The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy) (13 page)

The bartender approaches within seconds. “Hey, stranger!” he says to Tyler.

“Hey yourself!” Tyler says back to him.

“Who’s this little hottie?”

I have to look around to see who he’s talking about.

“This is Candace. She just joined Fit & Fab tonight, so we’re celebrating.”

I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t realize they were talking about me, but flattered just the same.

“Oh, my
gawd
, you are going to love it!” He winks at Tyler, then says, “What are you drinking, sweetie?”

“Just a Bud Light,” I say, totally taken in by our hunky bartender. Maybe I should dress like this more often. I’ve never had so much male attention in my life.

“What about you, hot stuff?”

“The same.”

Wait a second. Did he just call Tyler hot stuff? I narrow my eyes and observe the hunky bartender a little more closely as he procures our drinks. Damn. There’s definite flair there. How did I miss it? I give my head a little jolt as if it might fix my Gaydar like one might fix a busted TV. Well, it’s no wonder Tyler didn’t get all prickly and jealous when he called me a hottie.

“By the way,” he says to Tyler as he places our drinks in front of us, “you’ll never guess who’s here.”

Tyler’s brow furrows as if he knows, but hopes it isn’t true. “Who?”

The bartender pauses for effect and then says, “Kelly.”

Tyler immediately picks up his drink and takes a long swig of it.

“Who’s Kelly?” I venture, and Tyler gives the bartender a nod.

“Tyler’s ex. A real piece of work.”

“Oh, my God.” I turn to Tyler. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. We can totally go somewhere else, I won’t mind.”

“No, no. It was bound to happen sometime. It’s not that big of a town, after all.” He takes another drink of his beer. “But it’s a big enough bar, we should be able to avoid each other.”

“Okay.” I settle back against my barstool and peruse the crowd. I’m desperate to know which one Kelly is. Honestly, no one here looks like they would be a match to Tyler, which is probably why he and Kelly broke up in the first place. They weren’t meant to be, clearly…but I rather think Tyler and I make a nice-looking couple.

“Hey, you want to dance?” Tyler asks me, as if it’s just occurring to him that dancing is something I might enjoy.

“Yeah, sure, but I’m not really boned up on my line dancing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he hops off the barstool and extends his hand to me. “Just follow me. You’ll pick it up in no time.”

Okay, I really thought line dancing was just the Electric Slide set to country music, and even then I was nervous about taking part. But it’s so much worse. Tyler is tearing up the floor in a series of spins and turns and fancy footwork. It’s all I can do to face the proper direction at any given moment. When did line dancing become so complicated? I’ve done it a thousand times at weddings, but I’ve never seen anything like this.

“You’re doing great!” Tyler calls to me over the music.

I smile tightly back at him. “I’m trying!”

After three excruciating dances, I throw up my proverbial white flag. “I think I need some water.”

“Sure.” Tyler escorts me back to the bar and we ask Sean, the bartender, for two waters.

“Tyyyyyyyy,” Sean says with a sly smile and a sing-song voice, “you’ve been working on your moves, haven’t you, sugar?”

“Yeah, well…I’m trying to impress someone.”

Oh, my God. Is he talking about me? We just met tonight, for goodness sake! But I think it’s sweet he was exerting himself to impress me. Not that he needs to. Tyler is such a great guy. Just being around him makes me feel at ease and cheerier somehow. I can really see this going somewhere.

“And who would that be?” Sean looks at me as he says this and gives me a wink.

“That would be someone by the name of none-of-your-business,” Tyler shoots back.

“Uh-oh. Here comes trouble.”

Tyler’s head snaps up to look at Sean. There’s terror there. It can only mean one thing: Kelly is on her way over.

“Kelly?” Tyler asks, his tone grave.

Sean nods and runs his cloth around the rim of the glass he’s holding.

I feel like I’m about to witness a genuine Wild West showdown. I surreptitiously turn in my seat to look behind us. I want to get a good look at the bitch who broke Tyler’s heart before he shoots her down and sends her on her way. But there’s no one there. At least, there’s no woman there. Just some guy with a flannel shirt and dreamy blue eyes. Huh. Maybe Kelly chickened out when she saw me.

A satisfied smile passes over my lips. Good. At least she already knows I’m not willing to share.

“Well, well, well,” comes a male voice from behind. “I never expected to see you here tonight.”

Tyler doesn’t move. He doesn’t even turn around. He simply says, “I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

“Really? Seems to me you’ve come looking for it. You know this is my usual watering hole.”

“You’re not the only one who likes to come here for a drink…or to see old friends.” Tyler gives the barest of smiles to Sean, and suddenly, I feel like I’m missing something. Like the pieces of the puzzle aren’t quite fitting together.

I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden, so I look around the bar and pretend I’m not listening in on their confrontation. I’m starting to notice things I hadn’t noticed before. Like the giant rainbow above the barn door. At first, I thought it was an homage to
The Wizard of Oz
, but now…

Oh, my God. It’s not an homage to
The Wizard of Oz
. It’s an homage to Judy Garland. And a symbol of gay pride.

I dart my gaze frantically to the couple across from us. They’re not just two men having a drink together—they’re
lovers
having a drink together. How the hell did I miss that?

Okay, calm down. It’s not a big deal. Tyler has no idea I thought he was coming on to me, or that I thought we were out on a first date. And even if he did, it’s not like there were any clues to his sexual orientation I could have picked up on.

Except for the fact he brought me to a place called Easy Beef Roadhouse, whose clientele is ninety percent male.

I gulp down my water, feeling like the biggest idiot. I’ve got to find a way out of here.

“So, who’s this pretty little thing? Got yourself a new hag now that Chelsea’s got a boyfriend.”

Chelsea?
Hag
?

Tyler sighs. “Kelly, I have nothing to say to you. Why don’t you just skedaddle?”

Wow. They really take this country western thing to an extreme in here.

“Yeah, all right,” Kelly,
the man
, says. “I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I can help it.” Tyler is still facing forward. He never once turned around to look at Kelly, and I understand why. Kelly is the type of guy who could charm his way into your pants with one sultry look. “I’m really sorry you had to witness that.” Tyler is looking at me now, a soft expression on his face.

Damn, he would have made a great boyfriend.

“No, it’s fine,” I say. “It’s never fun to have to face an ex.”

“Especially when it’s Kelly.” Sean puts two shot glasses in front of us and pulls out a bottle of Jameson.

The idea of shooting whiskey right now makes me gag, but I have no choice. I need something to numb these feelings of humiliation, and beer is never going to do that. 

“Bottom’s up!” I yell, and slam back the Jameson. I have a momentary flashback to sitting in Clyde’s office, sputtering on the single malt he’d offered while propositioning me. Despite this huge fail of a day, I have to admit, this is way better than working for Clyde.

Twelve

Okay, I can do this. I don’t need Mom anymore. I just need to be confident in my own abilities. I had a full two weeks with her by my side—I know what I’m doing now. Right?

“You better get started, Candy.”

I look up at my sister who has already begun the sugar molds for the day, and nod. I should get started; I’m just at a loss as to where I should begin.

“Here.” Holly is standing before me, the pink order slips in her hand. “Start with these, and double the amount so you can put the extras in the display.” She pauses and gives me a once over. “You okay?”

I nod again. Why am I so nervous?

All right, deep breaths. I glance at the first pink slip. An order of Spice-it-Up cupcakes for Mrs. Shoemaker. Mrs. Shoemaker? I know that name. I know it really well, as a matter of fact. She was my third grade teacher. Geez, she must be a hundred years old by now.

I shrug and pull myself together. I want to impress my teacher—I have to do a good job.

My hands are shaking as I start to measure the ingredients for the cupcakes. I make sure to follow the recipe to a “T”, carefully adding and then checking off the ingredients as I do. Flour? Check! Sugar? Check! Eggs, allspice, baking soda, butter, salt, milk, spices? Check, check, check! I watch them go round and round in the mixer until the batter looks perfect. Then I grab my spoon and give it a few spins around the bowl, praying for perfection.

While they bake, I make the frosting with the same precision I made the batter, and by the time they’re done and frosted, I am quite pleased with my first attempt at going this alone.

“Ready to taste?” I ask Holly.

“Sure!” she says, jumping off her stool. “Then we’ll decorate.”

I cut one of the spice cakes down the center and give half to Holly. We bite at the same time, and both nearly squeal with delight at how good it tastes. It’s almost like a chocolate covered Red Hot.

“Can, this is amazing!” Holly licks the frosting off her fingers. “How did you do it?”

“I don’t know!” I shrug nonchalantly, but I can’t stop the wide grin that comes to my lips. “I was just really careful, you know? I mean, I was so nervous—I wanted to make sure I got them just right.”

“Well, it paid off. Nice work.”

As the morning wears on, I relax into the job. We have lots of orders to fill on top of the regular flavors we put in the display. By the end of the day, I’ve made close to two hundred cupcakes and all I want to do is curl up in bed and watch reality TV.

But then Colin walks through the door to the kitchen, his smile wide, and I forget all about how tired I am.

“Hi, Colin,” I chirp. “How’s everything out front?”

“Great!” He crosses the room to plant a kiss on Holly’s cheek. “About ready?”

“Yep!” Holly finishes packing up her stuff and puts her apron on the hook. “See you tomorrow, Candy.”

And then they’re gone. I plop onto the nearest kitchen stool, feeling a little bit sorry for myself. Watching my sister come and go with the man I’m falling madly in love with is getting to be painful. Pure torture, really.

“Hey, Candace?”

I look up to see one of the high school girls from out front peeking at me around the door.

“What’s up, Caroline?”

“Um, there’s someone here to see you. Mrs. Shoemaker. She says it’s about her order.”

I cock my head like a confused puppy. “Really?”

“Yeah, she picked it up this morning, but…well, she says there was a problem with them.”

A problem? I know for sure those cupcakes were perfect. What kind of problem could there be? They were too good?

Either way, I have to talk to her. “Tell her I’ll be right out.”

Caroline looks out to the shop, then back at me. “Actually,” she says with a little trepidation in her voice. “She says it’s private. She’d like to speak with you back here.”

I’m not a big fan of letting customers into the kitchen. It’s not like we have roaches or anything, but still…

“She’s really insistent about it,” Caroline adds.

I give in. I’m too tired to argue. “Fine. Send her back.”

While I wait, I smooth out my apron and smooth down my hair, hoping to make a good “grown up” impression for my third grade teacher.

I’m slightly taken aback when Mrs. Shoemaker comes through the door. It’s been more than twenty years since I’ve seen her, but somehow I think she looks better now than she did then.

She stops short when she sees me. “Who are you?” she says, her brow furrowed.

I give her a big smile. “I’m Candace. Candace Cooper,” I say, just in case my first name doesn’t ring a bell.

“Where is Dottie?” Her tone has turned all teacher-y, as if she’s asking for me to procure an eraser she knows I’ve put up my nose.

“Um, probably halfway to Venezuela by now.”

Mrs. Shoemaker blinks. “What are you talking about?”

I shake my head. I need to spell this out for her, I think. “Dottie is my mom. She and my dad are gone—they’ve turned the bakery over to my sister and me so they can sail the world on a cruise ship.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Shoemaker says, her brow furrowing slightly. “I hadn’t realized—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence. “So,
you
baked my cupcakes today?”

I gulp. “Mmm-hmm.”

She takes a sharp breath through her nose and says, “Well, you did it wrong.”

I’m floored. Those cupcakes were perfect! “I-I don’t understand,” I say, getting all flustered and warm. “Holly and I tested them ourselves. They were delicious.”

“I didn’t say they didn’t taste good.”

I take a step back, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. “Well, then what could be the problem?”

Now Mrs. Shoemaker is turning red. I’m so confused. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about,” she says, lowering her voice a bit. “Especially with a young thing like you.”

I like the sound of “young thing.”

“But your mother always made the cupcakes for me with a certain…
idea
in mind.”

Oh, God.
The spoon.

“And it’s never failed to work for us. My husband and I, I mean.” She moves a little closer to me. “Today was different, though. He was so focused but not in the right way, you see. He felt so pressured to do it properly that, well…he couldn’t
perform
.” She whispers this last part as if it will make it easier for me to digest.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the bile from rising into my throat. Are we really talking about what I think we’re talking about? Am I really talking to my third grade teacher about her sex life? “I’m sorry?” I offer, not quite sure what to say in this situation.

“Look, Candace. I had a very intimate relationship with your mother. I know what she’s capable of, so we needn’t beat around the bush. Do you have the same abilities as your mother?”

“Can you clarify
abilities
?” I ask, wondering if Mrs. Shoemaker knows more about all this than I do.

She moves a step closer to me. “
Magical
abilities.”

The word
magical
hangs in the air for a moment. Is she serious? Is that really what this is all about?
The change
? No, it can’t be.

“I don’t know,” I say, still trying to sort everything out in my head. “I knew something was supposed to happen to me on my twenty-ninth birthday, but my birthday has come and gone, and I don’t feel any differently.”

Mrs. Shoemaker is eyeing me warily. “Do you mean to say your mother left town without ever explaining what was happening to you?”

I shake my head. “No…I mean, yes. I mean, she told me there would be
the change.
She taught me to ‘focus my energy’ when mixing the batter. But she kept saying it would all be clearer when I turned twenty-nine.”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Shoemaker’s brow is furrowed in genuine concern for me.

“So, are you trying to tell me that I’m…
magical
?” I ask, trying but failing to wrap my mind around the concept.

“Perhaps you should call your mother.” Mrs. Shoemaker squirms a bit. “Ask her to iron out the details. In the meantime, I’d like you to try my order again.”

“Okay,” I say, attempting to shift gears along with her.

“What were you thinking about when you made my order this morning?” she asks.

“Just…getting it right. It’s my first day going it alone, so I was very careful, very precise. I wanted them to be perfect.”

Mrs. Shoemaker raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to catch on.

“Oh, my God.”

“Exactly.”

“You mean, I…he…?” I can’t find the words.

“Yes,” she says. Clearly she knew what my mumbling meant, even though I didn’t. “Now, I would like for you to make me another batch of cupcakes, free of charge. This time, get it right.” With that, Mrs. Shoemaker pushes through the swinging kitchen door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Good God. I have the ability to affect people’s sex lives? No, no, no. This is way too much. I didn’t want this responsibility.

What am I saying, anyway? This is absurd! What am I? Sabrina the Almost-30-year-old Witch?

The kitchen door finally swings to a complete close, but I can’t take my eyes off of it. I’m too much in shock. Sure, Mom told me this would happen, just not in so many words.

Damn it! Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I take her seriously and ask more questions? Now she’s halfway around the world with no cell reception, and I’m on my own.

Fine. I can do this. I just have to…

I gulp. One thing I will
not
do is picture Mrs. and Mr. Shoemaker having sex. No, I’ll have to replace it with a positive sexual experience of my own. Ha! Last time I had one of those was—

Oh, God. As I wrack my brain, I realize I can’t come up with anything. Not a single, positive sexual encounter. Sure, I’ve dated and slept with a lot of men, but the sex has never been “Bake me into a cake” great. So what am I supposed to do?

I look around the room for inspiration, but among the mixing bowls and baking tins, I find nothing.

“Hey, Candy!”

“Colin?” I whirl around, surprised to see him back in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
Did you finally realize you’re madly in love with me and not my sister?

“Holly forgot her sweater,” he says as he pulls it off the hook at the other end of the room. “We’re gonna take a boat ride. Wouldn’t want her catching a chill.”

I give him a half smile, trying to hide my utter disappointment and jealousy. “No, of course not. Have fun!”

He waves as he pushes through the door, and then he’s gone.

“Well, I couldn’t have asked for better inspiration,” I say to myself, and then set to work on the new batch of cupcakes for Mrs. Shoemaker.