“Oh, no!” Rachel exclaimed. “Catch him!”
“The rat?” Kim asked, confused.
“Guy!”
Andi caught him on one side, Rachel on the other, and Kim tried to support him from behind.
“He’s fainted,” Andi said, her voice strained. “Put him down.”
They let his limp body sag to the floor, and the rat ran right past him. Good thing he wasn’t awake to see it.
Goosebumps rose on Rachel’s arms and prickled her skin. She didn’t like rats either.
Jake ran forward with an empty garbage can and threw it over the rat, but the rodent kept racing across the room, pulling the can with it.
The crowd shrieked even more, and everyone tried to run out the front door in a mass panic. An old man fell to the ground and would have been trampled, but Mike pulled him to his feet just in time.
Rachel let out a sigh of relief. The man reminded her of Grandpa Lewy.
A siren grew louder as it approached, and she turned her head toward the window. “Did someone call the cops?”
Officer Ian Lockwell and his partner stepped inside. Mike must have slipped out while she and the others were giving their statements because Rachel didn’t see him the rest of the night. Caleb slipped out, too, before she could stop him from uploading the video to YouTube.
And to add a final poke to the party, someone had stolen the golden cupcake trophy.
Chapter Nine
* * *
When stressed, women eat ice cream, chocolate, and sweets because stressed spelled backwards is desserts!
—Author unknown
RACHEL WOKE THE next morning after a restless sleep and sat at the kitchen table with Grandpa Lewy. Neither of them talked. Her gaze drifted to his. Was it possible he was feeling as down and depressed as she?
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the black-and-white photograph Bernice had given her and slid it in front of him. Her grandfather didn’t look at it, didn’t move. He just continued to stare into space.
Her mother, however, glanced over his shoulder as she brought the coffee mugs to the table.
“Who’s that?” her mother asked, squinting at the photo.
“Grandpa Lewy and his long-lost love, Bernice Richards,” Rachel told her. “They met right after high school before Grandpa went to college. Last month I met Bernice on the bus coming home from the festival, and now she’s a regular at the cupcake shop.”
“Bernice Richards,” her mother repeated, sitting down at the table with them. “I know that name. Your grandpa used to talk about her all the time after your father’s mom died. He said it was misfortune that separated them. He loved your grandmother, but he always referred to Bernice as ‘the one who got away.’”
Rachel thought of Mike and his pale, troubled expression the night before. She didn’t want him to be “the one who got away” in her life.
“She had red hair.”
Rachel jumped back in her seat with a start. She glanced at her mother, who had spilled her coffee, and then at her grandfather.
He was looking at the photo.
“Yes, Grandpa,” Rachel prompted. “She used to have red hair like us.”
“I was trying to remember her name,” her grandfather said, his voice soft. “I kept seeing her face but couldn’t remember her name.”
“She remembers you,” she told him.
“Bernice looked a lot like you, Rachel. Young. Smiling.” Grandpa Lewy smiled, and suddenly his memories sprang forth like a rushing river. He told them every explicit detail of the day he and Bernice had met, the courtship that followed, the loneliness after his father separated them.
“She really loved me,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Rachel and I love you, too, Dad,” her mother added.
He responded by telling more stories, stories of when Rachel’s father met her mother and some of when Rachel was little. There was no telling how long his clarity would last, but for the moment, it was enough.
When Rachel looked across the table, she saw that her mother was crying. “Mom, are you okay?”
Her mother nodded. “It’s a miracle.”
“Miracles can happen.”
Pushing back her chair, her mother stood up, came around the table, and hugged each of them. “Rachel, let’s make a date to go out to lunch.”
Rachel gave her a half smile and shrugged. Her mom meant well, but . . .
“I bought theater tickets,” her mother continued, and going to the kitchen drawer, she pulled them out and waved them in the air as proof. “We can go to lunch before we watch the show.”
Rachel stared at the tickets dated for the following week. “Where did you get the money?”
Her mother hesitated as she laid a hand on Grandpa Lewy’s broad shoulder. “We don’t have enough money for Grandpa’s treatment. Not nearly enough. There’s nothing I can do about that. But I can do something for someone else I love, someone I’ve been neglecting.”
Rachel swallowed hard. “I forgive you.”
“I know you do,” her mother assured her. “But your grandpa has taught me that recognizing and loving each other is more important than working overtime. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
“You’ll never lose me,” Rachel promised, and as they hugged, Rachel thought of Mike. And Andi. Kim. Their cupcake shop.
She didn’t want to lose any of them, but after her disaster of a party the night before—uploaded to YouTube for all the world to see—she doubted any of them would want anything to do with her for a long time. Maybe not ever.
Was it too much to ask for two miracles in one day?
RACHEL ARRIVED AT Creative Cupcakes determined to talk to them, but Mike didn’t show up, and Andi and Kim avoided her the entire morning—except to make a few notable entries in the Cupcake Diary.
One note written in Andi’s small typewriter print read, “YouTube sensation, 10,000 viewers. Promotion guru throws heck of a party as rat is released.”
The word “rat” was crossed out with a giant X, and Rachel’s name had been written above it in Kim’s swirly handwriting with its cursive embellishments.
Andi and Kim both stayed in the kitchen and left Rachel to man the front counter. She hadn’t realized what day it was until the Saturday Night Cupcake Club filed through to the back party room. Except it was only midafternoon. What were they doing here so early? Oops. She’d missed it. A note in the Cupcake Diary stated they were coming in at three o’clock because it was Memorial Day weekend, and the holiday made them extra sad.
Great. The last thing she needed was to have to listen to another sob story. Loading a tray of Hidden Berry cupcakes onto a tray, she made her way toward them.
They were talking about loneliness. Rachel thought of Bernice and her grandfather, which led her to think of Mike and the beach. Would she spend the rest of her life stuck in the same lonely spot like the Peter Iredale shipwreck? The ship’s captain had toasted his ship with these words: “May God bless you, and may your bones bleach in the sands.”
She didn’t want her bones to bleach in the sands. She wanted a life filled with possibilities, a life filled with love. Placing the tray down on a nearby table, she dropped into a chair.
“Rachel, what’s wrong?” Bernice asked, hurrying to her side.
The other women gathered around, too.
Tears stung her eyes, and whether she liked it or not, she began to cry. “I’ve dated a string of men, one after the other, never going on more than two dates with any of them. I’ve been afraid to let anyone get too close, afraid they will see who I really am and not like me, not think I’m good enough. But I feel so alone, and I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“You aren’t alone, Rachel,” one of the other women told her and put her arms around her shoulder to give her a hug. “We are here for you.”
The others all nodded their heads and chorused their agreement.
“The worst of it,” Rachel said, wiping her cheek with a tissue o
ne of the women offered, “is that I fell in love with one of them. Mike Palmer. He’s fun, talented, caring, and insightful. I’ve never felt this close or this vulnerable to anyone before. He sees into me, sees things I can’t even see. Except I messed up last night, and I think he saw something he didn’t like.” Her throat constricted. “I know I did.”
“We all have regrets,” Bernice said, patting her arm.
“My grandpa Lewy hasn’t recognized anyone for two months,” Rachel told her. “We can’t afford the treatment he needs, but this morning he saw your photo and remembered you. He remembered everything about you, remembered you loved him. That’s the kind of love I’m afraid I’ll never have.”
The corners of the old woman’s eyes grew moist, and another woman said, “We all share the same fear, Rachel.”
“I’ve been hiding my fear behind an invisible mask of endless parties and fake smiles.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to wear a mask anymore, but I think it’s too late. I think I lost him. Lost Mike. And lost Andi and Kim, my two best friends in the whole wide world.”
“No, you haven’t.” It was Andi’s voice.
Rachel looked past the crowd and saw her friends standing behind them. The other women let them through, and Andi and Kim drew in close to wrap their arms around her, too.
“You’re still my best friend,” Andi told her.
“And mine,” Kim added.
Jake appeared in the doorway, gave everyone a big grin, and held up the cupcake trophy. “Look what Officer Lockwell found in Hollande’s French Pastry Parlor.”
“Gaston took it?” Rachel asked.
“He also released the rat,” Andi informed her. “Your YouTube clip caught him standing by the shop’s side door and releasing the thing from a cage. As a result, everyone we’ve talked to in Astoria plans to boycott his bakery.”
Kim smiled and quoted their motto borrowed from The Three Musketeers, “‘All for one, one for all.’”
“I’m glad we don’t have to worry about any more thieves,” Rachel said and frowned. Didn’t she set a plate of Hidden Berry cupcakes on the back table? Her gaze swung from the empty space to the outward swing of the front door, then back to the group.
“Nothing is going to tear us apart,” Andi vowed, her voice firm. “Or you and Mike. You need to go after him and tell him how you feel.”
Kim nodded. “I saw him down by the waterfront. If we move fast—”
“Wait,” Bernice said and placed a handwritten check in Rachel’s hand. “Take this for your grandpa’s treatment.”
Rachel gasped. “It’s too much—”
Bernice shushed her. “I’m old and rich. Very rich. Now, go. And don’t let anything stand in the way of true love.”
“I won’t,” Rachel promised. And with the other women’s promise to watch over the cupcake counter, and Andi and Kim by her side, she rushed out of the shop.
Chapter Ten
* * *
To love a person is to learn the song that is in their heart, and to sing it to them when they have forgotten.
—Arne Garborg
OUT OF BREATH, Rachel reached the waterfront walk. “I don’t see him, do you?”
Andi shook her head. “No.”
“He can’t be far,” Kim encouraged.
The sky was dark and churning and held the threat of a storm moving in. The wind whipped their hair back, and a foghorn blew somewhere in the distance. Then, appearing out of the gray landscape, the pale yellow-green-and-maroon restored 1913 Astoria Riverfront Trolley jingled as it came up the track and stopped in front of them.
“If we board the trolley, we can look for him along the whole two-and-a-half mile stretch,” Andi suggested.
“Do you have a dollar for the fare?” Kim asked.
Andi looked in her purse. “I’m broke.”
Kim’s pockets came up empty. “So am I.”
“I have some singles,” Rachel offered, but when she opened her purse, all of the contents fell out on the ground.
Andi and Kim bent to help her scoop up her large array of lipstick, mascara, apple-blossom perfume, nail polish, hairbrush, keys, mints, and other miscellaneous items.
“We have to leave,” the white-bearded conductor told them. “It’s a holiday weekend, and we’re on a tight schedule. You can catch the trolley on our next trip back.”
“No, please wait.” Rachel held up three singles. “I’ve got it.”
Andi and Rachel took seats on one side, while Kim dropped onto a deep-polished wooden bench opposite them so they wouldn’t miss Mike if he was on either side of the tracks.
The bell sounded, and as the trolley moved forward, the conductor began to recite its history. Rachel scanned the dozens of people they passed, but Mike was nowhere in sight.
“Up ahead the trolley goes over a stretch of water,” the conductor continued. “We haven’t had an accident yet, but be advised the person sitting next to you is your nearest floatation device.”
Rachel prayed the trolley wouldn’t fall into the water this time either, but with her luck, she wasn’t too sure. A few minutes later the trolley returned to dry land and stopped for a long line of people waiting to board. Not willing to waste any more time, she got up out of her seat.
“What are you doing?” Andi called, jumping up to follow.
“I can’t wait,” Rachel said. “I might miss him. I’ll go the last stretch on foot.”
As they hurried down the waterfront path, she feared she’d missed him anyway. They were almost to the end. The trolley was catching up to them, and Rachel moved into one of the three-by-six-foot railed, wooden deck cut-outs to get off the tracks. Andi and Kim followed, and the trolley passed by and stopped a few yards ahead.
Rachel looked out over the wide mouth of the Columbia River, toward the red and green lights set to guide the ocean-bound ships in the right direction, and wished she had such a beacon.
She shook her head. “I’ve lost him.”
A card swirled into the air in front of her, and she reached out and grabbed it. A Creative Cupcakes business card?
She spun around, and Mike, dressed in a suit and tie, stood in front of her, his dark hair ruffled and a bright smile lighting his handsome face. Rachel drew in her breath. He didn’t seem to be unhappy with her at all. In fact, he seemed mischievously pleased, like he knew a secret she didn’t.
Andi and Kim also wore huge smiles on their faces as if they also knew something. What were they keeping from her?
“I was online less than an hour ago, replying to a job inquiry when I saw you,” Mike said, his voice calm.
“Me?” Rachel asked. “From the video clip filmed last night?”
“No,” he said with a grin. “From the video clip filmed today.”
“Today? What do you mean today?”
“When you stood up and poured your heart out in the Creative Cupcakes party room, you were being filmed,” Mike told her.
Andi nodded. “Caleb set the camera on a timer to film the same hour every afternoon and evening,” she explained. “After the chaos at the party, he didn’t turn it off, and someone must have knocked the lens because today it zoomed in on the party room. Caleb came in the shop, thought it was a leftover clip from the party, and had it uploaded within seconds.”
Rachel’s stomach locked down tight. “And you . . . all saw me . . . and how many others?”
Mike laughed. “The whole world.”
“It’s gone viral!” Andi exclaimed and held up her smartphone to show her the images. “You’ve already got 20,000 views on YouTube.”
“You were an instant sensation,” Kim added. “All of a sudden the phone started ringing with calls from women asking to be part of the cupcake club.”
Rachel frowned. “Why?”
“Because you were honest and connected with women on a personal level,” Andi told her and nodded to her phone. “Orders for cupcakes are pouring in. Three weddings, two birthday parties, and a booking for the Scand
inavian Festival next month. There won’t be any problem paying our rent on time.”
“What I said was personal,” Rachel said, trembling from the thought of being utterly exposed.
“Did you mean it?” Mike asked, turning her to face him. “What you said about never wanting to wear a mask again?”
“From now on, you will only see the real Rachel,” she assured him. “I’m through with masks.”
“So am I,” Mike told her. “Right before you arrived, I met with the director of the new movie set to film in Astoria next month. He hired me to build a model of the Peter Iredale. I told him I knew a beautiful redhead who might like to play the part of one of the stowaways living an enchanted life at sea.”
“I’m already living an enchanted life here in Astoria,” she told him, “with you.”
Mike dropped down on one knee. “Rachel Marie Donovan, I knew how uncomfortable you were at the party and only backed off to give you space. You never ‘lost’ me. I love you and promise to always love you.” He paused, then grinned. “Will you marry me?”
Rachel gasped. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andi and Kim clutch each other’s arms and heard them gasp, too.
“You’ll love me even when I’m not ‘stupendous’?” she asked, giving him a big teasing smile.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes still locked on hers. “Will you love me even if I’m not always ‘magnificent’?”
“Yes, Mike, I will!” Throwing her arms around his neck, she found she was laughing, crying, and deliriously happy all at the same time.
Mike stood up and lifted her off her feet. As he swung her around, a cheer rose into the air. Rachel looked toward the tracks and realized it came from the people on the trolley.
Mike also saw them watching and grinned again. Then he bent her backward and swept her up into a kiss so sweet, so tender, so magnificent, she lost all sense of her surroundings.
For at least two minutes. Until Mike pulled his mouth away to place a light kiss on the tip of her nose.
Recipe for Love Page 8
