Love and Cupcakes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  As he reached for the last beer, someone knocked on the window behind him, and his hand stalled. The glass wobbled in the thin metal window frame that was original to the eighteenth-century building. He turned and instantly regretted it. Melanie flicked her eyes to Thalia and smiled at him with one of her sons settled low on her hip. His chubby fingers banged against the glass, mimicking hers.

  Graham smiled back and grumbled under his breath, “Please just keep on walking.”

  Melanie released the other twin’s hand long enough to wave to them. Her bright-red lips twisted into a conspiratorial smile as she walked away.

  He picked up the half-drunk sample of porter and downed it like a shot.

  “Melanie’s not a friend of yours, I take it?” Thalia asked.

  “We’re doing a job for her and I think she’s made it her personal mission to make Jack’s life hell until it’s over. How do you know her?”

  She watched over his shoulder as if making sure Melanie didn’t turn back to listen to them through the glass. “She eats at my place whenever she’s in the city. She’s one of those women who likes to be noticed, so I kinda got to know her pretty quickly. And since we both know you, it’s like we have some kind of extra bond that keeps her coming back. But as long as she keeps dropping a hundred bucks a visit, I’m not complaining.”

  “Lucky you,” he said. He handed her the last sample and hoped she took the hint.

  Tilting her head back, Thalia took a big swig of the sour brown ale. Her face scrunched up, and she stuck her tongue out as if the air could disinfect it.

  “That good, huh?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

  “Let’s see how good you think it is.” She thrust the glass at him. A wave of almost-black beer sloshed over the rim and pooled on the table.

  It smelled sour and tasted worse, like the brewmaster had forgotten a few ingredients. Like taste. Graham kept his face straight and took a second swig for good measure. “It’s not that bad, T. Give it another try.” He nudged the glass back toward her. He barked out a deep, guttural laugh when she made the same disgusted face.

  “Jerk,” she said.

  “There’s nothing you can do to this one to make it good,” he said.

  “So you forfeit?”

  “If you can come up with something, you deserve to win.”

  Thalia tapped a finger against the end of her nose as she thought. It was a gesture she’d done so often in school that the instructors gave up on lecturing her about sanitation and proper food preparation etiquette. More often than not, it ended in a spark of culinary genius.

  Not wanting to lose, Graham blurted out, “Sour-milk icing over a moldy green cake that has the lingering smell of rotten eggs.”

  “Cheater,” she said.

  She crumpled the napkin she’d been scribbling their makeshift recipes on and threw it at him. He plucked it out of the air and stuffed it in his pocket. Some of the ideas weren’t bad.

  When he got home, Graham dug out the list of flavor possibilities. He smoothed the wrinkled napkin on the edge of the coffee table. Thalia’s mix of print and cursive was only legible since he’d spent years deciphering it. The chocolate porter caramel had his mouth watering.

  He envisioned chocolate cake, caramel filling, dark-caramel icing with chocolate drizzle, and salt crystals sprinkled on top.

  With one hand under Alice, he scooped her and carried her to the kitchen. He set her on the window sill where she stretched and then lay down. Graham unscrewed the cap of the beer growler and poured two glasses of porter—one to drink and one to add to the batter. He pulled the dry ingredient canisters across the granite counter and grabbed the remaining items from the fridge and pantry. He wouldn’t have gotten out measuring cups and spoons even if he’d had them.

  He added ingredients for the batter by weight and what looked about right. Two scoops of sugar, a pinch of salt, a couple shakes of cocoa, two eggs, a drizzle of vanilla and what he estimated to be most of a stick of butter went into the mixing bowl. He moved the speed lever on the mixer to medium and rinsed his hands while the ingredients whirled and combined.

  Testing the batter with his finger, he added another half shake of chocolate and let it mix for thirty seconds. The batter was the color of damp soil. He tested it again. The chocolate was smooth and potent.

  He spooned batter into cups and set the trays in the oven. While they baked, he melted sugar in a saucepan. He pushed the obstinate granules around with a silicon spatula. After five minutes over medium-high heat, the mass of white melted into a clear, bubbling liquid. He couldn’t take his eyes off it now. He was thankful Jack wasn’t there to distract him with her laugh or subtle flower perfume.

  Whisking it, he scrutinized the color. When it reached dark amber, he dropped in three pats of butter and stirred until they melted. Then he removed it from the stove and poured it into a warm metal bowl. He added in a few glugs of heavy cream to keep it from hardening. It foamed in hundreds of tiny bubbles. They popped on the tips of his fingers.

  Graham whisked until all the lumps were gone. He let it cool for a few moments then dipped his finger in for a taste. He licked at it before it could run down his hand and closed his eyes to concentrate on the flavor. It tasted like falling in love—sweet and exotic but somehow familiar.

  He dialed Jack’s number.

  “What?” she said in place of hello. Her tone was so sharp it crackled through the receiver.

  He rubbed at his chest, trying to relieve the tightness in his lungs. “You busy?”

  After a few seconds of silence, she sighed. “Not really.”

  “So, I’ve been thinking about what you said about new flavors and I’m trying one out tonight.”

  “What is it?”

  “Not gonna tell you. You’ll just have to come try it.”

  The oven timer went off. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear while he pulled the cupcakes out. Pressing a finger into the center of each one, he tested their doneness. He could hear her breathing, a steady in and out of air. She didn’t say anything else.

  “Okay, I’ll give you a little hint. It’s got beer in it,” Graham said.

  He barely heard her soft, “Oh.”

  “Not quite the reaction I was looking for.”

  “Is it something you came up with tonight?” Jack asked.

  If he didn’t know Jack better, he would’ve said she sounded jealous. But she’d always been very clear on their roles—he was the brains behind the baking, and she handled the business side. They didn’t spill over into each other’s territories. That’s just how they worked.

  “Yeah. Thalia and I were playing this game we all used to play in school and it just kinda hit me that this is exactly what you were talking about last week. The flavor’s decadent and a little out there, just like you want. I think it’ll make you swoon.”

  “Swooning’s good,” she said, sounding more like herself.

  He finished transferring the cupcakes to the cooling rack and broke the top off of one. Steam puffed out in a thick, white stream. If it tastes half as good as it smells, she’ll be in love. He caught himself smiling at the image of Jack, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as she savored the flavor. He wondered if she’d be able to sense it through the phone. He let the silence stretch between them as he concentrated on the dark, bittersweet taste.

  When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Does that mean you’re coming over?” He cringed at the hint of desperation in his voice. He hoped she hadn’t noticed.

  “It’s late. Can I just try it in the morning?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” he said.

  The flavor lingering on his tongue turned bitter. Graham tossed the rest of the cupcake away and tried to remember if he’d ever heard Jack turn down a cupcake before. When he came up empty, he pushed her out of his thoughts and focused on creating an icing that would offset the undesirable aftertaste he couldn’t seem to shake.

  ***

  When she walked into work
the next morning, Jack found a cupcake centered on a glass cake plate, protected from the air by a large, domed lid. The note taped to the counter at its base read Eat Me! in Graham’s scratchy handwriting. She raised the lid, careful not to leave smudgy fingerprints on the glass. The tuft of russet-colored icing was fluffier, airier than their standard type. As she leaned in closer to inspect it, there were tiny air bubbles covering the surface, almost like the cluster of black salt crystals on top had siphoned the liquid out of it.

  The bitterness of the chocolate tangled with the sugary sweetness of the caramel, amplifying both scents as she inhaled. There was another scent—dark and malty and familiar—that she couldn’t quite place.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on the intricacies of the aroma, willing it to tell her something. Sometimes she wished her ability worked the other way around so that she could feel emotions from the maker. At least then she’d know what kind of mood Graham had been in when he’d baked this cupcake for her.

  That was how Tom Berg found her—hovered above a single cupcake on a glass pedestal like it had been made with pig-hunted truffles or handpicked Peruvian cocoa beans instead of whatever everyday ingredients Graham had used.

  Jack dropped the lid back in place. The sharp clank of glass on glass reverberated in the room.

  “Must be some cupcake,” Tom said. He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

  “Graham didn’t tell me what it was so I’m trying to figure it out,” she said.

  “Just by smelling it? That’s impressive.”

  She blushed. “Unfortunately trying doesn’t always mean succeeding. Graham can do that though. Even the really obscure stuff I’ve never heard of, he can pick out. But I’m pretty good at figuring out what people want no matter what it smells like, so … ” She trailed off when she realized what she was saying.

  “You two make good partners. That’s why I think you’ll succeed in the long run. And anyway, I figured Melanie was probably just spreading gossip as usual.”

  “What gossip?” Jack asked. The lump in her throat made her voice crack. She wiped at an imaginary smudge on the glass lid like his answer was no big deal.

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” He waved his hand and sighed. His threadbare polo stretched tight across his chest. “She stopped by this morning to try and tell me what photograph to use on the cover next month when we run the Twilight article. As if I’m going to pick one that makes the race look like it’s just a bunch of monkeys on Big Wheels. But while she was there, she mentioned something about seeing Graham and some big-shot Atlanta restaurant owner having dinner last night. That they looked pretty comfortable together and she wouldn’t be surprised if he moved back there in the next few months. Like I said, just wild speculation on her part. Probably trying to stir up some controversy for the race. You know, like making cupcakes for the Twilight made him realize he was meant for something greater, or some such crap.”

  His words rioted in her brain like an angry mob. Jack clenched her jaw and took a deep breath before she said something she’d regret. She glanced at the cupcake and couldn’t help the thought that silenced all of the others.

  Graham came up with the new recipe with Thalia. In three years, he’s never once asked me to do more than taste-test.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself to say, “Well, if people believe her, then at least they might start coming in more often to get his cupcakes while they can. Speaking of which, what can I get you?”

  “Actually, I came in to talk to you about an article.”

  “On Crumbs?”

  “You betcha. I’ve had to do a last-minute shuffle since the battle of the bands I had dogeared for the cover fell apart when one of the main bands went on indefinite hiatus. So I’ve got a spot to fill and Melanie got my hackles up this morning talking about you and Graham, so I figured I’d kill two birds and all.”

  “Kill away,” Jack said.

  eight

  Jack tried to place the couple as she settled them at one of the tables. The woman, Grace, greeted her with a hug and a blinding smile. The groom-to-be settled for shaking her hand. They could have been semi-regular customers or friends of Hutton’s for all Jack could remember. If she pretended to know the connection, she hoped they wouldn’t notice her lack of real familiarity.

  She skimmed her notes. Aria would be handling the reception. “So, I have Aria to thank for sending you my way?” she asked.

  Grace pulled out a binder that held every wedding detail, including swatches of the bridesmaids’ dresses and a complete menu for the reception. “We weren’t sold on cupcakes at first, but after she told me who’d be doing them, I didn’t see how I could resist.”

  Her all-business demeanor dissolved into a smile. Jack shifted, following her gaze to find the reason for the change standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Graham focused on the cubed cupcake samples he was carrying out, unaware that all eyes were on him.

  “I’d heard you were working here, but didn’t think it was true,” Grace said to him. “Cupcakes, huh?”

  “Grace, hi.” Flustered, Graham bobbled the tray of samples, but managed to keep it from toppling over. “Um, yeah. Cupcakes. How are you?”

  Jack straightened in her chair as recognition hit. Graham’s ex-girlfriend had mellowed—both in looks and personality—since the last time Jack had seen her. Instead of the bleached pixie cut, silver stud in her nose, and energy that would put a Jack Russell puppy to shame, Grace was composed and elegantly put together in her designer jeans, heels and loose ponytail.

  “Getting married.” She wiggled her fingers at Graham so that her diamond ring caught the sun and sent sparkles across his face. Her smile was just as bright when she introduced her fiancé. “Nick, this is Graham—we dated back when he was in culinary school. Graham, Nick.”

  “Hey, man,” Nick said, extending his hand. “Thanks for letting this one get away. I owe you.”

  Setting the tray on the table, Graham shook Nick’s hand. Then he stepped back so he was in line with Jack. “Sure. No problem.” He slipped his hands in his pockets so the apron bulged at the sides, and he shrugged. He looked at Jack, his eyebrows pulled together as if asking her what he was supposed to say in response.

  Grace wrapped her fingers around Nick’s. She grinned at Graham and said, “And you two! It figures you would wind up together. I always kinda felt that you were more into her than me. Sucks a little to see I was right.”

  He pulled his hands from his pockets and, for a moment, Jack thought he was reaching for her. Heat pulsed from him. He looked at Grace, then to Jack and back again. “We’re, um,” Graham stuttered. “We’re not—”

  “Oh, sorry, I just assumed—” Grace said.

  Get back to business, Jack ordered herself. “Being friends makes it easy to work together,” she said, letting him off the hook. “I think y’all are gonna love the Chocolate Kahlua. The Guinness is also a favorite for the guys.” She took two of each flavor and set them on plates in front of Grace and Nick.

  Graham mumbled something about the oven and slipped back into the kitchen. Both women watched him leave.

  Turning her attention back to the samples, Grace picked one up. Her pink nails were a shock of color against the brown cake. “Oh my God. They all look so good,” Grace said.

  “These are just samples with our standard colors and styles, but we would obviously customize the icing to match your main color palette. Then we’ll use coordinating colors to give it that extra little pop.”

  “We’d planned on having the cupcakes served instead of letting guests get them themselves. Could we do an assortment of four flavors per table and have Aria’s team assemble it all?” Grace asked.

  “You’d want to talk with Aria about that. I’m sure she can, but I don’t want to promise anything without her okay. We can work up a sketch for her—once we get the colors and flavors finalized, though. That way, she’ll know up front how it should look.”
>
  “Perfect.”

  “Now for the fun part,” Jack said. As Nick reached for more samples, she continued with a laugh. “At least let me tell you what they are before you devour them.”

  With a sheepish smile, Nick pulled his hand back and dropped it in his lap. “Sorry. It’s just that—”

  The spicy-sweet scent of the chili pepper and cinnamon cupcake drowned out all other smells. Jack rested her hand under her nose to keep from sneezing. “You really want to try the Chocolate-Chili. I know.”

  “The what?”

  “The almost-black one there, with the reddish icing. It’s the one everyone’s curious about,” Jack covered. “Go ahead.”

  He grabbed two, handing one to Grace as he popped his own in his mouth whole. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back. Then he moaned.

  “Guess that one’s going on the list,” Grace said. She took a bite, lingered over it, before eating the rest. “Yeah, that’s definitely one we have to have.”

  Jack smiled and jotted it down on the order form. “Graham’s magic in the kitchen. I can almost guarantee that by the time you done trying them, you’ll have all of them on your ‘must-have’ list.”

  “I can see that. He used to make me dinner all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten better.” She glanced at her fiancé and scooted to the far edge of her seat when he shot her a questioning look.

  Nick popped another cupcake in his mouth and conceded that if Graham had been cooking for him, he wouldn’t have had anything as good since, either.

  They moved through the rest of the samples in rapid succession—French vanilla, carrot cake, red velvet, coconut, double chocolate, mint, peanut butter, raspberry creme, key lime, and hazelnut. Grace ruled out the carrot cake without trying it and vetoed the red velvet after declaring that it did not go with her color scheme.