Mann Cakes: A Beach Pointe Romance

by Mysti Parker

  “We killed JFK, too, in case they’re wondering.”

  Linda pinched the bridge of her nose. “I love you, but you’re such an ass sometimes. Just be careful, okay?” She started to return to the party but then turned back. “Did you like the cupcakes?”

  “Meh, they’re a little too sweet for my taste.”

  “Well, the kids love them, and you’ll never guess who baked them.”

  “You?”

  “That’s funny. I can’t bake for shit.” She laughed, grabbed his beer, and took a swig before handing it back. “No, these came from Two Sisters Cupcakes across town.”

  “Okay…?”

  “And guess who owns it?”

  “I don’t know? Two of the lesser known Kardashians?”

  “No.”

  “Then who?”

  “Paige and Morgan Baxter.” She paused for a moment with a victorious smile as though letting him soak up that revelation. Then she patted his cheek a little too hard. “It’s almost time to open gifts.”

  Linda left the kitchen as Gary and a couple of the other men came in. They were the typical young working fathers, on the lanky or pudgy side, depending on genetics and lifestyle. Hand trembling, Tanner set his beer bottle on the counter. Why should anything about Paige hit him so hard? What did he care if his first serious girlfriend was there in town? He pulled his attention away from her and the inevitable memories and focused on the men at the kitchen island.

  Gary munched on a Ritz cracker, which he'd topped with salami and cheddar. “If I have to eat another of those sugar bombs…”

  “No kidding,” another guy agreed. “Every freaking party, it’s nothing but sweets—punch, cake, candy. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good dessert now and then, but sometimes you just want to eat salami and chug a beer.”

  “You don’t like the cupcakes?” Tanner asked.

  Gary shrugged. “The kids do, I guess, and the ladies. They even host tea parties there at the shop, and they’re booked up for months. It’s all frilly and pink. I mean, where’s the bacon? Where’s the cheese?”

  The other guys laughed, looking at Tanner with a bit of uncertainty, as if they were intimidated by his Air Force physique or worried he’d go PTSD on them.

  He picked up his beer. “A bacon cupcake might be good right about now.”

  “Yeah, bacon and cheese,” Gary said.

  “And jalapenos,” another guy added.

  “With Cheez Whiz for icing!” the third guy exclaimed.

  “Yeah, we don’t need cupcakes. We need man cakes,” Gary said with a chuckle.

  They all laughed, finished up their salami and cheese, and went back to the party. Tanner lingered for a moment, gears turning. He finished the rest of his beer and headed back out, his mind working a mile a minute on exactly how he’d sell another crazy idea to Garrett.

  When the party was over, Garrett and Tanner decided to spend the night at Dad's house, which was a double-wide trailer on concrete blocks with vinyl skirting. It was your typical middle-aged bachelor pad, with sparse furnishings, zero decor, and a scattering of dirty clothes, junk mail, and beer cans. Dad had gone to bed. Garrett sat on the worn out floral-patterned couch, finishing a beer and watching North Carolina get their asses kicked by the Kentucky Wildcats. They’d decided to spend the rest of the weekend in Beach Pointe, because why not? They didn’t have a job to rush back to on Monday.

  But maybe Tanner could see to that. He sat in the recliner, put his feet up, and decided it was now or never. “Maggie’s Diner is up for sale.”

  “Yeah, Mom told me.”

  “We should buy it.”

  Garrett slid his gaze toward him and shook his head. “No.”

  “But I have an idea.”

  “Don’t you always? Tanner, I’m tired of your ‘brilliant’ ideas. We’re twenty-four. We should both be thinking about having our own families and mortgages soon."

  “I’m not saying we need to open Maggie’s Diner again, but what if we could make it into something different? Something you just can’t find around here.”

  “We can't sell custom PCs in Beach Pointe. At least not enough to make a profit unless we open a bait shop and hardware store along with it.”

  “But we don’t have to do computers anymore. That’s what I’m saying. We can open up a food-based business.”

  “Tanner, come on… Does this have something to do with Paige?”

  “No, why would it?”

  “Oh, no reason, just that Linda told me she and Morgan own a cupcake shop across town, and you’ve never really gotten over her.”

  “Give me a break. It's ancient history. And what about Morgan?”

  Garrett went stiff and shifted in his seat. “What about her?”

  Ha! He’d hit a nerve. “She was the one girl you couldn’t work up the nerve to ask out.”

  “We were friends, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, right. Then why do you keep that pic of the two of you wearing goofy glasses in a photo booth in your wallet?”

  “I have a lot of pictures in my wallet. And why are you snooping in there anyway? If you need a condom, go buy some.”

  Tanner laughed. “I have plenty. But seriously. I heard the guys talking today. They hate all the pink frilly stuff on cupcakes at parties. We can make something they’ll enjoy. Cater to the male clientele. Birthdays, office parties, picnics, bachelor parties, you name it.”

  "It sounds a bit too different for this town. It'll never take off, and we'll be right back in this situation."

  "No, see, it won’t be gourmet. We'll make savory stuff—bacon and cheeseburger cupcakes with Cheez Whiz icing. That way the men have something to look forward to at a party so they don’t have to hunt down salami in the fridge."

  Garrett shook his head and took another sip of beer. "Bro, come on. I thought you hated the idea of moving back home."

  "With your cooking skills, and my marketing skills, we could make something of this. The best ideas are born out of necessity, right? This town needs an alternative to sweets. We have the Ice Cream Shack, the Pie Loft, Fudgey's Chocolates, and Two Sisters Cupcakes. We need something for the guys besides fast food and barbeque. There's not even a bar. It may be the one county in Kentucky that's still dry."

  "What about the poolroom? They used to have good burgers."

  "The place was condemned. One too many rat turds in the chips."

  "That's disturbing."

  "Exactly. So, you see what I mean? This idea has potential, bro. We can move in here with Dad for a while until we get the profits rolling in. It’ll make Mom feel better, knowing we’re here to look after him."

  Garrett scrubbed a hand across his face, but Tanner knew that look in his eyes. He was buying into the plan. “And what would we call this ‘venture’?”

  Tanner grinned as the perfect name hit him. “Easy. We’ll call it…Mann Cakes.”

  Chapter Two

  A month later...

  Morgan Baxter hung up the phone, tapping her chin with the end of her pen. “Weird. That’s the third one today.”

  “Third what?” Paige set a stack of folded cupcake boxes on the shelf.

  “Cancellation.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “Sara Jansen, Glen Burke, and the Ladies’ Auxiliary.”

  Paige hurried over to the appointment book, hoping Morgan was wrong, but no, she’d scratched out those exact names. They were big clients, too. Sara had a romance writer’s group that met quarterly for a big potluck. They must have been starving artists, because they usually ordered four dozen cupcakes for ten women. Glen was getting married to his partner, Jeff, and wanted a cupcake wedding cake with two grooms on top. The Ladies’ Auxiliary was throwing a fundraiser for the vice president’s husband, who was injured in a hunting accident. Rumor had it he’d gotten drunk and stumbled out into the dark to scare off the neighbor’s dog, but only succeeded in shooting himself in the foot. The sky-high orthopedic bills were no laughing matter, however.


  “I don’t get it,” Morgan said, now chewing on her already-gnawed-flat pen. “Who else does same-sex wedding cakes around here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they called it off.”

  “Oh no, it’s in the paper. Invitations have gone out already.”

  “A wedding announcement doesn’t mean it’s set in stone.”

  “Well, okay, but what about the cancellations?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Those appointments were a couple months from now. It’s the busy season. It’ll pick up.” Paige tried to stay positive, but that was becoming more difficult.

  The phone rang twice the rest of the day, and both were cancellations. The end of Morgan’s poor pen had been chewed beyond recognition.

  “What are we going to do?” She sounded on the verge of hysterics.

  “Calm down; it’ll be okay.”

  But would it? Small businesses like theirs had a five-year proving ground. They were nearing the mark, but this downturn could be bad news. They couldn’t afford to lose this place, now that it was their only source of income. Paige took a deep breath and let it out slowly while leveling off a cup of powdered sugar for the lemon buttercream. The door chimes rang, and she dropped the measuring cup into the icing. Powdered sugar clouded her face and stung her nose. Turning away from the door, Paige coughed and wiped her eyes with her apron.

  “Hi, Mrs. Donner, what can we get for you?” Morgan asked.

  Great. The preacher’s wife. She had an addiction to cream puffs, and it showed.

  “Nothing right now.” Her breathy Betty Boop voice sounded weird coming from a sixty-something woman. Mrs. Donner leaned over the counter with a conspiratorial grin. “Did you know about Maggie’s Diner?”

  “Yeah, I think someone bought it. Why?” Morgan asked.

  “Someone did buy it all right, but not just anybody. And it’s not going to be a diner anymore.”

  That piqued Paige’s curiosity and her annoyance. She didn't like gossip, particularly since she had been the object of so much of it over the past five years. “Okay, so what is it? Who bought it?”

  “You should really go see for yourself. I’m surprised you didn’t see it on TV. They had the funniest ad.”

  “I don’t watch TV.”

  “Then go over there. You’ll see. Oh, and you’ve got some…” She gestured around her whole face.

  “Oh, thanks.” Paige caught her reflection in the mirror behind the register. Her face was ghostly white with two tired eyes peeking out. She tore some paper towels off the roll, dampened them in the sink, and wiped away the sugar mask.

  Morgan’s mouth twisted as if trying hard not to laugh. “Have a great day, Mrs. Donner. Sure you don’t want a cream puff?”

  She narrowed her eyes, looking Morgan up and down as though deciding whether she could trust a girl with pink ombre hair. “Well, all right. You convinced me.”

  Morgan grabbed a sheet of bakery tissue from the dispenser, slid open the pastry case, and selected the biggest cream puff for Mrs. Donner. She didn’t want to risk losing another customer.

  “Here you go,” Morgan said, dropping it into a paper bag. “On the house.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Donner’s eyes sparkled. Nothing excited her quite like free pastries. “Why thank you. I sure hope you girls don’t get put out of business. Take care.”

  The door chimes rang again as she walked back out.

  “Well, shit,” Paige whispered.

  Morgan popped her on the shoulder. “Language!”

  “Shush it, Mother Teresa. Don’t you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “Why would she say ‘I hope you girls don’t get put out of business’ if there wasn’t a good reason?” Paige did a great impression of Mrs. Donner's ridiculous Betty Boop tone. “If these new owners think they can waltz into town and crush their cupcake competition, I have news for them.”

  “Maybe you should go over there.”

  Paige already had her apron off and hung on the hook. She grabbed her keys and purse. “Oh, I’m going, and this better be worth the trip.”

  But as usual her cell phone had perfect timing, never failing to ring when she was either in the shower, on the toilet, or just about to step out for something very important. And this, by golly, was important. It was her livelihood.

  She almost let it go to voice mail, but the caller ID read ‘Mom,’ so it was by default a stop and answer kind of call. Especially where Tyler was concerned.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up? How’s Tyler?”

  “Honey, I hate to bother you, but he’s biting again. I’ve tried everything.”

  “The Silly Songs DVD?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about the magic Play-Doh?” It wasn’t really magic, but Ty could often spend hours squishing the various colors together to see what the result would be. He ended up with a crappy brown, but he still called it ‘magic.’

  “No, that didn’t work either.”

  “Well then, what happened? He was okay this morning.”

  “One of the other children asked him about his dad. He started asking me about him, and…”

  “You didn’t tell him anything, right?”

  “No, Paige, I told him the truth.”

  “Seriously? How many times have I told you, he doesn’t understand!” Had the phone been Play-Doh, Paige would have squished it into an ugly snake shape. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she could have afforded another daycare provider, she’d have found one a long time ago, but Mom was all she had. She was great with kids and had been babysitting in her home for as long as Paige could remember. Rhoda Baxter had raised half of Foster County, but she couldn’t handle her own autistic grandson.

  Paige could hear some kids crying in the background and Ty having a meltdown from farther away, probably locked in the back bedroom where there was nothing he could hurt himself with.

  Mom sounded truly frustrated. “I’m sorry, honey, but he needs to learn to accept the fact that his father’s not part of his life. I need you to come pick him up early, okay? I can’t have him biting the other kids, and I can’t stay with him and watch them at the same time.”

  Morgan touched Paige's arm. Startled, Paige looked up to see Morgan mouthing, What’s wrong?

  She shook her head. “I’ll be right over, Mom.” Then she hit end and tried her best not to cry. Of course, Morgan, her sweeter than molasses little sister, had to make that impossible by wrapping Paige in a warm hug. Several tears and a damp shoulder later, Morgan got a tissue and waited patiently while Paige dried her face and blew her nose.

  “I’m sorry,” Paige whispered. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

  “Here’s what you do. Go pick up Ty, and I’ll close up early. Then I’ll drive over to Maggie’s and see what’s going on.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You don’t have to. We’re partners, aren’t we?”

  That brought a smile to Paige's wet, flushed face. “You’re the best partner and sister there is.”

  “Darn tootin’ I am.”

  Chapter Three

  Garrett went out to the truck and grabbed another box of tiles from the Jeep bed. He hoisted it onto his shoulder and carried a bucket of grout with his other hand. They were almost done with the last bit of flooring—or re-flooring, as it were—a vast improvement over the scuffed and stained linoleum of Maggie’s. Thankfully, the place had solid bones and good appliances, so it needed only minimal remodeling.

  “Excuse me.” He nodded politely to the curious group of women standing in the doorway.

  “When are you opening?” one of them asked as he passed over the threshold.

  “Hopefully next week if all goes well, maybe sooner, depending on how fast the health inspection is done.”

  “Oh, my husband works for the health department. I’ll see if he can expedite the process for you.”

  “That’s not necessary, but thanks for the offer.” Garrett caug
ht her appraising him from head to toe with one sultry swoop of her eyes. The weather was unseasonably warm, so he’d taken off his shirt. Bad move. Life overseas in the Air Force had soured his manners.

  He set the tiles down on the new counter and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Tanner came down from the stepladder where he’d been installing a new light fixture.

  “Better put your shirt back on, bro,” Garrett told him, listening to the muffled chatter from the loitering group of ladies outside the store. They tried to look as though they’d just stopped there for a friendly chat, but the deliberate glances and sudden averting of eyes when he or Tanner turned their way hinted at more than just a casual gathering.

  Tanner, ever the attention whore, waved and winked at them. “Why? We got the shirtless police out there? If I’m not mistaken, I think it’s legal for women to go around topless, too, which I think is a damn fantastic idea.”

  Garrett chuckled. “Not that I’m disagreeing with that logic, but we have a bakery to run, not a strip joint.”

  “Oh, come on, we’ll rent Magic Mike and take notes.”

  “I’m being serious, Tanner.”

  “What else is new? But who cares if a few ladies are enjoying the show? Might be good for business.”

  “Then you be the eye candy. I’ll do the cooking.” Garrett grabbed his denim work shirt from the back of a chair and shrugged into it. He started to button it, but a horn blared from the street in front of the store. The pickup sped by, revealing a panicked woman with her back pressed against the side of a ’69 COPO Camaro, hand on her chest, eyes as big as melons. There was something familiar about that car...and its owner.

  “I’ll be back.” Thankfully their unofficial female fan club had moved on to other ventures. Garrett jogged out the door, quickly looked both ways, and crossed the street.

  The woman now stood outside the open car door, rummaging through a purse in the passenger seat. Sketches, cups, wrappers, pens, and who knew what else littered the floorboard and back seat. Just like he remembered it the first time she’d driven him home from an academic meet their junior year. She had always loved that car. Her whole family was a bit car crazy. Her parents had named both their daughters after classic automobiles.