The Cupcake Diaries: Sweet On You

by Darlene Panzera

  “Don’t you want to be healthy?” asked another woman closing in on him.

  The man’s forehead creased and his eyes widened. “I paid sixteen dollars for these cupcakes.”

  “You’ll pay with your life if you eat all that sugar,” the black-haired woman assured him. “Did you know sugar is addicting?”

  “No, I didn’t.” The man took a quick glance to the left and then to the right as the women surrounded him, waving their picket signs.

  A brunette wearing a neon green mesh kerchief over the top of her hair pointed again. “Drop it in the can, buddy. Do the right thing.”

  Clearly intimidated, the poor man dropped the box of cupcakes in the can and hurried away. The women clapped, cheered, and broke into a hip-hop dance across the sidewalk.

  Next, the four women prevented a young couple from entering the shop, shoved an orange slip of paper into their hands, and chanted, “Cupcakes can kill! Cupcakes can kill!”

  “They’re terrorizing, blocking, and forcing flyers into our customer’s hands,” Kim whispered, her expression turning fierce. “All of which is illegal.”

  “That’s it,” Andi growled under her breath as she flung open the door and went with Rachel and Kim on her heels.

  Rachel gasped. “Who are these people?”

  “Zumba dancers,” Kim said, pointing to another sign. “They’re from the studio around the block. ‘Lose the fat, dance with Pat.’”

  Andi took a deep breath. She had been thinking of signing up for that Zumba dance class, but no way would she take it now. She scanned each of their colorful outfits. “Which one of you is Pat?”

  The lead woman with short black hair and exposed midriff waved. “I’m Pat Silverthorn,” she said, fingering a silver whistle that dangled from a cord around her neck.

  Andi nodded to her. “You need to stop this nonsense right now.”

  Pat gave her a sly grin and shouted, “Give up the sugar!” and blew the whistle twice. The dancers circled with their signs, and at the signal, they changed their rhythm to a salsa.

  “Maybe we should have opened a health food store,” Kim said and shied away when one of the women drew near.

  Andi shook her head. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Oh, no,” Jake said, his grim tone full of foreboding as he came through the door to stand behind them. “That’s my sister.”

  “Pat?”

  “No, the one with the brown hair and green head scarf.”

  The woman he indicated dropped her sign. “Jake, what are you doing here?”

  “I financed this shop, and you and your entourage are scaring away business.”

  “I had no idea you were part of this. Couldn’t you have picked a shop with real food to invest in?”

  Jake motioned Andi over and said, “Andi, this is my sister, Trish.”

  The woman’s expression froze. “Oh, I see how it is. You like her.”

  Jake nodded. “I do. Andi is a very nice person.”

  “She’s more than that, isn’t she, Jake? You can’t fool me. I haven’t seen that look in your eyes since Taylor was born. You’re infatuated with her.”

  Infatuated? Andi spun around so fast her head nearly collided with Jake’s. His jaw twitched, but she didn’t know him well enough to see if his sister spoke the truth. And instead of confirming the comment, he chose to ignore it.

  “Can you stop picketing and leave our customers alone?” he asked, as his sister’s Zumba friends surrounded another potential customer.

  “Can you stop selling sugar and show our diabetic father some support?”

  As Jake continued to argue with his sister, Kim asked, “What do we do now?”

  “Call the cops,” Rachel said, taking out her cell phone.

  Andi agreed, and minutes later, a patrol car pulled up to the curb, and the same two police officers who had come to their shop before got out.

  Kim smiled. “Look, Rachel, it’s your friend.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Don’t they have any other cops on the force?”

  The large, square-jawed cop with the short blond hair introduced himself as Officer Ian Lockwell, and the two officers began to question Pat, who did not appear pleased.

  “I have no problem booking you all,” Officer Lockwell said. “If you want to have your protest, fine. But, you cannot interfere with foot traffic nor can you interfere with the operation of this business with your disorderly conduct.”

  “Our conduct is not disorderly,” Pat argued. “We dance in distinct patterns.”

  “You’re blocking the entrance and exit of a store.”

  “We’re educating the public.” Pat poked a finger into his large stomach. “Looks like you could use a little education about good nutrition, too.”

  “You poke that finger at me again, and the next time you use it will be to push the number of your one call for bail.”

  “On what charge?” Pat demanded.

  Officer Lockwell leaned in. “Battery on a police officer.”

  “My mother died with a box of triple chocolate gourmet cupcakes sitting in her lap,” Pat informed him. “People have a right to know an unhealthy diet can be lethal.”

  “Then educate the public someplace else.”

  “We will,” Pat said, her face smug. “My Zumba class is leading the opening exercises at the Relay for Life fundraiser this weekend.”

  With a signal from Pat, the Zumba dancers dropped their picket signs and stepped aside to let Creative Cupcakes customers pass by.

  Andi was relieved, but the smiles that she, Rachel, and Kim exchanged with Officer Lockwell quickly faded. They’d gained a new friend, but they’d also gained a new enemy.

  “I’m not going to give up,” Pat hissed over her shoulder as she walked away, “not until Creative Cupcakes closes for business.”

  “I think she means it,” Rachel said, her voice raw.

  “Doesn’t she have anything better to do?” Kim complained.

  “No, but we do.” Andi picked up an orange half-page flyer one of the women had dropped on the ground. “The Relay for Life fundraiser for cancer research draws hundreds of people each year.”

  Rachel’s mouth popped open. “The perfect venue for a new cupcake shop to advertise.”

  “And help the community at the same time,” Kim added.

  “Who says cupcakes can’t be healthy?” Andi asked, handing them the flyer. “We can bake low-calorie, low-sugar, gluten-free, and even fruit and vegetable cupcakes. We can promote health awareness. But even more important,” she said, balling her fists, “we’re going to prove Creative Cupcakes has a place in this town.”

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  Relay for Life Fundraiser Checklist

  800 mini cupcakes, each color frosting representing a different type of cancer

  Plastic stackable trays to transport cupcakes in back of car

  Calculator and pouch with small change

  Napkins (lots of napkins!)

  ON FRIDAY NIGHT Andi, Rachel, and Kim closed Creative Cupcakes at five o’clock and set up their tented booth at the Relay for Life fundraiser. The event, usually held in June, had been moved up to mid-March to accommodate needed repairs to both the high school track and the encircling football field.

  “We look like Easter eggs,” Kim complained, tying on her purple apron. “Whose idea was it to wear purple?”

  “Mine,” Rachel informed her. “Purple represents pancreatic cancer. In memory of my grandmother.”

  “The scarves can also help keep us warm,” Andi said, taking the purple scarf Rachel handed her. “The spring chill will make people walk even faster this evening.”

  Andi had no history of cancer in her family and had never fully understood why people walked to raise money for cancer research. But as she watched a young mother pushing her daughter around in a wheelchair, a cancer victim no older than Mia, she realized it was because they could. What an amazing gift it was to have the ability to walk. To
live life. And to help others.

  The stories she overheard of hardship and survival made her want to hug her child more, laugh with Rachel and Kim more, spend more time with Jake . . .

  She missed Jake. Despite her reluctance to allow herself to commit to a serious relationship, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He worked at the newspaper during the day and helped out at the cupcake shop every night, but she hadn’t spent time alone with him since the previous weekend. And five days seemed like an eternity. She kept her eye on the crowd, hoping to see him.

  Instead, Pat, accompanied by twenty other women, all wearing pink tassels for breast cancer, visited their multicolored cupcake display.

  Pat gave a smile too fake to be real. “We just wanted to stop by and wish you luck.”

  “Wish us luck?” Rachel grumbled as the Zumba dancers moved on. “What’s with her abrupt attitude change?”

  “She must be up to something,” Kim warned. “I don’t trust her.”

  “I don’t either,” Andi admitted, “but what can she possibly do to us here?”

  A line of customers formed in front of their booth and Rachel turned toward her with a frown. “This guy has a coupon for a free cupcake. What do I do?”

  Andi looked at the slip of paper Rachel handed her. “The people in charge of the fundraiser may have issued a few coupons to the public. Go ahead and give him one.”

  However, a short time later they were inundated with dozens of these coupons.

  “Why wasn’t I told about this?” Andi demanded.

  Kim served four more free cupcakes to the kids lined up in front of them. “You made sure we get to keep the money we spent on supplies, right?”

  “That’s what I was told,” Andi assured her.

  “We won’t recoup any money for supplies if this keeps up,” Rachel complained. “And we aren’t raising any money for cancer research.”

  “Look there!” Kim pointed. “The Zumba dancers are the ones handing out the coupons to everyone. They’re trying to sabotage our efforts!”

  “Not if I can help it,” Andi said, pulling off her disposable food handler’s gloves.

  Marching up to the stadium stands where a jazz band had just performed, she took the microphone. “I’m sorry to announce that due to a misprint, the Creative Cupcakes coupons are invalid. The purpose of the fundraiser is to raise money. Please stop by and buy a sampling of our many different flavors, only a dollar each for a mini cupcake.”

  DESPITE THE INITIAL loss, Andi, Rachel, and Kim quickly recouped the money with continuing sales. And although they made sure to include health-conscious varieties like carrot and gluten-free espresso, the fastest selling were the chocolate caramel, cream-filled s’mores, and Easter candy cupcakes topped with jelly beans.

  “Andi, look at that woman’s victory sword.” Kim nodded to the celebration for cancer survivors taking place at the center of the field. “It looks like a shiny gold cake cutter.”

  “I’ll have to ask her where to get one,” Rachel said with a grin, “so we can celebrate our own victory.”

  Andi smiled, but her stomach remained tight. It was a little early to claim any kind of victory. Two weeks remained in the month, and their profits hadn’t been enough to even cover expenses. And she still needed to pay her back rent.

  “The day we don’t have to work sixteen-hour shifts will be success enough,” Andi said, her tone weary.

  “My only complaint,” Rachel teased, “is that most of the single men at this event are in high school. Not a great place to pick up a hot date.”

  “Sorry, Rach—” Andi looked up, straight into Jake’s eyes, and it was almost as if he could look right through her and see her exhaustion. The compassion on his face made her heart flutter.

  “Can you take a break to walk around the track with me?” Jake asked.

  “Of course she can,” Rachel said, giving her a little push. “We can handle this crowd. Right, Kim?”

  “It seems to be winding down,” Kim agreed. “Everyone’s getting ready to light up the luminary bags to honor the cancer victims.”

  “Thanks, you two,” Andi said and whisked off her apron.

  Jake wore jeans and an emerald green sweatshirt over a white T-shirt, and to Andi, he’d never looked better. The clothes could not hide the fact he had a great athletic build, with toned muscles in all the right places.

  “I knew you must exercise to look so good.” She caught herself and corrected, “I mean—look so fit.”

  Jake’s lips twitched as if he were suppressing a grin. “I don’t walk as much as I’d like to,” he said and shot her an earnest look of appeal. “Maybe if I had someone to walk with, I’d find the time. Would you like to walk with me on Sunday?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Are you asking for a date?”

  “Since you’re opposed to dates, why don’t we call it ‘spending time with each other to share our appreciation for similar interests’?”

  “I’m interested,” Andi said.

  Jake smiled. “So am I.”

  Together Andi and Jake joined the hundreds of other people circling the track. Some belonged to teams who handed off decorated batons to each other. Some danced to the pumped up rock music. And others were drawn toward the strong, delicious smell of hot dogs and popcorn, which tested Andi’s willpower on her new diet.

  Halfway around the track they met Heather with Mia, both behind a table braiding friendship bracelets.

  “Look, Mom,” Mia said, running up to her with their donation jar. “We sold lots!”

  “Great.” Andi swooped down and wrapped Mia in a hug. “But in twenty minutes, I want you to come back to the cupcake booth. It’s almost time to go home.”

  “Heather said people walk all night.”

  “They do,” Andi replied, tousling her daughter’s hair. “But not us. We need to go to bed.”

  “Who’s he?” Mia asked, her eyes on Jake.

  “This is the man who helped us open the cupcake shop. His name is Jake Hartman.”

  Jake knelt down to Mia’s level and offered her a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mia. My daughter, Taylor, is in your class at school.”

  “Taylor?” Mia sucked in her breath, her blue eyes filling with tears, and turned to Andi. “She stole the Gummy Bears you gave me and called me stupid.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Andi said, sneaking a peak at Jake’s shocked expression.

  “She did,” Mia shot back, her lower lip quivering. “I hate her.”

  “Now, Mia,” Andi warned, her voice firm, “you know we don’t hate anybody. Don’t you have anything to say to Jake?”

  Mia gave Jake a wary glance.

  “Something nice?” Andi prompted.

  “You can’t be as bad as she is,” Mia said, shaking his hand. Then she ran back to the table with Heather.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  Andi cringed. “I’m sorry. Mia’s tired and shouldn’t be up this late.”

  “Don’t worry; you get to meet my daughter next, and you’ve already been warned about her temperament.”

  Jake smiled, but from his expression it was clear he meant to talk to his daughter about her actions. Andi meant to speak to Mia also and hoped they might find a way to all be friends.

  Three-quarters of the way around the track Jake stopped in front of his sister, Trish, and introduced her husband, Oliver, and their son, Evan. Then he introduced his own daughter, Taylor.

  Jake’s sister, still wearing her pink ribbons and pink-tasseled Zumba pants, gave Andi a hard look. “Oh, no.”

  Jake squinted at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s looking at you the same way I saw you looking at her the other day,” Trish said, rolling her eyes.

  Jake gave a quick half-turn, but Andi hid her face by stepping forward to greet his daughter. Taylor had Jake’s and his sister’s brown hair, but her eyes were lighter, filling with tears the same wa
y Mia’s had.

  “Did you know my mom?” Taylor asked.

  “No, I didn’t,” Andi admitted.

  “We made a bag for her,” Taylor explained.

  Andi glanced at the white paper bag lantern on the ground by their feet, decorated with crayon-colored hearts stickers, and illuminated by the tea candle inside. The name SUSAN HARTMAN was written on the front, with a photo of a beautiful woman with dark wavy hair below it.

  Jake had said his wife had passed away two years ago when Taylor was three, but Andi got the feeling she shouldn’t be here. At this event. With them.

  No wonder Jake hadn’t taken her hand as they walked. He was here to honor his deceased wife. To hold hands with another would be inappropriate. Awkward. Still . . . as they stood side by side, her hand itched to take his and close the four-inch gap keeping them apart. And for that, a strong dose of guilt set in, making her even more uncomfortable.

  The lights in the stadium went off, leaving them in the dark except for the warm, golden glow from the vast ring of luminaries around the track. There were hundreds of them. Each one decorated and lit as a memorial to a loved one who had battled cancer. Andi caught her breath. The moment was surreal, both beautiful and sad, yet it also ignited a steadfast hope for the future. A future with a cure. A future spent with loved ones. Jake’s warm fingers found her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he murmured in her ear.

  The queasiness in Andi’s stomach subsided, and she relaxed.

  “I’m glad, too,” she whispered.

  WHEN ANDI CAME back to the cupcake booth, her heart was as light as a feather. “What a great walk! I think I’ve lost ten pounds already.”

  “Lost your heart,” Kim teased.

  “Lost her resolve not to get involved,” Rachel added.

  “Lost track of time,” Andi said, glancing at her watch. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

  “We can’t complain,” Rachel told her. “We know you were just trying to make our Creative Cupcakes’ investor happy.”