Babycakes (7 page)

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Authors: Donna Kauffman

BOOK: Babycakes
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“Where’s Franco?”
He pointed to the fairy with the French beret tilted at a jaunty angle. His was bigger than the others, and sported black peg-leg pants rather than a dress.
“Who knew guy fairies could be so sexy?” Kit said, sending him a fast smile.
“Oh, honey,” Franco drawled, “I’ve known that for years.”
Everyone laughed.
Alva pointed out the Dre fairy, who was the most . . . well . . . macabre of the bunch. Something of a punk fairy hairstyle, with a tiny eyebrow ring and detail of whimsical dragons in the wings made Kit even more curious to meet her.
“Who’s that?” She pointed to a fairy with blond curls and a big smile. “Is that a Band-Aid on her wing?”
“That’s Riley. She did all the photography for Lani and Baxter’s cookbook.” Alva traced the tiny bandage on the wing. “And she’s fine. She’s just what you might call a little. . . ungraceful, at times.”
“She did the food styling,” Lani said, “not the photography.”
Alva’s neatly penciled brows furrowed. “I still don’t understand why you need to pose the food. You put it on a nice plate, maybe add a pretty candle.”
Lani looked at Kit over Alva’s head and they smiled. “She’s amazing. Wait till you see her work in the cookbook. We should be getting advance copies in soon.”
“I can’t wait. Where is she? Does she come to these bake sessions, too?”
“She’s one of us,” Charlotte said. “You’ll love her. Everyone does.”
“She’s on book tour with her significant other right now.” Alva wiggled her eyebrows. “Really big deal.”
“Oh?” Kit asked, surprised. “She’s a cookbook author, too? Or . . . he is?”
“Oh, no. He’s Quinn Brannigan.”
“Quinn Branni—wait.
The
Quinn Brannigan?” Kit had seen his handsome face smiling at her from the back covers of his books for years. “I didn’t know he lived there.”
“Moved in just this past summer,” Lani said.
“Whirlwind romance,” Alva added, hands clasped under her chin. “Real fairy tale.” She smiled up at Kit, eyes twinkling. “He’s a real hunk.”
“First, Baxter Dunne and now Quinn Brannigan? What, is this like the Island of Hot Authors or something? And, if that’s the case, what was I doing in Atlanta all these years? Where do I line up?”
Alva patted her hand again. “I told you, dear, just give us a little time.”
Grinning and shaking her head—but not entirely sure Alva was kidding—Kit looked back at the apron. Riley’s fairy had a little heart on her wing, too. She noted that Dre’s didn’t . . . and neither did Franco’s. Maybe that signified who had a love in their life and who didn’t. She noticed Alva’s had a heart on hers. And the heart itself had little angel wings. She felt a tug in her own heart at that. The late Harold, she was guessing.
She looked up at the group gathered around the table. “You all are amazing.”
Lani put an arm around Kit’s shoulders, leaned in, and pointed with her other hand. “There’s you.”
That tug tightened a little more when Kit spied her own fairy likeness—short red hair . . . and a slice of pie in her hand—and gave a soft gasp. “Oh.”
Lani’s arm around her shoulders tightened. “I’m sure she meant it as a tribute, not to hurt—”
“No,” Kit said quickly, which was hard to do over the sudden lump in her throat. “I love it. It’s just right.” She blinked back the threatening tears and smiled. “I can’t wait to meet Dre and thank her. This is just . . . tremendous. I don’t know how she did this so quickly. I haven’t even been here a week—”
“I think she had a lot of the apron done and was just waiting to see who the newest addition would be.”
“I’ll cherish it. I almost hate to think about actually wearing it. I wouldn’t want to mess it up.”
“It was meant to be worn,” Lani said.
“I know, it’s just, I’d feel awful if anything hap—”
“Put it on!”
everyone shouted, once again in unison, making them all laugh, Kit included.
She wanted to look at it longer, but did as commanded and slipped the apron loop over her head. Franco brushed her hands away and took the side straps, making quick work of the bow, then snugging it tight and flipping the ends with a flourish. God, he was so cute.
“Give us a show,
mademoiselle,
” he said, twirling his finger over her head.
Kit held her arms out and spun in a circle.
Alva did a fierce wolf whistle, surprising a laugh out of Kit and loosening her up a little more. She shook her hips and turned again, much to the delight of Franco, who swept her into his arms and twirled her effortlessly around the table. She squealed in surprise, but did her best to keep up with him.
“Just go with it,” Lani said.
Someone punched on some music, and a moment later they were all shaking their groove thing. Yeah yeah. Alva and Charlotte were doing The Bump and Lani was doing some kind of backup singer line dance.
Kit thought they were all a little nuts . . . and kept right on dancing with Franco . . . and laughing like she hadn’t in far, far too long.
She might not have a heart on her fairy wings, but her own heart was much fuller. Welcome to Cupcake Club, indeed.
Chapter 6
“
C
an I wear my green skirt?”
Morgan looked up from the papers he was sorting through on his recently uncovered desk. “Let me see.”
Lilly held up the bright green skirt. It was made mostly of long netting with what looked like sparkles attached all over it. “Where on earth did you get that?” He smiled, unable to imagine Olivia ever allowing something so . . . frivolous.
Her expression smoothed. “I wore it to Mallory Worth’s birthday party. We all dressed as fairies.”
“It’s quite . . . amazing,” he said, not meaning to dampen her spirits. He propped his elbows on his desk. “Does it come with proper wings?”
Lilly’s mouth tilted tentatively at the corners and she nodded. “It’s my very favorite dress in the whole world.”
“Then of course you should wear it. This is a very special day. Wings, too.”
“Yes,” she whispered, then turned to run out, but stopped short and turned back around. “Thank you, Uncle Moggy.”
So polite.
He sighed, but it was accompanied by a sincere smile. “You’re very welcome. Hurry and get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”
He expected her to dash off, but she hung in the doorway a moment longer.
“Do you need me to help you with it?” He was still a bit awkward with the whole dressing the little girl part. Mostly he let her choose what she wore, just making sure she was warm when she needed to be and cool enough when it got hot. He supposed that would change when it came time to put her in school, but he had the holidays yet to sort that all out.
“No, I can do it. But”—she looked at the dress—“do you think Grandmother Wiggins will like it?”
Morgan laid the newly found folder down and pushed back from his desk. “She’ll love it.”
He walked over to Lilly and crouched in front of her. “She’ll probably wish she had one of her very own.”
Lilly cracked a smile at that. “Grandmothers don’t dress like fairies.”
Morgan had an immediate image of his mother in such a getup and choked a little. “Maybe. But I bet some grandmas would think it’s pretty cool.”
Lilly thought about that. “Will Grandmother Wiggins think that?”
“I have a pretty good hunch she might. And I bet she’d really like it if you just called her Grandma Birdie. But let’s go find out for ourselves. Hurry, we’re picking up cupcakes on the way.”
Lilly’s eyes widened. “Cupcakes?”
Morgan nodded. “Birdie—Grandma Birdie—asked if we’d bring dessert to the picnic. And there’s a bakery on the square that makes very special cupcakes. Good idea?”
“Best idea.” She turned and raced down the hall toward her room.
Morgan stood and stared down the hall, even after she’d closed her door. Some days with Lilly were good days, some were more challenging. It was starting out to be a good day. A really good day. He prayed he still felt that way when it was over. His own stomach was in knots over the pending picnic. He couldn’t imagine how Lilly was feeling.
 
“Watch the wings,” Morgan cautioned Lilly as he pulled open the door to Cakes by the Cup.
“I am.” She stopped as soon as she stepped inside, blocking Morgan in the open doorway. “Whoa,” she marveled.
Morgan shuffled her inside and closed the door behind him. The cold snap had gone, but it was still cooler than usual. “Whoa, indeed.”
The shop was outfitted like a retro ice cream shop—except it was for baked goods. At least that’s what he equated it to. Antique glass display cases topped with old-fashioned glass domed cake stands were filled with amazingly decadent-looking cupcakes.
“Awesome fairy dress.”
Lilly and Morgan turned toward the voice and saw a twenty-something girl manning the register, which was also a gorgeously restored antique. Behind her was a set of floor-to-ceiling inset shelves filled with kitschy retro baking items and a display of cookbooks written by the shop owner’s husband. Morgan recognized him as Baxter Dunne, television’s famous Chef Hot Cakes.
However, his attention was focused exclusively on the counter help. In his defense, given her stubby, purple Mohawk and the multiple silver rings piercing one eyebrow, it was kind of hard to look anywhere else.
“Thank you,” Lilly said, responding to the compliment, her private-tutor voice back on display as she edged closer to Morgan’s leg.
“I’ve got fairy wings, too,” the girl said. “Wanna see?”
Morgan felt Lilly press her body more firmly against his leg, but she nodded, her eyes wide.
The girl came out from behind the counter, revealing an apron with Gandalf from
Lord of the Rings
on the front. It was rather stunning, actually, with a gorgeously designed backdrop that almost looked hand painted. Lilly crowded against Morgan as the girl came closer.
Morgan noted the stitched word
Dre
on the top border of her apron and extended his hand. “Hello, Dree, I’m—”
“Morgan Westlake,” the girl said, with no hint of derision. With no hint of anything, really. “Small island. And it’s pronounced Dray.”
“Ah. Well, hello, Dre. We’re here to pick up a few cupcakes.”
“For the picnic—with Birdie Wiggins.”
“How could you know that?”
A hint of a smile played around her surprisingly makeup-free mouth. Maybe she’d used it all up around her eyes. “Really small island,” she repeated, then crouched down to Lilly’s level and spun so her back was to them. She reached back and lifted up the Mohawk spikes that covered her neck.
Lilly drew her breath in. “Does your hair hurt?” She sounded concerned. “It’s very pointy.”
The question surprised Morgan, and Dre, too, if the smile she shot Lilly was any indication. “My hair? No. Feel it. It’s spiky, but it’s soft.”
Looking alarmed and curious, Lilly shook her head, then added, “No, thank you.”
Dre’s smile widened. “No problem. But ask me again if you change your mind. I just wanted to show you these.” She dipped her chin down and tugged the open collar of her top a bit wider, revealing a tattoo of a very elaborate, beautifully detailed and intricately colored pair of fairy wings, which wrapped partly around either side of her neck and disappeared under the neckline of her shirt and presumably down her back.
Lilly’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “Are they real?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.
“They’re as real as yours are,” Dre said. “You can touch it if you’d like.”
Morgan wasn’t sure how smart it was for Lilly to check out a tattoo. He could already imagine the ensuing conversation they’d have when his five-year-old niece begged him for one. But, it was too late.
Dre turned back around, but remained in a squat, resting on her heels. Morgan almost spoke up, unsure of what the young girl might tell his impressionable niece, but, in her fascination, Lilly had forgotten to be shy and spoke first. “How did you get them?”
“They’re like a drawing.”
Lilly’s eyes widened further. “You colored on your own skin? Didn’t you get in trouble?”
To her credit, Dre glanced up at Morgan, who merely smiled and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. She’d gotten herself into it after all.
“No,” she told Lilly. “When you get to be my age, you can make those kinds of choices for yourself.”
“How old are you?”
“Lilly—”
Dre waved off Morgan’s concern. “Just turned twenty-two.”
“I just turned five.”
“So I heard.”
Lilly frowned. “Who told you?” She glanced up at Morgan, then back to Dre.
“Little bird.” Dre smiled again when Lilly’s frown turned wary and whispered, “Your Grandma Birdie told me.”
Back to wide eyes again, Lilly said, “You know her?”
Dre nodded. “I do. She’s very good friends with Miss Alva, one of the other ladies who helps out here in the shop.” Dre spared a short glance at Morgan again, but went on without waiting for approval. “She’s very happy you’re here.”
Lilly pressed against Morgan again, and he laid his palm on her head, careful not to dislodge the fairy antennae headband. He was ready to move the conversation along to cupcake purchases, when Lilly spoke again.
“I am, too,” she whispered.
Morgan’s hand, which had shifted to her thin shoulder, tightened reflexively as his heart knotted up all over again—in a good way.
Dre smiled. “Good. So let’s pick out some cupcakes for you to take to her. I know which one is her favorite. But why don’t you tell me which one is yours?”
She started to straighten, but Lilly impulsively reached out and touched her shoulder, then yanked her hand back as if surprised by her own impulsivity.
Dre just winked at her and turned around one more time, tugging a little at the neck band of her shirt and giving Lilly one last look at the fairy wings.
“They’re very pretty,” she said almost reverently. And Morgan started to formulate his speech against the tattooing of minors.
Dre stood up and turned to face them. “I thought so, too. Come on. Let’s go look at cupcakes.”
Shocking him speechless, Lilly put her hand in Dre’s and off they went to examine the display cases.
Morgan stood there, wondering exactly when he’d completely lost control of the situation. Of all the people in the world he’d thought Lilly would feel comfortable with, the Mohawked, tattooed, multi-pierced Dre would not have made even the long list.
“Moggy!” Lilly exclaimed a moment later. “Come here. They have turtles!”
Oh boy.
He walked over to them. “Turtles, really?”
“They don’t look like turtles, but Miss Dre says they’re called turtles anyway.”
Other than the time Lilly spent with Paddlefoot and his fellow rehabbers, which had been for part of every day since Morgan had shown her the egg mound a week-and-a-half ago, it was the most animated he’d seen her since the accident. Certainly the most chatty—in public, anyway. He smiled to himself, thinking Lilly might have interesting taste in whom she chose to place her trust, but he admired her for being her own person and making the choice without worrying what someone else might think.
He leaned over her and read the little sign. “Mmm. Turtle cupcakes, with chocolate, caramel, and pecans. Those might be my favorite, too.”
Clearly thrilled with that pronouncement, Lilly reached for his hand and held it tight. “Can we get some?”
“Sounds good. Do you think we should find out what Grandma Birdie’s favorite is?”
Lilly nodded and turned to Dre, who said, “That’s easy. Strawberry shortcake.”
Lilly looked at Morgan. “Have I had that?”
“If you have to ask, probably not,” he said with a laugh. He looked at Dre, who had moved behind the display case. “We’ll take three of each, please.”
She nodded and went about boxing up their order as the bells jingled on the door, announcing another customer. Lilly’s hand tightened in his, as did his on hers. It was their first real foray in public together on the island, and though he knew they’d have to be prepared to start meeting people, he’d hoped, since it was a weekday, that it would be more of a trickle than a steady stream.
“Hey, Dre, is Lani in the back? I have a question about the—oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had customers.”
Morgan turned to find the redhead he’d met at the research center standing just inside the door. She looked . . . different, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Hello, again. Kit, right?”
“Right,” she said, stepping all the way inside and closing the door behind her. “Mr. Westlake.”
“Morgan, please. You remember Lilly.”
She gave a little wave to Lilly, who apparently had become empowered by the fairy costume, or by meeting the intriguing fairy-winged Miss Dre, or maybe it was a sugar rush from the smell of cupcakes, because she gave Kit a short wave back.
“Here’s your order,” Dre said, pulling his attention away.
He turned back to the counter.
Lilly let her hand slip from his and moved to the door. Near Kit. “We’re having a picnic. Did you know, too?”
Who was this kid, Morgan wanted to know, and what had she done with his quiet, shy, little niece?
“I might have heard something about it,” Kit said, and Morgan appreciated her honesty.
“Do you know my gramma, too?”
“I just moved here, so I haven’t met her yet. But I hear she’s a very nice lady. My friend, Miss Alva, is her best friend. I think if Miss Alva likes her so much, I will, too.”
Lilly seemed to think that over. “We’re getting her cupcakes. She likes shortberry cake. I got the turtles.”
“I like turtles, too. Cupcake ones and real ones. You know Dr. Langley, don’t you?”
Lilly nodded and looked a little wary.

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