Authors: Donna Kauffman
Babycakes (8 page)
“He introduced me to your friend Paddlefoot.”
Lilly’s eyes all but goggled. “He did?”
Kit nodded. “He told me the turtles really like you. And your pictures. They’re really good.”
“Uncle Moggy did some of them.” She looked at Morgan as if debating whether to say something, but remained silent.
Kit looked up at Morgan. “You colored turtle pictures?”
“Sure did. I’m not as good at staying in the lines as Lilly.”
He thought he heard her say, “I’ll bet” under her breath.
“He’s practicing to get better,” Lilly assured her, and Morgan noticed Kit fought to keep from laughing outright.
“Do you want to draw some?” Lilly asked. “Dr. Langley can give you a coloring book. I have a box of colors if you don’t have any.”
“That sounds like fun. I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”
“We’d better go.” Morgan handed the money to Dre, who had gone back to her dispassionate, young-punk demeanor. Apparently she was only animated with folks under four feet tall.
“Cool kid,” she offered as he took the string-tied box.
He smiled at that. “She is that. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
He wasn’t sure if there was a bit of warmth in Dre’s response, but chose to think maybe Lilly had bought him a little headway. Taking Lilly’s hand, he remembered what Gabe had admonished him to do, but it was hardly the time or place. He nodded to Kit. “Good to see you again.”
“Have a good picnic.” Kit’s smile shifted to something a little less warm as she lifted her gaze from Lilly to him.
Perversely, it made his smile spread fully across his face. Dre might have a bit of a wall up, and he could understand the reserve. He was still a stranger to them, his motives concerning Birdie unproven. But this woman had an entire fortress erected . . . and she didn’t know Birdie or him. He was suddenly just as curious to find out why as Gabe had been. On impulse, he said, “We’re going to the research center again tomorrow afternoon. We’ll bring the crayons.”
Lilly looked up with an animated face and hopeful smile. “You can come color with us.” She looked at Dre. “You can come, too.”
“I’ll be at my other job,” Dre said, warm smile instantly back in place. “But maybe next time.”
Lilly nodded, then looked expectantly back at Kit. “Can you come?”
“I’m pretty busy getting the new shop ready,” she began, but when Lilly’s little shoulders sagged, Morgan could see her relenting. Good to know he wasn’t the only softie where Lilly was concerned.
“Around three?” he prompted.
She flashed him a look that, though she was smiling, told him she wasn’t keen on his using Lilly to manipulate her into going. His smile grew, and he was completely unrepentant about it. He didn’t mind folks having something against him, but thought he should know what it was he was being condemned for, at least.
“I’ll try.” She smiled at Lilly, leaving him out of it.
Lilly smiled up at Kit, then waved to Dre as Morgan moved around her to open the door. Dre lifted a hand, nodded, and gave Morgan an unreadable look.
“Tough crowd,” Morgan murmured dryly as they exited to the sidewalk.
Lilly all but skipped beside him, and it was such a flashback to the child who’d charmed him all the years leading up to the accident, whatever frustration he felt immediately dissipated. He realized more each day that he’d done the right thing by coming to Sugarberry and his confidence had grown with the realization—which was good, considering his main reason for doing so was presently waiting for them at the local community center.
Although only a short block and a half off the main square, the closer they got to the building, the slower Lilly’s steps became. Her grip on his hand tightened and she drew closer to him, all the bravado she’d achieved at the cupcake bakery having fled as swiftly as it had come. When they got to the walkway that led to the front doors, she stopped altogether.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
She kept her gaze on the doors. “Do we have to go in?”
“I think we should. You remember how Kit and Dre said your grandma was excited about the picnic.”
Lilly nodded, but she looked as if she was facing the gallows rather than a fun picnic outing.
The mild irritation Morgan had felt back at the bakeshop, presumably for being judged by the actions of his family, paled in comparison to the flash of real anger he felt toward his own mother in that moment. He hadn’t had a say in what Olivia had done to ostracize Delilah from her own family, and later, Delilah’s daughter from the same family, but he wished he’d at least tried. All the adults who mattered most in Lilly’s life had failed her in varying degrees, himself included.
Because of that, the picnic mattered more to him than he’d realized. It would be a first step toward doing right by her.
Morgan crouched down and gently tugged Lilly’s hand so she turned to face him. “Why don’t we go in, say hello, and take her our cupcakes? We can see how it goes from there.”
“Could we leave then?”
“If we really want to. I hope we won’t, though.”
Lilly turned and buried her face on his shoulder. Surprised by such a complete turnaround from just minutes ago, Morgan instinctively gathered her close and hugged her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders for all they were worth. He was on the verge of telling her maybe they’d try another day, when she whispered, “What if she doesn’t like me?”
“Oh, baby.” Instant tears sprang to Morgan’s eyes, which he blinked back as he kissed the top of her head. He gently pried her loose and looked at her face. “She loves you. She always has. It’s just . . . sometimes families make decisions for reasons that don’t make sense to anyone else. But Grandma Birdie has always wanted to know you.”
Lilly seemed to take that in, but Morgan hadn’t any idea if she believed it, much less understood it. How could he explain someone like Olivia to a five-year-old? “Let’s go in and say hello like we talked about, and then we can decide how to go from there. Okay?”
Lilly nodded, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do something if I didn’t think it was okay, or might be bad for you. You know that, right?”
She nodded again, with a little more conviction.
“You liked Miss Dre, didn’t you?”
“Yes. She has funny hair. And earrings in her face.” Lilly said it solemnly, as if everyone knew those things constituted automatic friendship.
Morgan grinned and simultaneously decided he was locking her in her room until she was eighteen. Maybe twenty-one. “And you liked Miss Kit.”
“She likes turtles. Her hair is a color book color, too.”
“I like her hair,” Morgan said. It suited her. A lot of other things about her would have suited him, too. Like those flashy green eyes and that luminous skin—if, of course, she didn’t loathe him on sight. “So, you already met some nice people today. I think most people on Sugarberry are nice.”
“Why?”
“Well, because it’s a nice place to live. They’re happy here.”
“Do you like it here?”
Morgan nodded. “More and more every day.” He was hesitant to ask, but knew he couldn’t pass up the chance to find out how Lilly was really feeling. “Do you like it here?”
She had such a contemplative look on her face, Morgan wanted to hug her again. She was such an amalgamation, one part reserved, polite child and the other an inquisitive, social little girl.
“I like the turtles. I like the beach. I like my room. It’s blue.”
Having seen her studious and conservative bedroom at home, Morgan had known, going in, he wanted her to be a big part of choosing how her new room was decorated. He’d offered to paint it any color she wanted—within reason—thinking she’d go for something girly and pink. They’d picked out the paint swatches together, and all of hers had been some shade of blue. They’d settled on a pretty sky blue, with a pale chiffon yellow ceiling and window trim. No curtains yet, or bedspread, just window blinds and a regular blanket, but she liked it. It was . . . cheerful.
He wished he knew how to make its occupant feel the same way at the moment. “Pretty good start, right?”
She nodded.
He straightened and took her hand. “So, let’s go inside and see if this is something we can add straight to the like list.”
“The like list?” she asked, scrunching up her face as she looked up at him.
“Yep. The official What We Like About Sugarberry List. It’s growing pretty quickly already.”
She thought about that. “Okay.”
Just like that, they were heading inside.
Morgan breathed a quiet sigh of relief . . . and decided right then and there if Birdie Wiggins wasn’t pretty much Glinda the Good Witch of Grandmas, they were heading straight back out. The emotional roller coaster was wearing him out.
Chapter 7
“
P
retty hot. For an uncle.”
P
retty hot. For an uncle.”
Kit shot a look at Dre as she ducked behind the counter with her, then headed toward the kitchen to see Lani. “He’s a Westlake.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t be hot. For an uncle.”
Kit let out a little sigh. Her hormones were still jumping all over the place from their surprise meeting, which made it next to impossible to pretend he hadn’t affected her. “I know. Dammit.”
Dre might have cracked a small smile; it was hard to tell. She was an ambiguous mix of I’m-so-over-it cynic and creative genius, but sometimes Kit had to remind herself this was the same person who had designed and made her that incredible, whimsical apron.
“Tell Lani we need more turtles,” Dre said. “They’ve been popular today.”
“Will do.” Kit bumped her hip against the swinging door and entered the kitchen. “Lani, I—” She paused while Lani picked up the remote control for the stereo and cut Elvis off right between a little more action and a little less conversation. Lani didn’t play the music as loud during business hours as Kit had come to discover she played it when baking solo in the early morning, pre-opening hours, or late night after hours, but music was usually on if she was baking. When Kit had asked her about it, Lani had explained she’d gotten used to baking to music since opening the shop, claimed it helped her creativity.
Having grown up in a family of strong-willed, slightly eccentric women, Kit understood that explanation completely. “Dre says we’re low on turtles.”
“I know. I peeked out when I heard that deep voice. He’s pretty—”
“Hot,” Kit finished. “I know. For an uncle.”
“For an anything.” Lani wiggled her eyebrows. “I also might have been peeking out there when the two of you were making googly eyes at one another.”
“We were not. There was no googling of eyes, I can assure you.”
“Say what you like,” Lani said dismissively, then shot Kit a wicked grin, “but I know googly when I see it.”
“I say run a background check.” This from Alva, who was standing at a worktable on the far side of the kitchen, taking cupcakes from their pans and lining them up on the cooling rack.
“On who?” Lani and Kit asked simultaneously.
“Whoever it is you’re Googling.”
“What?” Lani asked. “Oh. Not that kind of google.”
Alva merely shrugged and went back to what she was doing. “Last week I Googled Hugh Jackman. Dee Dee Banneker said he takes his shirt off a lot. Turns out, Dee Dee is right.” She continued lining up the cooling cupcakes. “I like that about him.”
Lani laughed and Kit just stared, slightly openmouthed. She was still getting used to the various sides of Alva Liles. Kindly, sweet older woman in many ways . . . and an octogenarian who held a monthly poker night and wrote a gossip-slash-advice column for the local newspaper that was like a mash up of Dear Abby . . . and TMZ. Kit never knew what to expect. Admittedly, that was part of the fun.
Smiling, Kit turned back to Lani. “I was just on the phone with George, the electrician’s brother? He was recommended for the demolition we need on that one wall, but he’s not available for another two weeks.”
“Can’t you just take a hammer to it? When my Harold and I moved into our first house, he tore out three walls with nothing more than a big mallet and some serious determination to make our dining room and kitchen one big area.” Alva paused and smiled. “He took his shirt off a lot, too.” After a brief sigh, she went back to work. “I still miss that.”
Kit heard Lani sigh beside her and glanced her way.
“What?” Lani said, smiling. “I hope I still feel that way about Baxter when I’m eighty-four.”
“I’ve seen you two together. I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem.” Kit leaned closer so only Lani could hear, and, in a hushed whisper, added, “Alva mentioned something about Hank, the guy who runs the grocery store? Are they an item?”
“Well,” Lani replied, also sotto voce, “she plays it like the two of them are at odds over his always blocking our back alley with his delivery trucks—which he does—and her always getting into trouble with the local council, on which he’s a leading member—which she does—but we’re pretty sure they’re not always at odds. Every Thursday they both kind of disappear around lunch time.”
Kit smiled. “It’s sweet that they have a weekly lunch together.”
“You can all it ‘lunch’ if you want to,” Lani said, making air quotes around the word.
Kit laughed, then stopped when Lani just nodded.
“Seriously?” Kit looked over at Alva, who was humming Elvis and swiveling her hips as she frosted. “I so want to be her when I grow up.” Kit’s voice held a fair amount of reverence. “Well, maybe without the pink hair.”
“It goes well with the raspberry velour track suit, though,” Lani said.
“True.” They glanced at each other and smiled. “So, what should I do about the wall demo?”
“Call the electrician back and see if he has any other heavy-handed brothers?”
Kit smiled. She had only been on Sugarberry for ten days, but it already felt comfortable. Lani was open and easy to know, as were the rest of the Cupcake Club crew. As was everyone she’d met on the island, truth be told.
Her thoughts immediately went to the one person on the island who made her uncomfortable. And not just in the ways he should. Morgan Westlake bothered her all right. At a time when she should be completely focused on this new path and getting Babycakes up and launched, the very last thing she needed was a six-foot-one distraction with thick dark hair, broad shoulders, and the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever—
“She tell you she has a hot crayon date with Uncle Hunk?”
Kit blinked and visions of a smiling Morgan vanished as Dre came bumping through the swinging door with an empty display tray in her hand. It took a moment longer for her to realize what Dre had just said. It was a moment too long, as it turned out. Nothing got by the Cupcake Club ladies.
Lani’s eyes widened in surprised delight as Kit scrambled to backpedal. “We don’t have any sort of date.”
“Do too,” Dre said, sliding the empty rack into one of the large industrial sinks and sliding a rack of freshly frosted turtle cupcakes from the tall, rolling cart.
“I knew it!” Lani said. “Googly eyes tell the truth every time.”
“We were not—”
“What’s a crayon date?” Alva wanted to know. “Is that some new sort of sex thing? Because back in my day—”
“No,” Kit said in a hurry, not sure she was ready to hear anything about what Alva might or might not have done with crayons, or finger paints, or God knew what, on any day. “His niece—”
“Who is completely adorable, by the way,” Lani said, then added, “I told you, I was peeking. Cute little costume she had on. Isn’t today the big day she meets—”
“Birdie,” Alva finished. “It sure is. And I can tell you, Birdie is as nervous and excited as a new mother. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. Told her she better get a grip on it before she had a stroke. Had to talk her out of buying out the kid section over at Tolliver’s.”
“Well, it’s understandable she’s anxious to finally get to be a grandmother,” Lani said. “Lilly is her only grandchild. I still can’t imagine what she must have been feeling, all these years, being cut off from any kind of communication.”
“I still say give me five minutes with that old battle-ax, Olivia Westlake and I’d give her a solid piece of my mind,” Alva exclaimed. “I’ll never understand that kind of poisonous behavior.”
“Me, either,” Lani said. “I’m glad Morgan had the—”
“Balls,” Dre supplied. “Me, too. Special kid. I like her.” With that she took the tray out front . . . and Lani and Alva turned their attention back to Kit.
“So,” Lani said, with the kind of speculative gleam in her eye that, even in Kit’s short tenure, she’d learned meant she hadn’t a prayer of diverting the topic of conversation. “Tell us about this date.”
Finished with emptying the cupcake pans, Alva wiped her hands on a towel and crossed the kitchen as well. “Why crayons? Sounds kinky. He didn’t look like the type to me. Though I suppose you can never tell. Why, I remember when Harvey Rickenbottom was found out in the back shed with two of Louise Granger’s—”
“He didn’t invite me, really. Lilly did,” Kit blurted almost desperately.
Lani caught her eye and mouthed a silent thank you.
Kit smiled and went on. “Lilly was telling me about the turtles and I shared that I liked them, too.” She shrugged. “So, she asked me to color some with her. That’s really all there is to it.”
“You’ve been over to the research center a few times since you got here, right?” Lani asked.
Kit nodded. “I went in that first day, the day we interviewed, on a whim, and well . . . I like Gabe and I really respect what he’s doing down there. And”—she took a steadying breath, smiled—“with this new change in my life, I decided it would be smart of me to develop outside interests, something other than work. I loved Mamie Sue’s, but it was my whole life, it was work and home—because I wanted it to be. I think maybe that was why I didn’t have any real perspective.”
“Family businesses can be like that even in the best of circumstances,” Lani said. “You got handed a really big responsibility when you were pretty young. Then you had to deal with your sister’s husband, too. It must have been challenging.”
“It had its own special brand of challenges, yes. But, even with the loss of my grandma, and my mom and dad, mostly it was wonderful. It saved me, really. It was the one constant thing I had, the one thing I could count on to always be there. I loved the business. Truly. Every part of it. And I think that really blinded me. I was so deeply entrenched, I sort of took for granted that everyone was as devoted to it as I was.”
“Well, from what I understand, they were. Except for Teddy—”
“And the members of the board he bribed.” Kit waved a hand when Lani started to say something. “It’s—okay. You don’t have to defend me. I know I made some big mistakes. It wasn’t until it all ended, and so abruptly, that I realized I hadn’t just lost my job, or my vocation. I had lost everything. My whole life was suddenly empty, because I hadn’t ever built anything else. Sure, I had friends, family. But my friends were all Mamie Sue employees, and my family . . . ”
Lani laid her hand on Kit’s arm. “Family shouldn’t turn on family. No one sees that coming. We’re all so sorry about that.”
Kit covered her hand. “I know, and I really appreciate your support.” She looked at Lani and Alva. “I’ve learned that if I think about my life in terms of things lost, I’ll never move on. In just as many ways, I could never have expected to be blessed with such a wonderful new path. And I’m really grateful for it. For you. All of you.”
Alva laid her tiny hand on top of theirs and squeezed. “We’re happy to have you here, Miss Kit. You’re family with us now.”
Kit felt her eyes well up, and it was only then she realized she’d gone a whole ten days without crying. That alone was cause for celebration. “It means more to me than you know. You all, and . . . well, everyone here. That’s why I’ve gone back to see Gabe—Dr. Langley. I really admire him, but I also really enjoy his company. I met his wife Anne the other day. They’re both wonderful, and together. . . well, it’s a special thing they have.”
“It is,” Lani agreed. “I like them both, too.”
“He’s . . . well, he’s nothing at all like my dad.” Kit laughed, trying—and failing—to imagine her father even chatting with someone like the doctor. “But I guess I have that same comforting feeling around him. I know it makes no sense—”
“It makes perfect sense.” Lani spontaneously put her arm around Kit’s shoulders and squeezed. “You know I came down here to be closer to my dad and . . . well . . . we had our share of hard times, especially after my mom passed. I’ll be honest, for a while I didn’t know if moving here was the right thing. I mean, I knew it was, but he didn’t. And that wasn’t going to be good for either of us.”
“But it’s good now,” Kit said. “I saw Sheriff Trusdale just the other day and he all but bursts at the seams talking about you.”
Lani smiled and her own eyes sparkled with a glimmer of joyful tears. “He’s a hard man in so many ways, but such a special guy in the ways that matter most. And, yes, I’m so glad we’ve figured things out.” She one-arm hugged Kit again. “Finding a feeling of family with Gabe, or Anne, or any of us, is a really good thing. That’s all I was trying to say.”
“Thank you.” Once again, Kit was stunned by the honest and sincere compassion and empathy she’d received from friends so newly made. “I really am fascinated by his work, so it’s something I’m happily pursuing. When I can, anyway.”
“What about the Westlake connection?” Lani asked. “I mean, I think Morgan seems like a really good guy, trying to do the right thing. His niece is totally cute, and you can’t help falling a little in love with her. I know his family’s law firm was involved in the sale of Mamie Sue’s—”
“How did you know that?” Kit hadn’t told anyone about meeting Morgan that first day, or her misgivings about there being a Westlake living on Sugarberry. It was her problem, not theirs.
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