Taste of Romance (6 page)

He wasn’t as forgetful as he had been. The experimental treatment Bernice was paying
for seemed to be working. For a while anyway. Kim knew Rachel dreaded seeing him get
to the point where he didn’t respond to them anymore.

“Nice place,” Andi commented, sitting on the couch opposite him.

Grandpa Lewy grunted. “I don’t like it here.”

“It’s only for a while until you get better, Grandpa,” Rachel told him. “Mom can’t
take care of you when she has to work, and there are nurses on staff here in case—”

“Babysitters,” he amended.

Kim picked up a flyer from the coffee table and read the schedule. “The center offers
a lot of fun activities.”

“Feels like prison.”

Rachel smirked. “You’ve never been to prison. And you aren’t confined here. You are
free to come and go as you please. The cupcake shop is only a block away. You can
come and visit me anytime.”

“Did you bring me a cupcake?” he asked, motioning to the small box she held in her
hands.

Rachel smiled. “Yes. I don’t think your nurse would approve, but I sneaked you in
one anyway.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

Rachel patted his arm. “Anytime, Grandpa.”

“I have no friends here,” he said, placing the small box next to his larger memory
box covered in photos.

A knock sounded on the door, and Kim let Bernice in. “Here comes a friend for you,”
she told Rachel’s grandfather.

Grandpa Lewy’s face lit up. “She looks familiar. Who is she?”

“Someone who loves you,” Rachel told him and smiled at Bernice. “We are
all
so glad you’re here.”

After Rachel told Bernice they needed help to buy the shop, the old woman shook her
head.

“I’m sorry,” she told them. “I admire you girls for going after your dreams and opening
the cupcake shop, and God knows your grandpa loves cupcakes, but I need to save what
money I’ve got to pay for Lewy’s treatments. Medical expenses aren’t cheap, and we
have no idea how long he’ll need care.”

“I know,” Rachel told her. “My mom and I appreciate what you’re doing for him.”

A
S THE DOOR
shut behind them on their way out, Kim couldn’t help but think that even Grandpa
Lewy had someone special who cared for him. Her thoughts turned toward Nathaniel,
especially since they had to walk past his yard on their way back.

Andi caught her glancing toward the black wrought iron gate. “So are you looking forward
to it?”

“To what?” Kim asked, feigning innocence.

“Your date with the handsome Swede,” Andi teased.

Kim shrugged. “He’s nice. It will be okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you’ll be fine,” Rachel said, in her infectious sing-song voice. “About
time you took a chance on love again. And what’s better than a rose gardener who can
send you roses every day?”

“I wonder how many you’ll get tomorrow,” Andi mused.

Kim smiled. “Okay, yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

“What part?” Rachel teased. “The date or the roses?”

“All of it,” Kim admitted and continued to smile all the way to the shop and all the
way home.

Chapter Five

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they
must be felt with the heart.

—Helen Keller

K
IM PULLED THE
ribbon-tied bundle of seven different species of flowers from beneath her pillow.
Did it work? The Scandinavian street vendor she’d met at the bonfire the night before
had assured her if she slept on the flowers on Midsummer’s Eve, her future husband
would appear to her in a dream.

She’d dreamed of Nathaniel but wasn’t sure if it was just wishful thinking. Dropping
the flowers on her nightstand, she threw on a green tank top to match the color of
her eyes and a pair of faded denim cut-offs for the Troll Run.

Her gaze swung to the bulletin board on her wall with the maps, postcards, and brochures
she’d collected of various places she wanted to go but would never see because they
all required an airplane flight.

She knew she should remove the photos and other travel paraphernalia so they wouldn’t
taunt her. But that wouldn’t stop her from imagining herself walking the streets outside
Buckingham Palace, or horseback riding across the green Irish countryside, or climbing
into a Venetian gondola. No, taking away the items wouldn’t take away her dreams any
more than taking away a framed photo could take away her memories of her mother.

She reached out and picked up a photo of her mother standing beside her at the Port
of Astoria West Basin Marina. It was the last one taken before her mom’s small-engine
plane crash.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, and a moment later, Andi entered the room.

“Look at this article Jake wrote for the paper,” her sister said, handing her a copy
of the
Astoria Sun.
“He tells about the fire and our thefts and has asked the public to help us identify
the notorious ‘Cupcake Bandit.’”

“Do you think it will draw people into Creative Cupcakes to search for our thief?”
Kim asked.

“Well, it’s a better idea than chasing down our mailman,” Andi teased. “I still can’t
believe you did that. Usually, I’m the impulsive one. Must have had something to do
with Nathaniel offering you a ride on his motorcycle.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Kim admitted. “The chaos with the fire, then the threat of losing
all my paintings . . .”

“And the fact Nathaniel showed up,” Andi added with a grin, “all worked together to
discombobulate your sensible head?”

Kim nodded and set the photo of their mother down. “The anniversary of Mom’s crash
always drives me a little crazy, too. Next week marks ten years.”

“I wish she could see us now, see Mia, and be at the wedding,” Andi said, her voice
soft. “Jake and I have decided to get married in September.”

“That gives me three months to find my own apartment,” Kim said, “or I’ll be sleeping
in the Cupcake Mobile.”

Andi laughed. “Guy said he did that before he opened his tattoo parlor and sold the
truck to us.”

“Not that I’d like to share his fate,” Kim said, and she meant the words in more ways
than one.

While sleeping in a drafty, rattling, antique hunk of metal on wheels would not be
fun, going through life until she was old and gray without ever a taste of romance
seemed far worse.

N
ATHANIEL LOOKED FANTASTIC
in his navy blue T-shirt and gray-striped board shorts. She should have pinned him
as more of the surfer-adventurer type than the kind that works out in a gym.

When he’d arrived in front of Andi’s small Victorian cottage on the hill to pick her
up, his approval rating had skyrocketed in her heart higher than any of the previous
men she’d ever dated, including Gavin.

First, Gavin had never sent her roses. Second, he
was
the type who may have bought gym shorts. Third, his smile could never have out radiated
the one on Nathaniel’s face when he looked at her.

Goodbye, Gavin; hello, Nathaniel.

To top off what was sure to be one of the most glorious days of her life, the sun
was rising over the Columbia River without a single cloud to block its path.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Nathaniel greeted her.

“Thank you for asking,” she replied.

Nathaniel grinned. “Thank you for giving me the chance to ask.”

“No motorcycle today?” she asked, glancing toward his truck parked at the curb.

“The pickup is better to transport the rosebushes to the festival,” he said. “And
as delightful as it is to have you hold on to me from behind, I’d prefer you sitting
beside me where I can look at you.”

The Annual Running of the Trolls started at 8:30 a.m. from the Clatsop County Fairgrounds
parking lot. They had chosen the 5.75-mile run over the shorter 1.5- and 3-mile paths
to stretch out their time together before they’d both have to work the festival later
that afternoon.

“No fair,” Kim said, her voice coming out in a rasp. “Your legs are twice as long
as mine.”

“I could pick you up and carry you,” he teased.

“Let’s walk.”

“And chance being caught by a wandering troll? I’ve heard they can be quite nasty.”

“I thought trolls were afraid of sunlight,” she countered.

“
Ja,
but they still roam the shady forests.”

“I trust you’ll protect me from being eaten,” she said, as they slowed their pace.

“Eaten? No, they won’t eat you. On Midsummer’s Day they’ll club you and torture you
into giving up your pickled herring, boiled potatoes, and strawberry cakes.”

Kim laughed. “Maybe in Sweden, but I have yet to see a troll in the Astoria−Warrenton
area. How long have you lived here?”

“A year. I followed my brother. He came to the States and bought a house near our
cousins. He urged me to visit, and when I did, I, too, decided to extend my stay.
Sjölander’s Garden Nursery opened five months later and has seen steady business ever
since.”

“The roses are beautiful,” she told him.

He grinned at her again. “As are you.”

Kim didn’t know what to say. She’d never mastered the knack of flirting with men,
like Rachel, or challenging men, like Andi.

All she could do was continue to smile and say, “Thank you.”

A
FTER THEY RETURNED
to the Clatsop Fairgrounds and crossed the finish line, Nathaniel made her promise
to meet him during her lunch break at the Scandinavian Festival later that afternoon.
“At vendor space number eight,” he insisted. Then he drove her home so she could shower
before she had to help Rachel and Andi load cupcakes into the Cupcake Mobile.

“How did it go?” Andi asked when she arrived at the shop.

“We had to dodge the Viking encampment and the downtown Op Tog walking parade while
driving back,” she confided. “And I think we almost hit a troll.”

“Sounds like you had fun.”

“I had an adventure,” Kim agreed. “How are things here?”

Andi gave her a pensive look. “Sam Warden heard about the fire. He said if we can’t
buy the building by July first, we need to leave. He won’t let us stay longer even
if the building hasn’t sold by then.”

Kim thought of her latest creations, sculpted from icing to decorate the tops of the
cupcakes for the festival. “Let’s hope we sell lots of cupcakes today.”

A short while later the Creative Cupcakes booth was up and running. Kim served magically
minty grasshopper cupcakes and vanilla cupcakes with whipped cream and fresh sliced
strawberries on top. She had cupcakes sculpted like trolls with big bulbous noses
and pointy green hats. Cupcakes with wreaths of flowers. And cupcakes with large individual
roses.

“Meredith, that’s incredible!” Andi exclaimed. “I didn’t realize you were so talented.”

Kim turned her head and caught the look on the teenager’s arrogant face. Was Meredith
trying to take credit for
her
work?

“I decorated them,” Kim corrected her sister. “Meredith mixed the different colors
for the icing.”

Andi gave Meredith a questioning glance.

Meredith shrugged and replied, “I could have decorated them just as well.”

Kim narrowed her eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the teen had read her
mind, knew she’d considered leaving, and aimed to replace her.

“These cupcakes look exactly like a plate of vegetables,” Andi crooned. “So real I
wouldn’t even know it was cake.”

“Wait until you see my plate of spaghetti and meatball cupcakes,” Kim said, bringing
them out to show her. “I used a fork to carve the frosting into spaghetti, round chocolate
mini cakes for the meatballs, and raspberry syrup poured over the top for the sauce.”

“Not good for my diet,” Andi warned. “You’ll make me want to eat them all.”

“I agree,” said a plump woman stepping up to their booth. “I’ll buy both sets.”

“I’ll take this tray of cupcakes decorated like a rose garden,” another lady told
them. “I’ve never seen such artistic work.”

Kim warmed to the praise and gave her wannabe rival, Meredith, another glance. Maybe
using her artistic skills to decorate cupcakes could bring her as much satisfaction
as painting. Maybe if Creative Cupcakes remained in business, she wouldn’t need a
replacement.

However, five hours later, she admitted she could use what Nathaniel termed a “
fika
break.” Sales had brought in more money than at any previous event they’d participated
in. The line of customers was twenty deep, and Kim had been selling and serving cupcakes
every second.

Andi switched with Rachel halfway through the day so she could take Mia back to the
cupcake shop and Rachel could bring Grandpa Lewy and Mike to the festival.

Kim glanced at the old man as Rachel led him toward their white, twelve-by twelve
foot tented booth. He looked exceptionally pale, and his mouth was tight-lipped and
grim.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

“Can you bring me that thing I like to sit on?” he responded.

“A chair?” she asked.

He nodded, and Kim guided him toward a seat at the back of the tent.

“I’m worried about him,” Rachel whispered to her. “He hasn’t spoken much today.”

“Are you sure you’ll manage here without me?” Kim asked.

Rachel waved her off. “Go have fun.”

K
IM FELT A
flutter in her stomach, but it didn’t have anything to do with hunger. She couldn’t
wait to see Nathaniel again.

She hurried past the other outdoor vendors and counted off their numbered spaces as
she went by. He’d said he had something special planned, something to do with his
brother’s business, although she’d failed to ask what that was. She knew he had set
up a booth selling his prize-winning roses.

Five . . . six . . . seven . . . space number eight. She looked up from the spray-painted
number on the ground and spotted Nathaniel holding a picnic basket and a bottle of
wine. And there behind him was an enormous red-and-yellow hot air balloon.