Love and Cupcakes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  The day his dad had taken off, Graham and Hutton were knee-deep in a siege of the Cobra headquarters. Their G.I. Joe men were strategically placed around the back porch and surrounding scrap of yard. The house had been too quiet, with his parents occupying different rooms and not speaking to each other for days. Not since his dad had come home claiming he was in love with another woman. That she was his soul mate and that he couldn’t stay anymore.

  But the men in Graham’s army more than made up for their slack. They yelled and cursed and writhed in pain. They argued with and threatened the enemy. And when it was their turn to die, he and Hutton lowered their voices to a near growl and made the soldiers tell their comrades, “It was an honor to fight next to you.”

  The battle had been raging for thirty minutes when the front door of the house slammed shut, followed by a car door opening and quickly closing. Graham jumped up, rubbing dirt and grass from his shirt. He started around the side yard, his steps cautious but deliberate. Then the car roared to life. The sound reverberated in his ears like a jet engine. He started to run. Rocks hidden in the thick grass cut into his bare feet. He barely felt the pain.

  Stopping at the edge of the driveway, he sucked in a breath as his dad reversed down the driveway. His dad raised a meaty hand and gave a halfhearted wave through the closed window. Graham extended his arm, fingers splayed to make him stop, and his dad pulled out of the driveway without another glance in his direction.

  He stared, eyes stinging, as the car drifted down the road and faded from sight. He waited like that for what felt like years, decades, as the sun beat down on his neck and exposed forearms, singeing his delicate skin to a ripe red. He couldn’t remember Hutton leaving, but since he was still alone, he figured his friend had abandoned him to his misery. Finally Graham lay on the driveway where his dad’s car had been hours before. The pavement was gritty and hard against his back. Fanning his fingers, he rubbed the rough concrete and let the warmth seep into his pores like a drug. His body was heavy, lifeless, like it had gone to sleep without telling his eyes. Or his mind.

  Graham heard his mama faintly call his name. He didn’t call back or even raise a pitiful hand in acknowledgment. She murmured something that sounded like “Don’t get yourself lost out there, kid,” and then retreated back inside. He wanted to tell her it was impossible to get lost when he wasn’t even moving. But his throat was dry and croaky, and he couldn’t force the words out.

  He remained on the ground, facing the too-bright sky until the sun descended. Dusk settled over him and leached the warmth from his body degree by small degree until there was nothing left to take.

  Almost twenty years later, the disappointment still curled in his lungs like thick, hot smoke. I will never do what he did. He coughed and sucked in more tainted air.

  It took a moment for the smell to permeate his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he jumped off the table and pulled open the oven doors. It choked out a stream of smoke. He grabbed a towel and cupped one hand around his mouth and nose. With the other he pulled the pan from the oven and dumped the whole thing in the trash. The plastic bag crackled as the metal melted through it.

  “Goddammit,” he said. If he wasn’t careful, he’d burn the whole damn place down around him.

  nine

  “She gives me the creeps.” Harper gestured to Tabitha Jenkins, who was making a beeline for Crumbs.

  “Why?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. Just the way she looks at guys. Graham and I saw her a few weeks ago and she looked like she would’ve done him right there on the counter at Blue Plate if he’d bothered to look at her twice.”

  “She’s married.”

  Harper hurried into the back before adding, “I don’t think that would’ve stopped her.”

  Tabitha had had a reputation since high school for being easy, but as her husband was the one who’d given it to her, Jack pushed the thought out of her head and smiled through the window.

  One strap of Tabitha’s dress teetered on her shoulder. When she opened the door, the strap fell and she didn’t bother to pull it back up.

  The sugary pulse vibrated the air and pressed on Jack until she couldn’t breathe. The intensity, the obsession that poured out of Tabitha made her queasy. The saccharine scent wasn’t tied to any one flavor—it was the smell of a woman giddy in love. Jack snatched a bottle of water from the cooler and rubbed it between her wrists.

  “Thank God you still have some peanut butter left. I need two of ’em. The biggest you’ve got,” Tabitha said.

  “Sure thing.” Jack’s skin had cooled, but breathing still felt like sucking caramel through a straw. She cracked open the bottle and took a long drink before pulling the cupcakes from the case.

  “Oh, do you have any chocolate hearts or somethin’ you can stick on ’em? ’Cause that would be perfect.”

  “Special occasion?”

  “Anniversary,” Tabitha said. “The peanut butter is his favorite but I want to do somethin’ that makes ’em real special.”

  Jack located the foam container of varying-sized hearts in the bottom of the cooler, left over from Valentine’s Day. Picking out three for each cup, she pressed them into the icing. “How’s that?” she asked, holding the box out for inspection.

  “Oh, he’ll go nuts over those,” Tabitha squeaked.

  “I hope you and Jerry have a good anniversary.”

  Tabitha’s smile faltered. But only for a second. “Thanks.” She adjusted her strap, as if just noticing it had fallen, and headed out the door and back across the street.

  “Creepy,” Harper sang from the back.

  “Be nice,” Jack said. She took another drink of water to clear the lingering taste of desperation from her mouth.

  ***

  With white walls and white, wooden shelves, The Market looked more like an oversized pantry than a specialty food retail store. Each product had a handwritten label tacked to the shelf by a silver pushpin. The large, loopy cursive always reminded Graham of old, handwritten recipes that were passed down from generation to generation. Rustic ceiling fans whirled above, fluttering the paper like hundreds of swarming butterflies.

  Isadora Willingham, the shop’s proprietor, barely came up to Graham’s chest. He wrapped her in a hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, which was more silver than black these days. Her face, however, was as smooth as the day Graham had met her more than a decade before.

  He made a trip into The Market at least every three months since he’d discovered it in his second year of pastry school. This was only the second time that Jack had been able to come with him, but Isadora hugged her like they were lifelong friends. Then she gave Graham’s arm a light pat, murmured something in Greek, and nodded her approval.

  “Come see what I have for you,” she said. Her accent was as thick as her waist. She led them down the far-right aisle and stopped in front of dozens of vials filled with colored crystals. “Pick one. I let you try it.”

  Graham selected a tube of flavored sugar and popped off the lid. He closed his eyes to focus on the scent. The recipe for a white chocolate cupcake began forming in his head. Running through a mental list of ingredients, he decided on orange blossom honey and Madagascar vanilla beans. He opened his eyes and caught Jack staring at him.

  Her mouth was open, her lips parted as if she’d just been kissed. He held her gaze as coherent thought failed him. “Gardenia?” He held it toward her.

  Jack laughed, breaking the trance. She reached for the container, her fingers grazing his. She held her hand below his and leaned in.

  “We should get some,” she said.

  “That good, huh?” he asked. His hand flexed on the tube. He wasn’t sure what she’d sensed, but he took a step back to give them both a little breathing room. “Do you have a recipe in mind?”

  She smiled, but didn’t meet his eyes. “No. I just want to try something. An experiment.”

  “That worries me a little bit. What, might I ask, does this
experiment involve?”

  “Finally being able to give somebody what they want.”

  He capped the tube and handed it to her. “Have at it,” he said.

  They followed Isadora around the store. Their footsteps echoed on the wood floors as they traipsed up and down the aisles, sampling hazelnut flour, pistachio paste, agave nectar, and guanábana puree. Isadora pointed out an assortment of whisks, spatulas, piping bags and mini cupcake trays she insisted Graham couldn’t live without.

  Jack picked up one of the bite-sized cupcake tins and hugged it to her chest. She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Please,” she said.

  The simple word washed over him and muddled his brain. He’d been able to say no to Isadora on the past three times she’d pushed the trays on him, but he added a half-dozen trays to his pile at the counter. When Jack beamed at him, the heat of her smile settled deep in his chest.

  Isadora winked at him and said, “I like this one much better than the opinionated little koritsi you normally come in with.”

  “You say that like Thalia doesn’t shop in here twice as much as I do,” he said.

  “Doesn’t mean I have to like her. She’s talented, yes. But she does not make you smile like this one. And baking should make you happy. So, bring this one next time, too. I might finally be able to talk you into the Mexican spice powder.”

  Jack glanced at Graham, beaming at him, and asked, “Show me?”

  ***

  On the morning of the Dispatch interview, Jack stopped for coffee—more to give her something to do than for the caffeine. She ate her chocolate chip biscotti in the car while her coffee cooled. Looking up at Graham’s darkened windows above the coffee shop, she contemplated calling him but decided to let him sleep.

  She rolled her window down and let the cool morning air wash over her as she drove to work. The streets were calm. She only passed a few other cars as the commuters started their daily trek into Atlanta. The flashing yellow stoplights at Magnolia, Peachtree, and Pearl wouldn’t switch into the normal red, yellow, green rotation until six.

  A white rectangle on the back door caught her eye as she parked behind the shop. The note flapped in the breeze, testing the strip of duck tape that secured it to the door. Relax. It’ll be fine, Graham had written.

  She laughed at her predictability. She fished a pen out of her purse and scribbled Remember this when Darcy starts asking you questions.

  Inside, Jack popped in the CD Graham had burned for her. She kept the music low so she wouldn’t wake Harper. It sounded like the instruments had been toned down to give the music a gritty, devastated feel. The singer’s raw emotion sent chills up her arms. Graham had been right: She loved it.

  Knowing they might not have much time between the interview and when the store opened, she pulled the custom order and boxed it up. She was affixing the Crumbs sticker to the top of the box when her sister burst into the shop, banging the door into the wall.

  “Where’d you get that?” Harper asked. She flew to the CD player and mashed buttons until it went silent. She stood in a T-shirt that hit just below her hips. Pink underwear peeked out beneath it.

  Jack took a step back and stared at her. “What is wrong with you?” She tossed an apron to Harper, who continued to glare at her. “Fine. Don’t use it. I just thought you’d want to cover up in case someone walked by.”

  Harper looked down as if realizing for the first time she wasn’t fully dressed. She tied the apron on, but didn’t leave the CD player. “Where did you get it?” she asked again.

  “You’re gonna need to be more specific, Harper.”

  “Talking on Mute. The CD you’re listening to. Where’d you get it?”

  “Graham made it for me. You know them?”

  Harper said something, but her voice was so quiet Jack couldn’t make it out.

  “You don’t like them?”

  “No, I do.” Harper bit her lip.

  Jack tried to hit Play, but Harper swatted her hand away. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I didn’t know anyone here knew them. Just caught me off guard.” Harper trailed her fingers along the buttons, but didn’t turn the music back on.

  “Are you okay, Harp?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I just—” She removed the disc. “I’ll bring it back.”

  ***

  The dull thump from the bass on the CD was the only company Jack had for the next hour. At the light knock on the door, Jack unlocked it and led Darcy Evans to a table.

  Darcy wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a voice more suited to television interviews than print. She pulled out a notepad, set her messenger bag on the table, and said, “It smells fantastic in here.”

  “Thanks,” Jack and Graham said in unison.

  Darcy laughed. “Can we sit?”

  “Of course. Do you want some water or a cupcake before we get started?” Jack asked.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Graham sat next to Jack and propped his arm on the back of her chair. She could feel the heat seep through her cotton shirt.

  “So, why cupcakes?” Darcy asked.

  “I just love them. Have as long as I can remember,” Jack said. “They’re like little sponges of happiness. It’s very hard to have a bad day when there’s a cupcake involved.”

  “Which one’s your favorite?”

  “Our salted caramel is topping my list right now, but the pink lemonade is a close second.”

  “Graham?” Darcy asked.

  “I’m a sucker for vanilla with strawberry icing.”

  Thinking of their first kiss, Jack looked at him and caught his half smile. She wondered if that’s what he’d meant, then dismissed it as fantasy on her part.

  “Oh, he’s trying to work out this one flavor,” Jack added with a laugh. “Mint and lime. He thinks about it all the time and it smells fantastic. I’m betting that one’ll be his favorite once he nails the recipe.”

  Darcy looked at Jack, eyes squinted as if trying to make sense of what she’d said. With a shake of her head, she seemed to let it go. “Sounds yummy. I hope you get it figured out, Graham.”

  “You and me both,” he said.

  “Y’all seem so comfortable with each other. Did that factor in when you decided to go into business together?” she asked.

  “I’m sure it had something to do with it.” Jack met Graham’s eyes. “He made these amazing cups for my brother’s wedding a few years back. That’s what sparked the whole idea in the first place. What he can do with cupcakes, or anything he makes, really, is amazing. So, even if I hadn’t known him for most of my life, I would have forced him into the partnership. I just got lucky that we were such good friends to start with.”

  Darcy scribbled notes in shorthand. “Graham, you’ve been awfully quiet over there. What about you?”

  “Yeah, it made a difference. I wouldn’t have left a job I’d worked my whole career to get for just anyone.”

  Jack turned to look at him. His face was guarded, distant. But the air carried a subtle hint of mint, which made her skin warm. “You never told me that.”

  “I assumed you knew,” he said.

  “So, who else would you have done it for?” Darcy pressed.

  Graham hesitated. He removed his arm from the back of Jack’s chair. “Maybe no one,” he said.

  The hairs on Jack’s arm stood up. She couldn’t look at him knowing that he’d see everything she felt for him playing across her face. She stared at her hands as the machines in the kitchen hummed and groaned in the silence that followed.

  “Does this mean that the youngest Hollingsworth has found his match?” Darcy asked.

  Jack waited for his response, heart pounding. She knew he didn’t believe in it, but she couldn’t help but hope.

  He looked at her, a sad smile on his face. “That’s just a myth,” Graham said.

  “And I guess it’s just a myth that it rains every time your mama makes her famous grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “Now,
that one’s true. Grilled cheeses are comfort food. They deserve rainy days that keep you holed up inside.”

  Darcy flipped a page and continued to scratch out notes. “What about you, Jack? Have any magical abilities rubbed off on you?”

  Jack’s breath caught. Nerves danced up the back of her neck. She thought of Graham’s note on the back door. Relax. It’ll be fine. She let out a shaky breath and hoped Darcy didn’t notice.

  “I can’t affect the weather or pick out soul mates. If I could, it would be sunny and seventy-seven every day, and I would’ve gotten married years ago.” She laughed. It sounded hollow as it reverberated in her head.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to stick to cupcakes from here on out,” Darcy said.

  They covered their first day, best day, and worst day. They talked about creating new flavors and their plans for the future. Jack continued to do most of the talking, with Graham jumping in only when directly asked for his opinion. When Darcy asked about Harper joining the business, Jack clarified that her sister was merely helping out until she decided what she really wanted to do with her life.

  After checking her watch, Darcy said, “I know we’re running out of time, but I did want to talk a little about the Twilight cupcakes. Melanie says you have something show-stopping up your sleeves. What can you tell me about it?”

  “Oh, well, without spoiling too much, I can tell you that instead of just our standard designs, we’ll be incorporating some race themes. Chains and spokes and some of the iconic buildings along the race course.”

  “Huh,” Darcy said. “I guess I was expecting something a little more outrageous. Over the top. But maybe I’m just not good at visualizing things. Words, now those I get. But cupcakes? I guess that’s why you’re the professionals.” She laughed it off as if it was all some big joke she didn’t quite get.