Cupcakes and Catastrophe (A Belle Harbor Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Sue Hollowell

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The sleep of the dead was now a distant memory for me. No amount of exhaustion from the work or sea air to clear my lungs and mind could have provided me any rest last night. I knew adjusting to a new place would take some time. Everything in my little bungalow cottage was new. It was sparsely decorated until I could afford a few more items, but I was insistent that I wanted nothing from my old life. I craved a fresh start. Despite spending money on a quality bed, it had not quite lived up to the advertisement proving better sleep. Perhaps in time.

  And the fact that my neighbor kept a few egg-laying chickens in his yard did not help. Thankfully, there was no crowing rooster. But early in the morning I could hear those little ladies taking care of business. Clucking and clawing for food and laying their eggs.

  I looked forward to another day of baking, my happy place. The antique shop was only a few blocks from my cottage. I could easily walk the distance but decided it would be the perfect distance to practice a small amount of moped riding. Helmet strapped on and backpack in place, I slowly goosed the accelerator. Before I knew it, I had peeled rubber and was speeding toward the beach. One turn of the handle propelled me almost halfway to the store. I removed my hand from the accelerator to let the machine coast the remainder of the way. My heart raced. Thankfully, no one was harmed in my trial run.

  The machine sputtered the last few feet to the front of the store and died. I looked down, hoping to see something obvious causing this, but I knew nothing about motor vehicles. I stepped off the moped and pushed it to a spot out of the way. Great. I broke it already. Or maybe there was some secret button I needed to know about.

  “Hey, your inaugural ride. Great job!” Always the encourager, Uncle Jack. He stood in the doorway to the store.

  “Except I think I broke it. It died just as I got it here.” I removed my helmet and slipped out of my backpack.

  Uncle Jack took my helmet and we headed back to the coffee corner. “Let’s go see Anna in a bit. Maybe she has some history on that thing that could help. Hopefully, we didn’t get you a lemon right off the bat.”

  I set my backpack on the floor and pulled out a notebook and pen. Unkie handed me some coffee. I inhaled and closed my eyes. “I’m probably going to need several of these to get going today.”

  “You didn’t sleep well?” He sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

  “Nah, lots going on. And my neighbor’s chickens are early birds.” I took a gulp of the coffee. Already my brain was waking up.

  He reached his arm across the table and tipped his head. “Tilly, give it time. You’ve had a lot of change in a small amount of time.”

  I sighed and my shoulders slumped. “I know. But I have big goals. And I’m impatient.” I smiled at him.

  “All in due time, girl. Don’t be so hasty to wish your life away. Enjoy the journey as well,” he said. I put my cup on the table and gave him a hug. “And I’m sorry for all of the nonsense next door. That can’t be helping your transition.”

  I sat and took another drink of coffee, finishing the cup. “Well, I’m going to my happy place. Planning the next things I’m going to make. I got to thinking about your suggestion to get my name out there. Later when we come back from the moped shop, let’s stop in at Mocha Joe’s. I have some ideas to propose.” Just thinking about that conversation made my hands sweat. I wiped them on my pants.

  “Yes!” he yelled. “I knew you’d eventually come around. I just wish you could see yourself the same as others see you. An extremely capable woman.”

  “OK. Enough of the mutual admiration society for now.” I tapped my pen on my notebook. “I’m thinking I will offer some bran flax muffins.” I had found a great healthy recipe that I assumed would be well received. I would source local and organic ingredients as much as possible, which would also allow me to charge higher prices.

  “What happened to your sweet treats?” He looked at me, his expression slack, a whiny tone to his voice.

  “Uncle Jack, I don’t want to send everyone into a sugar high all the time. I’ll have those too. But I’d like to offer choices.”

  “Well, as long as you don’t force me to eat those poop producers all the time, I guess I can get on board with that.”

  I clipped my pen to my notebook and headed to the kitchen. “Deal. But I want you around for a long time.” I planned another go at the cream-filled cupcakes, sans my helper filling my pastry bag with shortening this time. Just knowing what happened the first round boosted my confidence. I planned to bake a batch as a peace offering for Florence. I could have Uncle Jack bring them to her to help mend that relationship.

  “Can I help you find something?” I heard Uncle Jack say. I raised on my tiptoes to see who had entered the store. I might suggest he add some kind of a doorbell that goes off when someone comes in. Especially if I was alone in the store all the way in the kitchen corner.

  “Maybe,” the woman said and continued to look along the tables. The intensity of her search appeared as if she was looking for something specific. Uncle Jack followed her from place to place. She stopped and looked at him as if just noticing his presence. She pushed her glasses up and said, “I’m looking for a pocket watch. A very specific pocket watch.” She sidestepped Uncle Jack and continued scouring the tables.

  Despite the apparent disorganization, Uncle Jack seemed to have a surprisingly good handle on what he had and where it was at. “If you can describe it a bit more, I can tell you if I have it.”

  The woman turned toward him and pursed her bright red lips. “I don’t know how you could have a clue what’s in this mess,” she said in a condescending tone. She picked up a small birdcage and removed it from the top of a silver goblet.

  Uncle Jack stepped forward and took the birdcage from her hand, returning it to its spot. “I’m here to help. Seriously, if you can give me a description, I promise I can tell you if we have it.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and handed it to Uncle Jack. She pointed to the picture on the paper and said, “I’m looking for the Imperial officer’s pocket watch. It’s one of the most expensive ever made. Just like that.” She tapped the paper for emphasis.

  Uncle Jack looked up from the paper and said, “Well, I can tell you we don’t have that. But I do have some very nice pocket watches.” He turned and started around the other side of the table.

  “No,” she said. “It has to be that one. And I don’t want to buy it.”

  I was more confused than ever watching this exchange.

  Uncle Jack stopped and tilted his head, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

  “What I mean is,” the woman started. She followed Uncle Jack and retrieved the piece of paper from him, folded it, and returned it to her purse. She shook her head. “Someone stole this from me, and I’m going around to antique shops to see if anyone sold it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he gently replied. “If you can give me your name and number, I will be sure to let you know if I see it.”

  “I’ll be back if I don’t find it.” She turned and left the store.

  I left the kitchen and followed the woman’s path out the door, looking both ways as I got to the sidewalk. I returned and said, “That was bizarre.”

  Uncle Jack shrugged. “Maybe. You might be surprised at some of the kooky customers I get in this antique store. Each piece,” he said, lifting the birdcage again and twirling it, “has a story.” He set it down in the same location the woman had placed it, apparently deciding maybe she had a point with her comment about the clutter.

  I wiped my hands on my apron. “Tell you what. After I get this batch of cupcakes out of the oven, let’s head to the moped store.”

  “Mmhmm,” he replied, distracted. He picked up a couple things, a typewriter, a stagecoach with accompanying horses and rider, and a brass tea kettle. He arranged them more along the lines of how I would display them, in neat orderly rows. I really hoped he wasn’t second-gu
essing himself because of that woman.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thankfully, the delicious aroma of my desserts didn’t add to my waistline. I pulled the chocolate cupcakes from the oven and placed them on a cooling rack. I untied my apron and hung it on hook shaped like a little spatula.

  “All right, Uncle Jack. I’m ready to head to the moped store.” I scanned the room and found him continuing to rearrange like a madman. I had to admit, it did make it easier for people to see what was there. “Looks good,” I said.

  He harrumphed. I didn’t think he wanted to admit that woman had a point, especially given her rudeness. My uncle was kind and forgiving. And I think she hurt his feelings.

  I touched his elbow. “This is your business. You get to run it the way you want.” I pulled the moped keys out of my backpack. Might as well see if the thing would start, even for just the short trip.

  “I don’t want anyone ever to say this old dog can’t learn a new trick or two.” He set the model ship down that he had been holding. He reached over and adjusted its angle. “I’ve just been reluctant to change much after Frank passed.” He further arranged the ship’s placement.

  “I’m sorry.” I put my arm around his shoulders. “I’m sure he would be fine with what you want to do.” I looked at him and brushed the escaping tear from his cheek.

  “Yeah, he would probably be kicking my butt for waiting so long.” He chuckled. “That man didn’t mince words.” He sniffled. “That’s why we made such a good team.”

  We turned and headed out the door. My initial reluctance at leaving the store unattended waned just the slightest. But I didn’t know if I would ever get used to that. I swung my leg over the moped and inserted the key. Uncle Jack looked at me and held up crossed fingers. I turned the key and the engine moaned. I turned it off. It was worth a try.

  Uncle Jack took the moped by the handlebars and pushed it as we began our short trek. Even though the kite festival was over, the throngs were just as big. I guess any excuse would get people to the beach. Every time I exited the antique store onto the sidewalk, the soothing sound of the waves hit me. I could easily see how Uncle Jack and Uncle Frank had made this their home for so many decades.

  “I’m so glad I moved here,” I said and looked at Unkie. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat pushing that thing. Though, the mid-eighty degree day was still several hours away and we would be dripping in no time.

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he replied.

  “Should I be worried?” I laughed.

  “There’s so much here that I want to share with you.” He grinned. “That salt-water taffy store.” He flicked his head up and to the right. “Daffy Taffy. They have almost a hundred flavors. Just when I’ve tried them all, they make more.”

  “You really do have a sweet tooth, Uncle Jack.” The taffy store was painted with large pink and white vertical stripes on the side walls. The topmost part of the wall had a horizontal pink stripe with taffy in white wrappers. The door was a light teal, also with taffy in multiple-colored wrappers. They had a large front window where you could watch them pulling the sticky, sweet candy.

  “They also have tasting nights when they’re trying out a bunch of new flavors. You could do that too. Have a tasting with different kinds of pastry.”

  I hastened my walk as Uncle Jack was hitting his stride, my breath still catching as I tried to keep up. “I like that idea,” I said.

  “But,” he said and looked at me in all seriousness, “don’t do like me and lose your dentures during the tasting. That’s not a good look.”

  I paused, waiting for his punch line. He continued his brisk pace. “OK, so noted,” I said and tipped my chin down, hoping he couldn’t hear my snickering.

  I took a deep breath, trying to generate a second wind before we arrived and I wasn’t able to speak at all.

  Uncle Jack slowed down and leaned the moped against the railing in front of Nelson’s Moped Rental Shop. I followed him inside as we searched for the worker. There wasn’t a soul in sight. People here really did have an openness and trust I had never seen before. He put his hand up to the side of his mouth. “Hello, hello, hello,” he said in the form of an echo. He looked at me and smiled, finding small joys in every experience.

  “Oh, hi there,” a male voice said from behind us. “Do you want to rent some mopeds?”

  We wheeled around. The nametag on the young man said Cooper. Uncle Jack leaned forward like he was studying the name and raised his head, looking the young man in the eye. “Where’s Anna?” He looked around like he expected her to jump out and yell surprise.

  “Oh,” Cooper said quietly, moving behind the counter and fiddling around straightening some papers. “She doesn’t work here anymore.”

  Uncle Jack took a step closer. “Is she OK?” He stretched out his arm, as if to comfort Cooper.

  Cooper shrugged. “Yeah. Um, did you want to rent?” He looked at me for clarification.

  I stepped forward. “No. We bought a moped the other day, and it’s having issues running. I’m hoping you have a mechanic that can take a look at it.”

  “Sure. I’ll have to check Alan’s schedule and let you know. Do you have it here with you?”

  “Why doesn’t Anna work here anymore?” Uncle Jack continued. I wondered where his mind was that he was so concerned about her welfare.

  “I really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Cooper said, fidgeting with his ear. He looked around and leaned in. He mouthed, she got fired.

  “What? Why?” Uncle Jack demanded answers.

  “I’m really going to get in trouble for talking about this.” Cooper looked around again. “Can you show me where the moped is and give me the keys?” His look implored me to stop the grilling from Uncle Jack. He took the keys and I led us to the sidewalk.

  “I’ll take full responsibility,” Uncle Jack said.

  Cooper inhaled and huffed. His jaw muscles flexed. He must have concluded that the only way out of this was through it. Once last covert glance around and he blurted, “She was badmouthing the owner and his business. I guess she just did it one too many times.”

  “Does it run at all?” Cooper asked me.

  “It sounds like it will start but then doesn’t,” I said. Explaining car things was way outside my knowledge and expertise.

  “Let me talk to the manager or Nelson. I know I can get her job back,” Uncle Jack pleaded.

  Cooper had both handlebars of the moped and began pushing it around the corner to the back of the building.

  “Nelson is just the business name. It’s actually owned by Cal Borman.” Cooper let go of one of the handlebars and gripped his left hand around his neck. He turned and disappeared with the ailing moped.

  “That poor girl,” Uncle Jack said. He plopped onto the bench with his head in his hands. “She needed that job. I have to see if there’s something I can do to help.”

  “I know you mean well. But I don’t know if getting a disgruntled employee rehired is the best choice. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise for her to move on to another place.”

  He shook his head, running his fingers through his thinning hair. I put my hand on his back and lightly patted.

  “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” His body slumped. Dejected, he said, “We should probably get back.” And we were off.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Without a word, we proceeded on our return route to Checkered Past Antiques. I figured we would stop by the coffee shop another day. That gave me relief and would mean I could do some more experimenting before making a business deal.

  On a dime, Uncle Jack pivoted ninety degrees to the left and entered Mocha Joe’s Coffee Shop. I stood outside, stunned. I put my hands on my hips and waited. When he realized I hadn’t followed him inside, he came back to the door.

  The neon outline of a steaming cup of coffee blinked in the front window.

  “No time like the present,” he said, grinning. He bounced on his feet, waiting for me to budge. My st
omach was in my throat. Maybe it was the best time. No chance to get any more nervous than I already was and try to back out at the last second. I gulped and stepped inside. There wasn’t a smell much better than fresh ground coffee beans and fresh brewed coffee. I followed Uncle Jack to the counter.

  A man about forty years old was behind the counter serving a customer. He wore a light blue button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Over the top was a bright orange apron that said Mocha Joe’s Coffee Shop.

  Uncle Jack and I waited our turn, and when the man saw us, he burst into a giant smile. “Hi Jack,” he said and then turned to me and said, “You must be Tilly.”

  I nodded, unable to utter a word to this gorgeous guy. Uncle Jack looked at me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Tilly has a business proposition to talk to you about.” He continued to look at me.

  After an awkward amount of silence, I cleared my throat, “Um, yeah. I have a business proposition for you, Mocha Joe.”

  He chuckled. “You can just call me Joe. I’m excited to hear it. When Jack mentioned you were moving to town and opening a bakery, my wheels started churning. I think you’ve got a lot of potential for multiple avenues of business around town.” He removed his apron and came around the counter. He grabbed a notebook and pen and pointed to a table along the wall. “Why don’t we sit for a minute to chat. Callie can take over for me for now.” The teenage girl looked at us and grinned to show a mouth full of braces.

  We followed Joe to the table and sat. I tried to inconspicuously inhale deeply to calm my nerves. I couldn’t tell if they were frayed due to the business discussion or the fact it was being held with a good-looking man. I was in no way interested in dating for quite some time, if ever.