Beachfront Bakery 02 - A Murderous Macaron

by Fiona Grace

  Ali knew she was right, but she couldn’t bear to fire the poor girl. Besides, the boys loved her. If only she had two brain cells then she’d be the perfect employee…

  “Ooh, is that the time?” Delaney said, setting her coffee cup down noisily. “I have to go. Gotta get my 5K done before opening.”

  She sprang up and started stretching, maneuvering her long limbs into impossible-looking positions. Ali couldn’t quite believe that Delaney—who went for a run every morning before work—had somehow found the time to paint her a beautiful sign, too (and give it as a gift, of course, because not only was she accomplished, she was kind to boot!). Ali couldn’t help but be a little envious of her friend. She had everything together, whereas Ali herself felt like she was always treading water just to keep afloat.

  Delaney straightened up and put in an ear bud, muffling the buzz it emitted. At the same time, a second crash came from the kitchen, loud enough to make Delaney and Ali jump in unison.

  After a beat, Piper’s voice called out, “Don’t worry! I just dropped the pan again!”

  Ali ground her teeth. “My poor abused pans…” she muttered, as she followed Delaney to the door.

  “Fire her,” Delaney mouthed over her shoulder, as she pulled the door open, making the bell tinkle and the seagulls flap angrily to the sky once again.

  Ali shook her head. “N.O.,” she mouthed in response.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Delaney said with finality, before putting in her other ear bud and jogging off into the bright, sunny day.

  As she went, Ali noticed that during the time the two had been drinking coffee, a gaggle of customers had begun to cluster together outside the store, awaiting entry. With a surge of excitement for what the day might hold, Ali turned the sign to Open.

  “Morning!” she exclaimed cheerfully as the customers began to file in. “Welcome to Seaside Sweets.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  From the other side of the counter, a little girl blinked up at Ali. She couldn’t have been much older than four, with big, brown, deer-in-the-headlights eyes and black frizzy hair styled into two corn-row bunches with pink beads at the end. The woman standing behind her—her mom, presumably—gave her an encouraging pat on the back, and the girl staggered forward.

  “Can I please have a cupcake with rainbow frosting?” she asked in a small, rehearsed voice.

  “Absolutely,” Ali replied, smiling kindly. She spotted the sequin unicorn on the front of the girl’s bright pink shirt. “Would you like sparkle sprinkles on it too?”

  The girl’s eyes widened even more—part awe, part bewilderment that Ali had deviated from the script. She flashed a pleading look over her shoulder at her mom and, on receiving an affirmative nod, turned back to Ali.

  “Can I please have a cupcake with rainbow frosting and sparkle sprinkles?” she amended.

  “Coming right up,” Ali said, exchanging a grin with her mom.

  Ali retrieved a vanilla cupcake base from the display counter and dolloped a generous pile of rainbow frosting on top. Then she scooped out some shimmery sparkles and sprinkled them on top. “There you go,” she said, holding the sickly-sweet-looking cupcake over the counter to the little girl.

  The child seemed to freeze. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. It was an expression Ali was growing accustomed to, but one she would never tire of seeing; the spark of joy in a kid’s eye when she presented their cupcake to them. It was the most rewarding part of the job.

  The girl continued to stare at the cupcake. Her mom gave her a gentle pat on the back, and the child raised her chubby fist, turned it palm up, and opened her fingers to reveal she’d been tightly clutching some coins.

  “She’s been saving up for this for weeks,” the mom whispered across the till to Ali.

  “Oh!” Ali exclaimed. She was so touched, her heart pretty much melted. “In that case, you’d better hold on to your pocket money,” she said. Instead of taking the money, she placed the cupcake into her outstretched palm.

  The girl’s eyes widened even more. She looked completely astonished, like all her Christamases had come early. Then, in one sudden movement, she smooshed her whole face into the cupcake—lips, nose, cheeks, and all.

  Her mom cast eyes of gratitude at Ali. “Thank you so much,” she said, before turning to her daughter and prompting, “What do you say to the nice lady?”

  “Fank yooo,” the girl mumbled through a face full of multicolored frosting.

  “You’re most welcome,” Ali replied, chuckling.

  The mom mouthed “thank you,” again, her eyes flashing with genuine gratitude, then shooed her daughter aside and out of the way.

  Ali was touched by the adorable encounter. Seeing the look of amazement on a child’s face was the whole reason she did what she did. She loved baking because it spread joy. This one interaction was better than all the years she’d spent at Eclairs combined, and Ali was so proud of herself for having taken the plunge to open her own bakery.

  She was so happy about the interaction, it took her a moment to switch into the right mode to handle her next customers—three teenage skater boys.

  “Hello!” she gushed, as if they were all four-year-olds. Then she cleared her throat and dropped her voice several tones. “What can I get you today?”

  None of the boys said a thing. None were even looking at Ali, nor the display fridge, nor the menu board above her head. In fact, all three of them were looking right past Ali to Piper, who was on coffee machine duty, boredly examining her nails.

  “Piper,” Ali called to her. “Could you serve these gentlemen while I tidy up the tables?”

  Piper’s head darted up; Ali had clearly snapped her out of some kind of daydream.

  “Sure thing,” she murmured, hurrying forward with her beautiful blonde hair swishing behind her like a model from a shampoo commercial.

  “Hey,” one of the skater boys said to her, tipping his chin up.

  “Hey,” Piper replied, twirling a strand of hair in her fingers.

  Ali rolled her eyes.

  She left Piper to it, grabbing a cloth and heading round the counter onto the bakery floor.

  It had been non-stop all morning, and Ali loved it. She loved seeing the fruits of her labor finally pay off. And she was especially excited for tomorrow’s macaron launch. Rainbow cupcakes and sparkle frosting were great for luring in the kids, but if it took every customer weeks to save up enough pocket money to buy one, she’d go bankrupt. Diversifying her menu so it appealed to a slightly older customer base was essential, and macarons were the perfect middle ground between kiddy cupcakes and fancy French desserts. Ali was confident that kids and parents alike would love them, especially with Mr. Macaron advertising them.

  Ali began wiping down one of the unoccupied, crumb-covered tables and collecting the dirty crockery. The bell above the door tinkled behind her and she turned to greet the new customer. She was shocked to see a very familiar face indeed. Round face. Pink cheeks. Messy strawberry blond hair. It was her Teddy.

  Her heart soared.

  “Teddy!” Ali exclaimed, abandoning the cloth and running to the door to hug her brother.

  He squeezed her back. “Hi, Ali-cat.”

  “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

  “It’s macaron launch day, right?” Teddy said. “I’m here to give you some moral support.”

  “You’re a sweetheart,” Ali said, touched. “But macaron launch day is tomorrow. You’ll stay for lunch, though, since you’ve driven all the way out here?”

  “Sure,” Teddy said. His eyes went over her shoulder to Piper behind the till. “As long as you think it’s safe to leave Little Miss Ditzy alone.”

  Ali gave him a look. “Piper’s doing a fine job. Fine-ish, anyway.”

  Teddy rolled his eyes. “Sure she is. That’s why she just gave those three skater dudes free cupcakes, right?”

  “What?” Ali cried.

  She swirled on the spot, just in tim
e to see the skater dudes pass by and exit the bakery with cupcakes and coffee in hand. She watched them, aghast, and called out to Piper, “Did they pay for those?”

  Piper shook her head. “Hank, the guy with the shorts, his dad has a recording studio, and he said he’d help me record a voiceover demo. So I figured I’d give them free stuff to say thank you.”

  Ali slapped her palm to her forehead. “Oh, Piper,” she said.

  Piper’s face fell. “Is that not okay? I thought it was okay.” She was talking rapidly, like she was suddenly doubting herself. “I saw you give that little girl a free cupcake so I figured it was okay.”

  Beside Ali, Teddy began to shake with laughter. And since Ali didn’t want to take her frustration out on her new employee, she decided to glower at him instead.

  “You. Come with me,” she said under her breath to him.

  She grabbed a stack of dirty dishes off the table and crossed the bakery toward the kitchen door. Teddy followed dutifully.

  When she reached the counter, she said to Piper, “No more discounts unless you clear them with me first.”

  “Okay, boss,” the young woman replied.

  Ali pushed the swing door to the kitchen open with her shoulder and went inside.

  “So I see things haven’t improved,” Teddy said, as she placed the dirty crockery in the industrial-size sink with a clatter.

  Ali swirled to face him. “Fine. No. They haven’t.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to fire her?” Teddy asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Ali said, standing her ground.

  Teddy took her by the shoulders. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I actually agree with Hannah for once. You are not making smart business decisions.”

  “Oh, aren’t I?” Ali replied knowingly. She swiped his hands from her shoulders and reached into her apron pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and unfolding it in front of his eyes.

  “What is that?” Teddy asked, frowning.

  “A check,” Ali replied, triumphantly. “For you. I’m paying you back the toothbrush commercial money.”

  Teddy hesitated for a moment, then his mouth dropped open. He reached out and grasped the check in both hands, staring at it.

  “But that was a gift,” he murmured, sounding astonished.

  “I know,” Ali replied. “But I made a profit last month, probably because of the smart business decisions I’ve been making. So I can afford to pay you back.”

  Teddy finally tore his gaze from the check. “Is this just pity money because I took you to lunch at a truck stop diner?” he asked.

  Ali shook her head. “Nope. It’s yours.”

  “I don’t believe you. How are you earning enough on your own? Your bakery is still a baby!”

  “It’s one month, one week, and one day old,” Ali replied, with a proud nod. “And I have one person to thank for it all. You. None of this would’ve been possible without you and your toothpaste commercial money.”

  Teddy flapped his hand in front of his eyes. “Shut up. You’re going to make me cry.”

  “I mean it,” Ali said. “You told me to follow my dreams. You were the only one in the family who believed in me.”

  Teddy’s big blue eyes filled with tears. “Ali-cat,” he wailed. “Are you sure about this? It’s still early days. Things could change. Someone might find a rusty nail in their frosting and file a lawsuit against you. Piper might set fire to another batch of croissants.”

  “Well, luckily, I’ve just cut all the rusty nails from my recipes,” Ali joked. “And Piper has had her baking privileges revoked until such a time she can be trusted not to burn down my kitchen. She’s on ingredient preparation duties only.” She nudged his hands, where he was still gripping the check with disbelief. “Take it. It’s yours. As long as no disasters strike, I won’t need it.”

  Teddy grabbed a wooden spoon off the counter. “Touch wood! You don’t want to tempt fate.”

  Ali didn’t believe in superstitions like her brother did, but she tapped the spoon anyway to appease him.

  “There,” she said. “Now can you accept the check?”

  Teddy nodded. He folded it up and placed it in his pocket.

  “Thanks, Ali-cat,” he said, earnestly. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Teddy-bear.”

  He sniffed loudly. “I also hate you for making me cry.”

  Ali laughed. “And I hate you for being right about Piper. But I’m not giving up on her. No matter how difficult it might be, I’m going to train that girl!”

  Just then, Piper’s shrill, panicked voice came from the main store. “ALI! ALI, can you come here right now, PLEASE?”

  Teddy slowly raised a single eyebrow. “You were saying…?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  With Teddy right behind her, Ali hurried through the kitchen partition to the counter, her heart racing. She’d only left Piper unsupervised for two minutes! How had she possibly managed to land herself in trouble in such a short space of time?

  She halted behind the counter, surveying the bakery for the cause of Piper’s alarm. The tables were just as she’d left them, filled with kids happily scarfing cupcakes and getting their sticky fingers on the upholstery. Nothing had changed.

  Except…

  There at the window table, Ali spotted a woman who hadn’t been there before. She was certainly peculiar looking, with oversized sunglasses obscuring the top half of her face, and a shawl wrapped over her hair.

  Piper grabbed Ali’s arm with a pincer grip and whispered in her ear. “I’m not totally sure, but I think that might be a famous old Hollywood actress.”

  Ali realized then that Piper’s shrill cries had not been out of panic, but excitement.

  She felt the nervous energy whoosh out of her all in one go. She really could’ve done without that.

  From beside her, Teddy emitted one of his theatrical gasps.

  “Piper, I think you’re right!” he stage-whispered. “It looks like what’s-her-name. Marigold? Margery?”

  Piper nodded along enthusiastically. “Right! Maribel…?”

  “It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Teddy said.

  While the two of them continued their whispered back-and-forth guess-who game, Ali frowned at the peculiar woman in the window. There was something suspicious about her. And an odd familiarity.

  Ali suddenly realized who she was looking at. Her brow furrowed with fury.

  “That’s no Hollywood actress!” she muttered.

  She marched round the counter and up to the woman, glowering down at her, hands on hips.

  “Miriyam,” she said. “What on earth are you doing?”

  Miriyam owned a bakery on the boardwalk, the incorrectly spelled Kookies, and had taken an instant dislike to Ali. What she was doing sitting in Ali’s bakery dressed in some incognito spy costume was anyone’s guess.

  Miriyam tipped her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. “Oh. Ali. Hello,” she said in her strong Slavic accent, sounding like she was surprised to see Ali standing in her own store.

  “What are you doing?” Ali demanded again. She wasn’t in the mood for games. “Are you spying on me?”

  Miriyam tried to play innocent.

  “Don’t be absurd,” she said. “I was just perusing your menu. I wanted to see whether you had anything new on sale, but I see all the usual offenders.”

  Ali wasn’t buying it. She narrowed her eyes. “Then what’s with the shawl? Haven’t you noticed it’s about a million degrees outside?”

  If Miriyam tried to spin some yarn about having a bad hair day, Ali would lose it. Luckily, she didn’t bother. She must’ve realized the ruse was up, because she huffed, unwrapped the shawl from her head, and threw it on the tabletop, before dumping her sunglasses on top of it.

  From where they’d been eagerly watching the exchange from the counter, Piper and Teddy visibly deflated with disappointment.

  “Fine,” Miriyam said to Ali, haughtily. “You caugh
t me. But you can drop the act, too. I know all about the macarons.”

  Ali raised an eyebrow. “What about the macarons?”

  “Aha!” Miriyam said. “You admit it.”

  Ali was at a complete loss. “Admit what? They’re not a secret. I’m launching them tomorrow. What’s it got to do with you?”

  “I know what you’re up to,” Miriyam said. “You heard the rumors about Brandon Lennox coming to town and you want to steal all his attention with your fancy macarons.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ali asked.

  Piper suddenly appeared beside Ali, making her startle. She must’ve run from behind the counter to have reached them so quickly.

  “Did I just hear you say Brandon Lennox is coming to town?” Piper fired at Miriyam rapidly.

  “Yes,” Miriyam replied. “Tomorrow. That’s the rumor, anyway.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Piper exclaimed. She started flapping her hands excitedly. “This is so cool!”

  Ali reached the end of her patience. “Who is Brandon Lennox?!” she cried. “And what has he got to do with my macarons?”

  “Brandon Lennox is a food critic,” Miriyam explained. “He visits different eateries in America and makes videos about them.”

  “He’s more of a vlogger than a food critic,” Piper added. “And he’s like a major big deal on YouTube.” She retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and started tapping the screen. “Here. This is his most recent video.”

  Loud punk music came from the speakers. Piper maneuvered the phone so Ali could see. Teddy came over and peered over her shoulder at the screen.

  A barrage of flashing images and text and noises assaulted Ali’s brain.

  “I’m here on Santa Cruz boardwalk to try out these spicy chicken wings,” the backwards-baseball-cap-wearing man on the screen aggressively shout-announced, while the camera zoomed in and out in a headache-inducing manner. “My challenge is to see how much I can eat before I either barf or get thrown out! LET’S GO!”

  The camera cut to Brandon inside the restaurant, now surrounded by chicken bones and with his mouth smothered with orange paste. He looked pale and groaned loudly. Behind the camera, the cameraman was laughing, making the whole screen shake.