The Diva Frosts a Cupcake (8 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dear Natasha,

My cupcakes look beautiful when I take them out of the oven, but then they deflate! What am I doing wrong?

—Sagging in Flat Lick, Kentucky

Dear Sagging,

Most likely you’re not baking them long enough or your oven is too hot. Most cupcakes bake in 16–18 minutes at 350 degrees. Buy an oven thermometer to check the temperature inside your oven.

—Natasha

Clarissa stepped outside, leaving the door open just a sliver behind her. “This isn’t a good time.” Her eyes narrowed to bitter slits.

“I’ll be quick. Spenser told me that you think we’re having an affair. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, buh-bye.” She wedged inside as though she didn’t want to open the door all the way, and closed it with a snap.

Of all the things in the world she might have said or done, I hadn’t expected that. What happened to the screaming woman? The one who told me she’d fight? I knocked on the door.

She opened it a crack. “What now?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Are we okay, then? You accept that I’m not sleeping with Spenser?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Of course I don’t believe you. It’s all over town.” She closed the door. I could hear her locking it and sliding a chain across to secure it.

Did she think I was going to force my way inside? I stepped away and looked back at the house. This time, she wasn’t peering from any windows. Feeling unsettled again, I walked away, hoping she wouldn’t make a scene at the banquet. Could she be on medication that was causing her to behave erratically? Surely Spenser would have mentioned it or warned me if that was the case. Maybe she had a drinking problem?

What a nuisance. Why hadn’t she believed me? I massaged my forehead as I walked. Poor Spenser. He must have a miserable life. Clarissa had always seemed so friendly. It just went to show that people weren’t always what they seemed on the outside.

The big dinner was scheduled to begin at six with cocktails. Anticipating that something would go wrong, I showered and changed early so I could help Nina. I blew my hair out, popped hot rollers in it, and swung it all up in what I hoped was an elegant French twist. I applied eye makeup that wouldn’t run and did my best to cover up the black eye that had bloomed into a remarkable shiner overnight. There was little hope of covering the red semicircle under my eye, but dabbing the black portions with thick concealer helped enormously. I hated the feeling of plastered makeup, but I had no choice. After I’d covered as much as I could, I studied my closet for an appropriate dress. In the spirit of springtime, I wanted to wear coral, but since Alex would be there, I conceded that black would be more slimming. He might not be divorced yet, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t look my best. He
was
very enticing. With a sigh and a millionth resolution to take off some weight—
after I ate my way through the cupcake dinner, of course
—I selected a long, sleeveless black dress with a sweetheart neckline that skimmed my figure without hugging any of the bulgy parts. I dug through a drawer in search of a necklace someone had given me. An artistic rendering of a dog paw print pave’d with rhinestones that hung on a gold chain. If this wasn’t the right event for it, there would never be one. Finding earrings that could stand up to the necklace proved to be a challenge. I settled on large rhinestone clips from the fifties that had belonged to my grandmother. The cascading marquise-cut stones weren’t really my style, but they were pretty, and I figured that anything goes at a black-tie Cupcakes and Pupcakes feast. The earrings kicked up my black dress a notch, and I thought they looked rather chic now that 1950s clothes were back in style.

I slid my feet into comfortable black flats in case I had to do a lot of walking to be helpful to Nina.

Mochie napped in the sunroom. I nuzzled with him a little bit, taking care not to cover my dress with fur. I added chicken in gravy to his food bowl, locked the door, and left. Mars would bring Daisy to the feast later on. I knew he was grateful to hide out at my house while Natasha was in a baking frenzy.

My phone rang the second I stepped out the door. I hustled back into the kitchen and answered it.

“Sophie!” Nina screeched at someone and returned to the phone, her tone an octave higher than normal. “Thank goodness you haven’t left yet. How can you stand doing this for a living? Natasha makes me so mad. She used robin’s-egg blue icing so everyone would know which cupcakes were hers. And just in case they didn’t know that blue is her signature color, she stuck a big
N
on top of each one. Can you believe her nerve? That doesn’t even match the theme. But that’s not my biggest problem. I can’t reach Joy. After that huge fuss she made, I don’t know if she’s bringing her cheese cupcakes or not. Could you go over to the bakery and see if she’s there? Find out what’s going on?”

I assured Nina I would take care of it. Instead of heading to the park, I drove the few blocks to Sugar Mama’s.

Across the street, people continued to stop at the makeshift memorial to Muffin.

A closed sign hung on the door to Joy’s bakery. I tried it anyway, but it was locked. Two possibilities sprang to mind. Either Joy was inside baking, or she was at Market Square selling cupcakes from her booth. I guessed the latter might be the case.

I looked for a bell to ring and was thinking that I ought to check her booth at Market Square when a flash of blue caught my eye. I cupped my hands around my eyes to see through the glass more clearly. Joy, wearing a blue apron, walked out of sight. I rapped fiercely on the glass.

Joy returned, waving her hands and shaking her head to signal that the cupcakery was closed. I rapped harder. She pointed at the sign. Even at a distance, I could tell she’d been crying.

She must have finally recognized me, because she hurried to the door and unlocked it. “Sophie! I’m sorry, people have been knocking all day, and I’ve done my best to ignore them. I’ll probably lose business as a result.”

Her long brown ponytail had been pinned up into a bun, and she wore a hairnet. Her eyes weren’t just rimmed red from crying, the whites of her eyes appeared bloodshot, too. “And to be honest, I’m a little jumpy after Muffin’s murder.”

“I’m so sorry about Muffin. You must have been close to her.”

She sniffed. “I can hardly bear to look out the window. It’s inconceivable to me that she’s not there anymore, that she won’t come running up to me with a fantastic idea for a new recipe or to tell me about one of her spying excursions to try out the cupcakes of our competitors. She was just like a little sister to me.”

“What do you think happened?”

Staring at the floor, she adjusted the hairnet. “I can’t imagine. Everyone liked her. The cops asked if we had any weird guys who hung around. We had regulars—that creepy Maurice, Humphrey, and I did think it odd that Spenser came by so regularly when he has his own cupcakery, you know?” Her expression changed, and she rested a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry! Humphrey is a friend of yours, isn’t he? I didn’t mean anything by that, but he came to the cupcakery every day.”

That explained Humphrey’s weight gain. “Did she date anyone? Did anyone seem obsessed with her?”

“You sound like the police.” Joy shook her head. “I’ve been racking my brain about that. So many people come into the shop, you know? And when it’s busy you can’t remember them all. The police were surprised that we don’t have surveillance cameras. I told them if more of them bought cupcakes instead of doughnuts we could afford them. We don’t even have alarm systems.”

I looked around. “I guess there’s not much to take.”

“Exactly. You have to pinch pennies in a startup business.”

The fabulous aroma of baking cupcakes drifted to me, reminding me of my mission. “Nina has been trying to reach you. She sent me over to be sure you’re up to baking cupcakes for the gala tonight.”

Joy smacked her head. “No wonder you’re all dressed up. Nick will be delivering them for me. I baked through the night, and I’m beat. I managed to find someone to sell cupcakes at my booth today. Honestly, I feel like I’m calling in favors from everyone. I knew it would be tough going out on my own, but”—she licked her lips and wiped away a tear—“it’s all overwhelming. They say that work is good for you when tragedy strikes, but I’m so broken by Muffin’s death that I can hardly think straight.”

She promised to have the cupcakes delivered in two hours. I left in a hurry so she could finish them and drove to the site of the Cupcakes and Pupcakes feast.

Parking in Old Town was always an issue. I found a spot two blocks from the waterfront park. Assorted vendor trucks lined the street, blocking the flow of traffic.

The tent for the banquet was gorgeous. Passersby gathered to admire it and check out what was going on. The white top swept upward to three peaks. Round-topped window panels lined the walls. A smaller tent without windows stood nearby.

Dodging trucks, I hurried across the street. A walkway had been rolled out for the guests, but I cut across the grass to the small tent, where long tables had been set up for cupcake deliveries. So far only half of the bakers had brought their cupcakes or pupcakes. Table number holders marked sections of the tables with cards stating the type of cupcake, but not the name of the bakery. A banquet menu card lay on an empty table.

I wandered over to the main tent to see what was going on. Round tables draped in coral dominated the room. A dog or cat topiary graced the center of each table. Some of them stood and some were in sitting positions, but each one wore a coral bow with white polka dots. White, pink, and orange tulips surrounded the topiaries. At each place setting, a small white tub with coral paw prints walking across it overflowed with dog and cat treats.

At the far end, a small stage and podium had been set up. An oversized white poodle and a cat the same size flanked the podium. They were made of carnations and sported the same coral bows as the topiaries on the tables. Along one wall, a table of auction items nearly overflowed.

“Sophie! Thank goodness you’re here.” Nina closed her eyes, and I suspected she was counting to ten to calm down.

“Would you hang out at the cupcake tent?” She crooked a finger at me.

As we walked toward the smaller tent, she whispered, “Would you
please
make sure they keep the dog dinner pupcakes separate from the human cupcakes as they’re delivered? I live in fear of someone like Maurice complaining because his cupcake tastes like liver.”

We watched as a baker delivering cupcakes sauntered toward us, tripped, and a tray full of cupcakes flew through the air and landed upside down. “They’d better have brought extras,” Nina growled.

“I’ll take care of it.” I strolled over to the young red-faced fellow, probably an assistant, and held out my hand to help him up.

He gazed at the cupcakes. “They’ll kill me. I’ll lose my job!”

“Are you sure they didn’t send extras, just in case of a mishap?”

He brightened up. “You think?” He picked up the ruined cupcakes and trudged back to the delivery van.

I heard him yelp, “Yahoo! I think you’re right!”

Cupcake deliveries came fast and thick. The bakers had been wonderfully clever, decorating the cupcakes to fit their courses and the theme of the event. Cupcakes decorated with artistic little fish with cute scales and kissy lips had to be the fish course. Pupcakes featured frosting mice and bunnies. One guy promised his cupcakes for people were
pawsitively
delicious because he had cut out pieces of marzipan in the shape of dog paw prints as a decoration. Another brought dog treats shaped like hearts and dipped in carob. I assumed that was the dog dessert course, but it turned out to be their appetizer. I hoped someone was planning to keep the waiters on track—and I hoped it wouldn’t be me. I was itching to try all the people cupcakes.

A big Cake My Day van pulled up. The driver unloaded two types of cupcakes. One kind featured dog faces. No two were alike. The others were white kitten faces with amber tiger stripes. I had no idea which ones belonged to Cake My Day and which ones might be Renee’s cupcakes.

When the van pulled away, I couldn’t help noticing Clarissa watching from across the street.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dear Sophie,

After all the scares about tainted dog food, I would like to cook for my three dogs. My girlfriend says that’s crazy because they have complicated nutritional needs. What do you think?

—Riley, Casey, and Chloe’s Mom in Paw Paw, Illinois

Dear Riley, Casey, and Chloe’s Mom,

Dogs are omnivores, like people. They can eat most people food! Think of it like feeding your child. They need balanced meals—with meats, veggies, and healthy carbs. No skimping and serving fast food! Your vet can give you information on canine dietary needs and supplements, as well as a list of foods they should never eat, like onions, grapes, and chocolate.

—Sophie

Had Clarissa positioned herself there in the hope that she would catch me with Spenser? She nibbled on the side of a fingernail.

Spenser had bought tickets for two tables at the banquet. I imagined he had invited all his local employees. Why wouldn’t Clarissa come across the street and have a seat or mingle with the early birds?

If she noticed me watching her from across the street, she didn’t show it. Clarissa twisted and turned impatiently, watching cars as though expecting someone to arrive. She’d chosen to wear a drab olive green dress that looked like it cost ten times the amount I’d paid for my dress. Although the color seemed more suited to a military maneuver, she had certainly dressed to impress. She’d been to the hairdresser since I’d seen her earlier in the day, and wore her hair upswept. Unlike my rhinestones, I suspected the gems glittering on her ears and neck were the real thing.

Two little noses snuffled my shoes from behind. Daisy and Martha had arrived in their finery. Martha wore a pink dress embellished with a sequin cupcake. Glittery ruffles shone on her haunches. Daisy sported a bright red collar with a rhinestone buckle and a heart charm that I had never seen before.

“Where did this come from?” I asked.

Mars, looking disquietingly handsome in a tuxedo, said, “I didn’t want her to feel like she was the ugly stepsister. Something told me she might not go for a dress like Martha’s, though. I imagined it in shreds.”

He was right about Daisy. “I’m surprised Martha tolerates wearing a dress. If you start them young enough, I guess they can get used to anything. Is she still biting Natasha?”

“You know about that, huh? She’s the sweetest little dog, but she can’t stand Natasha.” He bit his upper lip, but that didn’t prevent him from cracking up.

He wasn’t the only one. A lot of people had limited patience for Natasha because she acted so imperial. It was mean of me, but I found it amusing, too. Daisy was as sweet as could be, but Natasha treated her like she was a nuisance. Natasha had finally found a dog she deemed worthy of her, and it had an aversion to her. “Martha’s probably just teething, don’t you think? She’ll get over that gnawing stage.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Clarissa proudly walking into the large tent, her arm linked with Spenser’s. She made a point of looking at me, tilting her head back as if to lord her ownership of Spenser over me.

“How well do you know Clarissa Osbourne?” I asked.

Mars shrugged. “She’s always been very pleasant to me. But then, I’m not having an affair with Spenser.”

I smacked his arm playfully for his sarcasm. “I went over there this afternoon to clear things up. She acted odd then told me she didn’t believe me.”

Mars laughed. “Surely you didn’t really expect her to take your word for that. Why would she? Doesn’t everyone deny affairs? Especially the people engaging in them?”

He was right, of course. If I were having an affair with her husband, I wouldn’t proudly admit it. I would try to keep it quiet. But then, I wouldn’t boldly go to her home and deny it to her face like that, either. I sighed. Some people probably would. I needed to put Clarissa and her ridiculous ideas out of my mind. After all, I knew the truth. I had nothing to hide and no reason to be ashamed. But that was far easier said than done. I would simply do my best to avoid Spenser during the feast.

Natasha’s assistant, Leon, scrambled out of an SUV and carried cupcakes toward me. He held them carefully at arm’s length, probably to be sure he didn’t soil his designer tuxedo.

Mars raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Natasha?”

Leon, who was generally of good cheer, grumbled, “Nina forced us to change the icing and
N
adornment on our cupcakes. Beware. There is no placating Natasha at the moment. Since Nina forbade us from using Natasha’s signature color or initial, we had to scramble.”

We followed him into cupcake central. He removed the cover to display the cupcakes. Natasha’s anger shone through. She’d gone with a dog face. The basics were good—three dimensional ears and noses—but the piped icing looked more like the sinister wolf from “Little Red Riding Hood” than a sweet dog.

“Good heavens!” Mars exclaimed. “I knew she didn’t care for dogs, but these are scary.”

I was taken aback by them. “Let me guess. You were responsible for the noses and the ears.”

Leon sighed. “She wouldn’t let me pipe the faces. I tried to talk her into letting me do the expressions, but she insisted on doing the tongues and teeth. Did a dog bite her when she was a kid or something?”

I’d known her since we were small children. “I never heard anything about an incident involving Natasha and a dog. Maybe there’s a shrink among the guests tonight who can analyze this.”

“So, where is she?” Mars appeared concerned.

“She had to change her gown to match the cupcakes.”

“What matches werewolf?” The words slid out of my mouth, and I was mortified that I’d been so unkind.

Fortunately, Mars and Leon snickered. The remaining cupcakes arrived all at once. I shooed Mars away and motioned like the traffic police, waving bakers over and pointing them to their tables.

Nick Rigas, prettier than ever in his tux, winked at me when he brought Joy’s cupcakes over. He paused for a second, and dimples appeared when he grinned at me. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with Joy. She felt better after your visit.”

I couldn’t imagine why that would be the case. I certainly hadn’t offered much in the way of consolation, but at the moment, I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Within half an hour, all the food had been delivered, waiters in black and white uniforms had arrived, and Nina had given the headwaiter instructions on when to serve the various courses.

Relieved of my duties, I wandered into the big tent, greeting friends who milled around with drinks in their hands. Dogs sniffed each other, and an occasional yip sounded from somewhere in the tent.

As he’d promised, Alex had brought Francie as his date. What was it about tuxedos that made men so astonishingly gorgeous? If they knew how much women loved that look, men would wear them every day. Alex didn’t need help in the good-looks department, but in a tux, he was competition for George Clooney.

Francie clung to his arm, proudly parading him about the tent. I’d never seen her dressed so elegantly before. Ornate beading adorned the round neckline and waist of her emerald green gown. She wore a matching jacket with beading on the wrists as well as along the front and bottom.

Alex appeared to be a good sport about being her escort for the night. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself as she introduced him to her friends.

Mars had found Natasha. While she might be annoying, she had good taste, and her werewolf brown dress was so glamorous that it must have been couture. I never could have pulled off all the varying folds that crisscrossed down her torso and ended in a little kickable tail-like flounce. She was gorgeous. True to form, she managed to bring in her signature color by wearing robin’s-egg blue earrings and a stunning necklace of three large blue stones. Topaz, if I had to guess, but it didn’t matter—she was perfectly beautiful.

I collected Daisy from Mars and made a point of telling her how pretty she was in her new glam collar.

Natasha observed me, her arms crossed, her hands gripping her upper arms. “You do know that she doesn’t understand you. Why bother talking to her?”

“She understands much more than you realize. Research has shown repeatedly that dogs understand anywhere from one hundred and fifty to five hundred words.”

“Puh-leeze. Now if you were to tell
me
how gorgeous my dress is . . .”

Nothing like fishing for compliments. “It’s stunning. And so is the jewelry.”

Natasha touched the large stones just below her collarbone. “Isn’t it beautiful? I’m still surprised that Clarissa wanted to sell it. Robin’s-egg blue is a good color for her. I thought she ought to keep it, but she said she would sell it on the Internet if I wasn’t interested.”

“Looks like you got lucky.”

We made our way to the cocktail bar, where I ordered a Tiger Paw and offered Daisy one of the baked chicken cookies for dogs. Daisy snarfed the biscuit, which was in the shape of a tiny chicken.

Francie drifted by, and whispered, “I can’t keep Natasha away from Alex. She’s making me nuts.”

Not far from us, Myra turned her back on Maurice and wound through the crowd wearing a stormy expression. Her hair seemed even bigger than I remembered, but gentle tendrils curled around her face, softening the look. Her makeup appeared toned down, or maybe it just wasn’t as noticeable, since everyone had gone heavier on eye makeup for the evening event. She wore a flashy violet halter-style gown, cut to her navel but cinched together under her bust by a matching ribbon, giving the effect of a keyhole underneath. The beaded top, holding her considerable cleavage, glistened under the lights.

Maurice trailed after her. If he’d made any attempt to tame his mop of white hair, it certainly wasn’t evident. Instead of an elegant tuxedo, he’d dressed in gray and black plaid trousers, a black suit jacket, and a bow tie and suspenders imprinted with cat faces. The outfit suited him. It rebelled by not being a tuxedo, yet the cat motif on his accessories revealed a desire to play along. He carried something pink that I couldn’t quite make out at a distance.

Daisy and I cut through the crowd to intercept Myra and, hopefully, save her from Maurice. “Myra!”

She raised her head and waved. In spite of Humphrey’s feelings about her, there was something about Myra that I liked. She might be a little bit bold and brassy, but she struck me as sweet and genuine.

“I understand you work at the mortuary with Humphrey,” I said.

Her eyes lit up when she smiled at me. “I started out doing hair and makeup, but I’m taking classes to be a bereavement counselor. There’s such a need for them. It breaks my heart to see the way people suffer. Not all of them, but so many don’t know how to cope. Sometimes people have a priest or preacher to turn to for comfort. Too often, they don’t know where to turn.”

Her voice was so soft and gentle that I could imagine she would be comforting to others.

“Is Maurice watching?”

I glanced his way. “Yes.”

“I shouldn’t have worn this dress. My mother says the reason I love bright colors and flashy things is because I’m around death all day, and I have a need to celebrate life when I’m not at the mortuary.” She giggled. “I think she might be right.”

“You’re reminded every day that we have to make the most of our lives.”

“You should see my condo. It’s all yellows and pinks and happy colors. I wore this because it usually attracts men, but I wasn’t thinking of sour old Maurice.”

She reached out to pat Daisy. “Sophie,” she whispered, “how do you get rid of men who won’t leave you alone?”

“I don’t have a very good track record with that. I usually tell them I’m involved with someone else.” I doubted this was the first time Myra had ever dealt with an overly zealous suitor.

She released a deep breath. “I’d like to be involved with someone, but he has eyes for another.”

I followed her gaze across several tables. Humphrey was ogling Renee like a lovesick teenager while Renee chatted with someone else, laughing, and ignoring Humphrey.

Just past them, Nick appeared to be admiring Clarissa’s necklace. He slid a seductive finger along the jewels on her neck. Was she trying to sell that necklace, too? Unfortunately for Myra, Maurice joined us. In his arms he held a large gray cat wearing a pink wig and a tiny cat crown along with a necklace of glittering pink stones.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Gun . . . ivere.”

“Gunivere? That’s unusual.”

“It’s different.” Myra edged away from him.

He snorted. “What’s wrong with you two? Guinevere.”

I was certain he’d said
Gunivere
. “How does the crown stay on her head?” Daisy had once worn a wreath of flowers, but not for very long. One good shake of her head, and a bejeweled tiara would have flown to the floor.

“He had it made specially for her.” Myra’s words came out flat. She didn’t seem to be impressed.

“Is it attached to the wig?” I was curious about the crown, but, more important, I was wondering if Myra could get the truth about Buddy, the missing dog, out of Maurice. He was clearly smitten with Myra. Would it be too much to ask of her?

“Of course not. Her head is the perfect shape for a crown,” insisted Maurice.

I edged toward Guinevere’s right to see behind the crown, which was actually a tiara, since it didn’t have a back. No clips of any sort were visible.

Maurice shot me a smug smile before turning his attention to Myra. “I think we’d better take our seats, dear.”

I wished I could rescue Myra, but many of the tables had been reserved for entire groups, and it was too late to switch things up. As Maurice turned away, he adjusted his grasp on Guinevere, and I saw a little bit more of Guinevere than I was probably supposed to see. I wondered if Maurice knew that Guinevere was really a Lancelot.

Spenser and Clarissa had purchased two tables for their employees. They were already sitting at one of them, chatting animatedly with the people sitting close by. If I hadn’t been privy to some of their problems, I would have imagined them a perfectly happy couple.

The general had taken his place at his table with his boxer. Francie and her golden retriever, Duke, sat between the general and breathtakingly handsome Alex. I sidled over to their table to say hello just as Joy and Nick took seats there.