Dying for a Cupcake (3 page)

Jake and Noah had agreed I could date them both until I decided which one I loved. But Jake had been gone almost since the instant that arrangement went into effect. Of course, Noah hadn’t been around much, either. His mother’s fake illnesses were keeping him occupied, and any of his time that she didn’t claim, his
medical practice did. The whole situation with both guys was as messed up as a pile of clothes hangers. Maybe I needed to forget about Jake and Noah and find someone with a nine-to-five job and a less complicated life.

T
hursday morning, I savored the silence of a completely empty building. No hammering. No swearing. And best of all, no boots stomping back and forth over my head. For the next few hours, Devereaux’s Dime Store was back to being mine and mine alone.

As promised, the workmen had finished up Tuesday night and the decorator had descended with her team on Wednesday to perform their magic. Both crews had done a good job. Removing the partition between two of the office suites had produced a large, open area that would be perfect for viewing and judging the cupcakes that the finalists produced at Winnie’s cooking school.

The interior designer had chosen a soft teal for the walls with brown curlicue accents stenciled near the ceiling. A raised dais in the front of the room contained two metal stands to exhibit the cupcakes—a five-foot-tall pink Ferris wheel and an equally large yellow roller coaster. Wrought-iron bistro tables and chairs were scattered around the rest of the space.

Although I typically wasn’t happy when the store was deserted, today I knew it was the lull before the storm and I was thrilled to have the place to myself
while I got ready for the baking competition. During the chaos of renovation, I hadn’t been able to concentrate, so now, hoping for impulse buys, I arranged cupcake-themed merchandise on all the end-cap displays and on the shelves near the cash register. While I fussed with the layout, I thought about the coming weekend.

Anticipating big crowds, I had arranged for my part-time clerk, Hannah Freeman, and my father to work all three days of the contest. Hannah’s previous schedule—a part of her vocational ed program at the high school—had been four mornings and one afternoon a week. However, she’d graduated last month and was leaving for college in the fall, so I needed to start interviewing for her position.

I also had to find out if my father planned to continue working weekends for me or if I should be looking for two new employees instead of one. How to put the question to him tactfully, so he didn’t feel I was pushing him away, was the tricky part. Like my mother, who had run off to California the minute Dad was sentenced, I hadn’t trusted his innocence when he was falsely accused of embezzlement. And during the twelve years he was in jail, I’d gone to see him only once.

I had no excuse for the former, and my reason for the latter wasn’t much better since he probably didn’t truly believe that I had developed a sort of claustrophobia after my first trip to the prison. Strangely enough, the phobia was because I had loved him so much, not because I didn’t care about him. I’d always been a daddy’s girl, and when he’d been convicted, I was shattered by both what I perceived as his betrayal of our family and his absence from my life. I missed him like crazy, but seeing him handcuffed and behind a steel-reinforced window made me feel as if I couldn’t
breathe. I had actually fainted the one and only time I’d visited.

Now that he was out of jail, I had a chance to try to make up for my lack of faith and, worse, my lack of visits. But I hadn’t quite figured out how yet. Shoving that problem out of my mind, I continued to fuss with a display that contained flip-flops, rubber clogs, slippers, and tennis shoes—all imprinted with brightly colored cupcakes. As I was finishing up, I heard the sound of sleigh bells jingling. I hurriedly shoved the last pink sneaker into place and glanced toward the front of the store.

Noah was standing in the entrance, scanning the shop. When he spotted me, he waved and let the door close behind him. I waved back and hurried toward him. It had been several weeks since we were able to coordinate our schedules to spend more than a few minutes together, and at least ten days since we’d been face-to-face. I had missed him and my heart sped up at the sight of him.

As I got closer, I saw that he looked exhausted. Although his dark blond hair was flawlessly styled, I noticed that instead of tapering neatly to the collar of his crisp Dolce & Gabbana dress shirt, it curled over the starched white cotton. He’d obviously had to skip his biweekly trim. The deep lines of fatigue bracketing his mouth and the dark circles under his gray eyes gave the impression of too little sleep and too much responsibility.

“Hi.” Noah drew me into his arms and rested his forehead against mine. “I have an hour between appointments and figure this might be the last time this weekend you have a minute to call your own.”

“You’re probably right about that.” As I caressed his cheek, a sense of peace I felt with no one else stole over
me. “Any luck finding your mother a home health aide that she’ll accept?”

“Cross your fingers.” Noah took my hand and stroked his thumb against my palm. “I finally took your advice, and on Monday, I hired a young, attractive male aide.” Noah wrinkled his brow. “I should have done it when you first suggested it, but the idea was so unnerving that I couldn’t make myself consider it.”

“I told you that he’d just be eye candy.” I tapped Noah’s perfect nose. “You know darn well Nadine wouldn’t dream of having an affair with the hired help, but with the right guy, she’ll enjoy some harmless flirtation and keep him around for the attention.”

“So far, so good.” Noah smiled ruefully. “It’s been three days and she hasn’t fired him yet. The previous record was twelve hours.”

“That sounds hopeful.” I slipped my arms around his neck, enjoying the strength of his embrace. “Maybe Monday, once this cupcake contest is over, we can actually spend some time together.”

“I wish I could, but . . .” He trailed off, refusing to meet my eyes.

“But what?” Stepping back from him, I tilted my head. “I thought you texted me that Dr. Rodriguez was starting full-time this week.”

After attending the combined B.A. and M.D. program at the University of Missouri’s School of Medicine and completing a three-year residency in family medicine, Noah had returned to Shadow Bend and opened the Underwood Clinic. The only medical center in a forty-mile radius, it was always packed with patients. Until recently, because of the long hours and low pay, he’d been unable to entice another physician into joining his practice, but last month he’d finally found an altruistic doctor who was willing to move to
a small town, work ten-hour days, and settle for less money.

“She did.” Noah was still avoiding my gaze. “But now that Elexus is on board and it appears that I’ve got Mother’s situation under control, I need to keep a promise that I made to one of my professors.”

“Oh?” I did not like where this conversation was heading, which seemed to be in a direction what would take Noah away from Shadow Bend.

“My med school mentor, Dr. Johnston, asked all of us to pledge to do a tour of duty every year with Disaster Doctors.”

“Which is?” I asked.

I had no intention of making this easy for Noah. It felt too much like the last time he’d walked out on me, which had been back in high school when my father went to prison. Recently, I had learned that I might have misinterpreted Noah’s actions at the time. A few months ago, he’d told me that when we were teenagers he’d broken up with me to protect my grandmother from his mother, who had threatened to have her arrested as an accomplice to my father’s suspected embezzlement. He’d also claimed that he’d tried to get back together with me. But I still wasn’t sure I believed his assertions or fully trusted him. Which was a big part of why I was still trying to decide between him and Jake.

With Noah’s past betrayal in mind, even though I knew I was being petty, I hardened my expression and waited for an explanation. I’d been patient about his mother and his work, so now that he had some free time, I wasn’t happy that he wouldn’t be spending even a minute—or at least a couple of weeks—of it with me.

What was it with him and Jake? Intellectually, I
understood they were both principled guys with commitments they were honor-bound to fulfill, but emotionally it felt as if I was always last on their priority list.

“Disaster Doctors is an organization that sends medical teams into places that have recently experienced either a natural or man-made disaster,” Noah explained. “Health care personnel sign up for one or two weeks, bring their own equipment and supplies, and take care of the victims of hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, and—”

“And war, right?” I’d been thinking about what a man-made disaster might be, and combat was the only logical one that came to mind.

“Yes, DD goes into battle zones.” He tried to pull me into a hug.

“Where are you going?” I moved out of his reach. This was not a discussion that I wanted to have while I was distracted by his touch. The chemistry between Noah and me might not have been quite as hot as the one between Jake and me, but he still could make me sizzle.

“Léogâne, Haiti,” Noah answered with a smile. “And there’s no war there.”

“Great.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “So instead of agonizing that you might be shot at or blown up, I can worry about you contracting cholera or AIDS. What a relief.”

“I’ve had my cholera vaccination and I’ll double-glove, always wear scrubs, masks, and protective eyewear,” Noah assured me.

“But the cholera vaccine doesn’t provide a hundred percent immunity.” I watched a lot of
National Geographic
on television, and there had been a recent series on Haiti and its many diseases. “And gloves get punctured.”

“I’m aware of that, and I’ll take all the necessary precautions.”

“There’s no way I can talk you out of this?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“I’ll be home a week from tomorrow.” Noah put his arms around me. “And I promise to be extra careful.”

“Humph.” I stepped out of his embrace. “It’s not so much that I don’t want you to keep your promise to your mentor, but I don’t understand why you have to rush off the minute you get a little free time. Time we could finally spend together.”

“Two reasons.” Noah put his arms around me again and drew me close. “One, I haven’t fulfilled my promise of a week a year since graduating.” He smoothed his hand down my hair. “And two, the doctor who was originally scheduled had to drop out because of a death in his family. Without me, the team is one man short. It makes the whole operation more dangerous without the full quota of medical personnel because then everyone is more rushed and might get careless.” He leaned back and looked me in the eye. “As you pointed out, there are a lot of serious communicable diseases in Haiti.”

“Fine,” I conceded. “But I’m still not happy that the first free time you get, you aren’t spending it with me.”

“Will you save that Saturday night after I get back for me?”

“We’ll see.” I shivered when his hands tunneled under my T-shirt and stroked my bare skin. Smiling, I relented and said, “It’s a date.”

“Good.” He dipped his head. “You know, I’ve been daydreaming about doing this all morning.” He pressed his lips to mine.

His kiss was slow and thoughtful, as if he was savoring every moment. I felt myself melting. We really were
good together. I wondered why it was so hard for me to decide between Noah and Jake. It all came down to whether I preferred floating on a cloud or riding a roller coaster. Did I want the prince or the cowboy?

All too soon, Noah said, “I have to get back to the clinic for my next appointment.”

“My late-afternoon rush will be starting soon, too.” I sighed. Both of us were always so busy. I was sick of snatching a kiss here and a hug there. We needed time together so I could decide if Noah was Mr. Right.

Before I could move out of his arms, Noah wound a stray strand of my hair around his finger and said, “You know, I’ve always loved the color of your hair. It reminds me of cinnamon. My favorite spice.”

“Aw.” I smoothed my ponytail. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“And the blue-green of your eyes is going to haunt me while I’m gone.”

“Good.” I never thought of myself as attractive, but it was nice to hear that Noah did.

“I might not be able to call while I’m in Haiti. I don’t know if my cell phone will work there or not, so don’t be concerned if you don’t hear from me.” Noah stepped away from me, walked to the front door, and opened it.

“Okay.” I followed him, kissed his cheek, and watched him disappear down the sidewalk.

Terrific. Now both the guys I cared for were willingly putting themselves in dangerous situations. I scowled. Maybe I needed to start dating less noble men.

A
few hours later, as I entered the Golden Dragon, Noah and Jake popped back into my mind. I’d had dates with both guys at this place, and wished at least one of them were with me tonight. But they weren’t, and there was no use mooning over absent boyfriends, so I forced the men from my mind and followed the hostess as she led me to the small private dining room in the rear.

Ronni had arranged for the contest committee to have dinner with Kizzy Cutler and her entourage at Shadow Bend’s only Chinese restaurant. My mouth watered at the smell of ginger and garlic, and my stomach growled, reminding me that lunch had been a very small sandwich eaten many hours ago.

I slid into one of four empty chairs, noticing that I was among the last to arrive. Ronni introduced me to the cupcake people. Kizzy was not at all how I had pictured her. Instead of a sophisticated twenty-first-century businesswoman, she looked like a nineteen-fifties housewife all dolled up for an evening out with her husband. She wore a baby blue voile shirtwaist dress with a full circle skirt, a pearl necklace, and blue
pumps. A matching clutch lay on the table in front of her.

Suddenly, I was conscious of my own casual appearance. My summer work uniform was jeans, sneakers, and a polo shirt with
DEVEREAUX’S DIME STORE
embroidered on the pocket. In deference to meeting the cupcake tycoon for the first time, I’d exchanged the polo for a blue-and-green swirl-print tunic and the tennis shoes for navy sandals, but I’d kept on my Levi’s. Seeing Kizzy’s perfect blond French twist, I wished I had combed out my ponytail. Still, even if I had fixed my hair, I knew my feeble efforts would have been in vain. The cupcake CEO was stunningly beautiful.

After the waitress took our drink orders and left, Ronni said, “Kizzy, I hope your suite is okay.”

“It’s delightful, thank you,” Kizzy said. “I love the little balcony.”

“That’s my favorite part of those suites, too,” Ronni said. “Is your partner happy with hers?”

“Lee is easy to please,” Kizzy answered. “She has simple tastes.”

“That must make her pleasant to travel with.” Ronni raised an eyebrow in my direction, then turned back to Kizzy and asked, “Is your assistant comfortable in her room? I’m sorry there wasn’t anything larger available for her.”

“Fallon’s accommodations are fine for her station in life.” Kizzy waved her hand, clearly dismissing her employee’s need for luxury. “She came to me from a program for young people who had gotten caught up in the penal system due do drug crimes.” Kizzy took a sip of water. “Fallon claimed she never was a user, but she spent a year in prison for bringing drug money across the border for her boyfriend.” Kizzy put down her glass and tapped her nails against the plastic. “So you
see how even the smallest bedroom in your B and B is a step up.”

“Right,” Ronni agreed, a bemused look on her face. Regrouping, she glanced around the table and frowned. “I wonder what’s keeping Harlee.”

“Oh. Sorry,” I apologized. “I forgot to tell you that she called me and said that she isn’t going to come after all. She tried to contact you and couldn’t get through, so she asked me to pass on her regrets.”

“Then we’re all here except for your business partner and assistant,” Ronni said to Kizzy. “Are they going to be able to make it?”

“They should have been right behind us.” Kizzy checked her phone. “Just as we were leaving, I got a message from a delivery service saying they had a package for me and would be at the B and B in ten or fifteen minutes. Fallon volunteered to stay behind and sign for it, and Lee offered to wait with her so she wouldn’t have to drive on unfamiliar roads alone.”

“I hope they didn’t get lost.” Ronni glanced toward the door. “The one-way streets can be a little confusing around here.”

“They’d have called if they needed directions.” Kizzy shrugged. “Let’s go ahead and order.”

“I’m sure no one minds waiting for them,” I said, ignoring my hunger pangs.

Kizzy bared her teeth in a fake smile; then when everyone around the table finished expressing their willingness to wait, she said, “Devereaux, how sweet of you to offer your opinion on the matter. I love that you have your own idea on the issue.” Her smile faded and she narrowed her eyes. “I just don’t want to hear it.”

Seriously?
Why was Kizzy so hostile? I’d never met her before, so it couldn’t be a past grudge. Still, she was
the star of our little weekend, so I bit my tongue and kept quiet.

Kizzy beckoned to a nearby waitress and said, “We’re ready.” After placing her order, Kizzy turned to Ronni and commented, “I’m sure Lee and Fallon will arrive soon. After all, what could happen to them here in Shadow Bend? It has to be one of the safest spots on earth.”

I shivered and traded looks with Poppy, who raised a delicate eyebrow. Evidently, Kizzy didn’t keep in touch with old friends from the area who could have filled her in on Shadow Bend’s recent spate of crimes. She obviously didn’t subscribe to her hometown paper, either. The
Banner
had made sure everyone was fully informed on all the gruesome details.

Ronni must not have told Kizzy that Shadow Bend wasn’t the same little town that the cupcake mogul had moved away from so many years ago. Not that I blamed Ronni for withholding that little tidbit. No way would a shrewd businesswoman like Kizzy want to hold her big promotional kickoff in a place that had had two homicides in the past four months.

The table was still placing their orders when Lee Kimbrough arrived a few minutes later. She was an attractive woman in her mid- to late forties who reminded me of Lauren Bacall—tall, cool, and elegant. She even had Bacall’s husky voice and languid mannerisms.

After Lee was introduced, and told the waitress what she wanted to eat, she explained, “The delivery service called and said that they’d be another ten or fifteen minutes, so Fallon offered to wait and told me to go on ahead.”

“I wonder what’s in the package.” Kizzy frowned. “I’m not expecting anything.”

“Maybe it’s a good-luck gift from one of your friends,” Lee suggested.

“Maybe,” Kizzy agreed.

Just as our food was served, Kizzy got a call and answered it by pressing the speaker on her cell phone. We could all hear Fallon identify herself.

We listened as she said, “The delivery driver finally showed up, but now I don’t feel well, so I’m not coming to the restaurant. I’m going to lie down and see if the nausea goes away.”

“Fine.” Kizzy’s lack of interest in the conversation was evident in her voice.

“I have a really bad taste in my mouth,” Fallon went on, even though Kizzy didn’t encourage her. “I feel headachy and dizzy. Maybe I’m getting the flu.”

“Uh-huh.” Kizzy listened to all this with a distracted air, then said, “Whatever, dear.” She quickly disconnected, gave the rest of us a bright smile, and said, “Let’s eat.”

I was a bit surprised that neither Kizzy nor Lee seemed concerned about their employee’s health. On the other hand, perhaps Fallon tended to be hypochondriacal and her headaches were common occurrences.

Now that Fallon’s whereabouts had been accounted for, we all relaxed. The food was delicious and Kizzy entertained us with the story of starting up her business. She took a sip of her lychee martini, then continued. “So when I finally was able to submit my resignation and devote my full attention to Kizzy Cutler’s Cupcakes, the owner of the bakery said to me, ‘Running your own company is a lot of work. You won’t have time for a personal life. You know that money can’t buy happiness.’”

“What did you say?” Ronni asked.

“I told her that whoever had started that vicious rumor simply didn’t know where to shop.” Kizzy laughed.

We all chuckled and I relaxed. There was a generally optimistic vibe about the success of the cupcake contest weekend and I felt hopeful that the event would be the financial boost we all were counting on.

The dinner meeting broke up around nine thirty, and by the time I got home, Gran was already asleep. The lights in Dad’s apartment over the garage had been on, but I still wasn’t comfortable enough with our relationship to stop by for a nightcap or a father-daughter chat. After twelve years apart, we were still tiptoeing around each other. We weren’t at ease enough for the casual rapport we used to have, but we had too much history to act as reserved as we truly felt. It was an odd situation to be in and neither of us was sure where we stood with the other.

Shoving the issue of my precarious relationship with Dad aside, I headed to my bedroom. I was tired and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to turn in early. Tomorrow would be a busy day—at least I hoped it would—and I wanted to be on my toes to handle the increased foot traffic in the store. The last thing I recalled after washing my face and changing into my nightshirt was slipping between the crisp sheets and briefly wondering if I had remembered to set my alarm.

I was having a wonderful dream involving Jake and Noah. The two men were fanning me with palm leaves, feeding me grapes, and assuring me they loved me enough to share me so I didn’t have to choose just one of them, when the strains of the sickeningly sweet and thoroughly annoying “Cupcake Song” blared from my bedside table. Struggling to wake up, I swept the nightstand with my palm, trying to locate my cell phone and quiet the grating music.

Ronni had insisted that Poppy, Winnie, Harlee, and I make this cloying little ditty sung by Pinkie Pie of My
Little Pony fame the official emergency ringtone for the contest weekend. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and peered groggily at the glowing numerals of my clock radio. It was three a.m. Why was she calling me at this ungodly hour? The competition hadn’t even started yet. What kind of crisis could there be before dawn? Had she butt-dialed her phone?

Fumbling my cell off the nightstand and sweeping my finger across the answer icon, I mumbled, “Hello.”

“Oh, my God!” Ronni’s voice screeched into my ear. “Thank goodness you answered. Fallon’s dead! You have to get here right away.”

“What?” I tried to clear my sleep-fogged brain. “Are you sure?” I sat on the edge of the mattress. “Have you called an ambulance?”

“Yes.” Ronni drew in a deep breath, then said, “The EMTs came and were taking her to the hospital, but she died before they got there.”

“That’s awful.” My mouth suddenly dry, I got up and stumbled into the bathroom in search of a drink of water. “But why do you need me to come over? There’s nothing I can do about the poor girl’s death.”

“Kizzy is demanding an emergency meeting of the contest committee,” Ronni explained. “I already got ahold of Poppy and Winnie, and they’re on their way, but Harlee isn’t answering her phone.”

Ronni paused and I could hear a voice that sounded like Kizzy’s shout, “Tell her to swing by Harlee’s place and pick her up.”

I put my cell on speaker and set it down next to the sink as I pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. “Doesn’t Kizzy have to handle Fallon’s death?” A part of me was appalled that the cupcake queen was able to think about the competition at a time like this. But another part of me, the one that wasn’t as nice, understood what it
took for a woman to prosper in a competitive business and admired Kizzy’s single-minded pursuit of success.

“Lee is taking care of that end,” Ronni answered, then whispered, “Kizzy didn’t think anyone needed to go with the poor girl, but Lee grabbed the car keys and followed the ambulance. She’s keeping us informed, but when I offered to drive Kizzy to the hospital to join her, our esteemed CEO nearly bit my head off.”

“Informed about what?” I homed in on the important piece of info as I scraped my hair back into a ponytail. After it was secured, I snatched the phone from the bathroom counter, then dashed into the kitchen. I needed to leave Gran a note in case I wasn’t home when she got up. She’d worry if I wasn’t there for breakfast.

“We’ll discuss all that when you get here.” Ronni reeled off Harlee’s address and added, “Hurry up. Kizzy is driving me insane.”

Ten minutes later, I pounded on Harlee’s front door. When she didn’t answer, I tried again, but after the third round of knocking, I gave up, hopped in my car, and drove over to Ronni’s place. Either Harlee slept like the dead or she wasn’t at home, and I suspected that neither possibility would satisfy Kizzy.

When I arrived at the B & B, Winnie and Poppy were huddled around Ronni’s kitchen table, cradling mugs of coffee. They barely acknowledged my presence as I took my seat. Both looked as if they had dressed in the dark, pulling on whatever clothing had been nearest their beds. Poppy had on a leather miniskirt, gray sweatshirt, and neon pink flip-flops. Instead of their usual artful disarray, her platinum curls stood out from her head like corkscrews and there were mascara smudges underneath her gorgeous amethyst eyes.

Winnie had on black yoga pants, some sort of polyester floral blouse, and bunny slippers. Her gray hair
frizzed around her face like a dandelion gone to seed and she had tiny round glasses with lavender lenses perched on her nose. She must have been too groggy to put in her contacts. Winnie’s expression reminded me of a child who had begged for a sip of her father’s beer—reluctant to swallow the bitter brew, but unwilling to spit it out and admit she didn’t like it. Clearly, the universe had let Winnie down.

Ronni was still wearing the dress she’d had on at the Golden Dragon. But instead of the nude patent leather Jimmy Choo platform pumps she’d worn at the restaurant, she was barefoot. Her chocolate brown waves were now knotted in a messy bun on the top of her head, and any vestige of the carefully applied makeup she’d had on at dinner was long gone. Her blue-gray eyes were bloodshot, and after she handed me a cup of coffee, she collapsed onto her chair as if all the bones in her body had instantly liquefied.

I took a sip of the hot ambrosia, then asked, “Where’s Kizzy?”

“On the phone with Lee,” Ronni answered. “Evidently, when someone who is apparently healthy dies suddenly, the cops are called. Since the ambulance was still within the city limits when Fallon passed, the Shadow Bend Police Department is in charge. Lee is waiting for Chief Kincaid to arrive at the hospital.”