Babycakes

by Donna Kauffman

  The lawyers had told her if she’d been fighting anyone else, they’d have had a good chance. The legal fees alone were daunting, but since Teddy had deep pockets, he could go in for the long haul and not get hurt. Beating her in court was just the cost of doing business, no matter the fees involved.

  Her financial adviser, in his last act before she had to let him go, too—no need for one when there was nothing left to advise on—had told her she should be grateful she wasn’t in debt to her lawyers, the IRS, or anyone else. She was starting over from scratch, sure, but, hey, she wasn’t in the hole. She was still having a hard time being all rosy about that. “That’s the part that kills me the most.”

  “What part is that?”

  She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud. “Oh. Sorry. I was just—”

  She really didn’t want to talk about it. She was afraid she’d cry again. But she’d worked up a fair head of steam and as he’d said, talking about it, especially with someone who wasn’t connected to it . . . She chuckled at the irony.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I was thinking I didn’t want to explain, because it would likely make me cry. That’s so becoming and all, plus, just what the designated driver in any road trip wants, a crying navigator.”

  “I don’t want to make anyone cry, but if you want to talk it out—”

  “That’s what made me laugh. I was also thinking that you were right, talking about it was kind of a relief. Specifically, talking to someone who wasn’t involved. And then I thought . . . how odd, that I’m unloading on a Westlake, of all people, about this particular tragedy.”

  “Maybe that’s your karmic payoff,” he said, laughing himself.

  “More of those ‘mysterious ways,’ huh?”

  He shrugged. “Might be. But I’m not connected, really, so . . . fire away.”

  “Well, it may be my karmic payoff, but it’s certainly not yours to have to listen to it.”

  He looked at her, his expression open, easy and simply asked, “So, what was the part that killed you the most?”

  She held his gaze for a moment; then he had to look back to the road. She kept looking at him, though. He really was a decent, good guy. And a Westlake. If that was karma, she didn’t want to know how they’d gotten to this point.

  After an extended silence, she answered his question. “Losing the house. If I had to choose between pie business or house, I’d have chosen the pie business. Which I did, and that’s why I put my share of the house up during the court battle.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “I couldn’t buy my share back, so . . . it’s gone.”

  “Gone, gone?”

  “Trixie owned the other half and she’s always hated it. She considered it an embarrassment to what she perceived as her social standing. It was a ramshackle, crazy house. It sat on a fair amount of property, though, and I guess I thought, if anything, maybe she’d just give it a giant makeover once it was all hers.”

  “But half went to your lawyers. Did they force a sale to get their share? Surely Teddy could have just bought them—”

  “Oh, trust me, it never came to that. Trixie had it on the market almost before the judge’s final rap of the gavel had finished echoing in the courtroom.” Kit folded her arms loosely around her waist, looked out the window, but didn’t really see anything. “I miss the business like crazy. But I’m getting back some of the personal fulfillment I got from it, here with the new bakery. Entirely different, but it’s filling that void, as much as anything ever could, anyway.”

  “It’s a much smaller endeavor.”

  “Yeah, but, I don’t know . . . it suits me. Suits my life as it is now, or maybe it would have always suited me. After all I’ve been through, it’s about as much responsibility as I want. I can work with Lani and Baxter; make sure to do whatever I need to, to make her vision a success. But I’m not responsible for hundreds of employees’ livelihoods, and I’m okay with that.” She snorted. “I’m sure the employees of the world are sleeping more soundly because of that, too. I’m hardly a good risk as an employer these days.”

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to go through what you went through, but I know you’re being too hard on yourself. And if Mamie Sue’s employees knew you, and knew what was really going on . . . well, I can’t imagine they blame you, either.”

  “Well, they’re certainly not cheering the fact that I lost the company to a corporation that had no intention of retaining any of them.”

  “Still—” He decided not to push it, turning to sympathy instead. “I’m sorry you lost the house, too.”

  “In the scope of karmic fairness, a lot of my former employees ended up losing theirs when they couldn’t find work after the layoff, so . . . it is what it is. I shouldn’t complain.”

  “You’re not complaining. You’re mourning—as are they. No matter how it all came down, you’re human and you lost everything that mattered to you. You’re allowed to grieve without feeling guilty about that, too.”

  She looked at him. “Do you ever miss what you’ve let go? Do you ever feel like it’s unfair that you had to give up everything to take on this new role?”

  He slowed the truck and stopped at a red light, then looked directly at her. “For a long time, I felt guilty for wanting out of my family and the family business. I don’t, anymore. I took a lot of flak from the extended clan for taking Lilly away from my mother . . . but you’d have to know my mother to understand it’s not as cruel a thing as it appears to be. My family was only upset because of how it might look to others. If anything, it’s been a blessing to my mother, not having to deal with raising a small child and what a painful reminder Lilly is to her. You have to realize, she doesn’t view people as . . . well, people.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Kit said softly. “I shouldn’t have—your loss is so much more personal than—”

  “No, we’re both putting it out there and we’ve both lost. We’ve both suffered, are suffering. You understand what that is. You’ve suffered personal loss, too. We both know life can be hard, sometimes a whole hell of a lot. But I can honestly say, nothing about having Lilly in my life, except the reason for it happening in the first place, is bad. I am terrified, pretty much daily, that I’ll screw it up, but I feel . . . honored and grateful, to have a hand in raising her.”

  “You love her. So much. You won’t screw up.”

  Morgan smiled and pressed the gas pedal as the traffic flowed forward again. “Yeah, well, I’ll believe that as soon as you believe you shouldn’t feel guilty for being pissed off.”

  She laughed and so did he.

  “God, this is all so . . . odd. You’re nothing like your family, or those I’ve met anyway. I think I see what you’re saying about them. I’ve never met your mother—the court proceedings were well underway when the accident happened. It was all over the news, of course, but I was so swamped with the court battle, I really didn’t pay attention to it, except I knew it was the son of the woman who owned the firm currently fighting me in court. I wondered if . . . it would stall anything, or change anything, or . . . I don’t know . . . cause the lawyers to be less—”

  “Vicious?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. That’s a horrible thing to say, but they were relentless. The accident was so tragic and I couldn’t help wondering—because I lost both my parents the very same, very sudden way—how they could attack at the same time they were suffering such a loss. But there was never even a blip, not in court. Not so much as a time extension for them to handle things. Nothing. I realize it’s a big firm, but there were lawyers at that table with the same last name as yours, so I assumed . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. I understand now, at least a little. That’s all I was trying to say.”

  “Just as I understand why hearing my name made you take such a big mental step backward.”

  She slid a glance his way, but his attention was on the road. “Teddy is a lot like y
our family. So, I guess, is my sister. Do you know she was furious with me, utterly furious, when she heard I was going to fight the sale? She said I was betraying family, taking Teddy and the snack company to court.” Kit laughed, albeit with no humor. “I felt like I’d stepped into an alternate universe where everyone else was suddenly speaking an entirely different language.”

  Morgan surprised her by chuckling. “You just described pretty much every day of my childhood.”

  Smiling with him, she glanced his way. “Maybe it’s just us, and we’re the weirdos.”

  “If we’re the weirdos, I’ll take that over normal every day and twice on Sundays.” He looked over at her just then, and though he held her gaze for only a moment, the connection between them was as palpable as if he’d reached out and caressed her. “Thanks for keeping me company in Weirdo World.”

  She laughed, but her body was having a far more . . . involved reaction. He was just so . . . wonderful, really. She wanted him. Wanted the real touch to go with that palpable, imagined one.

  “And to think, I’m still single, with lines like that,” he said dryly. “Shocker, really.”

  “And to think I took it as a compliment,” she replied, laughing. “We really are in Weirdo World.”

  “Well, I’m off to rescue mutant-sized turtles, and I’ve left my only niece in the care of a Mohawked, multiple-pierced young woman who has a fairy wing tattoo that my five-year-old niece seriously covets, so, I suppose Weirdo World really is somewhat applicable.” He laughed. “It’s a good thing my family can’t see what’s going on or they’d sue to get her back.”

  Kit raised her eyebrows as her libido took an instant dive. “You’ve seen Dre’s tattoos?”

  “Tattoo,” he replied. “As in one. Singular. She showed it to Lilly the day we stopped by the shop when Lilly had on her fairy costume.” He glanced over at Kit and his eyes widened. He chuckled as he turned his attention back to the road. “You didn’t seriously think that I’d—I mean, she’s at least ten years younger than—” He shook his head. “Now who’s the weirdo?”

  Kit shrugged, but she was fighting a laugh. “She’s an amazing young woman, and, as she says, age is just a number.”

  “You know, she said something like that earlier, back at the center, only I don’t think it was supposed to be a compliment.” He slowed the truck and made the turn toward Jekyll. He was silent for a moment; then, as if he’d been debating saying it, he kind of blurted, “She also said they’re rooting for me, whoever ‘they’ are. I wasn’t sure what that meant. It was when she made the age crack.”

  Kit had to smile or be mortified. She couldn’t believe Dre had told him the Cupcake Club was trying to play matchmaker. Well, she could believe it, but never considered they’d actually take a hands-on approach. Okay, Alva maybe. And Franco. She sighed, then laughed. Or all of them. “What does it say about us when we’re the weird ones and Dre is the one who gets it?”

  Morgan chuckled. “I don’t think I want an answer to that.”

  Kit glanced over at him and smiled. “She calls you Uncle Hunk.” Fair was fair, after all.

  Kit thought Morgan might have choked.

  “What?”

  “Oh, come on. Surely it’s not a surprise that women find you appealing.” She grinned. “Alva calls you that, too.”

  “Birdie’s friend, Alva? She’s like, what—”

  “Eighty-four. See, your appeal knows no age boundaries.” Kit laughed again when she saw a bit of color bloom in his cheeks. God, he was sexy, charming, and ridiculously adorable. She was in so much trouble. “She and Dre are both Cupcake Club members.”

  She realized her mistake when he turned his very knowing grin on her. “Ah. So that would be who is rooting for me, I’m guessing. Hmm. Rooting for me in what manner, I wonder?” He slowed at another red light. “I don’t suppose you’d care to . . . illuminate?”

  “I don’t suppose I would.” She strove to sound prim and proper, which was totally ruined when he snickered and she joined in, helpless against it.

  They were still laughing when the light turned green. “Weirdo World, indeed,” she said, when she could find air.

  He grinned at her. “We’re quite the pair.”

  “So you keep telling me,” she said dryly. Their gazes caught, held for a moment, as he slowed to take a turn.

  They bumped into the parking lot of the research center. “Maybe if I tell you often enough, you’ll believe me.”

  Chapter 13

  “Oh, my goodness. Morgan, look how small they are.”

  Kit walked around the holding tank for two of the little Hawksbills they were taking back to Sugarberry, a look of delight and wonder on her face. She crouched down to watch them through the glass. “Oh, no, look. That one has only three flippers.”

  Morgan came around her side and bent down to watch with her. “Seems to be doing pretty well with them, though.”

  “Yeah, he does. Still . . .” She turned her gaze to his. “Lilly is going to totally fall in love with him, you know.”

  That was the moment it hit him. Truly, for sure, it hit him. Right next to a turtle holding tank on Jekyll Island.

  He’d lost count of the number of times he’d heard the “when the right person comes along, you’ll just know” advice. He’d never really believed it. He’d dated, often, in fact, during his years in Colorado, and could recall, quite fondly, the women he’d spent time with. They’d had lively, deep, stimulating conversations about politics, the environment, world peace, and philosophy. Wasn’t that what connecting and chemistry was all about? He’d always thought something would slowly evolve from there. But . . . it never had.

  Not until that moment by the turtle tanks. Staring into green eyes and an open, honest smile, it finally had evolved.

  In the short time they’d known each other, he’d opened up to Kit, talked about himself, his family, his goals . . . something he’d never done before. She had, too, and he doubted that was the norm for her, either. Maybe it was the unusual connection they’d had to one another that had allowed it to happen so swiftly; he didn’t know.

  He used to think it was about time spent together, that a relationship eventually would grow if given the right amount of attention . . . but this road trip was the longest they’d spent in the company of one another. Over the past two hours—hell, every time they’d had even a brief conversation—it had been meaningful in ways that had nothing to do with deep thoughts about current world events, and everything to do with connecting to each other on an intimate, personal level.

  The karmic joke was on him. He finally understood, finally knew . . . and he was the last man on earth she wanted to get involved with.

  But that sense of rightness, of connection was there. It wasn’t just him, and it wasn’t going to go away just because she wished it would.

  Just be there, involve yourself . . . and see where that takes you, he thought. Worst case . . . she stuck to her friends-only edict and he ended up with someone in his life who was important to him, special, and who cared about Lilly.

  Best case? Well, he didn’t want to think that far ahead. One step at a time.

  “Morgan?”

  He snapped from his reverie . . . and curled his fingers into his palms to keep from cupping her face in his hands and lowering his mouth to hers. The urge to . . . what, claim? Yes. Claim. That was the only way to describe the primal feeling coursing through him. It was crazy. He’d never been the stake-his-claim kind of guy. And yet . . . with her . . .

  “I was just imagining Lilly’s face when she sees this little guy.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. At that moment, he’d been wondering what she’d do if he leaned in and kissed her. If he started by claiming her mouth . . . and went from there.

  Her eyes softened. “I know. Can’t say as I’ll blame her, either. Do you think . . . have you thought about her getting attached to these guys?”

  He fought to get his thoughts—and needs—back on track
. “Yeah, it worries me, a little. She doesn’t need more loss in her life right now. I’ve talked to Gabe, and he’s suggested that we let her be part of the releases, when the time comes. So she can see the turtles going back to their homes. I figure—as unfortunate as it is—there are always going to be new temporary residents for her to get involved with. If she sticks with it, stays interested, then she’ll just have to learn that her role in their lives is to help them get back home, and see that as a good thing.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Kit’s smile spread, warmed, as she continued to hold his gaze.

  Such a change from where they were the last time they’d spent time in each other’s company. He couldn’t squelch the leap of hope, didn’t want to. He wanted to slide his hand in hers, tuck her next to his side, and share the moment with her. Such a simple desire, and yet nothing about it was simple. It was complex and richly layered, and felt oh-so-good. Our . . . um . . . .indeed.

  “I know you’re worried,” she said, mistaking his silence for concern. “About taking care of her, raising her. God knows, I’d be terrified half the time, too, maybe all the time. It’s a huge responsibility. You clearly love her, but what will get you through is that you are looking out for her.”

  “Thank you. I’m just doing the best I can.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “That’s all anyone can do.” She squeezed, then let go, turning her attention back to the tank.

  As swiftly as his grand ideas of slowly romancing Kit had come to mind, the reality of where that would inevitably lead crashed his fanciful dreams right back down to earth. Even if she could get past the fact that he was a Westlake and decide she was ready to take on the emotional challenges of a relationship, the fact was, he didn’t come solo. He was part of a package deal. With everything she’d been through, the new challenges she’d taken on, and starting her life over, he sincerely doubted she was looking for a ready-made family to top things off. No matter how much she cared about Lilly. And he couldn’t blame her.