One Summer: ...at Charlie's Diner (The Baker Girl Book 1)

by Mary Jane Forbes

  Loping around the kitchen, opening, closing cabinets, Tyler tucked a cereal box, a five-pound package of flour, a package of sugar off the same shelf under his arms, grabbed a package of egg noodles holding it between his knees, and a pack of chocolate candy kisses under his chin.

  Shuffling to the kitchen chair, he lined up the flour, cereal, and sugar. Then to the folding chair he propped the chocolate kisses up against the noodles.

  Star returned to her position behind the cook top. What was the director doing? Cleo, also mesmerized by his actions, snapped her head following each move.

  Tyler made another adjustment, moving the tripod back a couple of inches to be sure he included the bottom edge of the gas burner when Star heated the corn syrup, butter, and water. He nudged the marble slab where Star would pour the mixture to cool slightly before performing the final acts—separating the batch, adding color and flavor, cutting into pieces, wrapping in wax paper, twisting the ends of paper to seal the candy. He knew it would take her way more than ten minutes for the introduction and to make the taffy—the do or die rules of the competition. He’d deal with that issue later.

  Fun, fun, fun.

  “Okay. Star. Talk to Benny.” Ty pointed to the egg noodles and kisses on the stool, “and the Butterworth sisters on the chair. Explain to them how to make taffy.”

  “Ty, you crazy director.” She rushed to give him a hug, darted back ready to begin again.

  “Hello, My name is Star Bloom. I grew up near Atlantic City, and as a kid, my grandmother and I made Salt Water Taffy. I tagged along, carrying the basket of candy, as Gran sold it to vendors along the beach. Today I’m going to share with you the fun of creating her red and white striped peppermint taffy.”

  Star took a deep breath, her mind going blank. She couldn’t remember what she was going to say next. Tyler clicked off the camera, rocked back on his heels beaming. Not responding to her sudden lack of memory, he hustled around the island, pulling her behind the camera.

  “Take a look at this. You’re fabulous,” he said, running the brief segment.

  “It does look okay, I guess.”

  “You guess? It’s wonderful.”

  “I’m talking to fast.”

  “No, no, no. It’s fine. You have a lot to tell Benny. Don’t forget, say everything you want to get out because I’ll edit it down. You have your talking points?”

  “Yes. Intro, put ingredients in the pan, heat, talk, pour onto marble slab to cool. Switch to divided portions, add color, roll, pull. End … oh I don’t remember how to sign off.”

  “This is Star Bloom from Atlantic City. Say that because you will cement who you are and the name of your candy and Atlantic City. Okay, now, back to your position. Keep breathing. Don’t forget to talk to Benny and the Butterworth sisters. You’re doing great.”

  • • •

  TY TURNED OFF the camera as Star slid down the refrigerator door to the floor at the same time his mother walked in. Thinking Star had fainted she rushed to her side, kneeling on the floor. “Star, are you all right? Ty, hand me that bottle of water by Cleo.”

  Ty grabbed his bottle, handed the other to his mom and slid down the refrigerator beside Star.

  “Hey, you two, what’s going on?”

  Both smiled. Tension, adrenalin spent. “We just wrapped up, Mom. Wait ‘til you see. When’s Dad coming home?”

  “An hour, give or take. He’s picking up a pizza for the show.”

  “What show, Mrs. Jackman?”

  “Hey, it’s Cindy, remember?” she said laughing. “Your show. And, I’ll tell you, we can be very critical. Having lived with Tyler’s cartoons, we learned to stop telling him everything was great. We’re supportive, but if it’s terrible, or we didn’t understand, we told him. Didn’t we, dear?”

  “You sure did. Okay, Star, up and at ‘em. We have an hour for the first editing session. Bring your water.”

  “How about some iced tea … a little caffeine will perk you up,” Cindy said. “You go ahead. I’ll bring a tray up.”

  Chapter 15

  ────

  TYLER AND STAR sipped the last drop of iced tea as Star Bloom from Atlantic City signed off—Invite your friends and their kids over for a Taffy pull—the screen fading to black.

  “Okay, Miss Bloom, let’s go meet our critics over a slice of pizza and a glass of Dad’s best merlot.”

  “Ty, you did a masterful job, made me look good, but I’m not sure my words are right.”

  “As I said, let’s go see what our public thinks.”

  “Can we go to the kitchen first? I left a mess for your mom.”

  Ty just grinned. If he knew his mother, the kitchen was already slick as a whistle, but he tagged along, walked close.

  “Oh no. Everything’s picked up. I should have done it while you were editing.”

  “Come on worrywart, the theatre is ready.”

  “Theatre?”

  “Come, Miss Bloom. Your public awaits.”

  “Did you bring the files?”

  “Hey, Miss Bloom, my dad’s an engineer. A wide-screen TV is connected to my computer, just like the TV screen on my studio wall.”

  “About time you two came down,” Tony said.

  “You didn’t peek did you, Dad?”

  “Never. Now help yourself to pizza. Cindy will pour the wine, then crank her up, son.”

  Star couldn’t eat, not until the verdict was in, but a little wine might help settle her nerves. Thanking Cindy, Star took a seat in the third row of soft, black leather chairs. Ty set a plate with two pieces of pizza on his lap. Whispering, he raised his glass to hers. ”Cheers.”

  Ty still had to cut thirty seconds but he wanted to wait for their reaction, and suggestions, on where to cut.

  After a bite of pizza, he leaned forward, tapped his dad’s shoulder. “Roll it.”

  The screen snapped to life filled with Star smiling out at them.

  “Hello, my name is Star Bloom.”

  Star couldn’t watch, walked to the back of the room and faced the wall, wine glass in hand listening to herself. When she heard the sign-off words silence filled the room. They didn’t like it. I was awful. How stupid, presumptuous—”

  “Bravo, bravo,” Tony and Cindy sang out in unison. “Star … where … come here, girl,” Tony said.

  “You’re terrific, sweetheart,” Cindy added looking around for the young woman.

  Tyler continued to sit in the big leather chair, elbows on his knees, enjoying the moment. His mom was right. Star was terrific.

  Star was afraid to move. Did they mean it? A tear ran down her cheek, just one before Cindy and Tony where by her side, hugging her.

  Then everyone settled back in their seats, Tony and Cindy swiveling around to face Tyler.

  “Where can I cut thirty seconds? Suggestions?” Tyler asked.

  Cindy and Tony looked at each other shrugged. They didn’t want to cut any of it. Between them they came up with a few seconds where Star wasn’t talking, stirring the sugar in the pan, pulling the taffy.

  • • •

  TYLER THOUGHT FOR SURE their edits would do it plus a couple of his own. Eager to try, he and Star scampered to his studio to make the changes.

  Within an hour Tyler had made the final edits. He was ready to put all the pieces together to complete Star’s application. Star retrieved the flash drive from her purse with the application form she had worked on until one in the morning. There were boxes requesting why she was entering the competition, her baking experience, and what it would mean to her if she won.

  Tyler pulled up the Amateur Baker Competition website, clicked on the button labeled: To Enter Click Here.

  Heads inches apart, eyes fixed on the screen, Tyler began filling in the information from the printout of the form Star had prepared. The initial boxes were straight forward—first name, last name, address. Telephone number.

  Next were browse buttons to upload the video file, prepared application form, and the
photo ID that Star scanned into a file. The files uploaded, the only thing left was the payment method of the $200 entry fee. The entry fee was refundable if the baker was not selected for the competition. Star handed Ty her credit card. He selected the Master Card from a drop-down menu and typed in the card numbers, and expiration date.

  Ty looked at Star, his mouse hovering over the ENTER button.

  She couldn’t conceive of any circumstance where she would pull out. Come hell or high water, sickness or a broken leg, she would compete.

  “Are you ready? Everything okay with you?” he asked. “Should I hit ENTER?”

  “Hit it.” Star wondered how the video and her application would be received. So much riding on it. Her life would not end. But her dream might.

  • • •

  TONY HAD PACKED UP the car ready for Tyler to drive Star home. Thanking Ty’s parents over and over for their help, Star exchanged another round of hugs. Tyler held the car door open for her and then slid behind the wheel.

  With a wave, they were on the road.

  It was almost midnight when Tyler parked the car, transferred the boxes back to her studio that they had carted to the car that morning.

  Saying goodnight on the doorstep, Ty wrapped her in his arms telling her that she was wonderful. She kissed his check and disappeared behind the closed door.

  Her lids heavy, body drained, she hit the blowup mattress without undressing, dreaming of Benny and the Butterworth sisters savoring red and white striped peppermint taffy.

  Chapter 16

  ────

  MANNY AND ELIZABETH had been married for almost two years and he had never seen this expression on her face. His wife stood facing him, grinning from ear to ear. She didn’t say a word, just stood there grinning. Even their two dogs, Peaches and Maggie, flanking her side were grinning along with their mistress. Manny tilted his head at the canines. Something was up.

  No hint from how his wife was dressed. When they were on assignment both dressed in all black, head to toe. But at home, Liz was a delightful rainbow of color—lemon, lime, plum, and cherry red. Today, a light turquoise T-shirt floated over kiwi shorts, her toes a mango-orange.

  “Okay, I give up. What happened? You’re smiling so I doubt you wrecked the car. Our dogs can’t have puppies. Did you buy the winning ticket to the state lottery?”

  “Better than all of that, Manny, my dear husband.”

  “Well … the lottery—”

  “We’re going to have a baby!”

  Manny’s eyes began to bulge, a grin slowly creeping across his face. He was going to be a father. At forty-two, he was finally going to be a father. He stepped to the love of his life, wrapping her in his arms, their eyes misting, familiar bodies folding together in a tender embrace.

  “Calls for champagne,” he whispered into her ear, ringlets of red hair swirling around his lips. “But… you can’t drink ... so, neither will I.”

  “How about a glass of grape juice?” Liz giggled as the telephone rang.

  Manny kissed her sweet puckered mouth as she reached for his cell clipped to his belt and held it to his ear.

  Without looking at the caller ID, he answered. “Salinas.”

  “Manny. Alex Donovan here. Did I get you at a bad time?”

  “Depends on how you look at it, Alex. You interrupted one of the best moments of my life. Liz, rather my precious wife Stitch as I like to call her, just told me I’m going to be a father.”

  “Hey, congratulations. When’s the baby due?”

  Liz, her ear next to Manny’s, whispered, “December.”

  “In case you didn’t hear, Alex, that would be December. Now tell me why you’re calling so Stitch and I can get on celebrating with popcorn and grape juice.”

  “Umm, grape juice. You’re a good man, Salinas.”

  Manny released his grip on his wife and flopped onto the couch grinning at her. Her body a glow, a perpetual grin on her face, Liz bobbed her head up and down, mouthing she would go pop the corn.

  “Okay, Alex, give. You never call just to say hello.”

  “My agents have been picking up chatter. It escalated in the last few weeks. I need someone local, someone who knows the people, knows how to ferret out what’s going on. I thought of you. Can you check around for me? On the clock, of course.”

  “Sure. What kind of chatter? I thought the bad guys were too smart to chatter these days.”

  “Yeah, they are. But we’ve intercepted coded messages of several different kinds, even Twitter of all places, and someone called in with a tip. Wouldn’t give his name.”

  “Okay … so what’s it about?”

  “Fireworks. BIG fireworks. Several targets, simultaneously, in Florida.”

  Manny leaned forward, his gaze turning to the kitchen door. A sudden grip of tension in his belly. He was awash with love for his adorable wife. Nothing would ever happen to her as long as he was alive. “Where specifically in Florida, and when?”

  “All over—Miami, Orlando. Disney’s there you know. The families, kids—that place would give a very visible bang for the buck. Cape Canaveral—Kennedy Space Center. NASCAR came up—Daytona Beach.”

  “When?”

  “We don’t know exactly. Nothing definitive.”

  “Names?” Manny’s fingers ran over his moustache.

  “Nothing yet. We’re scanning passports, likely destinations, cities with incoming flights—Atlanta, Orlando, Miami. Of course, they could come across our southern border or northern border for that matter. The nine-eleveners traveled from Canada.”

  “May be here already.”

  “Could be, but the chatter doesn’t indicate that. Seems more like the planning stage, planning to congregate here.”

  “I’ll check around. See what I can turn up.” Manny sighed.

  “Thanks, Manny. And congratulations again. My best to Elizabeth.”

  Chapter 17

  ────

  PEERING OVER THE TOP of her spectacles, Jane’s eyes flicked from side to side. “Lizzy, there’s a parking spot. Over there. Last one. Looks like business is picking up.”

  “Sure does—too late for breakfast and early for lunch. I wonder what happened.”

  “Come on, dear. Star said she’d save us a booth. I thought she was kidding.”

  Liz, a beam of sunshine in a lemon T over orange capris and sandals, took hold of her aunt’s elbow. Stepping sprightly from the car, the little diner beckoned them in, tube lighting rocking with the well fed jukebox.

  They waved at Star behind the order window as Tyler came rushing up to them.

  “Come with me, mademoiselles,” he said grinning. “Your table is waiting.”

  Sliding in on either side of the booth, they looked up wondering what Tyler would do next. They both got a kick out of him, and he never disappointed.

  Tyler pulled two menus from around his back placing them on the table with a flourish and slight bow. “Your menus. Hot off the press … well a week ago. Jane, you were spot on the money. I drew up a new menu featuring Star’s meatball mini-tarts punctuated with my cartoons. Charlie and Wanda said to give it a try and just look what happened. Business exploded. It’s been crazy like this for a few days. Catch the kids menu at the bottom.”

  “Tyler, the menu looks wonderful. Fun.” Liz said. “And from the looks of the kids in here … what are they doing over there?” Liz pointed to a table against the wall.

  “Star’s idea. I ran off some of the cartoons for the kids to color on the back of the paper placemats. See.” With a slight of hand, Tyler flipped over the placemat. “Would you like a cup or two of crayons? I ‘m sure there’s a purple to match your dress, Jane … including the roses. See the little corner labeled, A Happy Diner. It’s you … bouffant and all.” Tyler stood beaming as two little girls from the booth behind Liz erupted in the giggles. Tyler leaned close, whispered, “The kids took to it, so Wanda ordered a few hundred from the printer.”

  Standing up straight, h
e pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Star will join you in a couple of minutes. Charlie’s taking over the grill so she can join you for a cup of coffee. She’s happy you accepted her invitation. She wanted you to see the menu. Have to run. Oh, Jane. Hot chocolate, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles?”

  “You devil, you remembered.” Winking at Tyler, Jane’s pink lips spread into a flirty smile.

  “Remembered? Take another look at your cartoon… you have to color the roses red, and a little chocolate brown crayon on those sprinkles don’t you think?”

  Tyler hustled off as Star passed him, reminding him of their secret not to tell about the video. First hugging Jane, she slid in next to Liz.

  “So, how do you like the new menus? Ty’s drawings?”

  “Wonderful, dear. And the idea of crayons for the children trying to match the cartoons on the walls is very clever. I take it the owners are happy?”

  “Yeah. They were a little skeptical at first, but it seemed to bolster the idea of a happy diner. Ty’s working up a cartoon of the Wurlitzer, little musical notes whirling around the jukebox. Something we didn’t expect, a couple of the regulars recognized the initials under the drawings, TJ, as Tyler’s. They began asking for his autograph. That’s when Charlie made a deal with a printer friend for copies of just the cartoons, naturally all were topped with a caricature of the diner for the kids to color. They love the late model cars parked in front. Then the adult guests, especially the tourists, also began asking Tyler to autograph them.”

  Tyler returned with the coffees and hot chocolate, beaming again through his horn-rimmed glasses.

  “Tyler, the drawings are wonderful but you must include a cartoon of yourself. Your guests would love it, signed by their favorite server, don’t you think?” Aunt Jane looked up at Tyler over her wire rimmed glasses.

  “Capital idea, Jane.” He looked over his glasses, mimicking her look, then dashed off with a little girl tugging his hand, dragging him to her parents, asking for a cartoon of the meatball tart wearing a bow tie and polka dot shirt.