“All right, ‘kill’ is a strong word. Maybe just maim her then. Or seriously disfigure,” she conceded. Her mom rolled her eyes. “She decorated all of the Twilight cupcakes.”
“I take it that she didn’t ask permission first?”
“Of course not. She’s Harper.”
Jack squeezed the stuffing mixture into a tight wad then broke it all up again with sharp jabs of her fingers. She shifted the bowl away a few inches to keep from kneading it too much in her frustration and drying it out.
“I’m sorry, honey. You know she wouldn’t have ruined them on purpose,” Charlotte said.
“That’s part of the problem—she didn’t ruin them. She actually did an amazing job. But she shouldn’t have done it without asking. And when I tried to tell her that, Graham took her side. Tried to tell me I was overreacting. He acted like I should be thanking her for going behind my back and making decisions about my business.”
“Oh,” her mom said. The word was heavy, deliberate. It stretched between them like warm taffy.
“What ‘oh’?”
“Are you sure you aren’t here so you don’t maim or disfigure Graham?”
Jack went to the sink and let the water run hot before scrubbing the caked-on crumbs from her hands. She concentrated on the bubbly lather. It smelled crisp, refreshing. Just cleanser and antibacterial agents, not the fruity or herbal soaps that lined the grocery store aisles.
“I just don’t get it, Mama. Why isn’t he mad at her?”
“Jaclyn, honey, I’ve only seen that boy get angry once in the years and years that I’ve known him. It’s just not in him.”
Jack had known him just as long as her mom and couldn’t remember seeing him more than slightly upset. And even then, that was only a handful of times. “What was he mad about?” she asked.
“Oh, who knows. He and your brother got into it one afternoon. They were yelling like all get-out and throwing punches, rolling on the ground in the yard like a couple of five-year-olds. When I went out to break them up, Graham apologized to me and got in his car without a word to Hutton. I didn’t see him around again for a few months. But when he came back they were fine again.” Charlotte waved it away with a swipe of her hand.
Turning her attention back to her daughter she said, “Don’t be too hard on him. Your sister either, for that matter. You and Graham need to figure out what’s going to be best for Crumbs. If Harper’s a part of that, wonderful. If not, then set the ground rules and be firm with her. If Graham doesn’t back you up, send him to me. I’ll set him straight. For now, try to let it go. Don’t let it ruin your day.”
“I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”
“That’s all right. I could use the extra hands to make the other two recipes. And I’m sure Aria would love your opinion. Now, let’s pop this one in the oven and get started on the next.”
“Thanks.” Jack pressed a kiss to her mom’s cheek.
***
“Let’s get this over with,” Jack said. She didn’t look at Graham; instead, she kept her eyes focused on Melanie as she strutted up the sidewalk and into the shop. A warm rush of cotton candy followed her inside and made Jack’s jaw hurt with the sweetness.
Melanie scanned the display case and counter. Her smile faltered, just a hint of a pout that made her red lips look even fuller. “I’m not too early, am I?”
“No, not at all,” Jack said. “We’ve got it set up in the kitchen. C’mon back.” She led the way and concentrated on the tap, tap, tap of Melanie’s heels on the wood. Her heartbeat pulsed in her throat.
Melanie seemed out of place in a navy suit, diamonds and three-inch heels surrounded by the rumbling machines. Her reflection sparkled off the shiny surfaces and bounced around the room. Her shriek of excitement could’ve been heard three blocks away.
Jack sent a mental apology to her neighbors. She caught the words stunning and overwhelmed before her mind refocused, struggled to make sense of the unintelligible words bubbling from Melanie.
Melanie leaned over the cupcakes, inspecting them one at a time. “I just don’t know how you did it. I mean, even looking at them, I can barely tell where one ends and the next one starts.”
“I’m glad you like them,” Jack managed. Relief washed through her, making her muscles soft and pliable. With one hand on the counter, she kept herself from swaying.
“We had a local artist come up with the final design,” Graham added. He stood opposite Jack, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I know it’s not what you asked for, but—”
“The only ‘but’ I have is that I’m not paying more than what you quoted me just because you commissioned an artist and made something entirely more spectacular than I ever dreamed.”
“We wouldn’t expect you to,” Jack said.
“Fantastic. Do you think I could take them with me?” Her voice was as smooth as vanilla buttercream.
Jack stared at the mass of cupcakes as if she could will them into the box en masse. They didn’t budge. “Give us just a few minutes and we’ll have them boxed up. And I have some pictures I can e-mail you if you need to show the whole collage to anyone.”
“Perfect.” Melanie waited, tapping her heel against the floor.
Attempting to re-create the image in a confined space was harder than Jack expected. The icing from one cupcake clung to the one next to it, pulling the intricate images apart. Bicycle spokes ripped apart, buildings crashed. With the amount of detail her sister had put into the design, she wouldn’t have been surprised if the bikers started spouting blood from their tortured appendages.
“Doing that with your foot there,” Harper said to Melanie as she entered the kitchen, “won’t actually make them go any faster, you know.”
The tapping abated within seconds. “I’m just in a hurry,” Melanie said.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have ordered—”
“Harper!” Jack cut in, her tone sharp and quick like a whip. “You do not want to finish that sentence.”
She had managed to keep her anger in check and not charge up the stairs to strangle her sister as soon as she walked into the shop that morning. As Harper taunted Melanie, she began to rethink her decision. She flexed her hands and wiggled her fingers to keep them from shaking as she transferred the cupcakes from the tray into a teal cake box.
“I’m kinda sure I do. I worked hard on those and now they look like crap all broken up and torn apart. Please tell me you won’t do that to the real ones. ’Cause I won’t allow it.”
“You’re the artist?” Melanie asked. When Harper nodded, she continued, “Oh, you are incredibly talented. I promise I won’t ruin them. I’ll get a flatbed truck or a group of burly men to carry them on a big piece of wood down to the event. Whatever it takes to ensure their safe arrival. They’re too fabulous to risk anything happening to them.”
“Works for me,” she said, appeased, and went back up front.
“Thanks, Jack,” Melanie said and gave her a one-arm hug. “If they go over as well as I think they will, we may just have to make this a Twilight tradition.”
Jack stepped back, hoping Melanie couldn’t feel the anger pulsing off of her. “That would be great,” she said with enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “Graham and I’ll help you carry these out.”
The weight of the cupcakes tested the bottom of the box as she carried it outside. The street smelled vaguely of bleach. Wrinkling her nose, she set it in the back of the SUV parked illegally in front of the shop. When she turned to head back for the next one, she smacked into Graham. He was solid, unmovable.
He reached out to her with one hand while the other held his box steady. He rubbed his thumb along her bicep then shifted, trapping Jack between him and the car. “Take a break, Jack. I’ve got these.”
Her sister walked behind the counter and waved a hand at her to get her moving. After a few seconds, Jack decided outside was safer until Melanie left. She lingered on the sidewalk and watched the frayed edges of the awning over
the door flap and gyrate in the breeze. Long tendrils of thread twisted together into a matted mass.
Melanie was laughing when she followed Graham out with the last box. “Your sister’s a little persnickety, huh?”
Clenching her jaw, Jack said, “A bit.” She kept her tone light, sweet, but the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. She tried to smile when Melanie waved out the driver’s-side window.
Jack waited until the car rounded the corner and disappeared from sight before yanking open the door and nailing Harper to the floor with one hard look. “If you ever talk to one of my customers like that again, I won’t hesitate to toss you out on your ass. Got it?”
“That’s a funny way to say ‘thank you,’” Harper shot back.
She balled her fists, dug her nails into the soft skin of her palms. “I’m serious. The fact that Melanie’s happy just means that you got damn lucky. But we’re not okay, Harper. Not by a long shot.”
Harper moved toward her. The paper on the clipboard rustled with the movement. “Jaclyn, I—”
“I think you’ve done enough for one day.”
***
The shop shivered when Harper stormed out. Though the air was warm by the ovens, the temperature dropped a few degrees when Jack entered the kitchen. Graham waited to see if she was ready to talk to him yet, but when she went to the clipboards and started reviewing orders for the third time that day, he turned back to the batch of icing he’d just mixed and started filling piping bags.
But the frustration of fighting with her grated on him like coarse-grade sandpaper. His good mood flaked off and piled at his feet.
He watched her from across the room, trying to gauge how mad she was. She’d been rubbing her temples on and off all day when she thought he wasn’t looking. “Go home, Jaclyn. I can handle it for the afternoon,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“I know you’re mad at me. But don’t let that keep you from taking care of yourself.” He handed her a bottle of Excedrin he’d fished out of a drawer in the office.
She unscrewed the lid and shook out two pills. She took them without water. “I don’t know whether to yell at you or thank you.”
“For what?”
“You didn’t let me trash the cupcakes and start over.”
“Couldn’t live with myself if I had. They were brilliant.” Her hand twitched. He moved before she could smack him. Her fingers grazed his arm. But she smiled, which was the first he’d seen since that morning. “I’m sorry I didn’t back you up.”
She turned and walked to the office. “Me, too,” she said, her voice soft and sad.
He stared at the door frame, but she didn’t come back out.
***
Graham always said biking was a great way to calm down. Jack decided to see if he was right. She dug the bike he had forced her to buy a few years earlier out of the garage. The tires were soft but would work. She wiped the seat off with the palm of her hand and sneezed at the dust cloud that puffed into the air.
Birds yelled at each other from the branches of the oak trees as she rolled into the street. Their arguing followed her from tree to tree until she turned onto Abbott Lane. Then all she could hear was the soft growl of the bike as she struggled to push the pedals around. Her calves burned with the effort.
Jack tried to clear her mind, but anytime her brain had a second to spare, it circled back to Harper’s gloating smile when Melanie told her she loved the cupcakes.
“Calming my ass,” she said, but she kept moving the sluggish bike forward. She concentrated on the scent of freshly mown grass and the peonies that bloomed in Mrs. Martin’s yard as she passed.
A landscaping crew unloaded a trailer a few houses down. Jerry Jenkins waved to her. He was short and squishy—not fat exactly, but not toned like he’d been in high school when he played football with her brother. His dark hair was smothered by a backward ball cap.
Jack applied the rusty brakes and stuttered to a stop a few feet away from him. She braced her feet on the ground to keep upright.
“Hey, Jerry. How was your anniversary?”
Jerry leaned on the tailgate of the truck. “What’s that?”
“Tabitha came in last week and got a couple peanut butter cupcakes. I thought she said y’all were celebrating your anniversary.”
“I’m allergic to peanut butter.” He shielded his eyes from the sun, which had pushed its way through spotty clouds and peeked over the tops of the houses. “Are you sure it was Tabby?”
Jack stared at the grass stains on his pants. The green and brown splotches clustered at his knees and crawled down his calves. “No,” she lied. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong. I’m probably mixing her up with someone else.”
“You don’t have to do that, Jaclyn. Lie for her, I mean.” His voice was soft, sincere, but the undercurrent of disappointment washed away any pretenses.
“Jerry, I—”
He flipped his hat around so it shielded his eyes and walked away.
“Shit,” she said under her breath. She started pedaling again but looked over her shoulder.
Jerry wielded the trimmer in a lazy back-and-forth sweeping. He’d pulled his sunglasses down so she couldn’t see his eyes.
***
The music was loud enough to make his muscles vibrate. Tapping his foot to the frantic bass line, Graham filled the mini-cupcake tins. The ice cream scoop slopped excess batter on the rim. After wiping it away with his thumb, he downsized to a melon baller. The metallic scraping of the scoop on the edge of the mixing bowl made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
He turned when the back door banged shut.
“She gone?” Harper asked.
“All clear,” he said.
“She didn’t booby-trap my apartment door or anything, did she? ’Cause I wouldn’t put it past her in the mood she’s in.”
He stiffened. “Stop it, Harp. You don’t get to be snarky about Jack. Not after what you did.” His voice was low, gritty.
She shrugged off her hoodie and balled it in her fist. “What the hell, Graham? You said you loved it.”
He continued to drop dollops of batter into pans. “I know I stuck up for you but don’t think that makes it okay. If I could do what you did to those cupcakes, you’d be gone. But since I can’t, and I’m levelheaded enough to see the value you could bring, I’ll keep trying to convince your sister it’s a smart idea to keep you around.”
“Thanks,” she said. She grabbed one of the cupcakes cooling on the rack, ripped a hunk off, and popped it in her mouth. She sighed. “God, you are a genius baker.”
“Harper.” He waited for her to look at him. “You need to make things right with Jack.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“She will. That doesn’t change the fact that she deserves better from you.” He looked up at the light tapping on glass. “Expecting someone?”
“No,” she said, but her eyes had gone wide, nervous. She peered around the doorjamb, laughed, and headed up front.
Graham followed her to find a young guy peering through the front door.
In scraggly jeans and a faded tee, he didn’t look much older than twenty. The guy waved at Harper to unlock the door.
“This one’s got the hots for Jack,” she whispered and let him in. “You’re a little late today, Prince Charming. Your princess has already been rescued.”
He looked around, nodded to Graham, and said, “Huh?”
Graham crossed his arms over his chest. “Jaclyn’s already left for the day.”
“Damn. I was hoping to catch her for dinner. Think you could give me her number?”
His casual, hopeful tone jabbed at Graham. “We can’t give out personal information. Company policy.” He shrugged as if to say he’d help if he could.
“I take it you’re the baker?” The question was a mix of curiosity and defensiveness.
Graham got the feeling he was being sized up. He looked to Harper for some kind of explanation, and g
ot one of her grins in return.
He introduced himself but didn’t offer his hand.
“Pete,” the guy said with a jerk of his head.
The motion was so frat boy that Graham almost laughed. The cocky attitude probably worked on some girls, but Jack was smarter than that. Wasn’t she? The answer came to him in a mental flash of her ex-boyfriends—outgoing, preppy and, yes, cocky. He hadn’t liked any of them, including one who had been one of his closest friends in high school.
This guy’s exactly the type she’d go for. Even if he does look like a teenager.
“You’re probably better trying again tomorrow,” Graham said, deciding he’d work all day if he had to, to see how Jack reacted to Pete.
“Or you could just give me her number.”
Harper put a hand on Graham’s arm. “Okay, boys, no need to get into a pissing match when she’s not even here to see it.”
“Good point,” Pete said. He winked at Harper. Then he handed her a scrap of paper. “Give her my number then?”
“Sure thing.”
Graham watched Pete walk down the street and fade from sight before he relaxed. He could feel Harper watching him. He tried to act normal. When he realized he had retied the strings on his apron three times, he decided she’d know better anyway. He headed back to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
“I guess he’s the one you told me Jack could sense,” he said.
“You have nothing to worry about. She’s not interested in him.” Harper took the tray of batter and placed it in the oven for him. “But now I know how I’m going to get her to forgive me. Though I still think she owes me an apology, too.”
Graham couldn’t look at her. Instead he watched out the pass-through window as a couple strolled along Pearl Street, arms wrapped around each other, comfortable and content. The guy kissed the girl mid-sentence, as if it would’ve been too hard to wait until she was done.
Love and Cupcakes Page 13
