Diamonds & Donuts

by Jennifer Joy

  Until we could find out more, it was the best we could do. If the police saw it, they’d arrest Eduardo for sure.

  The mayor talked for far too long, making me sound like a hero for opening a doughnut shop. I tried not to blush when customers pressed in around us and clapped. Really, they wouldn’t be thanking me a few weeks from now when their scales read heavier.

  Abuelita pranced around, doing her best to “accidentally” get on camera.

  By the end of Mayor Guerra’s spiel, I had to massage my aching cheeks from the forced smile frozen on my face.

  And then I had the brilliant idea of offering him a doughnut. Of course, he had his secretary record him taking his first bite. I pasted my smile back on and tried not to wince when my cheeks protested. Why hadn’t I thought of sending them in a to-go box?

  Holding up the doughnut (a Boston Cream with powdered sugar on top — yum!), he smiled widely, raised his pastry into the air as if he were cheering the heavens, and took a large bite.

  He smiled and chewed, holding his finger up like he had something very important to say … when he choked. Like face turning red, eyes watering choked.

  I’d already moved behind him, balling my hand into a fist to do the Heimlich when Abuelita shoved me out of the way. Quicker than I could catch my balance, she shoved her bony fists into his stomach and squeezed. I knew she was strong, but adrenaline and all the sugar she’d had that morning must have fueled extra strength into her petite frame. She lifted the mayor — who was nearly two feet taller than her and twice her weight — off the ground.

  “Head’s up!” Mammy yelled. I wasn’t in the projectile path, but I still ducked.

  He coughed and beat on his chest, and I peeked out from under my arm to see the purple hue of his skin leveling down to a bright red.

  I glared at his camera crew, who were still rolling. I guess they took comfort that if their boss died, at least they would have caught it on tape. What was wrong with them?

  Nobody moved. Not the mayor, not his troop, and not the customers. They all stood in a semicircle around Mayor Guerra, staring at something on the floor.

  I followed their gazes and the camera lens, and I immediately understood why the mayor’s face still beamed a brilliant red.

  Mammy leaned into me, looking at the mayor’s bright white teeth lying on the floor. “Well, that explains a lot,” she said.

  Tia Rosa shoved a coffee into my hands, and I gave it to the mayor, saying “Careful, it’s—”

  He gulped from the ceramic mug before I could finish, jumping back and dropping the cup. It burst when it hit the floor, leaving shards and a spreading pool of hot coffee steaming before it cooled on the tile.

  “—hot,” I finished, thinking I should get the mayor out of my shop before something else happened to him.

  He clasped his hands over his mouth and throat. His secretary did her best to distract attention away from him until she could herd their crew outside.

  The mayor’s near-death experience on what was one of my favorite cream and frosting combinations on a doughnut was not the kind of publicity I needed on my opening day. I doubted it was the kind of publicity he’d wanted too. At least they could erase that unfortunate bit before airing.

  Pulling a napkin off the counter, I grabbed his teeth and handed them to him. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  With nothing more than a nod at me, the mayor shoved through the front door with his hand clasped over his mouth.

  I turned toward the kitchen when the cameraman’s mumbling stopped me in my tracks. He said, “That’ll get a lot of likes.”

  “What?” I asked, my heart pounding in my throat.

  “Oh, not on the news or anything,” he explained.

  “That’s a relief,” I said.

  “But we were live on the mayor’s social media. He has a lot of followers,” he added, like that was a good thing.

  Great! More people to witness the mayor’s embarrassment, and more people to see who had handed him the doughnut that had nearly ended his political career.

  I groaned all the way into the kitchen where I planned to hide for the rest of the day.

  I mixed up another batch of dough, thinking about the strange turn the day had taken. Once news spread about my lethal Boston Cream doughnut, I was certain business would slow to a crawl. Eduardo had painted the stolen jewels, and I knew he was somehow connected to the jewel thief … if not the thief himself. Were he and Angry Art Man in cahoots? No matter how badly I didn’t want to believe it, I had to own it was a possibility.

  Abuelita and Tia Rosa bickered for the rest of the afternoon, Abuelita’s instant fame making her more of a diva than normal. She was a celebrity now and used every opportunity to casually mention how she had saved the mayor from the devilish doughnut.

  Mammy ran interference while I tried to keep the display cases full without overdoing it. Day old doughnuts weren’t good for much, and it was looking like I’d need to invest in another industrial-sized mixer soon. Unless my business went belly-up after today’s episode.

  I felt awful about what had happened to the mayor. If I could turn back time, I thought of half a dozen things I would like to do differently.

  It was near closing time when my mom and dad called. Mammy grabbed my phone, doing her best to tell them how wonderful the first day had been while they listened eagerly. She was a splendid actress.

  I only wished I could be so confident when I was convinced tomorrow promised to be dismal, and I’d go broke in a week.

  Chapter 23

  To my surprise, we were busier the next morning than we had been on our opening day.

  Evidently, people were very forgiving where doughnuts were concerned. Or they hadn’t seen the videos yet. (Yes, that’s plural.) I’d made the mistake of checking last night and, once again, I was a YouTube sensation. Someone had even set up a channel with videos featuring yours truly. Adi thought it was hilarious. She agreed with the axiom that no publicity is bad publicity. A few minutes after opening the shop, I had to admit there was some truth to the adage.

  When it got late enough to call, I rang the mayor’s office. I needed to make sure he was okay. Marlon could be a bit overwhelming at times, but I considered him a friend. A friend best taken in small doses, but a friend nonetheless.

  His secretary answered.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked.

  She dropped her voice. “He’s such a wimp. He only burned his lips and tongue, but he had me call his doctor anyway.” She giggled softly. “It’s evil of me to laugh, but it serves him right. Dr. Montalvo ordered him not to try to talk for a whole week at the risk of permanently damaging his vocal chords! It’s so quiet in the office. And without the mayor dragging us around town with the cameras, I’m actually getting some work done.”

  I didn’t know why any other doctors bothered to set up a practice in Baños when everyone and their grandmother went to Dr. Montalvo.

  She added, “I can’t thank you enough, Jess!

  It felt awkward to take credit for her increased productivity. “Um, you’re welcome?” I still felt bad, so I added, “He may not want them after what happened yesterday, but I’d like to send over a couple dozen doughnuts to make amends to the mayor. They say sugar is good for tongue burns.”

  Instead of the reassurance that the mayor wasn’t upset at me, she asked, “Do you have more of the chocolate cream ones?”

  “Yes,” I replied cautiously. Why would she want the same doughnut that had made her boss choke? “Are you sure you want that one?” I asked, to be certain. Maybe I’d heard her wrong.

  “Good! It looked delicious! Can you send a half dozen of those, please?”

  I mouthed the secretary’s request of Boston Creams to Mammy. She shrugged and mumbled, “No good deed goes unpunished. Just don’t let the mayor near them.”

  I couldn’t agree more. “So long as you promise me not to give one to the mayor. He can’t handle it,” I said.

  The secretary
laughed and hung up. While I was happy to know she obviously held no grudge against me, I was left to suppose that her boss did. Under the circumstances, I didn’t blame him. After all, I had played a major role in embarrassing the public figure.

  That was one phone call I’d been dreading to make done. Just one more to go — and I couldn’t describe how badly I didn’t want to make it. I needed to talk to Miss Patty.

  She wouldn’t like what I had to tell her, but it needed to be done. Maybe, just maybe, there was a clear explanation of why Eduardo would paint Señora Montalvo’s diamonds. I hoped.

  I stared down at my phone and sighed so hard, my cheeks puffed out.

  “Why don’t you take Lady for a little walk, Sugar? I’ll help the ladies hold down the fort here,” Mammy suggested.

  I surveyed my surroundings carefully, looking around the kitchen and serving area for any excuse that would prevent my departure.

  Martha flipped doughnuts in the fryer and Fernanda’s trainees expertly frosted the circles on the cooling racks. I took half a step toward them, but they didn’t need me to remind them to sprinkle the toppings on the frosting before it hardened. They knew what they were doing.

  Abuelita pranced between tables, refilling coffee cups and chatting it up with the customers (and making sure to mention her heroic deed in case anyone had forgotten). I’d willingly gone into business with Tia Rosa, but apparently, I’d inherited both sisters.

  Tia Rosa rolled her eyes at Abuelita and kept the line down while another of Martha’s hires filled the orders, folding the doughnut boxes into shape so fast my vision blurred.

  Reassured that my presence wasn’t immediately needed — drat it all! — I ran upstairs for Lady, beginning our short stroll over to Miss Patty’s gallery.

  Miss Patty greeted me with a big hug. “I did as you said and kept Eduardo’s painting out of the window. I haven’t seen Angel Flores yet today. Hopefully he’ll take a hint and stay away. Do you want me to send the painting over to the framers for you?”

  Her warm reception and assumption that I’d come to purchase the artwork made me feel even worse. Taking a deep breath, I began, “Actually, there’s something about the painting I wanted to run by you. It’s lovely, and if the police don’t need it, I’d love to buy it, but…”

  “Why would the police want it? They’ve already lost one of your paintings. I wouldn’t trust them with another one.”

  Neither did I, but that wasn’t the point. She wasn’t making this easy. “Did you notice anything … unusual … about Eduardo’s choice of jewelry in the painting?”

  Miss Patty’s eyebrows furrowed. She went around her desk and pulled the canvas out from where she’d stashed it. Pulling it up for examination, she finally said after what felt like forever, “No. It looks perfect to me. The details in the filigree on that diamond necklace is superb. And I love how he paired it with pale pink carnations.”

  Out with it, Jess. 1-2-3-Go! “Those are the same diamonds that were stolen from Señora Montalvo.”

  She looked at me blankly, forcing me to continue when I really didn’t want to.

  “How was Eduardo able to paint the diamonds with such detail unless he had access to them?” I held my breath, waiting for her response.

  The furrow in her brow deepened, and she crossed her arms. “You think Eduardo stole the diamonds?”

  I raised my hands. “I didn’t say that, but isn’t it clear that he knows something about the jewel thief? There’s no other explanation for it.”

  Miss Patty’s voice went hard. “Of all people, I thought I could trust you, Jess. When I asked for your help, it wasn’t so you could put a defenseless kid with enough obstacles of his own behind bars. What kind of a person does that?”

  Ouch.

  She continued, “Dr. Montalvo is as old as mud. He’s treated generations of families in Baños. Eduardo was probably his patient, too. Instead of jumping to accusatory conclusions, did you even consider the possibility that Eduardo had seen the family portrait in Dr. Montalvo’s office?”

  “Is it possible for him to replicate them with this much attention to detail from memory?” I asked, wanting to believe it with all my heart.

  Miss Patty glared at me. “You’re not planning on going to Gus with this, are you?”

  “He ought to know. If Eduardo doesn’t have anything to hide, he doesn’t need to worry. And if he does know something, he’ll come across as being cooperative. Either way, Eduardo benefits.”

  “You’re determined to scare the living daylights out of him? Or worse, get him arrested?”

  She paused.

  “Of course not, but Miss Patty—”

  “How could you, Jess?” she interrupted, “If you take this to the police, I don’t want you in my gallery anymore. I don’t keep backstabbers around as friends.” She marched to her front door, holding it open for me just as I’d done to Sal a few days before.

  I took the hint and stepped toward the door. But the hardest part in bringing up the sore subject in the first place had been getting here. Now that I had her attention, I was determined not to waste the gumption that had carried me from my shop to her gallery. Miss Patty hadn’t answered my question, and I wasn’t leaving until she did. Not when I was every bit as interested in protecting Eduardo as she was. “Miss Patty, could Eduardo have painted the diamonds like he did from memory? Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Eduardo understands images better than anyone. He relies on them. He paints what he sees.” With that, she waved Lady and I through the door and shut it with a bang behind us.

  Lady’s ears drooped as we returned to my shop. She nudged her nose under my hand, looking up at me with her nonjudgmental eyes. If only people were more like dogs….

  I threw her squeaky toy a few times when we got back up to the terrace. If felt empty up there without Patricio and his crew of workers, but their job was done. It was lovely, but it brought me little cheer.

  My mind latched onto Miss Patty’s parting words, repeating them over and over. “He paints what he sees.”

  So, then, what had Eduardo seen? And why had he painted it?

  Chapter 24

  I didn’t go to the police station right away. What if Miss Patty was right? What if I was overreacting?

  Then again, what if I was right? What if the best move was to confide in Gus and let him do his job with the information I could give him? What if it was the missing piece of the puzzle?

  What if Eduardo’s paintings were his way of seeking help? But, help from what?

  After dozens of doughnuts served and countless coffees refilled, the questions only multiplied.

  I crept back into the kitchen for a breather. Joan Jett’s gravelly voice was on the radio. She didn’t care what people thought about her bad reputation. I wished I was tougher like her. Things would be so much easier if I didn’t care so much. But I did.

  Right now, with the mayor upset at me and after Miss Patty’s tongue-thrashing, I really just wanted to sink into a ball on the floor and cry. If I had more of a backbone, I’d shrug off their disappointment and not give them another thought. But I liked Miss Patty and the mayor, and I felt awful for making them feel bad.

  Mammy linked her arm through mine, leaning against me. “What’s going on, Sugar?”

  “Why can’t I be like Joan Jett?”

  She stepped away from me with a frown. “You want to wear black leather and tease your hair like an 80s rock star?”

  I waved my hands around, feeling ungrateful because I was surrounded by colorful, delicious doughnuts in the cutest shop I could’ve imagined with friends to help me run it. Even if the mayor shut me down, we’d had a fantastic opening weekend. “This is everything I’ve wanted since I can remember … and I’m miserable.”

  Mammy wrapped her arm around my waist and rested her head against mine, listening.

  So, I continued, “It’s just … I keep messing up. We spent the night in jail for crying out loud. People are mad at
me, and it bothers me more than it should. I think Eduardo could be a jewel thief. And I don’t know how to fix things,” I said in a burst of breath.

  Mammy pinched my chin. “There’s nothing wrong with caring about people. Not many people do nowadays, more’s the pity.”

  I groaned. “I wish I didn’t care so much sometimes.”

  “But it’s what you do best. It’s what you’ve always done.”

  She made it sound like a good thing.

  “You could say it’s your superpower,” Mammy added.

  “I’d rather be able to fly or teleport … or do something cool.”

  “You bring people together. I’d say that’s pretty cool.” She looked around the room. Martha and Fernanda sang as they worked beside each other. The new girls sashayed around the kitchen as they squeezed cream and jelly into doughnut centers.

  It was hard to stay at my pity party when I was surrounded by so many happy people. What was wrong with me? My doughnuts were a hit, and I had the best people in my life.

  What had happened to the mayor was an unfortunate accident, and what I’d told Miss Patty was meant well. I knew that, and if she knew me better, she’d know it too.

  Mammy squeezed me again. “Don’t stop caring, Sugar. You just need to learn not to take everyone so seriously and their attacks so personally. It’s a hard balance to find, but if you want to be happy, you’ll do it.”

  “Thank you, Mammy,” I said, giving her a hug and trying not to be sad that I only had one more week with her.

  I went back out to the front of the shop. Abuelita and Tia Rosa posed for a photo in front of the display case. It was good to see they’d made peace with each other.

  Tia Rosa clucked her tongue as she sat at her perch behind the cash register. She pinched my cheek as she passed. “I decide I no let Bertha have all the fun. I the sister of a celebrity.” She fluffed her poodle curls and grinned.