“Um, sure, yes. Probably a good idea.” Lani didn’t bother to hide her curiosity, but her smile never wavered. “Go ahead on into the kitchen. I’ll be back in a flash.
Careful not to step in the cupcake carnage!” she warned, then bopped on over to the back door with a sign that said BABYCAKES, balancing her oversized tray as if it were nothing more weighty than a dinner plate.
Honey stood there for another second before heading to the screen door to the Cakes by the Cup kitchen and letting herself inside.
“Miss Lani Mae, I’ve locked up out front for you, but wasn’t sure if you wanted me to count the till—oh! Sorry. I heard the door and thought Lani had come back. Can I help you?”
Honey stood just inside the door, hands folded in front of her, careful not to touch anything lest she inadvertently create another disaster, and smiled at the tiny, white-haired woman who’d just come from the front of the shop. “I’m waiting for Lani. She knows I’m here.” Honey’s gaze strayed to the apron the diminutive senior wore. This one featured Channing Tatum on the movie poster for Dear John. A very fine looking Channing Tatum. What was it with the cupcake ladies and the hot guy aprons? The older woman looked down at her apron, then beamed a twinkly-eyed smile back at Honey. “I liked him better in that stripper movie, but Miss Lani thought he might be too distracting to the customers without his shirt on.”
Honey tried to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. Maybe it was all the sugar, or maybe they were just crazy, but all Honey could think was, My God, Bea, you were right. I’d fit right in here. Not because Honey was crazy, but because she was already half convinced between the sugar buzz, the hot guys, and the show tunes, the cupcake ladies might not even notice her occasional “unexplainable insights.”
If only she didn’t have to ruin everything with the real reason she was here.
“I, uh . . .”—Honey had to clear the laughter from her throat—“think he’s distracting at all times, but in a really good way.”
“I’m Alva Liles,” the other woman said with an approving smile.
“Hello, I’m Honey. Honey D’Amourvell.”
And just like that, the twinkle dimmed.
News traveled fast in small towns. She wondered exactly what Mr. Ross had said about her. Had to be him. The only other person she’d met was Barbara Hughes, and a nicer woman Honey had never known. She’d even loaned Honey her bike until Honey’s car was fixed. Besides, they’d only spoken a handful of words to each other, all pleasant. No odd or awkward moments. Honey had already had all of those with Mr. Ross.
Well, it wasn’t like the happy cupcake vibe would have lasted much longer, anyway. As soon as she told them she was the owner of the building they’d illegally turned into a cupcake mail-order business, all the happy happy joy joy would have come to an abrupt end.
And to think she’d been worried about being ostracized because she was clairvoyant.
“Why, my goodness gracious,” Alva was saying. “If it isn’t little Miss Honey Pie. The sweet, sweet child my dear friend, Miss Bea Chantrell spoke so fondly of, every chance she had.”
Honey’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t thought—hadn’t figured that folks might know her by name. But of course Aunt Bea would have talked about her family.
Before Honey could respond, Alva finished with, “That same sweet child who never managed to make it out here to visit her only kin before she passed.” She was still smiling, but there was no mistaking the flinty edge to her words.
Oh yeah. Fun time was officially over.
Not that it was any of this woman’s business, but Honey made a stab at explaining. “Yes, I’m Bea’s niece. We were very close. I miss her terribly. I would have spent every minute with her if I could have.”
The grudging look didn’t entirely leave Alva’s eyes, but her tone was a bit less frosty when she spoke. “We all miss her terribly, too. She was a wonderful addition to our little island. You have a bit of the look of her. Same eyes.”
Bea had been short and built like a fireplug, but, it was true, they did have the same clear green eyes. They ran in the Chantrell family. As did the curse. “Thank you.”
“What brings you to Sugarberry? Here to pay your respects? She wasn’t buried here, you know, her—”
“Her ashes were sent to me,” Honey finished evenly. “I’ve just driven across the country, spreading them everywhere she asked me to.” Honey also had a container from her own catalog—one Bea had chosen herself, in fact—to put the remainder in, for Honey’s keeping. She smiled, thinking of the whimsical female garden gnome Bea had chosen. Short and stout, much like her aunt, with a basket of fabric scraps over one arm, and a fairy wand in the other.
Alva’s expression softened then, as did her tone. “Well then, you’ve paid your respects quite handsomely it would seem. I’m glad to hear you were able to do that for her and for yourself. My condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you. And condolences to you as well. She told me many wonderful stories about Sugarberry and all of her friends here. You all meant more to her than you’ll ever know.” It was comforting to learn that her aunt’s passing had been noted, and that she was missed. Honey’d had the stray thought that, other than her customers, there really wasn’t anyone left who would miss her when she was gone. And that was a rather chilling idea, when she thought about it like that.
“I suppose that’s your car over at Mr. Dylan’s garage then,” Alva said. “I noticed the Oregon plates,” she added, when Honey looked surprised. “I know Bea hailed from there, way back.”
Very way back. Honey’s mother had loved Juniper Hollow, but her baby sister, Bea, had escaped it as soon as she was able. “Yes. I’m afraid the old car has a few issues. More than a few. I was lucky to have made it all the way here, I guess.”
“Well, it’s seen a few years.”
Honey smiled sincerely. “It was Bea’s. She left it with my mom before heading off on one of her jaunts, and never quite made it back to pick it up. She handed it down to me when I was old enough to drive and I’ve had it ever since. I know it’s seen better days, but I haven’t had much need for a car, and I don’t want to give it up if I don’t have to.” She glanced through the screen door and across the alley, only she wasn’t seeing the VW in her mind’s eye. She was seeing Dylan Ross. Steamy, jean clad, broad shouldered, brooding Dylan Ross. She blinked that image away and turned back to Alva. “I’m afraid the cross-country drive was its final bow, too.”
“Well, I can’t think of a more fitting way to go, but I wouldn’t count her out just yet. If anyone can get your car up and running again, it’s our Mr. Dylan. Looked to me like you brought a fair bit more than your aunt’s ashes with you. Planning on staying a spell?”
Honey was saved from answering that particular probing question, or asking just how Alva knew what Honey had packed in her car, when Lani returned to the kitchen by the back door.
“Does Kit think the new packaging will work well with that size cupcake?” Alva asked her.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” Lani said, sounding excited. “I see you two have met.” She smiled as she turned to Honey. “But we haven’t, not formally anyway.”
“I’m Honey D’Amourvell.”
“Bea Chantrell’s niece,” Alva offered, ever-so-helpfully.
Lani’s face brightened. “You’re Honey Pie? Oh, Bea told us so many stories.” She reached out quite naturally to take Honey’s hands, and, acting purely on instinct, Honey jerked them behind her back.
Even as Honey’s face flushed in mortification, Lani was laughing. “I washed the frosting carnage off my hands, honest!”
Honey wished she was fast enough to pretend that was her concern, but her cheeks were too pink, her smile too forced. “No, it’s not—I spend my days elbow deep in clay, so I’m the last one to . . .” She trailed off, wondering how in the world this had gone so far off her planned track. The women of Sugarberry—and the men, for that matter—
were nothing like the folks back in Juniper Hollow, who were quite happy to let a person be if that’s how the person wanted it. Here, according to Bea, they lived inside each other’s pockets. Honey hadn’t realized how smoothly and swiftly—and happily—they’d work their way into hers.
Alva stepped forward with a very determined look on her face until Honey was forced by the sheer pull of it to look back. “You’ve got it, too, haven’t you?” Alva tilted her head and squinted a little as her sharp gaze probed Honey’s face. “Bea had a knack for knowin’ things.”
Honey swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, and had absolutely no idea what to say to that. If Bea had been telling them stories about her niece, she apparently hadn’t included that little tidbit.
“Bea Chantrell was a toucher, she was,” Alva went on, still looking straight into Honey’s eyes like she could see all her inner workings.
And, maybe she could. It was unnerving, to say the least. Especially since Alva didn’t seem too disturbed by the idea. More . . . inquisitive, hopeful, even, which was a first for Honey. A shocking first.
“She always had a smile,” Alva added, “a pat on the arm, and a way of lettin’ folks know that perhaps they needed to keep an eye on this going on, or that.”
Honey merely nodded, then forced words past the knot in her throat. “She . . . she was, yes. A toucher.” She left it at that.
“You’re not so comfortable with it, though, are you?”
“No, I wasn’t . . . am not.” Honey shook her head, still in complete disbelief they were even having this conversation . . . and that she was the only one who seemed freaked out by it. She’d come into the bakery to talk only about her inheritance. She hadn’t been prepared to deal with her “knack for knowing things” as Alva had called it. She hadn’t been prepared for anything that had happened to her since she’d crossed the causeway. “And neither was anyone else where I came from.”
To Honey’s continued shock and awe, Alva’s face split into a wide smile, and she laughed, delight in her eyes. “Well, Honey Pie, that’ll change here in Sugarberry, you can bet on it. We all came to depend on Bea, and, I’ve a feeling, once folks know about you, they’ll find their way to talking to you as well.”
Honey didn’t know whether to be terrified by the idea, or just—
No, she was terrified.
Lani had been a silent bystander to the conversation, but spoke up now. “Honey, don’t let her talk get you worried. We know how to respect a person’s privacy, the same as anywhere else.”
Alva simply snorted at that, but at Lani’s warning glance, said nothing else. Her expression, however, remained lively . . . and interested.
“What was it you came to talk to me about?” Lani asked Honey. “Why don’t you come back to my office and we’ll sit, have something cold to drink, and chat.”
I’m well down the rabbit hole now, was all Honey could think.
Somehow, she had landed square in her own little Sugarberry Wonderland. Only it didn’t feel all that wonderful. It felt scary, unknown, and completely out of her control.
“Have a cupcake,” Lani called out as she led the way to what Honey assumed was her office, motioning to the rack of richly frosted chocolate cupcakes on one of the metal topped work tables. “New flavor I’m testing. Ginger chocolate fudge. I’d love to get your opinion. I’ll brew us some coffee.”
Not wanting to be rude, Honey picked one up as she followed the leader, then had to bite down a semi-hysterical urge to laugh when she found herself wondering if one bite would make her taller . . . or possibly make her disappear all together. She wasn’t quite sure which one she wished it would be.
Chapter 4
“I have all the lease documents if you need to see them,” Lani said, seated calmly behind her desk, still smiling. She seemed completely unruffled by the huge announcement Honey had just made.
“The file isn’t here, though,” Lani added. “At the moment, it’s with Kit’s boy—well, with our lawyer.”
Honey frowned. “For any particular reason?”
“No, no, we’re just tying up the final little threads before our grand opening, getting the permits documented and filed. Morgan—lawyer—has been helping with that, so he has the folder with all that paperwork in it. You’re saying Bea left the shop to you?”
“I’m her only living heir. Who did you—well, not necessarily you, but whoever you leased it from—think owned it?”
“To be honest, I didn’t ask. I worked through the management company Bea had set up to take care of the building after her stroke.”
Honey was frowning and completely confused. “Wait, what do you mean? Management company?”
Lani’s face flashed with momentary guilt. “Did you not know about her stroke? I’m so sorry, I thought you two were pretty close. I—”
“No, no. I mean, yes, I knew about her stroke, but not that she’d turned over the shop to a management company. I know she was closed for a time afterward, until she got through therapy and could use her sewing machines again, but she made it out to be a pretty mild thing, overall. I thought . . .” Honey trailed off, her thoughts scattering in a dozen different directions, trying to replay conversations she’d had with Bea in the months after her stroke.
“I’m really sorry. When the management company took over the shop after she moved into senior care over on the mainland, we just assumed it was being handled as the family wanted it to be handled. I mean . . . I didn’t know. None of us did.”
Honey held up her hands, as much to shield herself from news she really didn’t want to hear, as to slow down the volume of it. “I—wait, wait. She . . . when did she move to the care facility?”
Lani’s mouth dropped open, then closed again. “Oh, I . . .” She trailed off, clearly uncomfortable, not prepared to be the one to tell a loved one difficult news about a family member. “It’s probably not—maybe you should talk about all of this with her lawyer.”
“I tried. He’s away at a family wedding, somewhere in the Caribbean, and won’t be back for another week. The other partner didn’t really know Bea or anything about her estate. He looked into it for me and just told me it all appeared to be in good order.” Honey didn’t mention the paperwork snafu because she wasn’t sure there had been one. Clearly, there was a whole pile of other information that needed to be waded through first. How could Bea not have told her any of this? And how could Honey not have known it, sensed it, anyway?
One of the oddities of the curse was that the closer she was to someone, the more deeply she cared about them, the more it clouded her ability to sense, feel, or know anything. She thought that was a blessing, knowing the sheer terror she’d have felt every time one of her parents hugged or kissed her. Bea claimed Honey’s powers were stunted with her loved ones because her subconscious had blocked it out, knowing she couldn’t handle those kinds of truths.
Bea, on the other hand, always knew everything. And she’d so willingly immersed herself in her special abilities that she didn’t always need to touch someone to know things. In fact, her aunt had always called Honey just when she’d needed to hear from her most. Bea had known about Honey’s father passing even before Honey had, and was the one calling to console Honey when her mother—Bea’s sister—had passed, two years later.
Honey, on the other hand, had buried herself as deeply away from the curse as she possibly could. And what had that cost her? She wasn’t even thinking about her inheritance, but about what her aunt had apparently been through in her final days. Honey had had no idea.
“How”—she paused to clear the ache from her throat—“long was she in senior care?” She immediately lifted her hand to stall Lani’s reply. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put you in this position, but I just . . . I don’t have anyone else to ask. All I knew was that she’d been recovering very well after her stroke, and was happy to be back ‘in the swing’ as she put it.”
Honey shook her head, then dipped her chin to frown the threaten
ing tears into submission. Oh, Bea, why didn’t you tell me?
Honey thought she knew why. Bea knew Honey would have caught the first plane out. And Bea also would have known that for Honey, being on a plane with a few hundred people in close proximity would have been terrifying. No way could she have withstood that kind of sudden onslaught. Driving cross country, seeing the countryside— and the people in it—from the safe little pod of her car had been difficult enough.
Bea should have told her anyway. “She should have given me more credit. I’d have found a way.”
Lani pushed a Kleenex box closer to the edge of the desk. Honey pulled several free . . . then just crumpled them in her palms, trying to get herself under control.
“I’m so sorry,” Lani said.
“I am, too. I—we talked all the time. She sounded shaky, a little slurred, but she told me that was just a side effect from the stroke that would take longer to clear up. We used to—” Honey stopped as a sob rose in her throat. “We used to Skype, but after the stroke, we didn’t. We just talked over the phone. I missed seeing her, but she said—she didn’t like how the stroke had made her face a bit droopy on one side. I was surprised because she was the least egocentric person I know, but . . . now I realize she was keeping me from not only seeing her, but from seeing that she wasn’t in her apartment any longer.”
A tearful laugh escaped her. “She had to teach me to Skype, can you believe it? I operate my entire business online, but that was something I’d never done. I was kind of afraid, I guess, that if I could see the person live like that, I might . . . know things, and then I just got used to communicating other ways.”
She broke off, realizing she was babbling. To a complete stranger. And about things she had only ever spoken about with Bea. Just because Alva had seemed unfazed by it all. Honey knew better. She scooted her chair back and wiped at her face, embarrassed and feeling more than a little out of her element. “I should probably go. Let you get back to—” She snagged her purse from the arm of the chair. “I’m so sorry to have barged in, not knowing all the facts. I should—I’ll take a cab over tomorrow, and . . . and figure it all out.”
Cupcake Club 04 - Honey Pie Page 5
