Just Desserts (Main Street Merchants Book 4)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Well, phooey.” Helen crossed her arms and pouted. “That’s no fun at all.”

  “Don’t you think he’s a little too young for you, honey?” Melba asked.

  “I wasn’t planning to marry him. I just wanted to admire him,” Helen explained with a little titter.

  “Be that as it may, I prefer my men to be old enough to have paid off their college loans.” Kathy patted Nancy on the shoulder as she walked past to take her seat.

  ReAnne walked through the door a moment later and took the proffered apron without a word. She looked much like she had on Monday night—drab clothing, practical hairdo, no makeup. Quinn wondered about this woman more than the others. She didn’t seem to have a lot of joy in her life and didn’t even seem particularly plugged in to this class. Why was she coming? Quinn supposed it didn’t matter, as long as she paid her fees on time, but she had yet to meet anyone who would take a cake-decorating class and not enjoy it at least a little bit. Creating was fun.

  “Okay, let’s go ahead and get started,” Quinn said. The room did feel emptier without Jonah there, but she tried to ignore that. He had no right to be missed. “On Monday, we learned how to create the foundation for your design. Now we’re going to start learning how to make all the other elements that go into decorating a cake. Tonight we’ll focus on making frosting roses. This is a skill that takes a long time to learn, so we’ll probably spend at least a few class sessions practicing. Don’t get frustrated if it takes a little while to get the hang of it, okay?”

  Quinn picked up her frosting bag. “I’ve put a special tip on this bag. It’s long and skinny, and when I squeeze the frosting out, it will look like a petal. Now, this is called a flower nail.” She picked up an item that looked like a tiny platform on a stick. “Remember the pedestals we used to help us frost the cakes on Monday? This flower nail works the same way. We can spin it between our fingers and work on all sides of the rose.” She demonstrated, holding the frosting bag in her right hand and the flower nail in her left. She squeezed the bag, placing the edge of the petal on the nail and then spinning it. The students looked appropriately impressed as a flower took shape before their eyes.

  “If you spin everything you work on, don’t you get dizzy?” Kathy asked.

  Quinn chuckled. “I guess I’ve never thought about it, but yes, I can see the potential. Now, after the flower is made, we just scoop it off the nail and place it on the cake.” She demonstrated, picking up a small knife and sliding it under the flower.

  “Can I try?” Melba asked. “I can’t wait to learn how.”

  “You can all try. I have enough supplies here for everyone. But what do we do first?”

  “Wash our hands!” Kathy volunteered.

  “Exactly right.”

  Everyone got cleaned up, and then they gathered around. “This almost looks like a tiny umbrella,” Kathy said, twirling her nail between her fingers. “A mouse could use this.”

  “Don’t say the word ‘mouse’ anywhere near Mr. D’Angelo’s kitchen,” Quinn warned with a smile. “No rodent of any kind should dare to stick so much as a whisker through the door.”

  “Point taken. All right, now what do we do?” Kathy held her frosting bag at the ready.

  Five minutes later, three-quarters of the class was in helpless giggles and one was concentrating so hard, Quinn could almost hear the wheels clacking in her head. Melba and Kathy couldn’t get the frosting to stick on their flower nails and were making huge globs of pink mess all over the counter, which made them laugh all the harder. ReAnne was focused on her rose like the fate of the entire universe depended on her success, and Helen was just goofing off and having a good time. Quinn wondered how Jonah would have done at this task, if he would compare flower nails to carpentry nails and make everything into a big joke while Nancy giggled.

  Half an hour later, everyone in the room had managed to create a fairly passable flower, so Quinn decided they’d done enough for the night. When she announced that class time was over, an audible groan went up in the room.

  “We’ll meet again on Monday,” she reminded them.

  Everyone took off their aprons and laid them on the counter, thanking Quinn for the class. She smiled and told them they were welcome, but everything felt hollow, like she was nothing but a big pretender. After thinking it over for a minute, she pulled out her cell phone and sent a text.

  * * *

  “Thanks for meeting me,” Quinn said as she slid into the diner booth across from Lexi. “I just needed to get out. My apartment’s too quiet.”

  “That’s why people have TVs,” Lexi replied. “It’s not because of the shows, because most of them are stupid. It’s so we don’t feel so alone.”

  “I have a TV. I just never turn it on.”

  “Or you could get a dog.” Lexi leaned forward. “We’re getting some new puppies in tomorrow. You’ve got to come check them out.”

  “I’m hardly ever home,” Quinn protested. “I’d be a terrible dog owner.”

  “Yeah, I guess a dog wouldn’t really work with your schedule. And green plants aren’t very good company, so that wouldn’t solve your problem.” Lexi glanced over her menu. “I know—you should find someone to date who’s on your same work schedule.”

  “Do any of those exist?”

  “Milkmen. And newspaper boys.”

  Quinn shook her head. “We don’t have milkmen in Aspen Ridge, and the paperboys are about twelve.”

  Lexi put her menu to the side. “Then you’re a hopeless case. Sorry, but that’s my diagnosis.”

  Sloane came over to take their order, and Quinn looked at her in surprise. “Hey there. I didn’t know you worked the evening shift.”

  “I am today. We had two call in sick—one with the flu, and the other with a hangover. What’ll it be?”

  Lexi went with the grilled cheese and tomato soup, and Quinn ordered chicken fingers and coleslaw. She wished she could head home and grab a plate of her mom’s lasagna, but her parents lived twenty minutes away and it was already getting late—she had to be up early in the morning. She sighed without realizing she’d done it aloud.

  “You okay?” Lexi asked.

  “What? Oh, yeah, I guess I am. Just a little homesick and feeling like a total dork.”

  “Homesick and dorkiness at the same time? What’s going on?”

  Quinn told her what had happened that night with Jonah.

  “So you kicked him out of your class? Just like that?” Lexi’s jaw had dropped just a little.

  “Um, yeah.” Quinn hated how it sounded. “I was right, though, wasn’t I? It’s not like I could just let him talk to me like that. He was being rude and disrespectful, and he ought to be a little nicer—I am his teacher, after all.”

  “Well, of course he shouldn’t be rude. But I’m not sure . . .” Lexi played with the salt and pepper shakers.

  “What? You can’t start a sentence and then not finish it.”

  She pushed the shakers to the side. “It’s just that the way you told the story, I’m not sure he was trying to be rude. I wasn’t there, so I can’t say for sure, but think about it from his perspective. He gives you a gift, and then he has to practically beg you to accept it. Do you think it’s possible that maybe you were being stubborn?” Lexi cringed, as though expecting Quinn to come unglued.

  Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but then she stopped. She had been stubborn. And snobby. And if he’d called her something else, she’d probably been that, too. “But did he have to say it? Come on, Lexi, back me up here. He didn’t have to tell me, did he?”

  Sloane delivered their plates, and Lexi appeared to be contemplating while everything was arranged on the table just so. Then she tilted her head to the side. “Are you saying that you want everyone in your life to tell you only what you want to hear?”

  “What? No! Of course not! I just want . . . I want them to say it nicely.” The ridiculousness of what Quinn had just said struck her, and she started to giggle. “I�
��m contradicting myself like crazy, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Lexi took a bite of her sandwich and chewed. “I don’t think anyone likes to hear unpleasant things about themselves, whether they’re true or not. And I think we’d all rather surround ourselves with people who love us just the way we are. But if we never learned about our little flaws, we’d never overcome them.”

  “You’re right.” Quinn stuck her fork into her coleslaw and stirred it around. “I need to stop being so sensitive. I’ve just never met a guy like this, you know? He says exactly what’s on his mind. What you see is what you get—he’s rough around the edges, but he doesn’t apologize for it. He’s just always himself.”

  “He sounds fascinating,” Lexi said. “Like you could depend on him to be honest.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Quinn thought about that while she ate a chicken finger. Her last relationship had been with a guy who always said the right thing and did the right thing—outwardly. When she learned the truth about him and saw him for the untrustworthy creep he was, she cried for days. No, she didn’t want to be lied to anymore.

  Then she stopped in her mental tracks. She wasn’t comparing Jonah to her ex-boyfriend, was she? She wasn’t in a relationship with Jonah, and had no intention of ever dating him. She couldn’t compare him to a recent romance—he wasn’t a romance at all.

  “I think I should call him,” she said after another moment of quiet chewing. “I need to apologize.”

  “That takes a lot of courage,” Lexi replied. “I’m proud of you.”

  “That’s me—extremely courageous.” Quinn took a sip of her water. “So, how did you get so smart?”

  “Me?” Lexi laughed. “I’m not. I just say all the things I need to hear, and then I listen to myself talk.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. You’re a good friend.”

  “You might not think that after I drop off a box of kittens. We haven’t been able to sell them, and we’re starting to get a little desperate.”

  “But the puppies are selling well?”

  “They are, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s puppy season or something.”

  They finished up and headed outside after paying their tabs. “I’ll catch you later,” Lexi said, waving.

  “See ya.” Quinn thought about what Lexi had said as she walked to her car. Before she started her engine, she pulled out her phone and checked her contacts. Sure enough, she had Jonah’s number—she’d programmed the information for all her students into her phone. Her finger hovered over the number for a long minute. If she called him right now, she could get it over with and she wouldn’t have to worry about it later. But if she called him right now, she might have a heart attack or die of embarrassment or something, and the police would find her dead body in the car. Her parents would be heartbroken, there would be no Thanksgiving pie this year, and being the scene of a death might be bad for the diner’s business.

  Finally, she took a deep breath and hit “send.”

  A moment later, Jonah’s sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Um, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “I go to bed early—I start my day at dawn. Who is this, please?”

  “This is Quinn. From the bakery. And I’m sorry to wake you up. I can call back tomorrow, if you want.”

  “Oh, hi, Quinn. No, you don’t have to call back. What’s up?”

  “Listen, um, I just wanted to apologize.”

  “You did?”

  Quinn squeezed her phone a little tighter, hoping to release some of her nerves. At least her voice wasn’t shaking. “Yeah, I did. You’re right. I’m stubborn. And I’m a snob. I’m just not used to people telling me stuff like that, and when you did, I took it wrong, and I shouldn’t have thrown you out of the class. It was stubborn and snobby of me, as well as being immature. So . . . would you please come back?”

  He didn’t reply right away, and Quinn squeezed her eyes shut. She wished he’d just yell or swear or something and get it over with—he was making this a lot harder than it needed to be. But maybe that was intentional—maybe he was purposely making her suffer. She was about to tell him to forget the whole thing when he finally spoke.

  “And I’m a loud-mouth know-it-all who shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “No, you already did. You called truce, remember?”

  “Yes, and I brought a token that you won’t accept.”

  Ouch. He was right. Quinn swallowed. “Well, I do accept it. In fact, I’m going to wear it to work tomorrow.”

  “You are?” She could almost hear his grin in his voice. “Maybe I should stop by and see for myself.”

  “If you want to. Just to be sure.” Why was her stomach suddenly acting up? She’d just eaten—she shouldn’t be hungry.

  “Maybe I will. Okay, Quinn, apology accepted. Are we good now, you and me?”

  “I think we’re pretty good. And I wondered if you had time to come by the bakery and let me fill you in on what you missed tonight. You know, because I kicked you out of class and all that.”

  Jonah laughed, a warm sound that somehow reminded her of molasses, even though molasses doesn’t laugh. “Okay. How about tomorrow night?”

  “All right. Come by at seven.”

  After Quinn hung up, she realized what he’d said—he went to bed early because he started his day early, just like she did. Lexi would probably be jumping up and down at that, proclaiming it a sign. Well, there were some things Lexi didn’t need to know.

  * * *

  This wedding cake wasn’t going to decorate itself, but Quinn sure wished it would. Mr. D had already done two cakes that day and she didn’t want to push his energy limits, so she’d sent him home with her cheery insistence that everything was under control. For some reason, things just weren’t flowing for her today. She’d burned a batch of cookies—something she never did anymore—and this cake wasn’t coming together. She stepped back and scowled at it. It was a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and smelled delicious, but it looked like a mountain of mud.

  “Hey, Quinn?” Kenny stuck his head into the kitchen. She’d asked him to man the front while she wrestled with bringing this mess of a cake into submission. “Someone’s here to see you. A guy.”

  At first, she thought it was Jonah, and her heart beat a little strangely. It was hours before seven—in fact, it was barely lunchtime—but maybe he really had decided to come by early to see if she was wearing the charm. She had put it on a gold chain, and it nestled in the hollow of her throat as though it was made to be there. She didn’t usually wear jewelry to work, but this could be an exception.

  She was hesitant to see Jonah face-to-face after everything that had happened the night before, but she knew they’d have to get it over with at some point—might as well be now. She rinsed off her hands and walked out to the front, still wiping her hands dry on a paper towel.

  It wasn’t Jonah who waited for her—it was Alex from the art gallery. She breathed a sigh of relief while at the same time feeling disappointed. She remembered feeling that way the first time she met Alex, too—poor guy. She should be happy to see him on his own merits. “Hey, Alex. How are you?”

  “I’m great. Well, actually, I’m more than great.” He leaned on the counter and then glanced down. Seeming to realize that he was putting weight on a sheet of glass, he straightened, then rested the heels of his palms on the metal trim that ran around the display case. “Bryce and I just met up with a fantastic new artist. She’s young, hip, very on top of her game right now. Her work is fresh, and she wants to display in our gallery. We would have taken her anyway, but her father has some pretty deep pockets and wants to invest. He’s kicked in some money for this shindig, and we’d like to increase our dessert selection a little bit. He indicated that he thinks food is a very key factor in this event, and who can argue with that?”

  “That’s great. How many artists does that give you?”

  �
��Eleven. Which is weirding Bryce out a little bit because he likes even numbers, but with the kind of publicity this artist will bring in, I think we can handle having an odd number for a while. And of course, the investment doesn’t hurt.”

  “Money is always a good thing. So, what would you like to add?” Quinn tried to keep her tone level, but she couldn’t stop her inner cheerleader from doing a backflip. A little more revenue, more of a selection for the guests to try—rich, influential guests, she might add—this was definitely a good thing all the way around.

  “When I was in here before, I noticed a display of hand-dipped chocolates, but I don’t see them now. Are you still carrying them?”

  “Yes, we are. They’re special order only, and the display we had was made up of extras from a wedding reception. Maggie D’Angelo, the owner’s wife, makes them, and they’re really delicious.”

  “May I see a price sheet?”

  Quinn reached under the counter and pulled out the information, placing it in front of Alex.

  “These prices seem really reasonable,” he said after a quick glance. “Especially for hand-crafted items.”

  “Well, everything we do is hand-crafted in one way or another, but yes, we try to stay competitive. Maggie makes these out of the love of her heart, and there’s no way to put a price on that.”

  Alex nodded. “I’ll take a hundred of the turtles, a hundred of the chocolate-covered cherries, and a hundred of the chocolate ganache truffles. You have those little paper wrapper thingies to put them in?”

  Quinn nodded. Nothing like using the technical terms for things. “Yes, we place each chocolate in a separate wrapper.”

  “Great.” He paused for a minute. “Thanks for all your help, Quinn. This event is going to be spectacular. I just hope . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I hope this new artist blends in well with the others.”

  That seemed like an odd statement. “What do you mean?”

  Alex shook his head. “She’s just a little . . . pushy, I guess you could say. She’s hard to talk to about certain things. She wants what she wants, and while all our artists deserve to be happy, I can’t help but want to push back.” He sighed. “Oh, well. She’s going to bring in new clientele, and I think she’ll be great for the gallery.”