Baked With Love

by Tina Martin

  “I know. I know. It’s no excuse, but I don’t usually get people in here this early in the mornings.”

  “But when you do, you tell your sister how cute and tall they are.”

  Gianna’s mouth fell open in shock.

  “Newsflash, cupcake lady…you can’t whisper worth a lick,” the man informed her.

  He watched as her already reddened cheeks turned a shade darker with embarrassment.

  “To your point, though, I am cute and tall, although I would prefer handsome over cute. Remember that the next time you’re describing me to your sister.”

  Gianna could only shake her head. “First of all, how did you know I was talking to my sister?”

  “You mean your whittle sister?” He laughed.

  She felt like locking herself in her office until he left. That’s how utterly embarrassed she was. Changing the subject, she asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I would like some coffee.”

  “Small, medium or large?”

  He smirked. “What do you think?”

  She looked up at him. “Right. Large.”

  He nodded.

  She bent down to take a large paper cup from the shelf then placed it on the counter. “The sleeves and tops are over there by the cream, sugar and the…um…the…”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes. The coffee,” she said smiling nervously, glancing at him then quickly returning her attention back to the cash register. After pressing a few more keys, she said, “And your total comes to $6.18.”

  He pulled out his wallet from the back right pocket of his pants and took out a twenty-dollar bill, handing it to her. Before Gianna could give him change, he said, “Put the change in your tip jar.”

  “I don’t have a tip jar.”

  “You should. Your pocket will suffice for now.”

  “Um…okay. Thank you for the tip.”

  “Thank you for the cupcake and coffee. Finally.” He smiled again, then took the cupcake and cup from the counter, heading for the coffee station. After preparing his coffee until the color of it matched the woman’s skin tone – smooth and buttery brown – he sat where he would have a good view of her. He’d never met a more fidgety, uneasy woman. Granted, most women found themselves unnerved around him. That’s just the kind of hair-raising effect he had on women. And he could easily distinguish between the ones he could readily have and the women who would prove to be more of a challenge.

  This woman, however, had him off his game. He couldn’t quite read her just yet, but he knew one thing for sure – she made some delicious, mouthwatering cupcakes. And everything about her appearance was beautiful in an innocent kind of way. He couldn’t see her hair because of the hairnet she was wearing, but he could tell it was black and balled up into a bun. Her skin complexion was a few shades lighter than his. She looked to be about five and a half feet tall. She didn’t have a curvy body from what he could see. She looked thin – straight up and down. And she had to be a smart woman. A little flaky, but smart. It took guts to run a small business, especially a niche market like specialty cupcakes where the profit margin was low and operating costs were high. He wondered how long she’d been in business, and if she ran the bakery alone.

  He took a sip of coffee then removed his cell phone from his suit jacket. After pulling up a web browser, he Googled her bakery name – The Boardwalk Bakery – just to satisfy his curiosity on whether or not the bakery had an online presence. It hadn’t. And his search results yielded no reviews. No social media sites. Just a few listings showing the business name, number and address.

  He glanced up when he felt her eyes on him and as soon as he met her light brown gaze, she looked away, continuing to wipe the counter in counterclockwise circles.

  He took a sip of coffee, analyzing her – his eyes traveling down to her legs then back up to her oval shaped face. If he was correct in reading her, she looked like she wanted to ask him something but was hesitant to do so. That didn’t surprise him. Her hesitancy that is. He’d been told a time or two (truthfully speaking, more like a hundred times) that his presence was intimidating. Besides, the cupcake lady didn’t come off as a conversationalist and that had him guessing her age. Mid-twenties? Late twenties? There was no way she was a day over thirty.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a tinkling bell at the entrance. He grinned to himself. So, there is a doorbell. Why didn’t it tinkle when I came in?

  He shifted his body to take a look at the door. There wasn’t an electric chime doorbell, but an actual bell hanging from the interior side of the door. Apparently, it was faulty because it certainly didn’t tinkle twenty minutes ago.

  Putting the doorbell concern on hold for the moment, he sat up tall watching a man who appeared to be homeless walk in – not that he was being judgy, but what else was he supposed to think by the appearance of the man? He looked like he hadn’t shaved in months and wore a dirty white T-shirt and worn, black shoes. He’d never seen a once-white T-shirt so filthy. And the khaki cargo pants the man wore had seen many bad days.

  He watched the woman emerge from the kitchen and witnessed the moment her eyes lit up when she saw the homeless man.

  “Hey, Jerry!” he said.

  “Good moanin’ sweet thang. I see you done got yaself a customer dis moanin’.”

  “Something like that,” Gianna said glancing over at the well-dressed gentleman who’d nearly frightened her half to death. He was looking back at her. She looked away from him, returning her attention to Jerry again. “I got something good for you. Be right back.”

  She went to the kitchen for a moment, grabbed a box of cupcakes and, back at the front, she placed it on the counter. “Here you go. These were especially made with love for one of my fa-vo-rite people. You have three buttercream chocolate and three cream cheese carrot cupcakes.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “Bless you, sweet thang.” He took the box and headed for the door.

  “Have a good day, Jerry.”

  “I will thanks to you.”

  She smiled, satisfied she was able to do something to brighten Jerry’s day. “Don’t forget to share.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jerry said immediately before he exited.

  Still smiling, Gianna glanced over at the suited-up man who’d unnerved her and interrupted her morning, feeling the smile instantly fall away from her face. Why was he staring so hard?

  And he continued staring with his large hand wrapped around the tall coffee cup, sipping and reflecting on her interaction with the homeless man. He was on alert when the man came in, but it was obvious she knew who this guy was. And she’d given him a box of cupcakes for free. It only piqued his curiosity about cupcake lady. Exactly who was this woman?

  Chapter 2

  Ramsey St. Claire sat behind his exquisite, smoked pecan executive desk waiting for his project managers to show up. On the agenda – the new two-hundred-unit apartment complex to be constructed in the up and coming Belgate Community located in the University City area of North Charlotte. With the nearly completed construction of the new light rail tracks running through the center of the inbound and outbound lanes of North Tryon Street, providing a crucial connection between the university area (UNC-Charlotte) and Uptown, the surrounding land was a hot seller for developers and was being snatched up on a first come, first served basis as long as you had the capital. And St. Claire Architects had millions at their disposal. Since a part of the firm’s appeal was the extra step they took to find land for developers in addition to designing their structures, they stood to make millions once the project was finalized.

  “Gentlemen, good morning,” Ramsey said, sitting up in his chair as his project managers – Ralph Sheppard and Gilbert Lewis walked into his office with tablets in their hand.

  “Good morning, Ram,” Ralph said. “What’s going on?”

  “Yeah, man. You never call meetings this early in the morning,” Gilbert said.

  “I
don’t usually, but I need a progress report on the U-City project ASAP.”

  “We’re still in phase one as you’re aware,” Ralph said.

  Ramsey leaned back in his chair hiding a grimace. He prided himself on the ability to keep a cool head under pressure or when he was irritated. At the moment he was irritated. Phase one should have been completed a week ago. Ramsey didn’t like setbacks of any kind. When projects weren’t completed, on time, it only put them, as a company, further behind, thus delaying other projects they could acquire. Instead of taking on another assignment, they were stuck on phase one. He didn’t make his millions off of delays and being stuck in phase one. He made his money getting stuff done and on time. He didn’t like his bank account being toyed with because people wanted to be lazy.

  Ramsey sat up in his chair again. “I was at the University City site today. Imagine my surprise to see that the land has yet to be completely excavated.”

  “There’s an explanation for that,” Gilbert said quickly, just about cutting him off.

  “Then I would like to hear it.”

  “The excavation company we went with backed out before the job was complete,” he explained.

  “When did this happen?” Ramsey asked frowning. It certainly was news to him.

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “Did you notify Royal?” His younger brother, Royal, was the troubleshooter for St. Claire Architects and was to be informed of all project delays.

  “Yes,” Gilbert answered. “Royal was notified the same day of the walkout.”

  Strange, because Ramsey didn’t recall Royal mentioning this in any of their status meetings.

  “So, two whole weeks, fourteen days, the land is just sitting there, screaming for help and what do we do about it? Nothing but fold our hands.” Ramsey brought his hands to a steeple. “Why am I just hearing about this now, fellas?” he asked because even though Royal was the troubleshooter and the person he should’ve gotten this update from, the project managers still had an obligation to notify Ramsey of any urgent issues that needed attention.

  “It’s my fault,” Gilbert admitted. “I was hoping to get the situation handled without having to involve you. I know how busy you are, Sir.”

  “Then, since you chose to leave me out of it, what have you been doing to get the problem resolved?”

  “We found a new excavation group,” Ralph jumped in to say, so Gilbert didn’t take all the heat.

  “Which one?”

  “McFarlane.”

  “McFarlane.” The name jogged Ramsey’s memory. “Isn’t that the group working on those new Ikea Boulevard apartments?”

  Ralph nodded. “Yes, I believe it is.”

  “With that big of an undertaking, do they have the manpower to start our project?”

  “The owner assured me that they did, Sir.”

  “And when are they starting?” Ramsey asked. “Please say tomorrow.”

  “We tried to get them as soon as we could. The earliest they can start is Monday,” Gilbert said.

  Monday? A muscle twitched in Ramsey’s jaw. Today was Wednesday, and they had to wait until Monday? He didn’t like that one bit. That meant that all day today, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday was wasted time – time that could’ve been spent clearing the property had they hired the right company the first time around.

  “You gave us a little leeway with this project, Ram,” Gilbert said. “Why the sudden urgency?”

  Ramsey exhaled an even sigh, propping his head up with his left hand, using his thumb to massage his temple. Gilbert had some nerve asking him a question like that, but the man was right. He did give the project managers flexibility on the University City project. Normally, he’d be in grind mode – the usual for him, but not this time. Why? Because he was burnt out, not really feeling the routine of doing the same job day in and day out. Granted, he loved architecture, especially the aesthetics side of it, and his firm was featured in numerous magazines – Architectural Digest, Metropolis, The Blueprint, Wallpaper and BuildIt – but he needed a break from it all. His brothers had been trying to convince him for the last year that he deserved to take some time off. He finally listened. But did his decision to take a break mean that nothing was going to get done while he was gone? That projects would fail to meet target dates and contractors could take their sweet time doing their part of the construction? He couldn’t have that. He needed assurances. Needed to be in control, even if he did take a hiatus from work.

  Deciding to level with his project managers, he said, “I’ve been thinking about taking some time off. I wanted to see some progress on this project before I left.”

  Ralph sat straight up in his chair when he asked, “You’re taking time off?”

  Gilbert appeared to be just as shocked as Ralph.

  “Yes. I’m considering it,” Ramsey said.

  Gilbert’s brows almost touched as his mind tried to process this anomaly of Ramsey St. Claire taking time off work. “But you never take time off.”

  “And that’s precisely why I’m seriously considering it. If I follow through, I will be gone one-hundred percent of the time and the only exception would be coming to the office for extreme emergencies. Otherwise, I’ll be checking my emails regularly from home in case Judy has something for me to approve. Now, it’s paramount that we get this land cleared, and since you said McFarlane will be starting on Monday, I’ll be there to make sure they do.”

  “They will,” Ralph said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Do I need to interfere to get the ball rolling on this?” Ramsey asked, eyeing them skeptically. It was a bad feeling to lose faith in his project managers but that’s where Ramsey found himself currently.

  “No, Ram,” Ralph answered. “We can take care of this. We are taking care of this. You deserve a break. You relax. Let us do the worrying.”

  “When you own your own business, Ralph, all you do is worry, hope for the best but expect the worst. On Monday, I’m hoping for the best. I’m not expecting the worst and if the worst happens, somebody’s job will be in jeopardy. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Ralph said.

  “Clear as glass, Sir,” Gilbert responded.

  “Is there anything else either of you needs to discuss with me?”

  “No,” Gilbert said.

  Ralph shook his head.

  “Then you can return to your duties. Thank you for your time.”

  After dismissing the men, Ramsey hit the speakerphone button on his phone and punched in Royal’s extension.

  Royal’s voice came through the speaker. “Sup, Ram?”

  “I just met with Ralph and Gilbert.”

  “Okay.”

  “They said they updated you on the excavation delay with the University City project.”

  “They did.”

  Ramsey balled his hands into fists. The joys of working with family members…

  He knew the personal relationships he had with his brothers could make professional relationships with them that much more difficult, but they had the knowledge and expertise to do their individual jobs – even Royal who’d just graduated from college last year with a degree in business analytics. His problem with Royal was his attitude – he’d been dubbed the cool St. Claire around the office – the one people felt most comfortable talking to because the rest of them were supposedly short-tempered, strict and by-the-book. Royal was developing the habit of letting things slide. Giving people second, third and fourth chances. Hanging on to employees that should’ve been fired. He caused problems instead of troubleshooting them. He was more laid back and relaxed – too laid back as far as Ramsey was concerned.

  “Royal, why didn’t you make me aware of this at our last status meeting?”

  “Because we’re operating three months ahead of schedule on this project. Plus, I didn’t want you getting all wound up for nothing. You’re already burnt out.”

  “I’m not burnt out—”

  “You are, walking around here lik
e you’re mad at the world. Everybody sees how cranky you are. Well, everyone besides you.”

  “Even if that was true, it still doesn’t justify your negligence when it comes to notifying me about crucial project delays, man. It’s your job, Roy!”

  “I know what my job entails.”

  “Then I expect you to do it, or you’re going to find yourself without one.” Ramsey pressed the speakerphone button to end the call.

  He stood up, blew a breath and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his tenth floor, lavish office – decorated with tall, leafy tropical plants, several tranquil fountains and a wet bar. He could stand a drink at the moment but chose to go without one for now. Royal was partially right. He was easily irritable as of late – frustrated with trivial matters at the firm and forging ahead with projects that weren’t late or close to being overdue. He wasn’t a jerk. Nowhere close to being a jerk. So why had he been acting like one?

  Ramsey leaned against a window and closed his eyes searching for something to calm his temper and that’s when he thought of her – cupcake lady. It was in this moment he realized he didn’t know the woman’s name. What he did know was he liked her quirky and skittish ways. She was funny, and he didn’t think it was intentional which made her behavior even more amusing. She was being her natural self. He smiled to himself when he pictured flour on the tip of her nose. He chuckled at the way she screamed when she realized he was standing behind her. And, as he consumed what he considered to be the best cupcake he’d ever eaten, he watched her work behind the counter, adding cupcakes to the display case and tidying up the place. Then there was the man who came into the bakery. The homeless fella. She’d given him a box of cupcakes. Who was he exactly?

  His thoughts were interrupted too soon by his secretary’s voice emitting through his phone’s intercom saying, “Mr. St. Claire, there’s a Felicity James on the line for you, Sir. Should I put her through?”

  He walked over to his desk, pressed the intercom button and said, “Yes, send it through, Judy.”

  “Coming your way,” she responded.