Sugar Rush

by Donna Kauffman

  “It’s okay, Dre. Hang around, you’ll get an introduction.”

  Dre nodded and tried hard not to look as if she’d just won the lottery and double the presents on Christmas morning combined, but Lani couldn’t recall her assistant ever looking quite so ... twinkly. Or anything resembling twinkly. Lani should be amused. After all, Baxter could elicit the twinkly from the most hardened of hearts. Why it irked her, she had no idea. Other than wanting to explain to Dre that her twinkle-inducing Chef Hot Cakes was about to turn their lives into a three ring circus. “I’m becoming a crank. And it’s all his fault.”

  “I beg your pardon?” her dad asked.

  “What? Oh, nothing. I don’t know when he’ll show up. Mostly because I don’t know anything about the schedule. He hasn’t bothered to share that with me.”

  Her father frowned and Lani immediately saw the stubborn glint in his eyes and could have kicked herself. She knew better than to speak her mind around her father, especially where Baxter was concerned.

  “You want me to hold up the permits? Give you time to make all this go away? For that matter, you want me to make this all go away, because—”

  “Dad, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I already agreed to all this and everyone on Sugarberry is excited. I’m just a little annoyed, that’s all.” She gave him a look. “No needless delays, okay? The sooner we start shooting, the faster we can be done.”

  “How long is this going to last?”

  “I really don’t know. We haven’t discussed—” She broke off when the back door opened yet again ... and Alva strolled in, all smiles.

  Lani took a deep breath, trying to quash the latest little adrenaline spike, which occurred each time the back door opened.

  “Look at all my lovely little cakes.” Alva beamed at the glossy rows of upside-down cupcakes. She glanced at Lani with a twinkle of her own, but it was of a decidedly different nature. She clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I’m feeling luckier by the moment.”

  “I’ll have the rest of these boxed up in just a few minutes,” Dre told her.

  “Not to worry. I’m early. I’ll help!”

  Before Lani could intercede, Alva had spryly all but skipped over to the apron rack, whisked on her Little Pony getup, and was back by Dre’s side in a flash.

  Lani just shook her head. “What have I done?”

  “Beg pardon?” her dad asked again.

  Lani looked away from the visually jarring Dre-Alva duo to her father. “Maybe you should go talk to Bernard over there. I think he’s in charge of lighting and equipment and whatever other setup is going to happen in here. He might be able to answer some of the questions you have about the permits.”

  Her dad nodded, then glanced over at the two women currently boxing up molten cakes and once again shook his head slightly. He strolled over to where Bernard was taking some kind of test reading of ... something.

  Lani started to follow him, wanting to find out just how much equipment they were moving into her kitchen, thinking it was already feeling more than a little crowded, when the back door opened yet again.

  And, in walked ... “Charlotte?”

  “Surprise!” She waved and stepped fully inside.

  “What?” Lani scurried around the tables and met an also scurrying Charlotte in the middle of the crowded kitchen, each catching the other in a tight hug, that might also have included a little simultaneous jumping up and down. “How?” Lani asked, still thinking she had to be seeing things.

  “Well, you did invite me. Multiple times.”

  “I know, but how did you manage to get away? Your schedule was—”

  “Kitchen fire.”

  Lani leaned back and held Charlotte by the arms. “Oh no! Is everyone okay?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Happened when we were closed, thank goodness. Everyone is fine, but it will be at least two weeks before we’re back up to speed, maybe longer if the health department doesn’t clear us.”

  Lani glanced past Charlotte to the still open back door. “Did Franco—?”

  “No. You know him, always has his hands in ten different projects in twice as many kitchens. He doesn’t leave the city.”

  “Neither do you,” Lani said with a laugh.

  “You need me. I’m here.” Charlotte looked around at the handful of others standing around them. “Although, you suddenly seem to have a lot of people.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing. But you’re the best addition ever. Come on, I want to introduce you.” Lani slid her arm through Charlotte’s and squeezed it, still processing the fact that her closest friend and ally was really and truly there. “Are you staying the whole two weeks? Because you’ve got a room at my place, though I’m afraid you’re on your own for board. I never seem to get to the grocery. Of course, if you’re up for a bitch-and-bake night, then we can live on flour and buttercream.”

  “We’ve made that work before.” Charlotte made a cursory nod toward the others, who were openly watching them. Except for Bernard, who was busy doing ... Bernard things. She lowered her voice and tilted her head toward Lani’s. “But I’m thinking you might be a bit busy for Bake Night.”

  “We’re never too busy for Bake Night.”

  Charlotte smiled. “This is true.”

  “In fact, I have a feeling I’ll be needing a heavy therapy schedule.”

  She sketched a short bow. “I’m here to serve. And bake.”

  Lani squeezed her arm again. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

  “Neither can I.” Char then turned her attention to everyone else and smiled, a bit like one would at the locals while still trying to decipher whether they were friendlies or not. “Hello. I’m Charlotte Bhandari. I went to culinary school with Leilani.”

  Lani finally snapped out of glee mode and stepped into the middle of everyone. “Charlotte is one of the premiere pastry chefs in New York City. She’s executive pastry chef for the Mondrake. Charlotte, this is Dre, my new assistant. And Alva—”

  “Her senior assistant,” Alva said, with a kindly smile, but a gleaming twinkle that Lani noted she should probably pay attention to more often.

  “And you’ve met my dad,” Lani added, as her father left Bernard doing his thing and came over to where they all stood.

  “It’s good to see you again, Charlotte. It’s been far too long.”

  It had been since Lani’s mother’s funeral, to be exact, but of course, neither of them mentioned that.

  “Agreed,” she said. “Lani tells me you’re doing well. I’m very happy to hear that, Mr. Trusdale. Excuse me, Sheriff Trusdale.”

  “Leyland is fine.”

  “Only if I want my mother giving me the evil eye,” Charlotte replied, with a smile. “And trust me, none of us want that.”

  Lani’s father smiled and nodded. “So noted.” He turned to his daughter. “You have your hands full here, and I think I have the preliminaries of what I needed from Bernie there, so I’ll be heading out. Tell Mr. Dunne I’ll need to speak to him or Rosemary at some point.”

  Lani frowned. “Rosemary?”

  “His producer,” Charlotte and Lani’s father answered at the same time.

  “I spoke with her earlier,” he said.

  “I only know because one of my co-workers is dating her assistant.” Brenton Charlotte mouthed in an aside to Lani.

  “Right.” Lani smiled brightly at her father and spoke before any follow-up questions could be asked. “Okay, so no worries. I’ll pass the word.”

  “Pleasure to see you again, Sheriff,” Charlotte said, neatly ending any further discussion and earning an arm squeeze of thanks from Lani.

  He nodded, but didn’t waste time exiting the room. “I’ll lock up the front again, no need to follow me out,” he called as the kitchen door swung shut behind him.

  “Is Brenton here?” Lani asked Charlotte.

  She shook her head. “Franco would have packed himself in my luggage to get down here if t
hat were the case.”

  “Oh, sure, sure. He’d leave New York for a man, but not for me.”

  “Duh.” Which, from Charlotte, had them both laughing. “Brenton is on postproduction of the season starting to air this week, so he’s still in the city. Franco promised to give us an immediate heads-up if he hears anything we should know.”

  “We’re all done here,” Dre said, pulling Lani’s attention back to the more immediate project of the moment.

  She turned to find that Alva and Dre were sealing up the final box of molten cakes.

  Charlotte stepped over to the table and examined them more closely, but without picking one up. “They look sinful.” She glanced at Lani. “Will you share?”

  “Do you play poker?” Alva asked her.

  Charlotte smiled. “I’m afraid not. But if you have a mahjongg team, I’m your girl.”

  Alva’s smile turned decidedly more speculative. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Dre, can you help Alva get the boxes out to her car?”

  “Sure thing.” Dre glanced between Lani and Charlotte. “Should I take off then?”

  “Uh ...” Lani looked at Charlotte, then over to Bernard. “I’m not really sure what all is going to happen next in terms of setting up for filming, but I know I’m definitely going to need you. Can you e-mail me your class schedule for the next two weeks? Then I’ll send you dates and times I’d really like your help and we’ll hammer it out from there. Sound good?”

  “That works.”

  “And I promise you’ll get the introduction.”

  Dre’s smile was usually more of a sardonic quirk of the lips, but she actually flashed teeth. “That works, too.” She had an actual spring in her step as she went to help Alva.

  Charlotte leaned in to Lani. “Hot Cakes crush?” she murmured under her breath.

  “Oh yeah,” Lani murmured back.

  “Happens to the best of them.” Charlotte sighed, then added a sideways glance at Lani and a sly smile.

  “And to think I offered you a bed.”

  “I know,” Charlotte said, entirely unrepentant. “Good thing for me I make a most excellent bake therapist. And I don’t charge extra for after-hours calls. I even bring my own chocolate.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Oh, I believe I did.”

  “From Frustat’s? On Seventh?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  Lani hugged her again. She might have squealed a little. Alva popped her head back inside. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Charlotte. Lani May, you and your friend are welcome to drop in anytime over at Laura Jo’s tonight.” Her smile took on a decided twinkle. “Feel free to bring any other pastry chefs you might know along as well.”

  “Thank you, Alva. I think I’m going to be tied up here a good part of tonight, but I appreciate the invite. You’ll have to let me know how the cupcakes go over.”

  “Oh, you’ll hear all about it,” she assured them. “It’s going to be the lead in my first column.”

  Lani’s eyes widened. “You finally won Dwight over?” Then they narrowed. “Wait, you didn’t tell him you had an exclusive with Baxter did you? Because you know I can’t promise—”

  “My dear, I’ve already taken care of that on my own. Chef Dunne is a gentleman who keeps his word. Our dinner is scheduled later this week.”

  Really? Lani wanted to ask about a dozen follow-up questions to that, but since she’d told Baxter she’d do his show but to stay out of the rest of her life, it was hardly any of her business what else he did while he was on the island. “That’s ... great!” She almost managed to sound sincere. “I’m glad you worked it out. I’m surprised you’re not leading with the interview as your first column.”

  “Have to strike while the iron is hot, dear. His schedule ties him up for the next couple nights and tonight’s poker action promises to strike a lot of hot iron, if you know what I mean.” Alva’s smile widened, and that twinkly gleam took on a decidedly wicked light. “Molten hot, I believe.”

  “This is true.” Lani was amused, even though she knew she shouldn’t encourage Shark Betty in any way.

  “You just wait until tomorrow’s edition comes out! They’ll still be talking about it by the following edition, which is when I’ll spring my Chef Hot Cakes article on ’em.”

  “That should keep things interesting.”

  “Oh, I should think you’ll be doing enough of that all by yourself, dear.” Alva wiggled her eyebrows. Before Lani could even react to that, Alva popped out the back door, closing it behind her with a final click.

  “I see what you mean,” Charlotte said, staring at the closed back door.

  “It’s one of those things you have to experience to understand.”

  “Absolutely,” Charlotte agreed. “You do realize she’s going to write about you and Baxter in this column of hers, don’t you? Do you think that’s why she’s suddenly become your happy helper?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her, except on both occasions she was all about the whole poker tournament scandal. But it might have occurred to her since then.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Charlotte shifted a surprised gaze to Lani. “Really?”

  “First of all, you’ve met her. Do you really think I could stop her? Besides, she’s actually been really helpful.”

  Charlotte considered that and nodded. “There’s that whole ‘keep your enemies closer’ thing.”

  “She’s not my enemy.” Lani smiled. “But you have a point.”

  “Miss Trusdale?”

  Charlotte and Lani both whirled around at the sound of Bernard’s voice. Lani had completely forgotten he was still there. “Yes?”

  “I just got a call from Baxter. He’s stuck in a production meeting with our producer and director. We’re not going to set up until tomorrow.”

  “I’m open for business tomorrow.”

  “Right.” Bernard looked distinctly uncomfortable for the first time. “About that—”

  “Bernard—” Lani started, her tone a clear warning.

  He immediately got twice as blinky and held up his clipboard like a shield.

  She felt like she’d kicked a puppy. A near-sighted puppy. She sighed. “Okay, okay. But I need to talk to Baxter. Sooner than later.”

  Bernard seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief. “Good. He asked if he could drop by your home after they wind things up.” At her raised brow, he talked faster. “To go over the production schedule, and ... anything else you need to know. I’m sure that’s what he’s doing right now, getting all the answers and information so he can brief you on—”

  “It’s fine, Bernard.” Lani decided there wasn’t any pleasure to be had in picking on the messenger. Besides, if Baxter had any ulterior motive in meeting on her home turf—and duh, of course he did—little did he know she had her own secret weapon cake tonight. She slid her arm more tightly through Charlotte’s and smiled. “Tell him that’s fine.”

  An hour later Lani and Charlotte had cleaned up and closed the kitchen and Lani was giving her best friend a tour of the front of the shop. Charlotte was the first person from her former life, well, other than Baxter, to get a glimpse of her new one. Of all the people from the big city chapter of her life, Baxter included, Charlotte was the only one whose opinion truly mattered.

  Turning slowly, she took in the glistening vintage glass-and-chrome display cabinets that ran in an L-shaped pattern along one side wall, then wrapped around to extend the width of the shop. Her turn finally stopped at the pale blue wood shelves lining the wall behind the register. Each one was filled with an eclectic mix of antique baking implements and vintage cookbooks, all interspersed with whimsical figurines and collectibles relating in some way to the various aprons Lani wore. “You know, I wouldn’t have pictured this for you. Not for New York you.” Charlotte turned and looked at Lani. “But somehow ... with you standing there, beaming with pride like the mother of a new
born she thinks is an adorable little angel ... you know, this really suits you.”

  Lani beamed, every bit as proud as that fictional mother. “Thank you. That means more than you could possibly know.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Oh, I know. You don’t owe me an I-told-you-so for the honesty.”

  “Deal.” Lani grinned. “Does it make you think differently about wanting your own place?”

  “Not in the least.”

  They laughed at that. During all the times Lani had waxed rhapsodic about running her own place, Charlotte had listened, but shuddered at the thought on a personal level. She claimed she wasn’t cut out for management, not even if she was the big boss. Especially if she was the big boss. Considering how bossy she usually was, the idea was a constant source of amusement to Lani.

  “I want to be able to leave work at work.”

  “I do that here,” Lani said, which was sort of true. She did live, breathe and literally eat her shop a good part of the time, but mostly that was her own enthusiasm, along with a healthy dose of anxiety about wanting to see it succeed.

  “The key word being here,” Charlotte said. “The shop suits you, but, I have to say, I still can’t figure out the allure of the location. Personally or professionally.”

  “Maybe it’s precisely because here is where I can have a life.”

  Charlotte looked at her as if she couldn’t fathom what kind of life one would have there that would be worth living, but both were smiling. It was why she loved Charlotte best. They didn’t have to see eye to eye or agree on everything to still be each other’s best support.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” Lani told her.

  Charlotte’s smile widened. “Location and godforsaken drive notwithstanding, I am, too.”

  Lani flipped the lights off and they headed to the back, switching off lights as they went. “I can’t believe you drove down here. I didn’t even know you had a driver’s license.”

  Charlotte slid her a glance. “Who says that I do?”

  Lani’s mouth dropped open, but Charlotte just laughed. “I grew up in New Delhi, remember? Your American roads are mere child’s play to me.”