Love and Cupcakes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  Tom rubbed his chin. He stared over her shoulder when he said, “You know how she can be. Off the record, I think she’s as neurotic as the next guy.” He gave her a timid smile.

  Her fingers pulsed as she released the straps and blood flowed back into her fingers. “I won’t disagree with you.”

  “That said, I still have to act like I’m at least thinking about what she’s saying. But I didn’t want word to get around that I’m blacklisting you. ’Cause that’s just not true. And I wanted you to hear it from me, so you know you can believe it.”

  “I appreciate it,” she managed. The wind gusted. It was hot and caught in her throat. It pushed her back a step.

  “I guess we’d better head on inside. My car’s right over there,” he said, pointing a few parking spaces down, “if you need a ride.”

  Jack shook her head. “I think the walk’ll do me some good, but thanks.”

  “Things are gonna be okay, Jack.” Tom wiped his forehead again. “It’s just a few people and they—”

  “I’m glad to see you finally decided to do something about her,” someone interrupted.

  Jack knew that whiny voice. She looked over her shoulder. Tabitha Jenkins stood behind her with her hands fisted on her hips. Her dress tugged tight across her chest.

  Tom averted his eyes. “I’m, uh, not getting in the middle of this, Tabitha. I told you that when you called.”

  “But you know what she is. You know what she’s capable of doing.” Tabitha spat the words at him.

  “I haven’t done anything,” Jack protested. Her hands shook. She balled them at her sides. The muscles in her arms burned.

  Tom laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezed lightly. “Of course you haven’t,” he said.

  Tabitha eyed her. “Oh, right. Of course you haven’t,” she said. Her lips curved into a thin smile as she watched Jack. Her lipstick was dry and cracked.

  The air vibrated. It pressed against Jack, making her heart thump harder and her blood pulse faster beneath her hot skin. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back.

  The scent of rotting meat knocked the breath out of her.

  Jack pressed a hand to her mouth. Her lungs burned with the need to inhale. She ignored it as the smell bombarded her. Her vision blurred. She blinked to bring Tom into focus, but all she could see was Tabitha’s satisfied smile. She swayed.

  Tom steadied her. “Are you okay, Jaclyn?”

  Her arm burned where his hand gripped her. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that he could let go. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded. It made her head spin. The putrid scent threatened to consume her. Pulling away, she hurried down the street. Tabitha’s laugh chased her.

  Jack’s fingers grazed the rough brick on a building. She stumbled around the first corner she reached. In her daze, she couldn’t tell where she was. She didn’t care as long as she put enough distance between her and Tabitha. She couldn’t get the scent out of her head. The glands at the back of her throat ached. She swallowed, squeezed her eyes shut, and held her breath. Her stomach rolled. She braced a hand on the building to keep her balance. Then she doubled over and threw up in the grass.

  ***

  Jack was willing to give the town another week to get over it. It only took three days.

  The line outside Crumbs wrapped around the block. Jack didn’t know how long they’d been waiting, but more than half of them had a copy of The Dispatch in their hands. She smiled at them through the glass. She wasn’t supposed to open for another forty minutes.

  She jerked open the stairwell door and yelled, “Harper, get your ass down here!” Getting a grunt in response, she went back into the shop, held up her hands, fingers splayed, to the front of the line, indicating she’d be another ten minutes. She hauled the cart from the back. The rows of cupcakes wouldn’t be enough if everyone outside wanted more than just a few each. She began filling the case anyway.

  “Jesus,” Harper said when she stumbled in. Without makeup, her eyes were puffy and dull. “What’s all the commotion? Is there a fire?”

  “No. They apparently want cupcakes again,” Jack said. And me, she added silently.

  “And you were worried people wouldn’t come back.”

  Jack shoved a tray at her sister and pointed her to the case. “Fill, now.”

  The first two customers ordered like normal. They told Jack what they wanted, thanked her, paid, and went on their way. If it took them a little longer than usual, Jack attributed it to the buzz of excitement from the crowd.

  Hunter Jackson, third in line, walked up, grinning at her. And waited. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his mechanic’s jumpsuit and rocked back and forth on his heels.

  When Jack asked what she could get him, he winked at her, but remained silent. She gave him another ten seconds before saying to the customer behind him, “Since Hunter can’t seem to make up his mind, you’re up, Allison.”

  “Thanks, Jaclyn. Can I get—”

  “Hold on a minute,” Hunter said. His coveralls were oil-stained and strained across his beer gut. “That ain’t fair. Just because I didn’t say what I wanted, don’t mean I wasn’t orderin’. You just weren’t payin’ attention.”

  “I can’t read minds. No matter what my sister said in that article.” Without serving either customer, Jack walked to the door and held it open so that her voice would carry outside. The breeze caught her hair so it fanned out behind her. “I’m going to repeat that for the rest of you. If you’re just here to see if what Harper said is true, I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not psychic or magical or a witch or whatever else it is you think I am. I’m just a girl who sells cupcakes. So, if you’re looking for anything other than cupcakes, you may as well get outta line now.”

  Two or three people frowned. They mumbled something to their neighbors and left.

  Jack wiped her hands on her thighs and went back to work.

  Harper hissed under her breath so no one but Jack could hear, “Why’d you do that?”

  Because I don’t want to be a freak show. She glared at her sister and took the next order.

  The next dozen or so customers were a mix of curious and clueless. A few asked her outright what they wanted while others hesitated before ordering, as if waiting for Jack to offer the perfect suggestion despite her speech a few minutes before. Only three ordered, smiled at her after their purchase, and left none the wiser. She caught glimmers of scents, like specs of dust in the air, but no one was really interested in the cupcakes they left with.

  Then she was hit with the scent of carrot cake and cream cheese frosting so strong she would have sworn it was the only flavor they served. She pulled a cupcake from the case without thinking. Her hand froze with the cupcake halfway in the box. She looked up to see how many people had seen. Of the eight or so in the shop, only a few had been paying attention. Two or three more outside had their faces pressed up against the window, their breath leaving foggy circles on the glass.

  She started to put the cupcake back.

  “Jaclyn, honey, you’ve never once gotten what I wanted wrong. If that’s ’cause you’ve got some hidden talent or I’m just that predictable, I don’t give a hoot.” Ada Lines laughed, deep and gravelly, before slapping her money down on the counter.

  Jack smiled at her. “You’re anything but predictable, Ada,” Jack said. She put an extra carrot cake in the box free of charge.

  “Just keep doing what you do and I’ll keep coming in.”

  “Deal.”

  Harper poked her in the back as if to say I told you so.

  Jack swatted her sister’s hand away and asked her to refill the display case.

  When the flow of customers ebbed to a trickle, Jack retreated to the back for a bottle of water. She held the cool plastic to her forehead, her neck. She sighed, then finished half the bottle in one long gulp. They had another rush after lunch. It left the display case decimated. There were no reserves in the back. And there was still no sign of Graham, who’
d been baking a little at home each day to give their dying oven a break. Sitting in the back with Harper, she munched on cold fries from the lunch Harper had ordered and hoped he’d be in soon.

  The bells went off again as another customer came in. She and Harper stood to do rock-paper-scissors to see who would handle it. Jack’s paper beat Harper’s rock.

  “Dammit,” Harper said.

  Jack pushed her toward the front. Recognition bloomed on her sister’s face, a brief flutter of longing as Harper watched a guy push through the door. All the features on her face went from soft to panicked before the door snapped shut.

  “Who’s that?” Jack asked.

  “He’s someone I don’t wanna talk to right now.”

  Trying to make sense of her sister’s reaction, she asked, “Is he why you came back?”

  Harper tugged her farther into the kitchen. “If I say yes, will you make him leave?” she asked.

  Harper’s hand tremble on Jack’s arm. “Fine. But you’re gonna have to give me more than that after he’s gone.”

  She left Harper wedged between the decorating table and the walk-in cooler. She took stock of the man who waited on the opposite side of the counter. He was Harper’s type: styled-to-look-messy hair, days-old scruff on his face, and head-to-toe black. Black motorcycle boots, black jeans, black tee, and black leather jacket, but thankfully no rocker-type studded arm band or choker. He did, however, have a half-inch bar through his left eyebrow, which matched Harper’s.

  Despite the hardcore appearance, he looked as nervous as a teenager on a first date. His fingers strummed out a melody on his thigh. It was fast and frenzied. But it seemed to calm him. He smiled when Jack walked out.

  She conjured up her best customer service smile and said, “Hey. How’re you doing today?”

  “Okay. Is, um, is Harper here? When I talked to her mom, she said Harper was working here. But she doesn’t bake so I don’t have a clue why she’d get a job at a bakery.” He ran both hands through his hair. The multiple rings on his fingers scraped together when he locked his hands on top of his head. Huffing out a breath, he let his arms fall back down. “That’s so not like her. But then taking off without telling me isn’t like her either, so—” he said.

  “Actually, that is like her. The leaving, I mean. Who are you?” Jack asked.

  “I’m her husband, Mason Shaw.”

  The shock cluttered her brain. She must have misunderstood him. Or someone was playing a joke on her. That had to be it. Her sister wouldn’t have gotten married without telling her. But it wasn’t true. The things she didn’t know about Harper could fill the shop three times over.

  “Husband?” The word felt foreign in her mouth. Clunky and out of place when combined with her sister’s name. “I think I would know if she was married.” She glanced toward the back, wondering if Harper would hear them. Hoping her sister had the decency to cringe for keeping something as huge as a husband a secret.

  “So, she does work here.” The relief in his voice rippled through his body as his muscles relaxed. The right side of his mouth turned up in a half smile. He leaned his hip against the counter and the zipper of his jacket clanged. “You know her?”

  Under all the hair product and eyeliner, he was stunning.

  Jack leaned toward him, charmed by his husky voice and sincerity. “Since she was born,” she said. Her voice was low, conspiratorial. “She’s my sister.”

  The ring in his eyebrow glinted in the light as his brow shot up. “Harper doesn’t have a sister,” he said.

  She wanted to contradict him, but her breath merely wheezed out in a warm, silent stream of air. Jack retreated a step as if to distance herself from the reality of how little Harper thought of her.

  Her elbow cracked against the side of the display case. It rattled with the force of the impact. Her arm burned. The mild stinging raced to a throb as it radiated from her elbow to her shaky fingers. She cupped a hand around it and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Mason leaned over the counter and laid a steadying hand on her forearm. “Oh, God, are you okay?” he asked. He lowered his face to level his eyes to hers.

  She turned away from him. She wanted to shake him off, but it wasn’t his fault her sister hadn’t mentioned her. Or that she hadn’t been paying attention. “Yes. Shit.” The pain was sharp and hot. She bit her lip and surveyed the damage. She didn’t know how to tell if it was broken, but the fact that she could still feel her fingers gave her hope that the bone was still intact.

  “Can you move it?” he asked. He applied pressure to her arm to help her straighten it.

  She breathed in deep to clear her head. The pain receded a fraction as she laid her arm flat.

  When the alarm system buzzed, signaling an open door, she turned to warn Harper that Mason was still here. Instead of her sister, Graham came in through the back door. She whipped her head back around.

  “Jaclyn?” He hadn’t yelled, but the intensity in the one word shook her.

  His steps were quick on the tile floor as he jogged up front. “I’m fine,” she said, but he was already pushing Mason out of the way to get to her by the time she realized he wasn’t even listening to her.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, whisper soft. He gently tilted her face up when she wouldn’t meet his eye.

  His determination to comfort her made the need to cry that much stronger. When he ran his rough fingers over the sides of her face, pushing her hair back in place, she leaned into his touch and ignored the voice in the back of her head that said his dad had been right.

  She clutched her elbow as he ran his hands down her arms. She was hesitant to move. Graham was so focused on calming her down that he had yet to notice how much he was touching her.

  “She banged her elbow pretty good.” Mason pointed to the display case. “Don’t think it’s broken. She’ll probably have a hell of a bruise though.”

  “You okay?” He stepped back and kept his touch light as he pressed the bones.

  “I’m fine,” she said, angling away from him. “It’s not that bad.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “We were talking. I wasn’t paying attention,” Jack said.

  “You’re sure that’s all it was? If it’s something else,” he said, flicking a glance toward Mason, “you can tell me.”

  “Real subtle, dude. But I’m just here to see Harper.”

  “She’s out back,” Graham said. He jerked a thumb toward the kitchen and stepped aside so Mason could get by. He didn’t take his eyes off Jack.

  Mason looked through the pass-through window as if he had somehow overlooked her. “Did she ask you to lie to me?” he asked Jack.

  She stood still as Graham inspected her arm. While he went in the back to get some ice, she answered Mason. “No. She just didn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Then why’d you tell me she’s your sister? Did you think I wouldn’t know who her siblings are?”

  “Obviously you don’t,” Jack said. She rolled her eyes at him and winced as Graham came back and applied pressure to hold the ice pack in place.

  “Yes, I do. Two brothers,” he said, holding up two fingers for emphasis. “Hutton and Jack.”

  She almost laughed. But even the idea of it made her arm scream. She reached to take the bag from Graham. Her fingers grazed his. He let his hand linger for a moment. “Correction. One brother, Hutton. And one sister, Jaclyn.” She pointed to herself and did laugh when his only reaction was a confused “Well, damn.”

  After several seconds, he said in his defense, “She only ever called you Jack. What was I supposed to think?”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I never knew she was dating anyone, let alone married. So, we’re even. Minus the almost-broken bone on my part.”

  The back door opened again with the chirpy beep of the alarm. Harper didn’t come up front.

  Mason started around the counter to see Harper. He made it three steps before Graham blocked his way.

>   “Harper, please come out here so these two don’t break each other,” Jack called.

  “It’s fine, Graham,” Harper said. She marched past them, feet slapping the floor, and grabbed Mason by the wrist. She tugged him out the front door, but not out of view.

  While Jack leaned in to the support Graham offered, her sister railed against Mason’s advances. She shoved at him. He barely moved. When he reached for her, she slapped at his hands, his chest. Whatever she could touch. He took it all in stride, like trying to outlast a grizzly bear.

  “When did Harp get a husband?” Graham asked.

  Jack moved her arm, testing the range of motion. The pain was already receding. “I’m not sure.”

  The hand on her arm fell away. When Jack looked at him, his eyes were guarded. He opened his mouth then closed it without speaking.

  He watched Harper and Mason fighting in front of the shop, their arms flailing in frustration. “I knew there was someone, but I didn’t have a clue it was that serious. She said he broke her heart.”

  “He might have. She looks like she wants to kill him,” Jack said.

  “Only so she doesn’t take him back, I’d bet.” Graham turned so he wasn’t watching them anymore.

  Following his gaze to the near-empty case, she shook her head. “I hope you brought more.”

  Graham smiled at her. “Not enough, apparently. I see everyone came to their senses. You doing okay with … everything?”

  “Ask me again in a few days when we know if this is gonna last or not.”

  “It will,” he said. He rubbed a hand down her hair, tracing the contour of her ear.

  Jack’s skin vibrated with nerves and need. The underlying promise in his words made her want to believe that they would make a relationship work, too.

  Jack turned as her sister stormed back in and went straight upstairs. A few seconds later, the ceiling tiles shook with whatever music Harper had blasted. She decided to give her a little time to cool off before forcing her to talk about Mason.

  ***