Mann Cakes: A Beach Pointe Romance

by Mysti Parker

  “Yeah? Well maybe we will.” Paige yanked her car keys from her jacket pocket. She opened the door so hard, the wind blew Tanner’s fallen receipts across the floor. “If it’s war you want, it’s war you’ll get.”

  She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The pictures on the walls and the napkin holders on the tables rattled.

  Garrett poked his head out of the kitchen. “Has there been a cease fire, or should I duck and cover?”

  “Oh no, it’s on like Donkey Kong, bro. Paige thinks we’re stealing her customers. Let’s show her what real competition looks like.”

  Chapter Six

  Paige could barely see straight as she drove to her mother’s house to pick up Ty. Not because she was crying. She did not cry when she was angry. She trembled and sweated and got bad indigestion, but she would never cry over that man again. With one hand on the wheel, she dug through the console until she found the half-empty roll of Tums and popped three in her mouth. Then she quick-dialed her mom’s phone and put her cell on speaker mode.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Tanner’s smug face and his defiant sneer when she confronted him. Just behind those thoughts was how she’d felt seeing him again. An impossible mix of emotions that wouldn’t serve her or anyone well. But dear God, he’d put on some muscle. The last time she saw him, he still had acne and a halfway lanky figure. Not anymore. Her body had warmed in places it had been ice cold for a long time. Then she reminded herself that he was a jerk, and jerks were not handsome, not on the inside.

  She argued to the empty car interior. “The nerve! How can he lie like that to my face again? Just an innocent little bakery owner, is he? Yeah, right!”

  Her mom’s voice came from the phone speaker. “Who lied?”

  “Um, sorry, Mom. I’ll talk to you about it later. How’s Ty?”

  “Asleep. He did well today. He’s stuck on the number thirty-three though. I had to keep finding things that he could count to that number. I’m running out of things though. There’s only so many M&Ms and dominos.”

  “I’ll find some things at home. Have you noticed anything that he might have seen that would get him stuck on that?”

  “No. I only let the kids watch TV for an hour a day and haven’t noticed any thirty-threes anywhere. Not on the kids’ shirts or anything either.”

  “Okay.” Why was she even worrying about it? He could have seen or heard it anywhere; even a brief mention of something could get Ty stuck on it for days.

  She arrived at her mom’s house and walked along the stepping stones she and Morgan had molded when they were kids. Full of fake gems, glitter, and peace signs, they reminded her of a much happier time, when anything seemed possible.

  A glorious smell wafted out the door as Paige entered the kitchen. “Please tell me you just made coffee.”

  "I figured you could use some." She poured a big mug full and added a hefty splash of cream and a packet of Splenda. She handed it to Paige then poured herself a smaller cup.

  “Can I get that to go?”

  “No. Ty’s still asleep. The other kids are already gone for the day. Sit down and let’s talk for a bit.” Rhoda sat at the table and nodded to the chair across from her. At fifty, she was still a lovely, curvy woman. Paige and Morgan had inherited her figure, minus the extra years of heartache at the hands of their father. However, Paige had already surpassed her with two failed relationships at only twenty-four.

  Though a million excuses flitted through her mind, Paige sat anyway. Talking to your mother should be a good thing, a cleansing thing, but with Rhoda, it was usually some type of interrogation. When she was a teenager, it usually ended up in a screaming match and being grounded for the weekend. Good grades, first chair clarinet in band, VIP in girls’ varsity basketball, a scholarship to UK… None of that added up to “good enough” in Rhoda’s eyes. All because of Tanner. It started innocently enough—she tutored him in math after school during their junior year. They ended up in the back seat of her car a few months after that. They were crazy about each other, or so she thought. During the summer after graduation, he got the insane idea to join the Air Force, knowing he could be deployed to the Middle East. She had been furious. The argument had turned into a screaming match until she had finally told him it was over. Not two days later, she’d found him in the back seat of her best friend’s car.

  “Tell me who lied to you.” Rhoda, who had perpetually cold hands, wrapped her fingers around her mug and waited for the answer.

  So, the interrogation began. Paige’s gaze landed on the cupboard and a picture of her dad, Rex, with her and Morgan. They each held a just-caught fish, smiling proudly at Rhoda's camera. Rex knelt between his girls. It was a total Rockwell scene—idyllic and memorable. Paige remembered Morgan squealing when she tried to get the fish off her hook. She remembered the smoke from their campfire, the taste of charred fresh fish and roasted marshmallows, Rex playing his guitar, Rhoda's carefree smile...and then he left them. Now all she got was an occasional card from him and his wife, Tracy, who was young enough to be one of his daughters.

  "Why do you still have that picture? Do you still love him?" Paige asked.

  Rhoda looked at it, her smile sad, her eyes wistful. "No, but even if you don't love someone, you can still love the memories." She focused on Paige again. "Now, please tell me what happened. Who lied to you?"

  Paige took a long draw of coffee. It was just shy of scalding and burned her throat as it went down. A melted esophagus would be a great excuse to leave. But that was silly. She was no longer a teenager. She could go and do as she pleased to an extent. She did have Tyler to think about, but there was no reason to hide things from her mom. Chances were she already knew what was going on thanks to the Beach Pointe grapevine.

  After a deep, shaky breath, she finally answered, “Tanner.”

  Rhoda blinked a few times, her mouth drawing down into a frown, before resuming her blank interrogator expression. “I knew he and Garrett were back in town and had reopened Maggie’s Diner with some silly cake shop.”

  “If he was back in town, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't someone tell me? Did Morgan know?"

  "We didn't want to upset you."

  "I wish to God everyone would stop trying to protect me. I’m a big girl. I can handle it."

  "Is that why you refuse to move in here with me? You and Ty would have more space…”

  “I’m not in the mood to argue about that again.” In many ways, living with her mom would be easier and more comfortable, but Paige couldn’t stomach the thought of all the ‘told you so’ looks and the prodding to find Ty a new daddy.

  Rhoda lifted a hand in surrender. “Okay, fine. What did Tanner lie about this time, and why are you even talking to him?"

  "He claims he’s not here to undermine my business, but we’ve already lost clients. I wanted to see for myself, so I went over there today. He basically said if it’s war I want, that’s what I’ll get.” Come to think of it, she had said that, not him, but it didn’t matter. “He ruined my life once before, and now he’s back to twist the knife.”

  Rhoda drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, picking at a spot on the table. “Paige, you can’t keep blaming him for everything. You’re responsible for your own choices.”

  Paige sat down her mug with a clunk, splashing beige-colored coffee onto her hand. If she hadn’t been sitting at the table, she would have probably dropped it. “Wait a minute. I thought you thought Tanner was the devil incarnate.”

  “Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. You’ve both grown up, and time can change people.” With a weary smile, she took a napkin from the holder and wiped the coffee from Paige’s hand. Then Rhoda gently squeezed her fingers. “I still want you to give him hell, but not by storming over there. You and Morgan do whatever you can to bring in the customers. Show him you’re not one to back down, no matter how hard the fight.”

  Paige raised an eyebrow and sniffed the air in case there was a bit of Irish whiskey in R
hoda’s coffee. None that she could tell. Before she could ask about any covert drinking, Tyler came bounding in the kitchen and onto Paige’s lap. He had a crayon and a Ninja Turtles coloring book and plopped them both on the table.

  “Hey, sweetie, did you have a good nap?” She kissed his slightly sweaty temple but didn’t hug him close. He usually didn’t respond well to that unless he was very sleepy.

  Tyler didn’t answer. He opened the coloring book and promptly covered Raphael’s shell with red thirty-threes. Oh well, at least he was happy, and Paige felt her confidence building. It was time to have a business meeting with Morgan. They needed an all new marketing strategy if they were to win this cupcake war.

  ****

  Morgan’s apartment in the Miner’s Creek complex sat alongside the city park, which offered great views of the rolling trails, the creek, and stands of ancient trees. No wonder Morgan liked it there—it suited her artsy lifestyle perfectly. The apartment itself was almost as tiny as Paige’s, except for an inexplicably large bathroom. But the living areas were filled with a colorful mix of Morgan’s artwork, gauzy drapes, and vintage light fixtures. Fleece blankets and crocheted afghans were draped across mismatched chairs and the tiny sofa/pull-out bed. She made sure Morgan had put the breakable stuff and her knitting needles away before letting Tyler rummage through the craft box. He pulled out some clay and sat cross-legged on the floor.

  Paige had grabbed dinner from McHeartattack. She handed Ty some chicken nuggets and a milk carton, hoping he would eat with no fuss. There was no dining area to speak of, just a tiny kitchenette. Paige navigated the narrow path to the living area, set the fast food bag on the coffee table, and joined Morgan on the sofa.

  Morgan pulled out a burger, grinned, and wiggled in her seat. She was entirely too excited about all this. “Okay, what’s the plan, Stan?”

  Paige put on her reading glasses and pulled her notebook from her purse, pen poised. “Well, I was thinking we do some quarter page newspaper ads, radio ads, maybe some contests on our Facebook and Twitter pages…”

  Morgan’s upper lip pinched up in a grossed-out grimace.

  “What?”

  “Wow, that’s some battle plan. What’s the next stage? Curb signs? Podcasts?” She exaggerated a shudder.

  “Are you quite done with the insults?”

  “No. You look like an old spinster with your glasses down on your nose like that.”

  Paige yanked off the glasses and glared at her sister. “Fine then, you have better ideas? And maybe I am a spinster. I’d have twenty cats if we didn’t live in a bakery.”

  “All right, wannabe cat lady. We should go big. Radio and TV interviews. A float for the Memorial Day parade. Booths at the farmers’ market. School fundraisers. A car wash.”

  “A car wash?”

  “Well, yeah. That’ll help us raise money for the other stuff. With the weather getting warmer, it’ll be the perfect time. We’ll throw on some bikinis, charge ten dollars per car, and give everyone a free cupcake coupon.”

  “I am not wearing a bikini.”

  “Why not? You’ve got the curves.”

  “Yeah, a few too many curves and no tan. If you want me to scare people off…”

  “Oh, you whiner. I’ll order T-shirts, then. Brad at the screen-printing shop owes me one for watching his dog last week. It chewed up my best sandals.”

  Paige tapped her chin with the pen, staring at the blank notebook. Maybe Morgan was onto something. If they wanted to get people’s attention, they had to look outside the box. It dawned on her that she’d never really asked Morgan about the business side of things. She’d always thought her sister had her head in the clouds most of the time.

  “Well?” Morgan asked with an anxious gleam in her eyes and a nervous smile. “Are we going big or going home?”

  “Can we do both?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’d like to have my own house. The apartment was fine when Ty was a baby, but he’s getting bigger, and we need more space. If we make this work, maybe I can save enough for a down payment.”

  “There’s my girl.” Morgan held up her hand, palm out. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  The thought of finally having her own house lit up Paige's hopes. She couldn’t deny that somewhere in her giddiness was knowing that she’d show up Tanner once and for all. She could imagine the look on his face. Then her thoughts wandered to the rest of him and how those muscles might feel beneath her fingers. Nope, she couldn’t let her imagination go there again.

  Laughing, she gave Morgan a nice loud high five that stung her palm. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Seven

  Come Saturday, Garrett dragged himself between the pop-up tents that formed the booths of the farmers' market. Like Beach Pointe itself, the layout made no sense. He’d appreciated that about the city. Streets in a nice grid fashion were much easier to navigate. But here, some of the paths between booths went diagonal, ending in dead ends. Some were so narrow, he had to slide himself sideways past people who had no personal space respect at all. He kept checking his jeans for his wallet to make sure he hadn’t been pickpocketed, but the only real assault had come from ladies brushing their boobs against him as they passed. They all apologized and excused themselves, but their coy smiles told him they didn't feel the least bit guilty.

  He came upon a fragrant booth of natural soaps he could have sworn he’d passed at least three times already. His eyes burned from a combination of the overly-scented atmosphere and extreme fatigue. Ever since they'd opened Mann Cakes, he’d been up before the crack of dawn, standing all day, and back home for a few meager hours of sleep before the cycle started all over again. Tanner, however, seemed no worse for wear. He’d spent most of the week seeking out potential business associates and taking them out to lunch so he could charm them into a lucrative alliance. At least they were starting to see results. A hotel restaurant and one of the truck stops had already agreed to carry Mann Cakes. At this rate, they’d have to hire help very soon. So, Garrett guessed he couldn’t complain. This was what he wanted, right? But why did he still feel like it wasn’t enough?

  He pulled the rolling cooler behind him, thankful Tanner had agreed to watch the store so Garrett could buy locally sourced meats and cheeses for their recipes. With all the yuppies in the subdivisions around town concerned about such things as GMOs and antibiotics, this would be a good move. Local farmers had picked up on the natural foods demand, so it was only logical that restaurants turn to local sources as well. The only problem with this place was that every vendor was as aggressive as a desperate car salesman. He’d already been coerced into things he’d never used before like ground wild turkey, bleu cheese, and blackcurrants.

  “Try some roasted cashews!” A lady with poofy grey hair and too much mascara held a tray of paper sampling cups. She picked one up and shoved it at him.

  “Um, okay.” He took it with one hand, poured the nuts in his mouth, and tried to roll the cooler past before he ended up with an armful of samples.

  “Deer jerky!” A guy with a beer belly and stained apron blocked his path with a tray of dried meat strips on paper napkins.

  Garrett’s crowd tolerance had reached its limit. “I’m good, thanks,” he grumbled past the mouthful of nuts, wondering where he could find a bottle of water in this madness, and wiggled his way by the man.

  He felt the cooler hit a huge bump, then heard an, “Ow, watch it!”

  Turning warily, he could see the man balancing on one foot and shaking the injured one about. Red-faced, he looked as though he might rip Garrett’s arm off and beat him to death with it. Garrett knew he’d have to make amends or risk being labeled a drive-by toe squisher for the rest of his life.

  “Really sorry.” Garrett swallowed, trying not to choke on the rough, dry nuts, and carefully picked up a jerky sample. He held it in the corner of his mouth like a meat cigarette. It bounced when he added, “Save me a pound of them. I’ll be back to buy in five minutes.
”

  That seemed to satisfy the man, whose face lightened into a much more natural shade before he nodded his acceptance. Now Garrett would have to come up with a recipe that included deer jerky.

  Before Garrett could turn around to continue his perilous journey through all things handmade and homegrown, someone poked his back.

  “Cupcake?”

  He spun around, ready to turn linebacker and flee this circus, only to come face-to-face with Morgan and a cupcake piled high with chocolate frosting.

  “Good jerky?” She laughed, then grabbed his free hand, led him past a break in the stampede and into the shelter of a tent. Once safely in the rear behind the fold-out tables, he let out a breath of relief and took the jerky from his mouth. It wasn’t half bad, so he gnawed off a bite.

  “I didn’t know you had a booth,” he said, glancing at Paige, who was handling the impressive line of customers. She looked over her shoulder with the disgust of someone who’d just smelled a fart. “Hi, Paige.”

  She didn’t answer or even acknowledge she’d heard him.

  Morgan said, “I couldn’t stand to see you getting mauled to death. These folks are brutal.”

  “Tell me about it. Looks like you’re doing well.”

  “Yeah, we’re selling like mad out here. I told Paige months ago that we should try setting up at the farmers' market. Maybe now she’ll admit that I was right. Maybe you and Tanner should get a booth, too.” That last statement elicited another disapproving frown from Paige.

  Garrett smiled and lowered his voice. “I don’t think she wants you fraternizing with the enemy.”

  “She’ll get over it.” Morgan looked to Paige, who flipped a discreet finger behind her back. “Well, maybe not. How about you leave your cooler here so you can buy jerky and whatever else you need without running people over?”