought, then decided maybe it was best to turn back to the path and leave them to their private moment. Her smile remained as she headed back through the dunes, even as her thoughts turned a bit more poignant. She hadn’t gotten any kind of time like that with her own dad. He hadn’t been the outdoor type. Or much of the dad type, truth be told. He’d followed the male tradition in the Bellamy family started by Mamie Sue’s brother, who’d been too frail for the war and had gone into banking. That was where the men of the family had made their contribution to the family business. Her father had been a shining example, working long hours and showing the same kind of dedication as the women of Mamie Sue’s.
Kit had loved him very much and had known, absolutely, she was loved in return, but their time together had mostly been spent at the dinner table. Despite being used to not having him around much, she still missed him every day now that he was forever gone.
She thought about the man on the beach and sighed a little as she pulled open the door to the research center. Life brought with it so many unexpected changes. She hoped that little girl realized how lucky she was.
Chapter 4
M
organ reeled in the kite, with help from his little assistant. “Sun’s starting to set. Getting a little chilly. What do you say we go get some dinner in town?”
organ reeled in the kite, with help from his little assistant. “Sun’s starting to set. Getting a little chilly. What do you say we go get some dinner in town?”
He was gaining ground on the whole unpacking thing, but hadn’t quite gotten ahead of the curve on the buying food and feeding the child part. He was used to grabbing whatever was handy whenever he came up for air from working and realized he hadn’t eaten in hours. Little people required something a bit more regulated than that, not to mention nourishing.
“Where?” she asked.
“Well, there’s a little diner on the town square. Laura Jo’s.” The other options were the pub or the tiny pizza place, neither of which seemed suitable for their first joint venture into public. He’d wanted to get unpacked, let her settle in a bit, before springing more new people on her—including the grandmother she’d never met. Well, the grandmother she wouldn’t remember, since she’d been a newborn at the time they first met.
Actually, the more he thought about it, maybe the diner wasn’t such a good idea. There was no telling whom they’d run in to, or how people would react when they realized who he was . . . and who Lilly was. He should probably test the waters first. “Do you like pizza? We can order one to take home.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you want pizza?” he asked.
Since when did kids turn down pizza?
Since when did kids turn down pizza?
She shook her head and explained. “I don’t know if I like it.”
Right. She was a Westlake. They didn’t “do” pedestrian food, much less eat anything that could be carried out in a box.
He bundled up the kite, then took her hand as they headed down the path back to the research facility. “Well, what do you say we go find out? If it’s a bust, we can always go to the little grocery store and find something we like.” He’d been working from the stash of cereal, sandwich fixings, soup, and frozen casseroles the head housekeeper Coraline had surreptitiously asked the cook to load into his truck before he’d left Atlanta. Plus there was the always-dependable peanut butter and jelly he’d picked up on their trek in from Atlanta, but, after a few weeks on the island, supplies were running low.
“Okay,” she said.
“Great. Let’s go give the kite back to Gabe—Dr. Langley—then we’ll head to the pizza place.” He’d get the number from Gabe and call ahead, so he could just buzz in, grab the pie, and they could head back out to the cottage.
“Can we see Paddlefoot again first?”
Morgan smiled, thankful she was too young to understand the wry curve to it. He’d thought the turtles would be interesting to her, provide a little distraction from . . . well, everything else, but again he’d found himself back in careful-what-you-wish-for territory. In a single day, she was quickly becoming fixated on them. “Just for a minute. And only if Dr. Langley says it’s okay.”
Her grip on his hand tightened as they sped up the path. He was definitely going to have to work a lot harder on that whole not-being-a-pushover thing. Today it was turtles, tomorrow it would be . . . God, he didn’t even want to think about it.
They opened the door and pushed through the screen of thick, dangling plastic strips designed to keep birds and other creatures from flying into the building and walked on into the welcome area. Morgan heard voices coming from the lab, which was through the door on the opposite side of the small foyer, so he headed that way. It was also the direction of the rehab facility.
He spied the doctor talking to the woman who’d come out to the beach a little bit ago. She was listening while Gabe was explaining . . . something to do with his work, no doubt. Morgan smiled, thinking he couldn’t recall seeing Gabe quite so . . . animated. In fact, when the woman laughed at something he said, Morgan could have sworn the older man’s deeply tanned, sun-grooved cheeks flushed a little. Not that his reaction was entirely surprising.
The young woman was a little taller than most, with an average build. She had on khaki trousers and a light blue sweater, so he couldn’t see distinct curves, but that wasn’t the reason for Gabe’s blush or Morgan’s more thorough perusal. Her hair was a show-stopping—and quite natural, he believed—auburn shade of red, cropped short around the ears and neck, but left longer on the top. Thick tufts tossed about by the wind sprang up, giving her a just-woke-up look that . . . well, on her was pretty damn sexy.
He was about to turn Lilly around and tell her they’d have to come back another time, when Gabe spied them and motioned them forward. “Hello, Miss Lilly,” he called out. “How was the kite?”
Lilly’s grip tightened on Morgan’s hand, and he felt her press against his hip. He glanced down. “It’s okay. You know Dr. Gabe now.”
She glanced up at him, then straightened a little and looked at Gabe. “It was very good,” she said, giving it her best Westlake. “Thank you for letting us borrow it.”
Gabe beamed. “You’re quite welcome. You can borrow it anytime.”
Morgan smiled, glad Lilly had spoken up for herself, but well aware it was a command performance. Her grip hadn’t let up one bit. He hated inadvertently playing the Olivia role. He had faith that, in time, as she healed and moved on in life, Lilly would eventually let her guard down a little and feel more comfortable around new people.
“Thank you.” She tugged on Morgan’s hand, and when he looked down, she whispered, “Can you ask him about Paddlefoot?”
It was another in the rapidly multiplying series of moments when Morgan questioned his options. Part of him wanted to gently encourage her to speak for herself, if for no other reason than to allow others into her world who could help make it better, more interesting, give her comfort and attention, or even just be friendly. The other part of him wanted to wrap her up in something soft and warm and keep the world at bay until she was good and ready to deal with it.
“You can ask him,” he said gently, quietly, just between the two of them.
She didn’t say anything to that, but let her eyes do the pleading for her.
“Okay, we can take turns. I’ll ask this time, and you can next time. Deal?”
She nodded, and he rubbed his thumb over the slender fingers still in his grasp.
He glanced back at Gabe. “Any chance we can go say hello to Paddlefoot one more time today? Lilly drew him a picture.”
She glanced up sharply at him and he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. Then her gaze went to the woman, then down to the floor. Ah. Apparently he was revealing too much to strangers.
“That’s wonderful,” Gabe was saying. “I’m sure he will love it. Maybe you can show the other turtles, too—if you don’t mind sharing. They don’t have anyone drawing them pictures.”
Lilly looked a little distraught about that, then blurted out, “Moggy drew one, too.”
Gabe chuckled, his gentle demeanor soothing and completely nonthreatening, despite his rather tall, somewhat knobby appearance and the gray beard he sported. “Fantastic.”
Walking a short distance from her, he crouched down so he was on eye level with her. “You know, maybe we could make a bulletin board back there and encourage people to bring their drawings or anything else they want to share with the turtles during their stay here. What do you say? Would you be willing to help me with that?”
Lilly looked up at Morgan, squeezing the life out of his fingers again, but maybe for different reasons. “Can I, Uncle Moggy?” she whispered with such honest yearning in those sad eyes of hers. he was pretty sure any piece of his heart she hadn’t already shattered, had fissures shooting through it.
“Of course. I think that’s about the best idea ever.”
She looked back at Dr. Langley. “Yes, sir. Thank you. Very much.” She spoke politely, with emotion vibrating in every word.
Gabe grinned and pushed to a stand. “Well then, consider it a plan. Go on back and say hi, maybe look around and see where you think the board should go, okay?”
“Yes, sir. Okay,” she said directly, without needing an intermediary this time.
Morgan smiled. Little steps—but big, too, in their own way. A part of him relaxed a bit. The interaction helped confirm Lilly was ultimately going to be okay. She was too interested, too curious, and too determined to let the hardships of life keep her down for long.
She tugged on his hand and nodded toward the rehab room.
Morgan chuckled. “Lead on.” He turned to follow the all but vibrating child, then looked over his shoulder and made direct eye contact with the woman still standing just behind the doctor. “I’m sorry we interrupted.”
“Oh, don’t apologize,” she said with an easy smile. “I’m just wandering through.”
She had the pale, creamy skin that often went along with being a natural redhead, but what caught his full and undivided attention were the green eyes that completed the package. They sparkled when she smiled. That and a flash of white teeth and he found himself somewhat rivet—
“Uncle Moggy,” Lilly whispered almost fiercely, tugging at his hand with all she was worth. “Please?”
Morgan chuckled again and lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I must go.” He nodded toward Gabe. “Be careful around this one or he’ll have you volunteering your time and your checkbook.”
At Gabe’s raised eyebrows, Morgan’s smile turned self-deprecating. “On second thought, since I’m supposed to be helping him with that, forget I mentioned it.”
“I can think of worse things to do with both,” the woman said with a fast grin. “And, who knows, if I end up sticking around, maybe I’ll do exactly that.”
“Great,” Morgan said, with Gabe echoing the sentiment. “You thinking of moving to Sugarberry, then?”
“Moggy,” Lilly said, drawing out the syllables into a classic kid whine.
Nice to know she can beg,
he thought. “Nice to meet you,” he called as he stumbled along behind Lilly. “I’m Morgan, by the way. And the tiny terror is my niece, Lilly.”
he thought. “Nice to meet you,” he called as he stumbled along behind Lilly. “I’m Morgan, by the way. And the tiny terror is my niece, Lilly.”
Her smile faltered at that. “Ah. Uh, I’m Kit,” she answered after a moment, more polite afterthought than sincere offering.
Morgan smiled through the surprised little gut punch her reaction had given him. She was just passing through. God only knew the reaction he was going to get when he mingled with the folks who actually lived here. “Enjoy your stay, Kit.” With that, he disappeared into the rehab center.
She didn’t disappear from his thoughts quite as easily.
So,
Kit thought,
that was Morgan Westlake. Figures. Hot, handsome, and adorable with his niece.
Kit thought,
that was Morgan Westlake. Figures. Hot, handsome, and adorable with his niece.
And single,
she recalled as the conversation she’d overheard between Alva and Lani floated through her mind again. It competed with the far stronger memories of her months spent in court, going up against those unbearably snotty lawyers from his family’s firm. The last thing she needed or wanted was to tangle any part of her new life with anyone remotely connected to ending her old one.
she recalled as the conversation she’d overheard between Alva and Lani floated through her mind again. It competed with the far stronger memories of her months spent in court, going up against those unbearably snotty lawyers from his family’s firm. The last thing she needed or wanted was to tangle any part of her new life with anyone remotely connected to ending her old one.
“Sorry,” Dr. Langley was saying, “didn’t mean to leave you standing there.”
“No, no, not to worry,” she assured the older gentleman. He was pretty much the textbook description of what she’d imagine if she was asked to picture a doctor of ecology and wildlife conservation. She pegged him somewhere in his mid-to-late sixties.
He was tall and lanky bordering on bony, with longish gray hair a bit on the wispy side, as was the accompanying beard. He sported wire-rim glasses, a lab coat over faded khakis, and exceedingly well-worn hiking boots. The few pens in the upper pocket and a folding knife sheathed to his belt completed the outdoorsy-nerdy combination. He had a calm quiet voice, but his hazel eyes sparked to life when he talked about the plight of the endangered species he clearly loved and was dedicated to helping.
Kit had liked him on sight. “Actually, I’m truly curious about the work you’re doing here.” Surprisingly, it was the truth.
The court case and complete dismantling of Mamie Sue’s, not to mention the family turmoil caused by sitting across a courtroom from a vengeful Trixie and smug Teddy, had overwhelmed Kit for what felt like forever. Add to that the emotional toll of trying to figure out what was next for herself. . . and it felt like it had been ages since she’d thought of anything outside the takeover.
She certainly wouldn’t have guessed sea turtles would capture her attention, and she wasn’t sure anything more than a pleasant and interesting conversation with the good doctor would come of it . . . but she couldn’t deny it was blissfully restorative to step outside her problems and think about something—any thing—else, even if for only a short time.
Kit continued the conversation. “What got you started here? Why the turtles?”
“I’ve always been interested in working with animals. Grew up in the Smokey Mountains. My dad was a park ranger and taught me a lot about them, how they manage themselves and how the environment can affect them. As for the turtles, I moved to Savannah to take on a teaching position at a college there, got involved with a few professors who were already studying turtles.” He smiled and his eyes brightened. “One in particular really . . . engaged my attention.”
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