Second Chance at the Sugar Shack

by Candis Terry

  Kate dropped her purse and tote bag on the sofa and then flopped beside them with a sigh.

  “Long day?” her dad lifted his glasses and inquired, as though the evidence wasn’t obvious.

  She nodded as she grabbed a pillow her mother had crocheted and hugged it to her chest. The granny squares were gold and rust—a perfect match to the trees and shrubs outside changing with the season.

  “Hungry? I made some chili.”

  She shook her head. “Too tired to eat.” Guilt slid like a noose around her conscience. She was supposed to be taking care of him. Apparently she couldn’t handle that right either. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “That’s okay.” He hit the mute button on the TV remote. “It’ll be good for leftovers.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry that I’m doing such a crappy job of helping you out. I should be cooking for you, not the other way around.”

  “Nonsense, you’re doing a fine job. More than I ever even imagined.” The light from the pole lamp beside the recliner gleamed off the top of his head as he crooked his finger at her. “Come over here.”

  She did as he asked and found herself sitting on her daddy’s lap like she did as a kid. He curled his big arm around her and she laid her head on his sturdy shoulder. His warmth surrounded her like a big fuzzy blanket.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  She wanted to tell him that juggling her career, the bakery, Cindi’s Attic, trying to find the pup’s parents, and the visits from her deceased mother were all too much for her. Not to mention Matt Ryan who insisted on driving her to the edge of Crazy Town and kicking her over the cliff. And now someone wanted her to play Dr. Decorum? Dressing people for a living was easy cheesy. But all this emotional stuff? Killer.

  “I’m just tired. Nothing to worry about.”

  He set the recliner to a gentle rocking motion. “You know, the last time I held you like this was when you and your mom had argued about the baby raccoon you’d brought home. She was sure the thing was full of rabies and fleas and didn’t want it in her house. But against her wishes you went out, found a cage, and bottle-fed that little thing until it was old enough to release back in the wild.”

  Kate smiled, remembering her mother’s outrage when she’d brought home another stray. She hadn’t had the heart to tell her mother she’d seen her cooing baby talk to the little masked bandit. Those were the days when Kate had looked for anything and everything to keep her entertained. When she thought Deer Lick was the most boring place on the planet. In fact, hadn’t she thought that exact thing just a few weeks ago?

  Now, she admitted silently, things didn’t seem quite so lackluster. Exhausting? Oh yeah. She’d have to cut back on something before she drove herself into a coma. When she thought of the order of things to delete, she surprised herself with what she’d scratch first.

  “Everything has its place in the world, Katie girl.” Her dad hugged her a little closer. “Sometimes it just takes a while to figure things out.”

  Amen to that.

  “Sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “Speaking of the wild . . .”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kate opened the door to the storeroom for the pup to curl up in his fleece bed. She flipped on the overhead lights in the bakery and the fryer and grabbed an apron off the peg.

  Her father would not walk through the door today. He’d gone hunting. In the wild. Like he did every year at this time.

  Who was she to prevent him from reaching out and capturing a slice of life? He deserved a break from the bakery. He deserved some time out in the woods he loved so much. He deserved a little happiness that might help him mend his broken heart.

  If her mother had been able to handle the place all on her own for a week, so could she.

  The day flew by with only a few lulls here and there and she managed not to think about Matt even once. Oops. Scratch that. During one of those lulls she’d managed to sneak a glazed buttermilk donut and cup of orange spiced tea over to George Crosby at the Once Again Bookstore. She’d made a deal weeks ago with the shop owner to trade donuts and tea for a chance to pluck a book or two off his dusty shelves. Kate loved to read. And though her past tastes ran toward celebrity biographies, she now relished romance. Historicals, contemporaries, paranormal, she loved them all. Although a happy ending for her seemed to be a wasted wish, she was glad someone had the possibility. Even if they were fictional.

  By six o’clock sharp she locked the doors on a fairly successful day. She couldn’t wait to open her arsenal of mass deliciousness that had been delivered earlier. Her bachelor boob cake had been a hit and word had started to spread. On her order list for tomorrow was a divorce party cake. She guessed for some people divorce was cause for celebration. Kate thought it rather sad. If she ever found someone to love, someone who would love her back with all their heart, she wouldn’t be so eager to give it up. However, for now her job was cake. Lots of cake. And she intended to give the customer what they’d asked for. Just bigger and better. Instead of a full sheet she’d made tiered rounds with a new recipe she’d concocted for spiced chocolate.

  From the freezer she grabbed the layers she’d made the night before, unwound the plastic wrap and set them on the work surface. Then she grabbed the dark chocolate filling and whipped up a batch of buttercream for a dirty iced coat. Several hours later, engrossed in kneading a glob of blood red fondant, she looked up at the clock and discovered how fast time had flown. She’d been thoroughly enjoying herself, even chuckling or smiling now and again. As her design had taken shape, Kate realized she was having a blast.

  She liked cake decorating.

  Cakes couldn’t talk back.

  Cakes couldn’t rip sequins off designer gowns.

  Cakes couldn’t put her on the worst dressed list.

  Cakes rocked.

  But could she ever give up her glamorous lifestyle to make cakes full time? She positioned a black rose on the top tier and chuckled. If anyone had asked her that question just a few weeks ago, she’d have laughed in their face. But now, she might just smile.

  As she carefully unrolled the red fondant down the side of all the tiers she heard a tap on the front window and looked up. Maggie stood with her nose pressed against the glass. Kate waved, then went to let her friend inside.

  “What are you doing here?” Kate asked as they exchanged a hug.

  Maggie laughed and her apple cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I saw the lights on and came to give you a hand.”

  Surprised, Kate asked, “What?”

  “A little birdie told me your daddy went hunting and you might need some help.”

  “Was that little birdie balding on top of his distrustful little head?”

  Maggie patted her on the back. “Aw, honey, don’t be upset with him. He knows you can handle the place. He just feels bad that he’s dumping on you.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “And neither do I,” Maggie said as she walked toward the back of the bakery.

  “What about the bar?” Kate followed her. “What about your husband? Your kids?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve got two sets of grandparents fighting over who gets to watch them. Ollie is used to me running in several different directions at once. No big deal.”

  Kate gave her a look.

  Maggie held up her hand as though swearing in at court. “Really. I promise.” She opened the freezer door and glanced at the contents. “What are those?”

  Pulling out the muffin pan, Kate transferred it to the counter. She dropped her hands to her hips and looked down at the dessert only Matt had tested. And loved. “A new experiment. I meant to try them out on customers but I got so busy I forgot.”

  “What are they?”

  “Ice cream peanut butter brownie cupcakes.”

  “Oh God, you’re kidding me!” Maggie grabbed for one, yanked down an edge of the wrapper and bit into it. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned. A grin spr
ead across her face. Chocolate was lodged between her teeth. “This? Is better than sex.”

  For some reason Matt’s image slipped into Kate’s overactive imagination. “Nothing is better than sex.” At least not sex with one hunky stubborn ass deputy.

  “Bet me.” Maggie shoved the other side of the cupcake into Kate’s mouth.

  Kate bit off a chunk and the flavors danced across her tongue. “Mmmm, good. But better than sex?”

  “Hey, I’ve been married for ten years, I have three kids, and I waitress at a busy bar. I’ve almost forgotten what sex is.”

  “Then, while you’ve got a babysitter, maybe you should grab Ollie, go home, and do some rediscovering.”

  “Hmmm.” Maggie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and tapped her chin as if pondering the suggestion. Then she laughed. “Are you kidding? We wouldn’t even get our skivvies off before we’d fall asleep.”

  The lack of passion in her friend’s marriage saddened Kate. “Is that what happens after you’re married for awhile?”

  Maggie looked at her. “No, honey. Not if you don’t let it happen. Ollie and I are both to blame for letting life get in the way.”

  “But you love each other.”

  “With all our hearts,” Maggie said with a whisper of sadness in her tone.

  Kate hugged her friend. “I’d be happy to help you out any way I can, Mags, so you and Ollie can have some time together.”

  “Oh, Kate.” Maggie hugged her tight. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

  “Promise you’ll call on me to babysit?” Kate said with a stern look.

  “I promise.”

  “Soon?”

  Maggie laughed. “Soon. Now . . .” She took a bite of cupcake and mumbled around a mouthful. “. . . what do you plan to do with these? Hold them hostage?”

  “Help yourself,” Kate said as Maggie grabbed for a second helping. “I plan to add them to the menu. Just trying to shake things up a little.”

  Maggie strolled over to the work counter and instantly choked. “I think you’re off to a good start.”

  Kate joined her at the counter and grinned at her work in progress. “It’s awesome, isn’t it?”

  “It’s fantastic. The blood spilling down the side is a nice effect. The dead groom lying on the bottom tier in a pool of blood is definitely a little unexpected. Maggie leaned closer to the triple tiered anti-wedding cake. “Is the bride holding a handgun?”

  “Yeah. A semiautomatic.”

  “Kate?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a Til Death Do Us Party cake for Maxine Waverly.”

  “Wow. It’s . . . different.”

  Unsure whether Maggie had offered a compliment or not, Kate turned the revolving cake stand and asked, “But is it good?”

  Looking up, Maggie grinned. “It’s freaking fabulous.” She grabbed Kate in a tight hug. “Oh, honey, I think you’ve found your calling. What else do you have up that designer sleeve?”

  Kate reached into her bag of tricks and pulled out a cupcake mold in the shape of a penis. “Think this will get the town gossips going?”

  Maggie screamed, then laughed so hard she doubled over. “Oh, girlfriend, you are gonna make your mama proud.”

  The thought made Kate smile. “I wanted to add something new to the menu. This place has been serving the same pastries for as long as those ugly tiles have been on the floor.”

  Maggie glanced around the bakery at the faded floor, faded silk flowers, faded wall color, and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the place really could use a facelift. I’m sure your mom and dad worked too hard to notice its charm had washed away.”

  An idea grabbed hold of Kate before she could talk herself out of it. “Maybe I can change that.”

  Maggie looked at her the same way she had in high school when Kate had come up with an idea that was bound to get them in trouble. “I don’t like the look in those eyes, Katie Silverthorne.”

  Kate didn’t bother to correct Maggie on the usage of her name. Because right now Kate Silver, celebrity stylist, was about to take a backseat to Katie Silverthorne, confectionary daydreamer and visionary.

  She put the finishing touch on her designer cake, then grabbed her friend by the sleeve and tugged her toward the storeroom. “Come on, Mags. We’ve got signs to make.”

  “Signs?”

  “We’re having a bake sale.”

  They rushed into the storeroom and startled the pup who jumped up with a squeak, then went right back to gnawing on his sock monkey chew toy. Some watchdog.

  “I don’t get it. This is a bakery. Of course, you’re selling the goods. So why the sudden enthusiasm?” Maggie’s forehead wrinkled as she shoved the last bite of cupcake in her mouth and wiped the ice cream from her chin.

  “This is a real bake sale. Half price for everything until it’s gone. All proceeds go to Mom’s favorite charity.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Probably,” Kate answered, grabbing a felt marker from the drawer and a roll of white wrapping paper. She ripped off a large sheet and thrust it and the marker toward Maggie. “Let’s get started. We’re putting these in the front window. And make one that says Closed for the week.”

  “An entire week? Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Kate clamped her hand over her friend’s shoulder. “Have you ever known me to do something without going full-tilt boogie?”

  Matt kneeled at the feet of a passed out high school student and frowned. He’d turned the kid over so if he vomited, he wouldn’t choke.

  “You figure beer or something harder?” James asked, standing beside him while they waited for the paramedics to arrive.

  “By the smell of him, something 80 proof.”

  “Were we ever that bad?” James asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  “You were.”

  James gave him a sideways glance. “I know what you’re thinking, mi amigo.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Yeah, you’re thinking if you become sheriff you can change all this. Make it stop happening. That’s an awfully big objective, Matt. You can’t save the world.”

  Matt looked at him through the darkness of the city park. “I can try.”

  “Yeah, you can. But don’t you think a guy your age should be focusing more on life? Chasing some hot women? Having a good time?” James scratched his chest. “Why don’t you throw out all your ridiculous lists and learn how to enjoy yourself for a change? Let go. Raise a little hell.”

  “I did enough of that in my early twenties.” Matt wasn’t about to tell his friend that he couldn’t allow himself to let go. Because once he did, he knew exactly where he’d go to find that good time. Or at least who he’d go to.

  He needed to focus. On getting his campaign signs posted around town. On making a difference in the hometown he loved. On finding the right woman to marry. Though their first date had been a little wobbly, he’d set up a second date with Emma. This time, he planned to take her somewhere she didn’t feel she had to dress up or ask for help to look pretty.

  A movie sounded about right. Someplace dark where they wouldn’t have to force a conversation. Someplace dark where he could discover if they had any chemistry. Someplace dark where he wouldn’t have to look at her and imagine Kate sitting across from him.

  When he’d dropped Emma at her front door, he’d kissed her goodnight. It had been a chaste kiss on the cheek. He knew she’d expected more, but if he aimed to find a respectable woman to marry, he intended to treat her with respect. Of course, after his little detour to Kate’s dress shop, he’d gone home and climbed into bed. His head hadn’t been filled with visions of sugar plums or sweet little schoolteachers. Nope. A certain sexy redhead haunted his dreams. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force her out.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  Matt stood and turned at the voice behind him.

  His rival for the sheriff
position, Dave Johnson, tipped his straw Resistol as he stepped away from a gunmetal gray Silverado 4x4, so new not even a parking lot ding marred the polished surface. His Wranglers were starched with knife-sharp creases. His boots were custom made. He might be a small-town deputy, but family wealth gave him the look of a big-city boy.

  He stepped between Matt and James and looked down at the intoxicated teen as the boy groaned. “He looks pretty wasted.”

  Johnson used the same tone with which someone would shout Eureka.

  “That might be the understatement of the year,” Matt said, while the siren of the paramedics grew closer.

  “You call his folks?”

  Matt nodded. “Too drunk to come get him.”

  The older man looked Matt over with narrowed eyes. “Expect he’s just following in their shoes. Probably always will.”

  Matt’s head came up. “He’s a kid, Johnson. He’s got a chance.”

  “Unfortunately, Deputy Ryan, kids like him usually take their one chance and throw it to the wind.”

  He’d been a kid like that. Then everything changed. It could happen for this boy too. “I plan to work on that when I’m elected,” Matt said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those who thinks he can save the world.” Johnson frowned. “It never works, you know.”

  Wrong, asshole. Matt lifted his chin. “I aim to try.”

  Johnson shook his head. “Good luck with that.”

  “You trying to make a point?” Matt asked.

  James stepped between them, thrusting his palm against Matt’s chest. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything, partner.” James turned to Johnson. “You got business here? Or are you just trying to stir up a hornet’s nest?”

  Johnson shrugged. “Just trying to get a feel of the place. Election’s only a couple of months away.”

  As the paramedics rolled to a stop, Johnson tipped his hat and walked toward his pickup.

  “Can’t say I care for that man,” James grumbled. “I hope to hell you beat his ass in the election.”

  “Me too,” Matt said as Johnson’s truck pulled away from the curb.