“Yes, dear?” He stood and peered over a pile of antiques.
“Did you happen to move some of the bakery supplies?” I shook my head. As I looked around the storage, almost everything had been put in another location. I opened drawers and cabinets to locate what I was going to need for the cupcakes. It might take me a half hour just to find everything.
“Well, of course. I wanted to make it easier for you to find what you needed,” he said.
Bless his heart for trying. But we would have to discuss some boundaries. He could keep to his antiques and I would keep to my bakery. I braced myself for another scavenger hunt, and I looked for the cupcake pan and paper liners. I knew I had everything, somewhere.
The quiet of the room was suddenly shattered with the sound of an old-fashioned phone ringing. I jumped, spilling my cup of flour down the front of my apron. Well, at least now I officially looked like a baker. I wasn’t surprised that Uncle Jack hadn’t upgraded his business phone to the twenty-first century. The phone rang a second time, and I lifted my head to see if he was going to answer it.
“Jack, I think that old phone over there is the one that’s ringing.” Barney stood and gazed at the direction of the sound. The phone rang again. He looked back at Uncle Jack. “Yep. Now I’m sure of it.” His eyes widened.
“Oh, it does that every now and then. Ever since I plugged it in about two or three times a week it will randomly go off,” Uncle Jack said.
I left my bakery and approached the phone. It rang again. I wiped my hands on my apron and answered it. “Hello?” I looked around at Jack and Barney. “Hello?” I repeated.
Uncle Jack reached my side. “There’s never anyone there when it rings. I try to answer when I can.” He took the receiver from my hand and hung it up, then picked it up again. “There’s no dial tone, so I’m not sure why it rings.”
I headed back to continue my baking. “That’s kind of creepy.”
“That’s what the older gentleman said when he brought it in. His wife was tired of it ringing all the time, so he wanted to get rid of it.” He picked up the receiver again and held it to his ear for a few seconds, then replaced it on the hook. “I kind of like the character it has. I like to think maybe it’s someone from beyond trying to get in touch, and they just keep trying until the right person answers.”
Perhaps he was hoping it might be his brother one of these times. My heart ached for his loss. Uncle Frank was in a lot of ways just like Uncle Jack. They both loved life. I missed him too.
“Well, Jack, I need to head back to the office. I’ll keep you posted on any developments in Cal’s case.” Uncle Jack escorted Barney to the door. It gave me the shivers not knowing what happened right next door. I hoped they would soon have answers. I turned my focus to my cupcakes. Having this first batch turn out well would take all of my concentration. And if they did, I planned to take them to Florence as a peace offering. We didn’t start off well. And if we were going to be business neighbors, it would be good for everyone if we got along.
CHAPTER SIX
While my cupcakes were cooling, I decided to take a stroll outside. The leader board of the kite competition read the same as before, looking like Burkhart might in fact pull off an upset. With Cal out of the picture they had a replacement judge sitting at the table. Truth be told, I was trying to work off some nervous energy for my first baking attempt in my new space. Even though I hadn’t finished culinary school, I had acquired all of the basics. Due to my move from Boston, completing my studies had to be put on hold.
But Uncle Jack made me promise that when I arrived I would let him pay for me to finish school. I agreed but secretly hoped I was so good he wouldn’t have to use his money.
My lungs filled with fresh air, I returned to my kitchen to finish the cupcakes. Using the pastry bag full of cream, I loaded each cupcake with the sweet vanilla. This was one area where I planned to experiment with different flavors. I wanted to have a variety to supply customer’s requests of cupcakes, frostings, and fillings. The next batch of cupcakes up was almond batter and coconut filling. Why not go tropical since we were at the beach?
I finished filling each one and stood back to admire my handiwork. A few cupcakes had bigger holes than others, but those would just get more frosting to cover the blemishes. And who didn’t want more frosting? I topped off each cupcake with the chocolate glaze. I chose the best-looking one, sprinkled a little powdered sugar on for garnish, plated it, and went in search for Uncle Jack. Thankfully, with me in the antiques store now, his absence wasn’t as much of a concern that an unattended business would get ripped off.
As Uncle Jack returned from the beach, I met him at the door, sweat beads dotting his bald head. “Whew, it’s a warm one today. And I don’t just mean the weather. I really think that Burkhart is going to pull off an upset,” he said. He looked at my outstretched hands and grinned widely. “Is this what I think it is?”
I matched his smile and nodded. “I want you to have the first one.”
He put his hand on his heart. “You should join me. And we should toast this momentous occasion.” He led me back to the coffee corner. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had pulled out a bottle of hooch, even at this early hour. I was quickly learning to expect the unexpected from Uncle Jack. He poured us each a cup of coffee. We clinked cups and said “cheers.” Uncle Jack inserted about half of the cupcake in his mouth. Immediately his eyes widened, and not in a this is the best thing I’ve tasted expression, but instead in more of a this thing is hideous kind of look.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked and scooted to the edge of my chair, looking at the half-eaten cupcake on his plate. At first glance, it looked fine. How could I have messed it up? My face flushed and tears blurred my vision.
He shook his head and held out his hand in a halting gesture, swallowing in a large gulp. He swallowed again as if to rid his mouth of the horrible taste. “No, I think for your first one, it’s OK.”
It didn’t seem OK. And if my biggest fan didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have any customers. “I don’t understand. I followed the recipe to a T,” I said. I stood and picked up his plate with the remaining cupcake. I examined it from all sides. It looked moist and delicious. I tossed the cupcake in the trash and the plate with it. I held my head in my hands.
Unkie came up from behind me and put his arm around my shoulders. He quietly said, “I’m sure even professional bakers throw out a lot of their first tries. You’ll get it.” He wiped a tear from my cheek.
“But if I can’t even follow a simple recipe like an amateur, how will I ever be a professional?” I wiped my tears on my sleeve and stomped back to the baking area, slamming things around for the cleanup.
Uncle Jack followed me. “Tilly, give yourself a break, OK?” He stepped around the counter and said, “Here, let me help you.”
We silently cleaned the mess. All the while I pouted that I wasn’t perfect. So what if I had to keep working at it? Was he right? Maybe if I returned to school and kept at it, I might get better. I had to place all my hopes on that. My dream of Luna’s Bakery had to stay alive. Because otherwise . . . I couldn’t let my mind go there. The dishes sat in the dishwasher, and we finished storing the ingredients for next time. I picked up the pastry bag of cream and looked a little closer at it. Normally, with the vanilla flavoring it would be a slight off-white color. But the filling was a bright, stark white. Could that be my mistake? I squeezed a dollop onto my finger and tasted it. Yep, pure shortening. How could I have made that big of a mistake?
“This is it. I held out the bag. Somehow there’s shortening in this bag instead of the cream filling I made.” I perked up a bit. If I found the cause of the problem, I could fix it. Silly me. I hadn’t even tasted one of my own cupcakes. I took a big bite of the chocolate to get some of the filling. My eyes bulged. Gross. I spit the cupcake out and gave Uncle Jack a huge hug. “Maybe I can do this after all.” I clapped my hands and took a stuttering breath. OK. That was a good
test for how I handled setbacks. An area for improvement, for sure. “Oh, I’m so relieved to figure it out.”
Uncle Jack approached me and held both of my hands, locking eyes. “Um, Tilly. I have a confession.”
My cheeks sagged. What was all of a sudden so serious? “What is it Uncle Jack?” I took a step closer to him, looking deep into his eyes. My mind could go from zero to catastrophe in about two seconds. I hoped this wasn’t some bad news about his health. From everything I had seen, the man was as healthy as a horse. His endurance could certainly outdo me.
“I was only trying to help,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” I replied.
He stepped around me and picked up the pastry bag with the shortening inside, holding it out for me to see. “I thought these bags were for shortening. So I filled them up from the cans to make it easier for you to measure. I guess it got mixed up with the cream filling you made.” His voice wavered.
I jumped up and pounced on him with a bear hug, then laughed and held his hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t we make a deal? You are totally in charge of the antiques. And I’m totally in charge of the bakery. If the other one would like help, we can offer our services?”
“You’re not mad?” he asked.
“I will never be mad at you, ever. Uncle Jack, you have always had the biggest heart for others. From the time I was old enough to come visit you and Uncle Frank, your generosity and kindness were overwhelming.”
“I like your suggestion,” he said. He grabbed the tray of cupcakes and slid them into the garbage can. “Just like they never existed. I promise I’ll stay out of your way from now on.”
“If your stomach can handle it, I would still like you to be my taste-tester. But I won’t ask you to try anything I haven’t first tried myself.”
“Deal,” he said, and we shook on it.
A loud bang came from the other side of the wall that we shared with Florence’s Bookstore. We both looked at each other. “I didn’t think anyone would be in there yet. I wonder what’s going on?” I asked.
Uncle Jack took off like a rocket. “One way to find out.”
I scurried to keep up with him and put some distance between me and that shortening filling. I shuddered, reliving that terrible taste. Never again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The door to the bookstore was propped open, just like at the antique shop. I was sure it could use some thorough airing out from being vacant. But, you know, from the dead body too. I only hoped we wouldn’t find another mysterious situation on our hands. I followed Uncle Jack inside to scout out the source of the noise. He abruptly stopped, and I bumped him from behind, uttering, “Umph.”
Furniture filled the entire room, scattered every which way. Bookshelves, tables, chairs. Boxes upon boxes of books. And in the far corner, already completely set up was a fully furnished tearoom. A small round table was adorned with a flowing tablecloth designed with pink roses. Light pink chairs surrounded the table, which had four place settings of saucers, cups, and cloth napkins. Behind the table in the corner was a gold lamp with a beige lampshade and large pink bow. And towering above it all was an oval mirror that must have been six feet in diameter.
Uncle Jack stepped through the door and panned the room. “Ah, Flo. I mean Florence. There you are.” He moved further into the fray, weaving between the piles. “We heard a bang and wanted to see if everything was OK.”
Florence wore a different dress from the other day, flowered with pink roses that matched the tablecloth and with two sets of pearls around her neck—and her sensible heels. As sensible as heels could be. Still tucked into her purse was Princess Guinevere. I wondered if she wouldn’t mind me calling her cat PG for short. That name was a mouthful. Though I was sure that reference would offend her based on the vibe I got.
She came toward us, stroking her cat. “No. Put that against the wall,” she ordered the movers and pointed. She stopped in front of Uncle Jack, her feet planted wide, appearing ready for battle. She looked him up and down. And I would swear she sniffed.
Whether he was aware of the slight, I couldn’t tell. But my kind uncle said, “You’re making great progress. You’ll be open in no time.” He looked around. There was a ton of work to do. But judging by the number of people helping, he was probably right.
“No thanks to the neighborhood. That person’s body in here almost made me cancel my purchase contract.” Princess Guinevere quietly meowed from the bag attached to Florence’s shoulder. “But I wouldn’t be deterred. This bookstore is my destiny.”
Uncle Jack snickered, and his mouth slightly tilted up in a grin. “Are you serving tea?”
Florence turned her head. “Oh, not to you.” She halted, possibly realizing how rude her comment was. Or not. “I mean, we will have tea for our book clubs.”
I was pretty sure Uncle Jack would have no interest in her book clubs or tea. That just didn’t seem like his thing. He said, “We want to wish you the best of luck for your store.” He stretched his arm toward her to shake hands.
She looked at his hand and instead returned to petting her cat. “I just hope my Gwinnie recovers from the trauma. She has never seen”—she put her hand up to her mouth, turned away from her cat, and whispered—“a dead body before.”
Uncle Jack looked at me, eyes wide, as if to say this woman’s a bit of a loon. I gave a slight nod.
Gwinnie looked up at Florence, let out a loud yowl, and leapt from the purse. Florence squealed and with both arms reaching tried to capture the escaping cat. The aisles were too small for Florence to make much progress. “She’s probably just stressed from all of the drama.” Florence looked back at us and touched her hair to straighten the imaginary stray strand. “I need to get back to work. Lots to do,” she said and lifted her arm. It appeared her work was ordering the movers around.
She stopped in her tracks, and right in front of her, Gwinnie and another cat were circling each other. Florence looked back at us and pointed at Willie who had invaded her space. Florence’s voice raised a couple of octaves she said, “Get your cat out of here! Why do people think they can just come and go in this place?” She took two steps toward the cats, who were now nuzzling each other. “Stop that, you mangy cat. Leave my Gwinnie alone.” She reached toward Gwinnie to scoop her up, and the cat stepped just out of reach. “Oh, this is turning into the worst day ever.”
The cats moved further back into the stacks of boxes. “Dang, Willie. How did you get in here?” We all turned in unison to the voice coming from the doorway. If the man was referring to Willie, this must be his owner, Justin.
I took a step back and put my hand on my heart. Uncle Jack mentioned the guy renting the apartment above the antique store, but he failed to tell me how good looking he was. Justin had the surfer-guy thing going on. Mussed up, wavy blond hair. Muscles protruding from his snug, short-sleeved faded T-shirt. Shorts and flip-flops. The whole package. The muscles in my diaphragm tightened, restricting my breath. Simmer down, Tilly. I took a slow, deep breath and forced my gaze away from Justin.
Florence stormed toward Justin and poked her finger in his direction. “You need to keep your alley cat away from my princess. And out of my store, everyone. We have a lot of work to do.” She turned and approached one of the workers, pointing at several pieces of furniture.
Justin moved further into the store, saying, “Geez. She could use some calming beach vibes.” He winked at Uncle Jack, as if that was some kind of code. “Hey, Willie.” He reached the cats and scooped them both into his arms. “What’s this?”
Everyone turned to see what Justin referred to. He held up part of a kite tail that both Willie and Gwinnie had in their mouth, like the spaghetti noodle and the two dogs in Lady and the Tramp. The orange ribbon dangled in his hand.
Uncle Jack stepped toward Justin and took the ribbon. Examining all sides, he looked up and said, “That’s part of the tail of Maverick’s kite.”
Florence gasped and her hand flew to her mou
th. “Will it ever end?” She whimpered, shaking her head. She grabbed Gwinnie from Justin’s arm and stuffed the cat into her bag.
Justin stroked Willie’s back. I could hear the purring from where I stood. Willie had a new girlfriend. Let the games begin. “The other thing,” Justin started, clamping his mouth closed.
Florence’s head flew up. “What now?” she yelled.
Justin pointed behind some boxes. In the dust in the corner, it looked like there were some footprints.
Florence pounded her heels in the direction Justin indicated. He touched her arm. “Don’t go there.”
She glared at him. “This is my store, and I’ll go where I want to. Those cleaners obviously did a poor job and they won’t get a dime from me.”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Justin said.
Florence squinted at him.
“What I mean is that one set of the footprints looks like it’s a pair of specialty shoes that you wear for gripping sand. Sometimes volleyball players have them. But I’ve recently seen kite fliers wearing them too so they have some resistance in controlling those large kites.” Justin looked around the room as we all stared, like he was giving a performance.
Uncle Jack moved to the center of the group. “I think we all need to get out of here for the time being to let the police return and continue the investigation into Cal’s death.” He panned the circle, and we were all bobbing our heads.
Florence sniffled and Uncle Jack went to escort her out. “Don’t worry. I’ll come help you finish moving in after the police give the all clear,” he said. That man could sweet talk and encourage the crustiest of personalities. Good thing, since she would be our business neighbor; they would no doubt have a lot of time with each other.
I took a deep breath. Maybe the clues were piling up in favor of one of the kite-flying competitors. It sure looked like an open-and-shut case. I only hoped it would be resolved soon. I didn’t have any fear for my safety. But the pallor cast over the town by this mysterious death would not be good for tourism. The workers exited the store, and we followed Uncle Jack and Florence, quietly closing the door behind us.
Cupcakes and Catastrophe (A Belle Harbor Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 3
