Vanilla Beaned (6 page)

The girl was tiny and blond with round silver-framed glasses that made her blue eyes enormous. She was missing a front tooth on the bottom and she had a smear of chocolate batter on one cheek. She was also carrying a spatula like it was a weapon.

“It's okay, Sydney, we're on our way,” Holly said. “Thank you.”

Sydney gave her mother a stern look and waved her spatula. “But the buzzer!”

Tate held out his hand to the little girl and said, “Lead on, young chef, we can't have anything burnt on your watch, now can we?”

“No, sir!” The little girl grinned at him with a smile as big as the sky. Then she slapped her hand into his and began to run, leaving Tate no choice but to jog to keep up.

“Your daughter is adorable,” Angie said before she hurried after them.

“That's one word for it,” Holly said. She and Mel fell into step behind the others. She glanced at Mel and said, “Thanks for coming today.”

“No problem,” Mel said. She glanced at Holly. Somehow knowing that she was a mom changed everything. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Holly said although she sounded wary.

“Why exactly do you want to open a bakery?” Mel didn't want to be the one to break it to her that houses like this were generally out of a baker's salary range, even if they owned the bakery, but it was clear they were going to have to discuss it at some point.

“Well, I love baking,” Holly said. “But mostly, it's for Sydney. She'll start school next year, and unless I find something with different hours, I will literally never see her except on Monday afternoon and evening. I want to be a baker, but even more I want to be a mother.”

“How does your hus—”

“I'm not married,” Holly said.

“Oh, sorry,” Mel said. She desperately wanted the details but she knew it was rude to ask, so she said nothing, although it about killed her.

“No, it's fine,” Holly said. “We divorced when Sydney was just a baby and it actually saved our relationship. We co-parent better than we ever did the whole husband and wife thing. Billy's a great father and it works quite well, actually.”

The hallway to the kitchen was a long one. The floor
was a rich hardwood, and the walls were painted pewter gray. Recessed alcoves with track lighting illuminated the various pieces of art. Mel couldn't even hazard a guess at how much the little gallery of eye-popping paintings was worth. She didn't want to know, fearing it might make her queasy.

If Holly was this well-off, why did she want to buy a franchise? She could easily redistribute some of this largesse and open up ten or twenty bakeries all on her own. She didn't need Mel or Fairy Tale Cupcakes. Mel wanted to ask, but again, it felt rude.

They turned the corner into the kitchen. Mel stopped in her tracks. Tate and Angie were already staring openmouthed at the plethora of cupcakes that littered every surface of the enormous kitchen.

Many of the flavors Mel recognized from her bakery. She saw Blonde Bombshells, Tinkerbells, Death by Chocolates, but also there were cupcakes that were eye catching in their artistry. A dozen vanilla cupcakes sat front and center on the sparkly granite counter. Perched on a fat dollop of vanilla buttercream on each cupcake was a miniature fondant version of the iconic
WELCOME TO FABULOUS LAS VEGAS NEVADA
sign that has greeted visitors to the city since 1959.

“Oh, my,” Angie breathed. “How did you do this?”

“It was easy. I made an edible transfer onto the fondant,” Holly said. “Sydney was happy to eat the ones that didn't come out very well, weren't you, cutie pie?”

Sydney giggled. “I got a stomachache.”

“She did,” Holly confirmed. “I felt terrible. Of course,
it might have been all the chocolate icing that she ate on the sly.”

Holly gave her daughter a sideways glance and Sydney giggled again and then said, “I don't know what she's talking about.”

This was said with such wide-eyed earnestness that the grown-ups all laughed. The affection between mother and daughter was evident in the way they smiled at each other like they shared secrets. It made Mel miss Joyce, her mother, who was manning the bakery back in Scottsdale.

“Now you have to try them,” Sydney said. She pushed her chef's hat back off her head and passed out paper plates and napkins.

“I don't know,” Mel teased. “I had a really big breakfast. I don't know if I can manage all these cupcakes.”

“Not all of them, silly, just most of them.” Sydney gazed at Mel with the inexhaustible stubbornness of the young.

Mel took a plate. She was a little nervous about trying the cupcakes. She realized that she liked Holly and she was anxious on her behalf. She didn't want the pretty confections to prove too dry or too sweet and ruin the amazing first impression that they had made. Then again, they looked so delicious, she was a little afraid that they might actually taste better than hers. The thought horrified her.

Tate had no such qualms. He went right for a vanilla one with the Las Vegas sign. Angie took the almond-flavored Blonde Bombshell. Mel decided to stick with the lighter-flavored lemon and raspberry combo in the Tinkerbell. The three of them glanced at one another and then Tate counted down.

“Three, two, one . . .”

They each took a bite. Mel was pleasantly surprised to find that Holly's cupcake tasted exactly like her own. Tart lemon cake with sweet raspberry icing, it was a one-two punch of cupcakey goodness. Mel nodded at Holly while she chewed, and as soon as she swallowed, she smiled at the other woman.

“This is excellent.”

“This one is even better,” Angie chimed in. “I think it might even be better than yo—”

“Yum!” Tate interrupted his fiancée with an enthusiasm that didn't fool Mel one bit. He'd tried to cut off Angie before she said that Holly's cupcake was better than Mel's.

“Where'd you get the recipes?” she asked Holly.

“I asked Tate—”

That was as far as she got before Mel whirled on Tate. “You gave away my recipes?”

He had his mouth full of fondant so he was forced to shake his head back and forth.

“He didn't,” Holly said. “I swear. He just described them to me and I made them to the best of my ability based on his information.”

Mel glanced between the two of them. Tate was pointing at Holly and nodding, clearly backing up her story.

Mel glanced at Angie and asked, “Did you know about this?”

“Nope,” she said. Unfortunately, her attention was caught up in scraping every bit of cake and frosting off her paper plate.

“Why don't you just lick it?” Mel snapped.

Angie lowered her plate and frowned. “Why are you not happy? You should be happy. Holly is a fantastic baker. You aren't going to have to worry about quality control at all. This girl has it going on.”

“Do you really think so?” Holly asked.

“Yes,” Tate mumbled through a mouthful.

“Absolutely,” Angie said.

Holly turned to Mel, who still had most of her cupcake on her plate. Mel knew that Holly was looking to her for a final say as if she were the mean guy on
Cupcake Wars
who could make or break her.

She sighed. She had to agree with the others. Holly was obviously more than capable of whipping together an amazing assortment of tasty cupcakes.

“She's right,” Mel said. “You are truly gifted in the cupcake arts.”

Holly and Sydney squealed and hugged each other. Then they exchanged a complicated handshake that ended when they linked arms and did a very Vegas showgirl high kick. Mel couldn't help chuckling. She'd never had an employee who could high kick before. She tried to picture either Marty or Oz busting out that move, and the image made her laugh out loud.

A cell phone began to ring and everyone checked their pockets. Angie was the winner as it was her phone. She checked the display and then glanced at Tate.

“It's my brother Ray,” she said. “I'd better take this. You know how they worry.”

“Yes, we do, and we don't want them showing up here to hold us prisoner while we're in Sin City,” he said. “Talk him down.”

“I'll do my best,” Angie promised. She wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a zero-edge pool and a view of the desert mountains beyond.

Mel sampled another cupcake. She was torn between the Snickerdoodle cupcake and the Elvis, a banana cake with peanut butter frosting, but finally settled on one of the vanilla ones with the Las Vegas sign on it. Good-tasting fondant was tricky for even the best pastry chefs. As she nibbled the marshmallow-flavored decoration, she had to admit that Holly had done an incredible job. It tasted just as good as anything that had ever come out of Mel's kitchen. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

“Excellent,” Angie said into the phone as she rejoined them. “I'll tell everyone the news. Thanks, big brother.”

“Ray called with good news?” Tate asked. He looked dubious.

“He called with excellent news,” Angie said. “Ray knows a guy—”

“He always knows a guy,” Mel said. “You know how Joe feels about Ray's guys.”

Ray DeLaura was the brother that flirted with the boundaries of the law the most, so naturally he was the one who gave Joe DeLaura, a county prosecutor, the most heartburn.

“I know, but this is good,” Angie said. “Ray knows a guy who has a storefront right off the Strip that he's looking to lease. It was a sandwich shop, so it already has a
full kitchen. Ray said the guy is willing to lease it for a song. Apparently, he owes Ray a favor.”

“Yes!” Tate cried. He raised his fist in the air.

“Oh, no,” Mel said. She shook her head. “No, no, no.”

Holly looked at them, her eyes darting back and forth between their faces. “Sorry, you lost me. With my future swinging in the balance, can you clarify if it's a yes or a no?”

“No,” Mel said at the same time Tate said, “Yes.”

“Joe will go nuts,” Mel said.

“Why?” Angie protested. “This could be totally legit.”

“Since when has Ray ever done anything legit?” Mel asked.

“There's always a first time,” Tate said.

Mel looked at Holly. “Angie's brother Ray doesn't have the best track record when it comes to staying within the proper legal margins.”

“But speaking of his record at the track,” Angie said. “He's so good at picking horses, they have his picture up on the wall at Turf Paradise in Phoenix.”

“If he can apply his horse sense to my bakery, I'm good with that,” Holly said.

Mel looked at Sydney. Her big blue eyes looked
concerned and Mel didn't know if she understood the conversation as much as she understood the note of caution in Mel's voice. She didn't want to be responsible for the look of worry in the little girl's eyes.

“Well, I suppose it's worth checking out,” Mel said. “Who knows, maybe it will be the perfect spot.”

Sydney beamed at her, and Mel knew she had done the right thing. So what if Joe popped a gasket at the thought that his brother knew people in Las Vegas? Joe was wrapping up his case against Frank Tucci, the mobster, and if the news media was calling it right, it looked like it was going to go Joe's way and Tucci would be doing time well into his golden years.

It occurred to her that if the place panned out, then the responsible thing to do would be to call Joe and tell him about it so he was fully informed. It would be nice to have an excuse to talk to Joe, even if he was worrying about Ray the entire time. Mel smiled as she bit into a chocolate cupcake. After the horror of yesterday, this day was beginning to look up.

Tate got onto the phone with the law firm Stuart Stinson worked for and they agreed to send another lawyer in his place to meet them at the new site.

Angie had already told Ray that they would meet his guy, so they all did a mad scramble to pack up the cupcakes in every available bit of Tupperware that Holly could find so they would keep while they were gone.

“Did you spend all night baking?” Mel asked as she pushed a lid down tight.

“Pretty much,” Holly said. “I was too upset to sleep. I
just kept seeing Scott and Stuart in my head in a bad film loop that wouldn't stop. I called the hospital this morning to find out how they are doing.”

“It's not looking good for Scott,” Mel said.

“Yeah,” Holly said. “I feel awful, just awful.”

“I know what you mean,” Mel said. “I feel horrible about what happened and then I think that we could have been right there, too, and I feel guilty for feeling relieved that we weren't.”

“Survivor's guilt,” Holly said, and Mel nodded.

“I wish there was something we could do,” Mel said.

“Have they confirmed what caused the explosion?” Holly asked.

Tate joined them and stacked his tub on top of the others.

“I called the fire department this morning,” Tate said. “They are putting together a report, but the person I spoke to did confirm that it was caused by gas that had accumulated because the oven was on.”

“I don't see how that could have happened,” Holly said.

They were all silent, mulling over the randomness of it all. Then Mel frowned. On their way to look at the property, Scott had said that someone had looked at it earlier that day. At the time, Mel had thought it was a typical high-pressure sales tactic, but now she wasn't so sure.

“Where should we store all of these?” Angie asked.

“Right around the corner is a second walk-in refrigerator,” Holly said.

“I meant to tell you before, this is a dream kitchen,” Mel said. “You have two refrigerators, two
professional-grade ovens, three dishwashers, never mind the rest of the house, this room alone is worth whatever it cost to build.”

Holly gave her a wry look. “I'm not sure it's worth the price I paid, but that doesn't matter anymore. Let's get going and see this new location.”

“Do I get to come, too?” Sydney asked. “Please, please, please.”

“All right, all right,” Holly agreed with a laugh. “Let me call your dad. He's supposed to pick you up soon, but maybe he'll be okay if I drop you off after we see the bakery.”

Holly took her cell phone into the other room, and Sydney watched her go with a look that was so nervously expectant that Mel hoped Sydney's father agreed to the plan for the little girl's sake.

“So, Sydney,” Mel said, trying to distract her. “What is your favorite flavor of cupcake?”

“That depends,” Sydney said. “On happy days, it's lemon because lemon is the color of happiness.”

“Is it now?” Mel asked. It was official. She was thoroughly charmed by this girl. “What about sad days?”

“That's easy. Sad days are chocolate days, because everything is always better with chocolate.”

“So true. Okay, what about boring days?”

“Doesn't matter what flavor when you're bored. Just put some sprinkles on it and then—
pow
—no more boring.”

Tate, who'd been listening, leaned down so that he was eye level with the young girl. “Sydney, my dear, you are brilliant.”

“I know.” She looked back at him without pride or guile,
just a complete sense of herself and her place in the world. “My mom taught me most of that so she's pretty smart, too.”

“Agreed,” Tate said.

“Are you excited for your mom to open a bakery?” Angie asked. She had just put the last of the containers in the walk-in and was washing her hands at one of the two sinks.

“Yes!” Sydney shouted. “I get to pick the flavor of the day, every day.”

“Whoa, that's an important job,” Tate said.

“That's what Mom said, but she still won't let me leave school to work in the bakery.” Sydney frowned. “It's not fair.”

“Sydney, we talked about this,” Holly said as she came back into the room. “Your job is to go to school.”

“Kindergarten is for babies,” Sydney protested.

Holly rolled her eyes and Mel had the feeling this was an argument they had had before.

“All set to go?” Mel asked.

“Yes,” Holly said. She looked at Sydney. “And you get to come with us but you must be on your best behavior. This isn't our bakery . . . yet.”

“I promise,” Sydney said.

They took separate cars to the location. Ray's friend the Realtor was to meet them, as well as Peter Kelly, a man from Stuart Stinson's law office, who would take over the franchise paperwork for Stuart while he was in the hospital.

Mel felt guilty for moving ahead with the franchise plan without Stuart and Scott, but Tate, who was the most corporate minded of them all, assured her that it was okay.

“Stuart is a man of business. He would expect nothing less than for us to move forward,” he said.

Both Mel and Angie gave him doubtful looks then Angie turned to Mel and asked, “Do you think that's a corporate thing or a guy thing?”

“Guy thing,” Mel said. “Definitely.”

They were driving out of the neighborhood and Mel waved to the man at the gate as they went. Holly was right behind them in a sporty little sedan with Sydney in her booster seat in the back.

“What do you mean by ‘a corporate thing or a guy thing'?” Tate asked.

“That ability to compartmentalize,” Angie said. “Is it a guy thing or a business thing? Would a female executive shrug and say ‘Let's move forward, it's just business, nothing personal'?”

“Absolutely,” Tate said. “In fact, a few of the women I've worked with were even better at separating the personal from the business and managed to make some really tough decisions, ones I don't think I could have made if I were in their shoes. So, it's definitely a corporate thing.”

“Interesting,” Mel said. “See? This is why I went into baking. The corporate dog-eat-dog world is most def not for me.”

“And it was going so well until Tate decided to franchise you, making you corporate by default,” Angie teased.

“I know I've been reluctant,” Mel admitted.

“Reluctant?” Tate asked. “You had your heels dug in so deep, you left drag marks all the way from Phoenix.”

“Whatever. I've come around to the idea, plus I like Holly. She can bake, and I like that we're giving a single mom a real chance to have a normal life that she's in control of,” Mel said. “This is going to be great. I can feel it.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with our friend Mel?” Tate asked, giving her a suspicious look.

Mel and Angie both laughed, and then Mel began to sing, “‘
Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire
.'”

When it came time for the chorus, Angie and Tate did not hesitate to join in, singing, “
Viva Las Vegas!
”

It wasn't a long drive to the Strip where they were meeting the lawyer and the Realtor. Mel was curious to see what sort of person Ray had them meeting and she couldn't help wondering if Joe would approve. She doubted it.

Knowing Ray, it was going to be a thuggish sort of guy with slicked-back thinning hair, a shiny suit and dress shirt open at the collar, so the sun could shine on his thick gold chain. Mel even figured his name would be something short and blunt like Dave or Nick. For sure, it would be interesting.

Mel found a spot in the narrow parking lot of the small shopping center where the vacant shop was located. Holly pulled in behind her and they all walked over toward the glass front store on the end.

Two men in suits were standing in front of the shop.
FOR LEASE
signs were hanging in every window. It was a
snug space but it was on the end of the row of shops, giving it optimal visibility from the street and extra parking along the side.

Mel checked to see if there was another food joint in the cluster of shops. There was not, which was another plus. Instead, there was a karate school, a hair salon, a photographer's studio, and a pet groomer. All in all it seemed like a low-crime, family-friendly cluster of shops within walking distance to some of the Strip's biggest tourist attractions.

The two men standing in front of the vacant store both wore charcoal gray suits, white dress shirts, and snappy ties. As she got closer, Mel tried to guess which one could be Ray's friend. Surprisingly, thug didn't really come off either of the men, making it harder to hazard a guess.

The man on the right had a head of silver hair. An Omega watch was strapped to his left wrist and he had on cuff links. Mel figured he had to be the lawyer, plus he looked like a no-nonsense sort of guy, which did not match Ray, who was generally full of shenanigans at all times.

She glanced at the other man. He was younger with dark hair, but his suit looked to be just as expensive and so did his tie. He had on a Rolex but no cuff links. She guessed him for the Realtor, especially since his fingernails looked to be buffed into better shape than hers.

Tate led the way, looking casually official in his blue jeans and dress shirt. He held out his hand to the younger, dark-haired man. “Pete Kelly? I'm Tate Harper.”

Mel exchanged a surprised glance with Angie.

“I had that figured all wrong,” Angie said.

“Me, too,” Mel said. “How did Tate know which one was Peter?”

“Must be some secret corporate eyebrow twitch or something,” Angie said.

“Or I saw his picture on the website when I looked up the firm to get his phone number,” Tate said as he turned around. He gave them an exasperated look that said everyone could hear them.

Mel and Angie exchanged a sheepish glance, and Holly, who had joined them, laughed.

“I had it backward, too,” she said.

“I'm Quentin Ross,” the silver-haired man said. He had a crisp and precise way of speaking that made Mel suspect he used to have a thick accent of some sort but had studied to lose it.

Tate shook his hand and then Mel and Angie did the same, with Holly and Sydney being introduced next.

“Tell me, Quentin,” Angie said. “How exactly do you know my brother Ray?”

Quentin pursed his lips. He looked as if he was trying to think of what Ray might have told Angie. In the end, he shrugged and said, “I can't really say.”

Angie's eyebrows went up. Clearly, he had underestimated Ray's little sister.

“You can't say or you won't say?” she asked.

“Won't,” Quentin said.

Mel and Tate both stepped forward. Not that Angie would have put the man in a headlock or anything, but they both felt it best to be prepared for any contingency.

“Why not?” Angie rose up on her tiptoes as she tried to stare down the much taller man.

He leaned down so that they were nose to nose. “None of your business. Ask your brother, if you must know.”