Love and Cupcakes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  Something sweet pushed through the savory scents wafting from the table. It was subtle, just a hint of chocolate Jack couldn’t place. Laughing, Jack said, “If you want a cupcake, Harp, you’re gonna have to finish your veggies. That was always the rule for me.”

  “How do you know that was me?”

  Shaking her head, Jack said, “Because you could never help it.” She caught her mom’s eye and smiled. See, I can be nice if she can.

  She watched as Harper cut up her food and shuffled it around her plate to seem as though she’d eaten some. “If you can get them all to look that way”—Jack pointed toward the right with her fork—“I’ll sneak some off your plate,” she whispered.

  Harper’s lips twitched into a smile for a fraction of a second. Then it was gone. But it was enough to let Jack know she still had a shot—even if it was small—of reconnecting with her sister.

  After Jack helped her mom clear the table and set the dishes in the sink to soak, they joined the others in the living room. Despite the subtle changes over the years—the new rusty orange of the walls, lush modern sofas and sitting chairs, and updated family photographs—the essence of their home had remained the same. It smelled faintly of citrus from the dusting spray her mom used. The dark-wood coffee and side tables gleamed. The reds and golds of the Oriental carpet played off the walls, making the whole room pulse with warmth.

  Her favorite part of the house had always been the wall-to-wall built-in bookshelves flanking the brick fireplace. The shelves were filled with stacks of hardcovers and paperbacks, various sizes of framed family portraits and snapshots, crystal vases, pottery bowls, and handcrafted wire giraffe sculptures.

  The chunky mantel held more photographs in matching frames. They showed family trips and football tailgate parties. Birthdays, graduations, and childhood Halloweens mixed in with Sears’ family portraits and posed shots from Hutton’s wedding to offer an accurate portrayal of the Pace family. A small square frame held an image of Jack, her smile splitting her face in two, and Graham at the grand opening of Crumbs.

  She had the same one on her mantel at home and at the shop. She traced her finger over the glass before taking a seat on the couch closest to her dad’s worn-in reading chair.

  “You could have invited him you know,” Harper said, leaving the space between them on the couch empty. “It’s not like he isn’t practically family already.”

  Jack looked away without responding.

  “Who?” Hutton asked. He nudged her onto the middle cushion so Aria could use the sofa arm for balance as she lowered down next to her.

  Rolling her eyes at him, Harper leaned forward and said, “Graham. They’re never more than a few feet away from each other at the shop. And y’all have your weekly hangout. That’s the only date either of them has all week.”

  “You’ve seen the size of the shop. He’d have to be within a few feet of me or he’d be outside,” Jack insisted. She shifted, tucking one leg under her on the couch and silently begging her sister to drop it. Shut up, shut up, shut up, she repeated in her head. The message wasn’t getting through.

  Harper shrugged. “We all know you’ve liked each other for years. What’s the big deal?”

  “Apparently, we don’t all know. Jaclyn, are you and Graham dating?” her father asked. He removed his glasses to wipe them clean on his shirt. The corners or his mouth ticked up in a conspiratorial smile.

  “If they’re not, they sure as hell should be. I know I would be if I wasn’t—” Harper stopped, mouth pressed together in a thin, tight line.

  Jack caught her eye. The others were too focused on her to notice Harper’s odd behavior, but she had heard Harper’s slip. And she wasn’t going to let it slide.

  “If you weren’t what?” she asked.

  “Of course they’re not,” Hutton said at the same time. “Graham wouldn’t date one of my sisters.”

  “Gee, thanks, Hutt. You say that like there’s something wrong with me,” Jack said. She picked at a stray thread on the thigh of her jeans. It pulled out, unraveling a mini chocolate chip–sized hole.

  “There is—you’re my sister. And he knows better.”

  She looked at him then. Tight lines tugged at Hutt’s mouth. If he was looking for a fight, she wasn’t going to give him one. Not about this, anyway. She slipped her feet back into her shoes. Her socks bunched around her toes, making her shoes feel tight and constricting. “On that note, I’m gonna go. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Don’t be such a girl, Jack,” Hutton said.

  She ignored him.

  She stood, rubbed Aria’s swollen belly, and kissed her parents good-bye. Their voices hummed behind her. The soft familiar chatter chased her from the house. She stepped out into the unforgiving night air. It smelled like caramel left on the stove too long. She coughed to expel the charred flavor from her mouth and from her lungs.

  The wind slapped at her cheeks, yanked at her hair so it streamed out behind her, twisting into thick knots. She turned her body into it, letting it drain her of warmth and frustration. She didn’t turn at the quick footfalls on the brick path leading from the front door to the driveway.

  Harper caught up with her as she opened her car door. “You mind taking me home?”

  “I’m headed that way,” she said. She cranked the engine. The stereo roared to life, blasting a heavy bass line and soulful guitar.

  “I met them once.” Harper pointed to the stereo. “This guy I know is in a band, and I went with him on tour for a bit. They were pretty cool. If I’d known you liked them, I would have gotten you their autographs.”

  “Thanks.” Jack concentrated on the road. Head straight, eyes transfixed. Her hands gripped the wheel tight, like the safety bar on a carnival ride. The white dashes merged into one long streak on the road as she gathered speed. The trees flanking the highway were a solid mass of black.

  Harper turned the volume down. “I’m sorry. About what happened back there. I just thought that, well, I don’t know what I thought. You and Graham just seem like such a no-brainer, you know?”

  “Obviously he knows better,” Jack deadpanned.

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Silly me,” Jack said. When she reached for the volume dial, she hesitated and said, “Why’d you come home, Harp?”

  “Can’t a girl just miss her family?”

  “Yes, a girl can. But not you. You couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.”

  “I just wanted to come back, all right? You don’t want to talk about Graham, I don’t want to talk about this. Deal?”

  Jack agreed by turning up the music.

  six

  Graham started his thirty-mile bike ride on Jack’s side of town. He told himself he should stick to his usual training route, but after his conversation with Hutton, he couldn’t dispel the image of Jack at seven years old with skin golden from a summer spent at the pool and pink frosting on her lips.

  When he pulled into her driveway, Jack was sitting on the front steps, faced titled back to soak up the sun. The breeze tugged at her hair and pulled a few strands from her ponytail. He sat on his bike for a minute just watching her.

  The small, two-story cottage looked like the architect had plucked it straight from Snow White. Cream stucco and multi-tiered roofs played nicely with the ski slope overhang and the grays and purples of the stonework entryway. Craftsman-style windows with their intricate mix of one dominant pane and smaller rectangular panes offered a modern feel to the home.

  It was utterly Jack. A mix of classic and charming with a hint of whimsy.

  When she looked up and caught him staring, he swung a leg over the bike and had to catch himself so he didn’t topple over.

  “It amazes me you can keep balanced when you ride,” she called to him.

  “Cute,” he said, walking toward her. “Can you tell me why your brother called me this morning and insisted that I need to stand farther away from you at work?” The words forced their way out a
s if he’d been compelled to ask the question. He held his breath as he waited for her to answer.

  “’Cause he’s an idiot,” she said. But she looked tired, worried.

  “Hey,” he said. The word stretched between them, lingered in the air as he sat next to her on the step. The stone was smooth and seemed to pulse with heat. “What’s wrong?”

  She shifted away from him, dropped her elbows to her knees and sighed. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s with the mint and lime?”

  “Oh, uh,” he fumbled. He’d known she’d ask at some point. Had practiced what he’d say, but the words fell right out of his head as he stared at her. “New recipe,” he managed.

  “Smells good,” she said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her smile was soft, hopeful.

  He looked away. A couple of college kids kissed on the front porch of the rental across the street, oblivious to the rest of the world. “Yeah.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and forced himself to think of anything other than Jack. Vanilla cake, vanilla pudding filling, banana frosting with a Nilla Wafer garnish.

  She sighed again. “And it’s gone. So, when do I get to try it?”

  “I haven’t quite figured it out yet. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  It’s not like he hadn’t had plenty of time to work it out. But this wasn’t something he could rush. If he tested it and it backfired, well, he didn’t want to think about the consequences.

  “Good,” Jack said. “And don’t worry about Hutton. You know how vivid his imagination is. He can take an idea and run with it so fast it’ll take you a few minutes to realize he’s already two towns over in Crazyville.”

  Graham forced out a laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “Guess so.”

  If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said she sounded disappointed.

  Turning away from her, he spotted the CD he’d strapped to the bike. “I almost forgot something.” He stood and jogged over to it. He removed the rubber band from the handlebar. “I burned you a copy of this new CD I got.”

  She met him halfway. Taking the disc, she read the scribbled writing. “Talking on Mute? What’re they like?”

  “They’re kinda like a cross between Three Days Grace and Splender. A little loud, a little melodic. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I always do.” Tapping the case against her palm, she turned her amber-colored eyes up to him. Her forehead wrinkled with concern. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you the other day. I just don’t know what I’ll do if the business fails. I’ve put everything I am into it and it still might not be enough.”

  “Where’d this defeatist attitude come from? That’s not you.”

  “It’s getting hard to be positive all the time. I figured I’d give this a try for a while. It seems to be working for Harper.”

  A warm breeze kicked up, fluttering the loose hairs around her sun-kissed cheeks. His fingers itched to tuck them back in place. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “Probably not as much as she wants you to think. She’s hiding from something. And whatever it is, it’s got her living above your shop, asking to work for you. That’s gotta tell you something,” he said.

  “Yeah, that she wants a front-row seat when I screw it all up,” Jack said. Her smile was hard, guarded. She blew out a breath and continued, “And who’s going to hire me after that? You’re so amazing at what you do, you’d have a job before we even shut off the lights.”

  Graham shifted his weight from foot to foot. The guilt from not telling her about Thalia caused his heart to beat faster.

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “The vultures are already swarming, aren’t they? They can sense an imminent death and are trying to poach you before it happens?”

  “Didn’t we just argue about how I don’t want you to replace me? Even if they are trying, I’m not leaving you.” He hadn’t meant it to come out that way. Though, if he was honest with himself, that was exactly what he’d wanted to say. “I’m not leaving our shop,” he quickly amended.

  Jack dragged her hands through her hair, tugging it out of the rubber band. The air filled with the citrusy scent of her shampoo. Graham sighed when it floated away on the breeze.

  “Would you tell me if that’s what you wanted though?” she asked.

  “It’s not.”

  “But would you tell me if it was?”

  Graham nodded, wondering how she thought he’d ever want that. He walked back to the bike to put some distance between them. He straddled the bike but kept his toes on the ground. The defeated smile she sent him shot straight to his gut. He tightened his stomach muscles and kicked off before he could find a reason to stay all day.

  ***

  The only thing Jack had been able to keep down for two days was an apple. And that she had eaten less than an hour before. It still had time to revolt.

  She’d driven to work with the windows rolled down so the cold air could rush across her face. It was crisp, fresh. It was almost enough to obscure the sharp, earthy scents of aged scotch that had been plaguing her since her neighbor cracked open the bottle and started downing it—no ice, no chaser. Even after he’d passed out, the desire still emanated from his pores along with his sweat.

  She shoved out of the car, gulping clean air to excise the remnants of desire from her body. She trailed her hand along the cool side of her car for support. The ground felt solid under her feet, but when she took her eyes off of it to focus on the back door of the shop, the black asphalt seemed to roil and rise up, making the six-foot trek take minutes instead of seconds.

  Lifting the cotton shirt away from her clammy skin, she trudged through the door. The sweet, sugary scent assaulted her. One light flickered as the bulb suffered a slow death. She shielded her eyes and stared blankly at the pockmarked floor. She clutched the plastic container she carried tighter to her chest.

  Jack smacked into Harper, who came out of the office carrying four or five clipboards.

  “You look awful,” Harper said.

  A rush of heat pulsed through her, obliterating her last shred of restraint. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to dress better tomorrow,” she said.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re sick. That’s why I’m awake and actually functioning before noon. What are you doing here anyway?”

  “It’s this thing called work. It’s what I do to keep a roof over my head, unlike other people who don’t have to pay for such luxuries,” Jack snarled. She attempted to take the clipboards from her sister but merely succeeded in pawing at them with clumsy fingers.

  “Funny you should mention that. Remember I said I could help out around here in lieu of rent? Today seems like the best day for a trial run. You don’t need to do anything today except go home and crawl into bed. I can deal with the customers and help Graham if he needs it.”

  Jack slouched against the wall. She slipped a few inches and repositioned her feet to wedge her body in place. The wall was cool against her neck and arms. She concentrated on the solid feel of it. Ran her fingers lightly over the smooth surface. Her vision wobbled, fading in and out of focus. Breathing through her mouth, she willed herself not to pass out.

  “You don’t know what to do,” she managed.

  “I know how to smile and take orders. For today, that’s enough.”

  “Since when do you know how to smile?”

  Harper laughed and sent her a wicked grin. “I forgot how cranky you get when you don’t feel well. Go home, Jaclyn. I’ve got this,” Harper said.

  “I don’t think I can make it home.” Jack swallowed hard to keep her stomach from turning.

  “All right. Think you can make it upstairs? Oh, Graham. Graham,” Harper said in a panic as the back door opened, letting in a profusion of light. She motioned him over with quick waves of her hand that made Jack dizzy.

  Jack groane
d. Can’t I be sick in peace? A wave of heat rolled though her, setting her skin on fire. She pressed her lips together and turned toward the breeze coming through the open door. And to Graham. She looked away.

  “Aw, hell, Jaclyn,” he said.

  “Can you take her upstairs? She’s not so hot,” Harper said. Her voice carried from the door where she stood with her hand on his arm.

  The move was familiar, intimate. Jack’s stomach tightened as she watched the exchange. “I’ll be fine,” Jack said. “I just need a minute.” She pushed away from the wall, swayed. She steadied herself on the office door jamb. Then her vision went black.

  Graham caught her before she hit the floor.

  ***

  She awoke groggy but the room was no longer spinning. That was a plus. She concentrated on the intricate tin ceiling tiles to gauge her progress. The rolling and churning had subsided. In its place was a raw, dull emptiness. The only thing she smelled was a faint cake scent drifting up from the shop below. She rolled on her side and hefted her heavy legs over the side of the bed. She tossed the sheet aside and sat on the edge. Looking down, she realized she was stripped to her underwear and wore a T-shirt that was not hers. It was soft, faded. And two sizes too big. She recognized the band name screen-printed on the front, but she couldn’t place why.

  On the night stand sat a glass of water and a note that read Drink Me in Graham’s unmistakable all-caps print. The realization that he had probably been the one to strip her down burned as fast and hot as her fever had hours before.

  She sipped the room-temperature water, letting it slosh in her mouth before swallowing to make sure it wasn’t going to come right back up.

  Blinding sun streamed in through the windows and she squinted. Either it was still early enough in the afternoon that she could get in a few hours work, or she had slept that day away and a good portion of the next. She wouldn’t know which until she made it downstairs.

  Her legs shook as she stood. Jack unearthed her sister’s mouthwash and gargled for a full minute before locating her jeans and shoes. Not bothering with a brush, she pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail and headed downstairs.