Sugar and Iced (Cupcake Bakery Mystery)

by McKinlay, Jenn

  Twenty-nine

  Mel felt her heart clench hard like a fist in her chest. She had no weapon but her keys and she doubted she could get back into her apartment before the person caught her. She stood undecided for a second and then realized that the person hadn’t heard her yet. Quite possibly, she could either hit them hard from behind and run away or slip back into her apartment and call the police.

  She waffled. Fear had her immobilized, plus her leg really smarted and she wasn’t sure if she could run on it. What if it went out from under her and she fell? Aside from being embarrassing, it could get her killed.

  She decided to see if she could ease her way back up the stairs. She placed her foot on the step behind her and slowly moved backwards. One step, two steps, she started to move faster. Squeak!

  Mel froze and held her breath. The person below her didn’t move. How could they not have heard what had sounded as loud as a gunshot to her? She waited, poised with one foot on the step behind her. When the person below didn’t move, she let out her breath in a tiny sigh.

  At that, the man below whipped his head around and jumped to his feet. “Mel?”

  Joe DeLaura looked up at her and Mel felt every bit of resistance inside of her shatter and fall away. She walked down the steps, never taking her gaze from his.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Joe gave her a lopsided smile. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And I didn’t want you to be alone when you came down here to do your baking, not until we know who threw that brick and why.”

  Mel leaned into him and Joe wrapped her in a hug. It was the first time her world felt right all night, and she hugged him tight, grateful that she had this man who knew her better than any other in her life.

  It was Joe, always Joe. He was the one she wanted to bake cupcakes with in the middle of the night and raise Captain Jack with and spend the rest of her life with. Why had she been so afraid of saying yes to him, to them?

  She leaned back and studied his face in the faint overhead light that illuminated the back door to the bakery. She couldn’t read the expression on his face and she wondered what he was thinking. She waited for him to ask her to marry him again, as he had every time they were alone over the past few months, but to her surprise, he planted a kiss on her head and stepped away.

  “So, what are we baking tonight?” he asked.

  “A variety of things,” she said. She kept her tone light. “You will not believe some of these concoctions.”

  She led the way to the back door and unlocked it. As she pushed it open and turned on the lights, she tried to tell herself it was okay if Joe had given up on marrying her. She certainly hadn’t given him any reason not to. Still, it was bittersweet to realize that she had finally succeeded in pushing him away. Then again, he was here.

  He stood by the table, reading the recipes she had left laid out on the surface. A small smile lifted his lips as he read the ingredients while his dark brown hair flopped over his forehead. Mel moved to stand beside him. She leaned into his side and slipped her arm around his waist.

  Automatically, Joe put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close while he read. His hand ran up and down her arm as if reassuring himself that she was here. It was the smallest of gestures, but like the beat of a butterfly’s wings causing a tsunami across the globe, Mel felt its impact. The fear that she would never again hear Joe tell her that he loved her suddenly seemed much larger than the fear that he might one day leave her either by choice or by circumstance.

  It hit Mel hard, the realization of how much she truly loved this man. If two people could be two halves of a whole, than Joe was her other half. And now, she just needed to be brave enough to commit to him, to them, to a life together full of all the stomach-dropping downs and heart-lifting highs. Surely she could do that, right?

  “Oh, that is just disgusting!” Joe wrinkled his nose and puckered his lips.

  “What?” Mel asked, worried that he’d somehow been in her head, reading her thoughts and was appalled.

  “These girls may ruin cupcakes for me forever,” he said.

  Mel glanced at the recipe he pointed to, which used a highly caffeinated lemon-lime soda as its main ingredient.

  “Oh, yeah,” she sighed with relief. “You may want to steer clear of taste-testing these.

  “Hey, are you all right?” he asked. He studied her face with a frown.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. She forced a smile to reas-sure him.

  “All right then, let’s get to work,” he said.

  He went over to the sink to scrub up and Mel sighed. The opportunity to tell him about her epiphany slipped through her fingers like melted butter and she didn’t know how to snatch it back.

  She crossed to the pantry and started to gather ingredients. Probably confessions of undying love were better saved for the morning. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass containers where she stored some of her dry ingredients. Good grief, she had a case of bed head going that made her look as if she had been electrocuted.

  Yes, definitely, confessions of undying love could wait until she had combed her hair, and brushing her teeth might be advisable as well.

  Mel and Joe spent the next two hours baking. They talked about nothing of substance but instead made each other laugh as they discussed their families, their friends, and the crazy people at the pageant. As if by mutual agreement, they didn’t discuss Mariel’s murder, Lupe’s shot at winning the pageant, or who might have smashed in the bakery window.

  When the only task left was frosting the cupcakes, they decided to call it a night. Joe walked her to her door and kissed her forehead. Mel thought about dragging him into her apartment by his shirtfront, but then she yawned. Big romance was just going to have to wait until she had a comb and a nap.

  Joe was at the bottom of the stairs and headed for the narrow alley that would take him to his parked car when Mel leaned over the railing of her small balcony and shouted his name.

  “Hey, Joe!” she cried.

  He stopped and turned to look up at her. “What is it, Cupcake?”

  Mel smiled at the nickname. “You know I love you, right?”

  He returned her smile, but in the dim light, his smile looked a little sad. “Yeah, I know.”

  He waved and Mel watched him disappear around the corner of the building. This felt like one of the stomach-dropping lows she’d been so afraid of. She didn’t like it. In fact, if this was what life was going to feel like without Joe in it, she was firmly opposed to it.

  Mel climbed back into her futon. Captain Jack opened one eye, looked at her, and then turned his back on her. Probably he was miffed that Joe wasn’t here, too.

  “I’m working on it,” she said. Jack ignored her and she supposed it was no more than she deserved.

  A coffee cup being plunked down on the table beside Mel’s head awoke her the next morning. Joyce was sitting in the chair beside her futon with Captain Jack in her lap. He was purring as loud as a V-8 engine while Joyce scratched under his chin.

  “What time is it?” Mel asked as she wrestled her way out from under the covers to sit up.

  “Well, I thought it was time to bake cupcakes,” Joyce said. “But it looks as if someone had a busy night.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” Mel said.

  “You should have called me,” Joyce said. “I’d have come over to help.”

  Mel leaned back, cradling her cup of coffee. “I had help. Joe was here.”

  Joyce clasped her hands together and bit her lip but said nothing. Mel knew it was because she was afraid of getting her hopes up.

  “He didn’t spend the night,” Mel said.

  “Oh,” Joyce said. She unclasped her hands and went back to petting Captain Jack.

  “I’ve been afraid,” Mel said.

 
Joyce didn’t look up and meet Mel’s gaze; instead she kept petting Captain Jack. Mel thought she heard her mother make a suspicious sniffing sound.

  “When your father died, I wasn’t sure I could go on,” Joyce said. She paused and blew out a breath. “You and your brother were grown, and I didn’t think you needed me anymore.”

  “I’ll always need you, Mom,” Mel said. Her throat felt tight and her voice came out high and squeaky.

  Joyce glanced up and smiled at her. She reached over and smoothed back Mel’s hair.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That’s not true, but thank you. I know the loss you felt when your dad died. I felt it, too. At first, I couldn’t imagine that I would ever laugh again, or be filled with joy, or look forward to what the next day might bring.”

  Mel nodded. She had felt the same.

  “But then, my grandsons came along, and I could see your dad in them,” she said.

  Mel laughed. “Yeah, especially when they were bald, chunky babies.”

  “The similarity was alarming.” Joyce laughed, too. “Was it tragic when your father died? Yes. But would my life have been a much bigger tragedy had I not had him in it, even if it wasn’t for as long as I wanted? Yes.”

  Mel met her mother’s gaze. Joyce’s blue-green hazel eyes, so like her own, were full of warmth and love. Mel reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand.

  “Thanks, Mom,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. Joyce squeezed her fingers in return. “You and Joe will figure it out. I know you will.”

  Joyce let go of Mel’s hand, then lifted Captain Jack off of her lap and said, “Now get changed and get downstairs. We have cupcakes to decorate and this is Lupe’s big day, and I’m trying really hard not to freak out.”

  “Hey, Mom,” Mel called to her mother before she turned away. “Were you disappointed?”

  “About you and Joe?” she asked. “Devastated would be more accurate.”

  “No.” Mel shook her head and plucked at the covers in her lap. “About me when I was Lupe’s age?”

  Joyce frowned and crouched beside the futon. “What are you talking about?”

  “I just wondered if maybe you were disappointed that I wasn’t, well, thin, pretty, talented, outgoing, you know, basically all of the things mothers are supposed to want in their daughters.”

  “Oh, heavens, no,” Joyce said. Her gaze was so surprised that Mel knew she meant it.

  Joyce reached out and took Mel’s hand. “The day you were born I fell in love with you. It was such a surprise. I mean I knew I’d love you and your brother, but I didn’t know I’d fall in love with you. And that has never changed, ever. I’ve always thought that my children were the most beautiful, most talented, most amusing people to ever grace the planet, and I felt so lucky every day that I got to be your mom. Except for when you dumped Joe, then I thought you were an idiot.”

  “Mom,” Mel turned it into a three-syllable whine and they both laughed.

  Joyce leaned over and kissed Mel’s head. “I wouldn’t change a thing, not one thing, about you. Not then, not now, and not ever. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Mel smiled as she watched her mother leave and then rolled to her feet. At least the pageant was over today. Mel was ready to stick a fork in it, she was so over the Sweet Tiara Beauty Pageant. That being said, she really hoped Lupe won. The girl had too much to offer the world not to get a full ride to the university of her choice.

  Angie, Mel, and Joyce did the best they could with the cupcake recipes they had been given. As Oz and Tate loaded up the van to take them to the pageant, Mel fretted that she had tried to make the presentation portion of the cupcakes as equal as possible. She didn’t want to give anyone an advantage given that there was really nothing to be done about the taste portion. Some of those cupcakes were just going to be toxic no matter how hard she had tried to make them palatable.

  “Are we ready?” Angie asked.

  “As we’ll ever be,” Mel said.

  They left Marty in charge of the bakery since Oz de-manded to be at the pageant. Tate would do drop-off and then circle back to help Marty, since the window-repair workmen were supposed to be there in the afternoon to fix the front window. Needless to say, one of the DeLaura brothers “knew a guy” and so the repair was progressing much faster than Mel had anticipated.

  Joyce had left early to help Lupe get waxed and polished for the evening gown competition later in the day. Ginny had offered up her own personal stylist and Joyce had taken her up on it. Mel did not envy Lupe the morning of primping she was about to endure.

  When Mel and Angie arrived at the resort, it was abuzz with contestants and stage mothers. Olivia had arrived before them and the cupcakes she had baked for the contestants were already front and center in the lobby cupcake tower. Mel and Angie set to work unpacking the ones they had baked and arranging them in the spaces Olivia had left open for them.

  “Really, Cooper?” Olivia snickered as she stood nearby in her blue chef’s coat with her gray corkscrew curls twisted up on her head in a bun. “Is that the best you could do?”

  Mel slowly turned to face her. “Are you seriously trash-talking me?”

  Olivia nodded and grinned. “I can’t help it. It’s like old times.”

  “Intervention,” Angie muttered. “I’m just saying.”

  Mel glanced at the tower and took in the sight of some of Olivia’s cupcakes.

  “Red Hots?” she asked. “And I thought Pixy Stix were bad.”

  “Yeah, I had to taste test some of these on my dog,” Olivia said in an undertone. “Everyone else refused and even the dog turned his nose up at that one.”

  Angie opened her mouth to say something that Mel was quite certain should not be said, so she stepped on her foot.

  “Ouch!” Angie yelped.

  “Oh, so sorry,” Mel said. She turned to Olivia, who was watching them with one eyebrow raised. “I’m such a klutz.”

  “That’s okay.” Olivia clapped her on the back with enough force that Mel almost went headfirst into the cupcake tower, only the edge of the table stopping her. “Not all of us are talented enough to make something yummy out of something yucky, so no hard feelings when my cupcakes kick your cupcakes right out of the competition.”

  Mel stepped in front of Angie, whose hands had come together in a strangling motion.

  “Agreed, no hard feelings,” Mel said. She would maintain the truce they had worked out even if it cost her a bout of indigestion. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

  “I should,” Olivia said. “I have a lot riding on this.”

  “What do you mean?” Mel asked. “We get paid no matter who wins.”

  Mel watched as Olivia reached up and fiddled with a gray curl that had escaped her topknot.

  “Well, since I have Destiny’s cupcakes in my portion of the competition, her father has offered me a free eye tuck if they win,” she said.

  “What?” Mel asked.

  “I know, so I really pulled out all the stops on my cupcakes,” Olivia said. “Sadly, I don’t know which ones are hers, but I glammed the heck out of all of them, so as long as they taste okay, I have a shot at some free nip and tuck.”

  “He’s bribing you with plastic surgery?” Mel asked. “That has to be against the rules.”

  “Are you going to tell on me?” Olivia asked.

  “I should,” Mel said.

  “No, you shouldn’t. Technically, it’s not a bribe,” Olivia argued. She plunked her hands on her hips and looked Mel up and down. “It’s a bonus if my cupcakes win. You’re just sore that you didn’t get the offer.”

  “I am not,” Mel argued.

  “Yes, you—” Olivia began to argue but Mel interrupted.

  “Hey, there’s a photographer from the Arizona Repu
blic. Probably, they’ll want your picture with the cupcakes.”

  Olivia’s face lit up. Mel didn’t move until Olivia walked away to greet the media. Then she spun around and saw Angie, holding her hands out, looking like she wanted to choke Olivia.

  “Are you crazy? That’s Marty’s—well, I was going to say ‘squeeze,’ but that seems bad form. She’s his something or other—you can’t strangle her.”

  “But it would feel so good,” Angie protested. She grabbed Mel’s upper arms and shook her. Her voice took on a pleading tone. “Just one tight squeeze until her head turns bright red and she panics a little and then I swear I’ll let go.”

  “Angie, get a grip. Okay, let me rephrase that,” Mel said. “No, absolutely no strangling.”

  “Do you plan these menace-filled sentences just for my arrival?” a voice asked.

  Mel turned to find Manny standing behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. He did not look happy.

  Thirty

  “Awkward,” Angie said from behind Mel.

  “And by strangling, I was referring to a frosting technique where we strangle the pastry bag,” Mel said. She mimed piping frosting with an invisible bag and elbowed Angie to do the same.

  “See? All perfectly reasonable.”

  Manny blew out a breath. He looked dubious at best, but he didn’t push it.

  He looked her over and asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Never better,” she said. “Well, aside from the exhaustion and throbbing leg.”

  “Still no idea why anyone would lob a brick through your window?” he asked.

  “Nope,” she said. “I mean it could be someone’s way of complaining about our cake-to-frosting ratio, but I take that very seriously and I really don’t think my ratio is brick-throwing worthy.”

  A small smile played on Manny’s lips. “If you think of anything—”