by Carol Durand
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 by Maven Publishing - All rights reserved.
All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 1
Melissa Gladstone, petite blonde owner of Missy’s Muffins and More, in LaChance, Louisiana, and Crème de la Cupcake, in the neighboring town of Dellville, slumped at her kitchen table with her head in her hands, exhausted. She’d been working late into the night, setting up new recipes for her featured “Cupcake of the Day” at both stores, and her lack of sleep was taking its toll. When the late nights were coupled with the stress of filming a nationally televised baking show, The Bayou Baker, once a week, the result was a slightly haggard and harried Missy. She had a daily respite when she took her dogs, a sweet golden retriever named Toffee, and a sassy malti-poo named Bitsy to the park, but the interludes weren’t enough to combat an overly-packed schedule that seemed to be draining the life from her on a daily basis.
Missy had been dating the tall-dark-and-handsome LaChance detective, Chas Beckett, for more than a year, and their relationship had evolved into something that was both exciting and comfortable, but lately, she’d felt as though she’d been shortchanging the debonair detective, relegating him to late lunches, and dinners eaten at the kitchen counter whenever she could spare a moment. A busy man himself, Chas was more than understanding, but she felt guilty about not making more time for him.
The delivery side of her businesses was booming, as was the daily foot traffic. Publicity that she’d received as a result of being on national television had made her numbers soar, and despite having hired additional staff, Missy still felt as though she could barely keep up with the demand for her delicious cupcakes. Something had to give, and she felt quite sure that if she didn’t come up with a plan soon, that something would be her. Vowing to talk with her store managers about a different plan of attack in the morning, she closed her laptop and headed to bed, too numb to think anymore.
**
“I’m actually really glad that you called this meeting, Ms. G.,” the manager of the Dellville store, Ben Radigan said, when he took his place at a small table in the corner of the shop. Ben had worked with Missy for a few years now, while he attended grad school for a Criminal Justice doctorate. He’d met his lovely wife Cheryl, the manager of the LaChance shop, when she’d come to work for Missy, they’d married, and recently become the proud parents of an angelic little girl, Missy’s god-daughter. Cheryl was attending the meeting as well, because Missy wanted to strategize with both managers.
“Me too,” Cheryl agreed, nodding earnestly. “We’ve been worried about you lately,” she confessed, reaching out to squeeze Missy’s arm.
“Well, thanks, y’all,” Missy sighed, her southern drawl becoming more pronounced because she was still tired, even after a full night of sleep. “It’s just becoming more obvious to me that I have to slow down. Somehow, some way, I have to scale back my involvement with the shops and try to have a life outside of them,” she shrugged, as though admitting defeat of some kind.
“Well, you’ve more than earned it,” Ben assured her. When he first started working with Melissa Gladstone in her cozy little LaChance shop, she’d told him the story about how her parents had died tragically in an accident when she was only seventeen, and she had given up everything to keep the business running because it was all that she’d had left of them. He was by her side as she opened the new store a couple of years later, and had weathered his share of storms with her, as scandal and suspicions rocked the determined little southern gal. Ben had hated seeing her grow progressively stressed and weary, and was glad that something was going to be done about it.
“Thanks, Ben. You’ve always had my back,” she smiled at him fondly.
“So, what’s the plan then, boss lady?” Cheryl asked, eager to see what the change in focus would bring. Ben would move on to another career when he graduated next year, but the cupcake shops were her career of choice, and she was grateful that Missy allowed flexibility in their schedules so that one of them could be at home with their daughter Cammie at all times. Right now, she was being babysat by a neighbor, so that Ben and Cheryl could both attend the meeting at the Dellville store.
“Well, darlin,’ since you’re so creative, I want to delegate most of the research involved in coming up with new cupcake flavors for the “Cupcake of the Day” to you, but I’ll still pitch in for a bit. You and Ben are each going to be able to hire an Assistant Manager to bridge the gap that I usually fill when one or the other of you needs to be away, and, starting next week, we’re going to hire a full-time baker and a new delivery driver, so that none of the shop employees needs to leave the store,” she announced, going over her notes.
“Wow, that’s quite an expansion,” Ben mused. “Not to sound nosy or anything, but…are you sure that we…I mean, the business, can afford all of that?” he asked, shifting in his seat a bit. Ben was always the practical voice of reason whenever Missy had a wild idea.
The owner grinned at him appreciatively. “That’s a valid concern, Ben, but with the revenues that we’ve brought in since The Bayou Baker has been on the air, along with the money coming in from appearing on the show, I’m positive that we can afford this,” she patted his hand.
“But…we’ll still see you, won’t we?” Cheryl asked in a small voice. Missy had become a mother figure to her, and the two were very close.
“Of course you will, sweetie. Trust me, I’ll still be in y’all’s hair often enough that you’ll want to kick me out,” Missy promised with a giggle. “I just need to start enjoying the life that I’ve worked so hard to build for myself. I want to do some normal things like decorate my house, travel, read books, and cook up ridiculous amounts of comfort food so that I can invite my friends over for something other than a business meeting,” she explained with a determined smile.
“Well, we’re with you a hundred percent,” Ben stated, raising his mug of coffee to underscore the point. “Just let us know what you need from us and we’ll take care of it,” he promised, as Cheryl nodded her agreement.
Missy gazed at the two lovely young people in front of her with love and admiration. She was a lucky, lucky woman to have them in her life.
Chapter 2
“Missy, I’m so glad that you’re finally getting to join us for book club!” Sally Higgins, the founder of Burgundies and Books excla
imed. “We so love getting together at your shop on Tuesdays, I’m glad that I have a chance to repay a fraction of your gracious hospitality,” she said over her shoulder as she led Missy into her tastefully expensive living room. Sally was a widow, and apparently her late husband had been a wealthy man.
“Thanks, Sally. It’s so good to finally have some time to actually participate,” Missy smiled, clutching her copy of the book that they’d be discussing. She loved people, but had always been a bit shy, so attending book club tonight was a little bit daunting. She took comfort, however, in knowing that she’d at least met the gals at the shop where they gathered on Tuesdays just to socialize. A southern lady never came to an event empty-handed, so she’d brought a batch of her newly-invented Raspberry Crème Cupcakes for the ladies. The luscious, fuchsia colored treats were topped with a pecan cream cheese frosting that was sure to be a hit, as long as no one had dairy or nut allergies.
Some of the other gals had arrived before Missy and they greeted her with enthusiasm as she took a seat on the sofa. Samantha Lemmon, an ER nurse at the hospital and the newest member of the group, sat immediately to her right on the long, cream-colored damask sofa. Marsha Mueller, the aging debutante who had introduced Sam to the Burgundies and Books ladies, sat across the room in a yellow and blue chintz chair, reading glasses slung low on her delicate nose as she perused the book, and Tamela Parsons, a cherubic woman who owned a sweet little floral shop in Dellville, sat on a fluffy cushion atop the fireplace hearth, sipping tonight’s featured wine, an opinionated Cabernet, and munching on soy wasabi almonds.
“Please tell me that you brought dessert tonight,” Tamela said hopefully when Missy sat down.
“As a matter of fact, she did,” Sally trilled, setting the platter of Raspberry Crème Cupcakes on the coffee table.
“Ooooh, those look amazing,” Sam enthused, reaching for a napkin and a cupcake.
Tamela left her perch on the fireplace to take two, and Marsha continued flipping through the pages of the book.
“Marsha, honey, if you haven’t read it by now, there’s no hope of catching up before the discussion,” Tamela teased, taking a bite of her cupcake.
Peering over the top of her glasses, Marsha replied coolly, “I’m not reading, I’m refreshing. Some of us like to have an idea of what we’re talking about during discussion.”
“And some of us just come for the wine and treats,” Tamela giggled.
“Marsha, you should try this,” Sam encouraged, holding up her half-eaten cupcake. “They are amazing!”
“Not all of us have the advantage of youth on our side, dear. If I don’t watch my girlish figure, no one else will,” she commented pithily, finally closing her book when she realized the ladies weren’t going to give her a moment’s peace. “Oh, what the heck,” she sighed, unable to resist the tempting little cakes. She made her way over to the coffee table and put one on her napkin. “Just to be polite,” she winked at Missy on the way back to her chair.
Donna Stradlow, a gaunt, thin-haired woman whose husband owned the Tiny Bubbles car wash in LaChance came in a few minutes later, sitting on Missy’s left, clutching her wine glass as though she was terrified of spilling it on the immaculate sofa. Once Donna was seated, and everyone had a full wine glass and as many snacks as they wanted, Sally took the other chintz chair across from the sofa so that they could begin.
“Tara Roberts can’t make it tonight, she has a sick little one at home,” Sally announced. “So let’s get started. What did you gals think of the book?” she asked, holding up her copy of New England Clam Murder and looking around the room. “Marsha, since you’re “refreshed,” why don’t you start?”
Marsha didn’t mind being the center of attention at all, and seemed eager to get her two cents in. She took off her reading glasses and polished them while she thought about what she was going to say. Her short, spiky, red hair had been recently dyed, and was a color that was startlingly similar to the Cabernet that they were drinking. “Well, ladies, there was no sex, foul language, or grisly murder scenes…but I liked it anyway,” she grinned like the cat who had eaten the canary. The group chuckled in response and she continued. “You know me, I always like a strong lead female, and Becca (she referred to the protagonist in the book), was a little too soft and feminine for my taste, but ultimately, she showed a spine of steel, and I liked that,” she nodded. “The character that I loved to hate was that nasty Lacey – she made my blood boil. She steals away Becca’s man, then has the nerve to treat Becca like a servant – I was almost glad when she became the victim,” Marsha punctuated her sentence with a gulp of wine.
Sally spoke up. “Well, now, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean, I know that Lacey wasn’t the most likeable character, but to say that you’re glad she was the murder victim is a little heartless, isn’t it?” her eyebrows rose in subtle reproof.
“How do you suppose Becca felt when “the other woman” married her ex and treated her like a galley slave? Don’t you think she felt the slightest bit vindicated when the nasty broad bit it?” Marsha snapped, eyes flashing.
“I like the fact that Becca went out and started her own business after the divorce instead of doing the safe thing and just getting a job,” sweet, innocent Sam interjected, trying to smooth things over.
Marsha shot her a withering glance, knowing exactly what she was doing. “Lacey got what she deserved,” she stated flatly, her final word on the subject. Sally frowned, looking troubled.
“I was kind of disappointed that there weren’t more food descriptions and recipes in there,” Tamela piped up, somewhat oblivious to the tension in the room. “I mean, Becca was a clambake caterer…I wanted to hear about the creamy texture of the chowder, and the butter dripping from the succulent crab,” she said dreamily. “But I have to say, I loved the connection between Becca and her best friend,” she added.
“Her cat sounds awesome too,” Sam said, glad that the tide of the conversation had turned to a more positive bent. “It makes me want a pet, but it’s just not practical for me with the hours that I work, so I liked living vicariously through Becca and Poppy.”
Donna, who had been quietly observing the entire time, nodded in agreement. “I liked Poppy too, and the way that Becca had the courage to stand up to all of those wealthy and powerful people,” she said softly.
Sally turned her gaze to Missy. “What did you think?”
“Since I don’t have too many chances to read…books are an escape for me, and I just loved how I was immediately drawn into Becca’s world. I actually read the entire thing in one sitting. I just couldn’t put it down. I was impressed that it held my focus long enough to do that, and I really enjoyed just losing myself in it for a few hours.” The other ladies nodded in agreement.
“Well then,” Sally took over again. “Since we all enjoyed this author…some of us more than others,” she gave Marsha a glance. “Should we continue on with the second book in this series, or should we go in another direction?”
“I vote for book two in the series,” Tamela said, raising her hand.
“Me too,” Sam agreed, and Donna nodded.
“Missy?” Sally asked.
“Book two sounds good to me.”
“Marsha?”
“Might as well. I want to see Becca kick some more entitled butt,” she nodded, pursing her lips.
Sally sighed and rolled her eyes. “So, it’s settled then. The book comes out this weekend, I’ll email y’all the link.”
The ladies continued visiting over snacks and wine, wrapping up roughly an hour later. Missy observed a conversation between Sam and Sally that she found a bit disturbing. They were in the kitchen talking when she came in to get her cupcake container.
“Don’t you think that you were a little bit hard on Marsha?” Sam asked Sally, while the other woman wiped off her countertop.
“No, I don’t think I was hard on her, I think that I was right and she was wrong, and I wasn’t about to let her ha
ve her say without responding,” Sally replied, squeezing out her dishcloth.
“Your tone wasn’t very kind,” Sam persisted. “How are we supposed to feel comfortable sharing our opinions if you’re going to bite our heads off when you disagree?”
“Look, honey, I’ve known Marsha for a lot longer than you have. She lives for that kind of conflict and knows that I didn’t mean anything personal by it. I know she introduced you to the group and all, but she and I go way back,” Sally looked at the younger woman pointedly.
“I’ve never seen this side of you, Sally, and I have to admit, it bothers me a bit,” Sam shook her head.
“Well, darlin,’ that’s just me, so you’re just gonna have to grow a thicker skin and deal with it,” Sally decreed, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “We all have our differences and we just make the best of them,” she said, ending the conversation and heading back to the living room. Sam glared after her, neutralizing her expression when she saw Missy standing there, observing the conversation.
“It was nice getting to know you tonight,” Sam said awkwardly, hurrying out of the kitchen.
“You too,” Missy called after her, wondering at the intensity of her reaction.
Chapter 3
“So how are you enjoying life as a free woman?” Chas Beckett asked Missy over dinner at their favorite crawfish café.
“Oh Chas, I’m loving it – I wish I had done it sooner!” she exclaimed. “I get to see more of you, I can attend all of the Burgundies and Books meetings, and yesterday I babysat for Cheryl and Ben and planted some petunias in my front garden,” she grinned, scooping up a forkful of Cajun “dirty rice.”
“Well, the transition has certainly been positive for me,” he smiled, reaching for her hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb.
“Does that mean that you aren’t tired of me yet?” Missy teased, blushing beneath the intensity of his gaze. Something seemed to have been changing with Chas lately – his glances lingered longer, his touches were more frequent, his kisses deeper, all of which pleased her and scared her to death at the same time.
