The Cupcake Diaries

by Darlene Panzera

  Afterward, Rachel led a big round of applause. “Stacey, I didn’t know you were a performer!”

  Stacey smiled. “Neither did I.”

  “People were lining up to buy cupcakes the whole time you were playing. I called Mike to bring us another six dozen in the Cupcake Mobile. He should be here any minute.”

  Dave walked over with a spoon sticking out of a cup of chocolate chip mint and placed it on the counter. “You’ve got talent, Idaho. Here’s a free ice cream to celebrate your success.”

  “See?” Rachel asked, nudging her. “Dave’s peace offering shows he’s willing to acknowledge our victory.”

  Stacey shook her head. “He only brought it over to mock me.”

  Rachel hesitated, then pointed to the melting ice cream. “Are you going to eat that?”

  She smiled. “No, you can have it.”

  Sarah walked over to the ice cream truck to talk to Guy, and Grandpa Lewy pointed to Dave, who stood in the truck next to him. “Stacey, I know that young man. He’s Walter Wright’s son.”

  “He’s a pleasant-looking fellow,” Bernice added. “Has he asked you out? You know, I first met your grandfather at the beach.”

  Stacey narrowed her eyes. “Dave Wright thinks I’m silly and that I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “He didn’t always know what he was doing either,” Grandpa Lewy assured her. “I heard little Davie went through a nasty divorce a couple years back. His wife took him to the cleaners, and he almost lost everything.”

  Is that why he’d been ignoring her? The reason he didn’t want to involve himself in another relationship?

  “Glad to see him rebuilding the family business,” Grandpa Lewy continued. “He’s a well-dressed lad. I see he still wears the traditional black bow tie.”

  “Stacey,” Rachel called, “I need your help.”

  Stacey turned her head and realized a line had formed and Creative Cupcakes was back in business. She and Rachel shared only a quick look, but in that moment, something shifted. Her cousin no longer appeared to be the intimidating employer but an equal . . . maybe even a friend.

  Stacey smiled. “Rachel, you serve, and I’ll ring up the orders.”

  Rachel laughed. “Sure thing, boss.”

  One of their customers dropped a handful of sea glass into the now half-full jar Stacey kept next to Rocky on the cupcake counter for display.

  “How are you doing, Gladys?” Stacey asked.

  “Better.” The older woman nodded toward the ice cream truck. “Yesterday that handsome young man gave me a blanket to wrap around my shoulders to keep the chill off in the evenings.”

  “He did?” Stacey sneaked a peek at Dave, who handed out two vanilla soft-serve cones. “That was nice of him.”

  “Oh, my—yes!” Gladys’s face glowed. “He’s the nicest man I’ve ever met.”

  Stacey wished she could say the same. Instead his comment, “Cupcakes have no place on the beach,” sprang to mind.

  “Gladys?”

  Both Stacey and the old woman turned their heads at the same time. Guy Armstrong stood beside them, his expression showing shocked surprise.

  Gladys hesitated, and it was then that Stacey noticed the resemblance between the two.

  “I didn’t know where you were,” Guy continued. “Or how to find you.”

  The glow on Gladys’s face faded, and Stacey thought the woman might tell Guy to go away. But then Gladys hugged him and smiled, and with tears running down her face she turned toward Stacey and explained, “He’s my brother.”

  Stacey thought of her own brother, Tim. If he showed up unexpectedly, she’d certainly be surprised. The last time they’d seen each other was seven years ago, in June, right after she’d graduated from college. That was the last time her whole family had been together, documented by the photo she kept in her backpack. Maybe she should give him a call. Maybe.

  Rachel groaned. “Can you handle the crowd while I run to the bathroom?”

  “No problem,” Stacey assured her. “I got this.”

  FIVE MINUTES AFTER Rachel left, an angry outburst erupted among the crowd in front of Dave’s ice cream truck. A man complained that he’d waited in line a half hour. A moment later everyone dispersed.

  Dave with no customers? How could that be? Stacey took the next order for a white chocolate−macadamia cupcake and put the money in the cash drawer. When she looked up, she realized some sort of miracle must have taken place because Dave’s customers had actually left him and were now lined up in front of her stand.

  Dave gave her a quick glance as he circled his truck. “Did you jinx me?”

  She could have shot back a reply, but she could tell he was stressed, and besides, she couldn’t think of one. Instead she asked, “What happened?”

  “My refrigeration broke.”

  Stacey’s mouth dropped open. If Dave couldn’t fix it, he’d lose all his homemade ice cream, not to mention all his sales—and on this day, too, the busiest of the year.

  This was her chance to laugh at him and gloat in this moment of glory, but she remembered he did stop to help her change a flat tire when he passed her on the road two weeks earlier, and she figured she could return the favor.

  “I might be able to help,” she offered.

  “You? How?”

  The same man from Dave’s line who had complained, shouted, “Hey, lady, are you going to serve us the cupcakes or not?”

  She was finally selling and serving a steady stream of customers. If she closed her booth to help Dave, she’d lose money, too. Making up her mind, she served the customers who had already ordered and pulled the window down on the Volkswagen bus.

  “Sorry,” she told the others in line. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  Realigning the electrical circuit points on Dave’s refrigeration system actually took a bit longer than that, but in the end his freezers were back up and running.

  “Where did you learn to do this?” Dave asked, looking over her shoulder.

  “My father specializes in appliance repair and over the years has taught me a thing or two.” She dropped her multipurpose knife and mini-flashlight back into her emergency backpack and turned toward him.

  His expression was one of wild disbelief. “I can’t believe it. You have saved the day. You’ve no idea what kind of mess I would have had if you hadn’t helped. I’m so happy, I could kiss you!”

  Taking her by the shoulders, he spontaneously pulled her close and pressed his warm lips against hers, leaving Stacey’s senses spinning. Did this mean he wasn’t going to ignore her anymore?

  When the kiss ended, Dave released her, looked her in the eye, and smiled at her with the same intensity as on the day they’d first met. “You did good, Idaho.”

  She cleared her throat. “I-I only passed through Idaho. I grew up in Nebraska.”

  “Nebraska, huh?” Dave chuckled. “Doesn’t have the same kind of ring to it.”

  “Call me Stacey.”

  He smiled at her again. “Okay . . . Stacey.”

  She could have remained in that moment forever, but Rachel returned from the bathroom and interrupted. “I feel sick. No offense, Dave, I love your ice cream, but I think I might have eaten too much. Mike’s going to drive me home in the Cupcake Mobile.”

  “The lines of people have doubled in the last hour,” Stacey told her. “Who’s going to help me sell?”

  “I will.” Dave put his arm around her and gave her a sideways squeeze. “Guy needed time with his sister and left me to sell on my own, too. But as a team, we can help one another.”

  Stacey stared at him. “You mean, sell ice cream and cupcakes together?”

  Rachel nodded. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “We can offer a two-for-one deal,” Dave said, his enthusiasm spreading across his whole face. “But since I’m the one with the product that needs refrigeration, why don’t you bring your boxes of cupcakes over to my truck?”

  Work the rest of th
e day side by side with Dave Wright, the handsome blond with the big muscles and shining smile, who just moments before had given her a heart-palpitating kiss? Now, that was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  “I’ll be right over,” she said and tripped over her own feet as she hurried to retrieve her necessary supplies.

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  Happiness is a summer breeze, sand between your toes, and your best friend by your side.

  —Rachel, United States

  THE CUPCAKES AND ice cream special became an instant crowd pleaser. Even the man who had shouted earlier came back and gave them a thumbs up to show his appreciation.

  Stacey’s cupcakes were premade, but it took Dave longer to scoop ice cream and fill his orders, so she also worked as cashier. In the process of slipping a $10 bill into the cash drawer, she bumped her arm against Dave’s, and the invisible current that raced across her skin stopped her in her tracks and made her look up.

  He was so close. With only mere inches between them, she could have tilted her head and rested her cheek on his shoulder if she had wanted to. And she did want to. But she wouldn’t dare. If only he knew how attracted she was to him.

  She leaned even closer, trying not to be too obvious about it, to breathe in another whiff of his sea breeze-scented cologne, and when his arm flexed, an inked image of a lightning bolt poked out beneath the edge of his white short-sleeved shirt.

  “Oh my gosh. You have a tattoo!”

  Dave handed a vanilla soft-serve cone to a kid in front of the window, then glanced at her. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The familiar warmth of embarrassment crept over her face. After all, what was she doing looking at his incredibly large and perfectly sculpted muscular bicep when she was supposed to be taking orders?

  “It didn’t scare me,” she said, her face growing hotter. “I’m just surprised.”

  “Surprised I have a tattoo? Why?”

  She shifted her stance and instead of answering took the next person’s order. “One scoop of strawberry with sprinkles.”

  Dave took the ice cream scoop he’d purchased at the yard sale and dug into the strawberry bucket. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Stacey met his gaze and couldn’t help but smile. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Don’t you like tattoos?” he teased.

  “You just don’t look like the type to have one,” she said at last. “The clean-cut, ice cream man image with the white uniform and black bow tie misleads one to think you are very traditional and conservative.”

  “Misleads?” He laughed.

  Oh, no. The hole she was digging was getting deeper and deeper. Maybe she should have signed up for one of the sand castle teams instead of teaming with him. Quick! Change the subject.

  “Why a lightning bolt?”

  “Trouble rains on both the rich and the poor,” he said, serving the next customer a tray of s’more cupcakes and ice cream. “And the lightning bolt is there to remind me to never take life for granted. Any one of us can get caught in the storm and get zapped.”

  She looked at the tattoo again, most likely Guy Armstrong’s handiwork. “That’s why my motto is Better safe than sorry.”

  The conversation could have taken a more serious turn, but she supposed neither one of them wanted to head in that direction because Dave smiled at her as if she’d said something funny and teased, “Who’s being conservative now?”

  THANKS TO DAVE’S suggestion that they work together, Stacey sold out of cupcakes for the first time since setting up on Cannon Beach. She collected the empty boxes and walked back to the Volkswagen bus. As she began to stack them in the back, the beach cowboy rode up to her on a magnificent white horse.

  “Hi,” he said, sliding out of the saddle. “You were busy today. I bought a cupcake from you earlier, but you probably don’t remember.”

  Oh, she remembered. She’d had her eye on this guy for the last week as he led tourists on trail rides along the ocean surf. She’d thought of him as a possible candidate to ask to escort her to Kim’s wedding, but now that they were face to face, she realized there was only one man she wanted to escort her—and he served ice cream with a lightning bolt tattooed to his arm.

  “Would you like to go on an evening ride?” the man in the straw cowboy hat asked, nodding toward his horse.

  Stacey shook her head. “Thank you for asking, but I don’t know how to ride.”

  “I could teach you,” he coaxed. “Or I could put you up in the saddle with me.”

  She hesitated, glanced at Dave, and when she looked back at the cowboy he nodded, as if he understood.

  “There’s someone else, isn’t there?” he asked.

  She shrugged, not sure how to answer. Then the cowboy tipped his hat toward her, got back on his steed, and rode away.

  Stacey hoped there was someone else. She turned back toward Dave’s ice cream truck. Someone she could continue to talk to and work with on a daily basis. Someone who made her feel . . .

  She spotted Dave outside his truck talking to a blond bombshell of a woman in a black bikini, and her heart slammed into her chest, making it impossible to breathe. Worse, the sexy vixen kissed his cheek and wrapped her hand around his arm, the bicep with the tattoo, as if she owned him. Dave placed his hand on the woman’s waist, and . . . that was all Stacey needed to see.

  Oh, great. Dave had a girlfriend. Maybe she should have accepted the cowboy’s offer to go riding off into the sunset after all. Except she didn’t want anyone but Dave.

  Her feet dragged as she made her way back to his stand to collect the rest of her empty boxes. The kiss he’d given her after she fixed his refrigeration must have been a friendly, spontaneous thank you, nothing more. Why did she keep reading more into the situation than was actually there?

  Dave came back into his truck and smiled at her as he helped wipe the counters and close the side windows. “We did great today, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, great,” she agreed, trying her best to sound upbeat. “So I’ll see you . . .”

  “Tomorrow,” he assured her.

  “Yes, tomorrow,” she repeated.

  Tomorrow she wouldn’t let herself be fooled by any “friendly” overtures. She’d have her overactive imagination decommissioned, her head on straight, and her heart focused on getting cash instead of kisses.

  Tomorrow she wouldn’t be led astray.

  BACK AT THE shop, Stacey’s unharnessed emotions took another blow when she learned from Andi and Kim that their klutzy, kitchen college kid got a date with Heather.

  “How did Eric get her to agree to go with him to the wedding?” Stacey whispered to Kim. “She’s beautiful, intelligent, self-assured, and seems way out of his league.”

  Kim laughed. “You aren’t usually so judgmental. Is something bothering you?”

  Stacey quickly shook her head. But it didn’t change the fact that everyone had a date except her. There must be something wrong with her, something only others could see. She couldn’t change her personality, but she could change her appearance. Eric had combed his wild, bushy hair and given himself a close shave, making himself almost . . . handsome.

  “Rachel,” she called, as her cousin came through the front door with her husband. “Do you think you could give me a makeover and some fashion help?”

  Rachel stopped up short and stared at her. “Hallelujah! I thought you’d never ask. But first I have news.”

  “You aren’t sick?” Stacey guessed, glancing from her cousin’s smiling face to Mike’s.

  “No, the doctor said I’m pregnant! That must be why I was craving ice cream.”

  Andi gasped, then gave her friend a hug. “I craved sea salt and vinegar potato chips during my first trimester. When are you due?”

  Rachel smirked. “Valentine’s Day.”

  Mike placed his right hand over Rachel’s stomach. “Boy or girl, this baby is going to be a sweetheart.”

  Stacey, Kim, Andi, and t
he college employees behind the counter all congratulated Rachel and Mike, and Kim offered to paint multicolored candy sweethearts all over the walls of the baby’s nursery.

  “Instead of the Cupcake Diaries, we’ll need Baby Diaries,” Kim teased. “Or Little Sweetheart Diaries.”

  “Speaking of sweethearts,” Andi said, shooting a look at her sister Kim, “Dad keeps going to the Mermaid bookstore on 12th Street.”

  Kim frowned. “So?”

  “He doesn’t like to read.” Andi took the Cupcake Diary, filled with quotes, notes, and recipes, off the counter and held it up. “I asked if I could go with him to look at cookbooks, but he acted all funny and made an excuse to go a different time. I think his date for the wedding owns that store.”

  An impish grin spread across Kim’s face. “I think I need to go check it out and see what they have to offer. I’ll ask Nathaniel if he’s up for a little recon mission and take him with me.”

  Stacey thought of the bikini babe she’d seen with Dave and wondered if she should do a little recon investigation of her own. It didn’t hurt to check out the competition. Business-wise, of course. She couldn’t sell cupcakes with Dave unless she knew all the players involved, could she?

  AFTER WHAT SEEMED an incredibly long day, Stacey plopped down on her bed and closed her eyes. Then the phone rang. With a groan she rolled over to answer it, wondering who could be calling her at this time of night on a Saturday.

  She glanced at the phone’s caller ID, and her stomach contracted. She could choose to ignore the call, but the problem wouldn’t go away. Instead, she brought the cell phone up to her ear.

  “Pam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How are you?” Stacey didn’t know what else to say.

  “Did you get my letter?”