“The door is as red as Rachel’s hair,” Kim teased.
Rachel pursed her lips. “We can repaint the door.”
“I kind of like it,” Andi said and pointed to the sign above the shop. “Zeke’s Tavern?”
Kim shrugged. “This place was a popular hangout for bikers, but the shopkeeper broke one too many laws and fled.”
“I can already see our Creative Cupcakes sign up there,” Rachel sang dreamily, her head tilted back, “and the display windows filled with tiers upon tiers of cupcakes in assorted flavors and colors.”
“Wait until you see the inside,” Kim said, her face aglow. “There’s already a kitchen and a big marble customer counter, tables, and chairs. The previous tenant left a lot of equipment behind that the building owner said we could use.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you about this when Kim called me away from lunch,” Rachel whispered against Andi’s ear. “I thought you’d like the chance to stay and get to know Jake. Am I right?”
Jake had driven her to the shop in his shiny blue convertible Mazda Miata and stood inside the doorway, talking with the owner of the building about the lease.
“I forgive you,” Andi told Rachel with a smile, “but no more secrets.” Next she turned toward her sister. “Kim, how did you find this place?”
“The tattoo guy I met at the bank said he had a shop on Marine Drive. I tried to find it to see more of his designs but found this place instead. The owner of the building was cleaning out the inside for a new tenant, and I asked him about renting the space to us. Come take a look.”
Kim led the way, swinging her slender arms with a flourish while pointing to all the interior walls. “My paintings can decorate the shop and be available for purchase at the same time. It really will be like having my own art gallery.”
Andi had never seen her quiet, aloof sister so animated.
She had to admit the excitement was contagious. Her heart skipped a beat the moment she stepped into the spacious adjoining kitchen and opened all the cupboards and drawers. Her resolve to make Creative Cupcakes a success grew stronger with every passing moment, and her hope for the future soared.
Once the beer advertisements were taken down and the shop was cleaned up and painted, it would be perfect. They could redecorate with sheer pink curtains, install glass display cases, and line the whole back countertop with cupcake boxes.
A wide door toward the back of the room piqued her interest, and she flung it open. “What’s this?”
Her loud audible gasp brought Rachel, Kim, Jake, and the building owner to her side.
Kim’s mouth popped open. “It’s the tattoo parlor!”
Andi stared at the tattoo patterns pasted to the walls, the dentist-style chairs, and the tattoo guns, needles, and colorful tubes of ink next to the jar of Vaseline on the back table.
“He’s on vacation this week,” the building owner told them.
“His door connects to this shop?” Jake asked with a look of concern.
The building owner nodded, and Andi glanced at the others’ faces. Each of them displayed different shades of unspoken doubt.
“No wonder I couldn’t find the shop earlier,” Kim said, her eyes growing wide. “I didn’t think to look behind the building.”
“Cupcakes and tattoos do not mix!” Andi exclaimed, imagining her father’s reaction if he found out.
Rachel patted her arm and stuck her head farther into the dim back room. “It isn’t as bad as you think. The tattoo shop has its own side door.”
“His customers can also come through our section in the front,” Andi said apprehensively, “and scare everyone away.”
“A tattoo shop wouldn’t scare me away,” Rachel argued. “What do you have against tattoos?”
“Tattoo parlors are not kid friendly and family oriented. Do you think I want Mia hanging out with a bunch of black-leather, bald-headed bikers with inked-up skin?”
“Not everyone with a tattoo wears black leather,” Rachel teased. “I bet in a month’s time little Mia and the tattoo artist will become great friends.”
“He’s an artist, I’m an artist, and baking is an art form, too,” Kim added. “As fellow artists, I think we should stick together and find a way to work this out.”
“Jake?” Andi asked. “What do you think?”
“Every business venture includes a certain amount of risk,” he said, looking her in the eye. “But the front of the building is the ideal space for a cupcake shop, and you can’t beat the location.”
Andi looked out the large front windows to the tall steel girder trusses of Astoria’s biggest attraction, the Astoria−Megler Bridge, the longest continuous truss bridge in North America. Below, the glistening water of the Columbia River beckoned and would offer an amazing view to their customers, especially if they were tourists.
She glanced at Rachel and Kim, and they both nodded.
“Okay,” Andi said, replacing her reservations with a rueful grin. “Let’s talk business.”
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, after going over the fine details with Jake and the building owner, Andi added her signature below everyone else’s on the lease agreement. She couldn’t be certain which excited her more: opening her own cupcake shop or the fact she’d see their new partner, Jake, on a daily basis.
While Rachel and Kim checked out more of the kitchen, Andi swooped around the large front marble counter. “Can I take your order, please?”
Jake took a stool on the opposite side reserved for customers. “I’ll take a hot fudge sundae cupcake with spicy dark chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. My new girlfriend loves chocolate.”
“Girlfriend?” Andi arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
“Well, she hasn’t given me her phone number yet,” Jake said, a glint in his eye, “but I’m hoping she will, once she figures out if we should date or not.”
Andi smiled and averted her gaze. “My phone number is on your copy of the business papers we signed.”
“I know, but it’s not the same. If you give it to me, I’ll know it’s okay to call to ask you out.”
“You can call,” she said, her voice wavering, “but . . . let’s see how we all work together first.”
Jake studied her a moment, and a solemn expression crossed over his face. “Does the word ‘date’ scare you, Andi?”
“It does.” Heat rose into her cheeks, and she gave a little high-pitched laugh. “I haven’t ‘dated’ since my divorce.”
Jake circled around the marble counter to stand by her side. “How about we meet here Saturday night, say it’s a business meeting, and order pizza?”
Andi looked up into his warm eyes, and her heart leaped in her chest. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Jake said and grinned.
“Yes. Oh, Jake, can you believe it? Our very own cupcake shop!” Andi spread her arms wide and twirled around.
Jake caught her hand in his and gave her a couple of extra twirls. “With a kitchen big enough to dance in.”
“Thank you for helping us,” Andi said, coming to a stop in his arms and resting her hands on his chest. “I won’t let you down. I plan to make this shop a huge success.”
“Don’t you mean ‘we’?”
“Of course. We will make the shop a success.” With her spirits soaring higher than they had in days, Andi tore a slip of paper from the Cupcake Diary, wrote down her phone number, and pressed it into his hand. “See you Saturday, Jake.”
ANDI, RACHEL, AND Kim worked long hours over the next seven days to clean, paint, decorate, and prepare Creative Cupcakes for customers. Lucky for them the shop had come with much of the furnishings, and Andi had already spent years perfecting baking methods and testing recipes. Jake purchased an industrial mixer and glass display case from a restaurant supplier, Rachel discovered the perfect website from which to order pink personalized cupcake boxes, and Kim practiced her artistic skills with frosting.
Mia helped in the mornings, as much a
s a five-year-old could, then Andi would put her on the bus for afternoon kindergarten and work some more before the bus dropped her daughter back off again. Heather took Mia home early and helped put her to bed. But Andi stayed into the evening, when Jake would arrive and do what he could to lend a hand.
This week Mia had off from school for spring break and sat quietly at one of the shop’s round white dining tables coloring with crayons in one of her Disney cartoon books.
“This was Mom’s recipe,” Andi said, showing Rachel and Kim how to mix the ingredients for lemon-coconut cupcakes. “Do you think our shop menu should start with twelve different flavors?”
Kim added the last cup of sugar to the bowl. “No more than that or we’ll get overwhelmed.”
“How early do you think we’ll have to get up in the morning to start baking every day?” Rachel asked, leaning against the counter full of flour, sugar, eggs, butter, brown sugar, coconut, and vanilla.
Andi laughed. “Earlier than you’re used to.”
She turned on the electric mixer, and the buzz of the swirling beaters deafened their ears for several long minutes. Then Andi shut off the machine and filled the individual cups of the baking tray with the yellow batter. She’d insisted on buying the thicker cupcake wrappers, even though they cost more, to keep the edges of the cupcakes straight and sturdy. Seemed like a good choice.
“What I want to know,” Rachel said, her full red lips curving up into a devious smile, “is if it was a business meeting, then why weren’t Kim and I invited?”
Andi flushed, thinking of her night at the cupcake shop with Jake. They’d talked and talked, ordered pizza, baked a batch of cupcakes, and talked a whole lot more. She evaded her friend’s question and instead replied, “Jake found a supplier who sells second-hand baking equipment for half price. Isn’t that nice?”
“The tattoo artist is nice,” Kim said, gathering some of the used bowls, measuring cups, and spoons and depositing them into the sink. “His name is Guy.”
Rachel laughed. “A nice Guy?”
The back door connecting the cupcake shop with the tattoo parlor burst open, and a large dark-haired man, wearing a ripped denim vest and a wild look in his eye, ran into the room. Two uniformed cops chased behind him, the larger one knocking the man to the floor face down, and locking metal cuffs on him behind his back.
Mia screamed, and Andi flew to her daughter and swept her up in her arms.
“You didn’t even let Guy finish,” the arrested man complained, as the two police officers pulled him from the floor to his feet.
The officer who’d knocked him down said, “Tough.”
Rachel gasped. “You’re the same cop who wrote me the parking ticket!”
The big square-jawed cop with short sandy hair who reminded Andi of a Rock ’em Sock ’em Robot glanced toward her friend and nodded. “Good to see you.”
Rachel frowned. “Wish I could say the same.”
After the two officers escorted the man from the building, Andi released her daughter and opened the Cupcake Diary on the counter of their new cupcake shop. Clenching her teeth, her shaky fingers picked up a pen and wrote:
Never rush into a commitment.
“Andi, don’t say it,” Kim warned, holding up her hand. “I admit maybe we should have taken more time to think about the decision to open our shop next to the tattoo parlor.”
“Too late now,” Rachel said, wincing. “We already signed the lease.”
Andi groaned. “This is a disaster!”
“There’s more bad news.” Rachel held up her cell phone to show them her latest phone message. “The health inspector can’t come and approve the kitchen until the end of the month.”
Andi’s thoughts shot to her Victorian cottage on the hill. “That means we won’t be open in time to make a profit to help me pay my rent.”
“I can help.”
Andi turned around to find the white-ponytailed tattoo artist, inked with designs from the neck down, standing behind her, and she jumped with a start. “I didn’t see you.”
He grinned and revealed a gaping hole where his left canine tooth was missing. “Sorry. They say I move quiet as a ghost through walls.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” she asked.
“No, maybe not. But if I get the health department to move up your inspection date, would you accept that as an apology for my customer and his uniformed friends’ intrusion?”
Andi didn’t know what to say, but Rachel and Kim agreed, and Guy went off to make the call.
“Maybe one of the health inspectors is a client of his,” Kim whispered. “Maybe he’s calling in a favor.”
“Someone he knows well enough to bribe?” Rachel added. “Someone with a dirty little secret to hide?”
Andi exchanged a dire look with her now wide-eyed friend and then her pale-faced sister. “Maybe we don’t want to know.”
Guy walked back toward them and handed the phone to Andi. “It’s all set for noon tomorrow. She wants to talk to you to confirm.”
“Who?”
“My cousin,” he said, waving to Mia, who peeked at him timidly from around the end of the counter. “She’s one of the local health inspectors and a struggling mom trying to make ends meet. Just like you. She agreed to come on her lunch hour if we provide the lunch.”
Andi tried not to let her mouth fall open. “She—your cousin—she did?”
“Thank you, Guy,” Kim said, shaking his hand. “We are all so glad we’re going to be your next-door neighbors, aren’t we, girls?”
Rachel nodded, and Andi had to agree. “Glad to have you with us, Guy.”
Chapter Six
* * *
Recipe for Success: let your dream rise above your fear of failure.
—Jake Hartman, cupcake critic
ANDI’S MOVEMENTS CONTAINED a little sway as she push-pinned the Creative Cupcakes business license to the front wall of the shop. True to his word, Guy’s cousin had moved up their health department inspection and given the shop county approval to open for business.
Next, Andi turned to the page in the Cupcake Diary where she’d pasted a recipe for strawberry milkshake cupcakes and found a handwritten note from Rachel.
I changed the oven temperature to 350° on the last batch. See if you notice a difference.
P.S. Jake wanted to know your favorite color, and I said yellow. Was I right? I bet you get a bouquet of yellow roses. Or tulips. Tulips are in season for Easter. So are daffodils. What a guy! Can you ask him if he has any good-looking single friends?
Andi smiled, picked up a pen, and wrote: Will do. Then she placed the diary back under the counter for Rachel to read later.
She glanced about the room to see if everything was in place for their first day. Mia had been picked up earlier to play at a friend’s house. Kim was using her artistry to create flower petals out of a batch of purple and pink frosting. Rachel was on her laptop at one of the round white tables sending announcements to every social media site, loop, and group that Creative Cupcakes was now open for business. Or would be—in about five more minutes. And Jake was assisting his tech friend, Caleb, whom he’d recruited from a local media crew, to install their new security camera.
After the arrest of Guy’s customer the week before, Andi wasn’t taking any chances on Mia’s safety. She’d insisted acquisition of a camera become number one on their to-do list. Caleb stood on a ladder and set the security camera on the plant shelf in the far corner so it could film the interior of the shop and face the front door.
“Ready for our first customer?” Jake asked, turning the OPEN sign around on the front window to face the street.
“Ready!” Andi, Rachel, and Kim answered in unison.
Ten minutes later a short, middle-aged man walked in and bought four of their Key lime cupcakes frosted with fresh whipped cream and topped with graham cracker crumbs and lime rind strips.
Rachel gave him a big smile and almost bounced up and down wh
ile placing his order into the pink cardboard cupcake box. Kim handed him extra napkins and a coupon to come back. Andi took his money and placed it in the cash register, which opened with a high-pitched ker-ching. The sweet sound of success.
Jake drew near as the man went back out the door. “Very good, ladies, but next time you might not want to hover. I think you made him nervous.”
Rachel went back to her laptop and asked, “Andi, can you come take a look at the new website before I upload?”
Andi started to make her way over when a sudden rise in voices erupted from outside.
She glanced past their new OPEN sign on the window to the crowd of women forming on the sidewalk. One of the women carried a metal garbage can. Another held the can’s lid and struck it with a long wooden spoon.
The clamor brought everyone inside the cupcake shop to the front window, including Guy, who came in from the tattoo parlor.
Rachel frowned. “What’s with all the signs?”
“Protesters,” Kim warned, “and they don’t look friendly.”
“What could they be protesting?” Andi read one of the signs and gasped. “Cupcakes?”
Guy let out a chuckle. “They never protested tattoos or Zeke’s old bar, but cupcakes? Looks like they’re against devil’s food.”
The protesters consisted of four women, all wearing the same colorful outfits: black tank tops and teal rip-stop nylon pants, complete with bright red, yellow, and blue mesh tassels attached to each side and hanging off each back pocket.
“What the heck are the tassels for?” Andi muttered.
Rachel smirked. “To twirl around when they shake their booty.”
The woman with short black hair seemed to be in charge, the other three her groupies. She wore a short top and low-cut pants, leaving her tight midriff exposed. Andi had to admit the woman was a poster child for fitness even though her facial lines were those of a forty-year-old. She blocked the short little man who had been in the cupcake shop minutes before and pointed to the garbage can.
“Drop the cupcakes and drop the sugar in your diet,” the lead woman commanded, her raised voice distinct through the large glass window.
The Cupcake Diaries: Sweet On You Page 4
