You'll Never Know Page 20

  “Nectarine and lemon?” I asked. She held up a hand to fend me off, but I held the mini cupcake toward her. “Seasonal, my good lady. Made with local tangerines from a farm outside town. You cannot miss the swap of the lemon and sweet tangerine. They really complete each other.”

  She hesitated, eyeing the hearty glob of frosting on top, and finally accepted. “Do you have coffee?”

  “Tons inside. Free, too. Don’t miss the scones. They’re actually soft.”

  “Great.”

  She stepped inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of men headed toward the store, at least nine strong. By the time I spun around to fully face them, they were only a few steps away.

  William smiled from the middle of the pack. “Hey Rachelle!”

  “Hey!” I cried. “You came!”

  “Of course. I just had to borrow a few things. I brought a bunch of hungry college boys.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Don’t worry,” a blond quipped with a wry smile. “More are coming later.”

  “Plenty more,” said another. William shot them a quelling look, then turned back to me.

  “These are just the frontrunners to take to the streets and get word going. Hey guys, this is my friend, Rachelle.”

  “Hi Rachelle,” they chimed in unison.

  A warm little thrill darted through me. Friend, eh? That had never happened before. I smiled. All of their eyes gleamed with hunger. William was older than all of them by several years, but that didn’t matter. Bodies were bodies.

  “You ready to sell yummy cupcakes and other delights in exchange for free food?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Give us the goods.”

  “I need sugar!”

  Their responses made me grin. “Sweet. Your job is to eat a few samples and adore them. Then take them to the people out here and get them to come in.”

  One of them reached for a Coke cupcake. “You got it, sister.”

  “Anything for free sugar,” another said.

  A third arm grabbed for one. “Is that a Sprite cupcake? What?”

  “OMG!” A blond with muddy hazel eyes yelled, frosting smeared on his lips. “This is the best cupcake I’ve ever eaten in my life!”

  A pigeon fluttered away from the eaves with a squawk. Two people on the other side of the street jumped. I laughed. William grabbed the pan from me and shoved it toward one of his friends.

  “Georgio, turn on that Italian charm. Start giving away samples. Brent, JC, grab pans inside and load up. Charlie, Shane, you’re in charge of the cookie bar. Start giving out samples and bags while I set up.”

  While his friends barreled into the store—pretending to fight over who got the next free sample—the two teenage boys slipped out of the bakery with two cupcakes each. William turned back to the road, shaded his hand over his eyes, and peered up the street.

  “Wow,” I said. “Nine people? This is awesome, William. That’ll make all the difference in the world.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Actually, it’s…”

  “No, I mean it’s nothing compared to what’s coming.”

  My brow furrowed.

  “What do you mean?”

  He grinned, put a hand on my shoulder, and spun me to face the other direction. Down the road, a swelling crowd was creeping this way. Two of the other guys who had originally come with him appeared from the back of the store, carrying an amp and a guitar case.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged, lips twitching. Then he pushed up his long sleeves, revealing two tattooed arms. “Just a little mini concert to get some attention.”

  A slow grin spread across my face. “Your band is coming?”

  “No. Just me. Thought this was the perfect day to rekindle my relationship with music.” He nodded to the people who had started to surge down the road. “When I left the band, a faction of people split off and followed me. I played live gigs for them for a while once I made it out of the hospital.”

  My jaw dropped. “Is that…”

  He grinned. “Yep. That’s them.”

  Spending all afternoon behind the counter left me feeling sticky, like I’d been coated in a layer of honey and double dipped in frosting. William and his friends sent so many people into the Frosting Cottage that the air conditioning couldn’t keep up. A hot shower—and a long drink of cool water—sounded just right.

  “Lock ‘em,” Sophia said with a weary wave at the door. “We’re out of everything anyway.”

  Crumbs littered the glass display case and tables. A few cupcakes remained—mostly the healthy black-bean chocolate concoction—but all the cookies were gone. The five types of lemonade were drained. Cupcake liners littered the floor.

  Weary to the bone, I shut the door, locked it, and flipped the sign. Sophia grabbed a broom, then sank back into a chair. William stretched his legs out in front of him, eyes bright. His guitar sat behind him, propped against the wall.

  “Well,” Sophia said, hands clasped in front of her. “That went beautifully, William. I didn’t know you could take requests or sing folk music. I shouldn’t have assumed your talents were limited to rock.”

  He spread his hands. “I aim to serve.”

  “How did that feel?” I asked with a grin. “Performing again?”

  A sly smile slid across his face. “Amazing.”

  Sophia giggled, appearing half drunk. “I can’t believe we got in trouble because the crowd blocked traffic.”

  “Then more people came,” I said.

  “Not our fault. I was just singing with a guitar,” William said, eyes closed. Sweat saturated his shirt and face. No doubt I looked as ragged and worn as they did. For several minutes, we sat in the silence.

  The soda cupcakes sold out within two hours of William starting to serenade the crowd. His voice was sweet and flowing, a little bit thick at times. Just the right mix of refinement and passion. Several customers had already put in orders for a dozen cupcakes tomorrow afternoon. I’d have to come back by six in the morning to get them all done in time.

  What a wonderful problem.

  “Well,” Sophia said, slapping the arms of her chair. “I owe you two big time. Not only do we have orders for more soda cupcakes, but I scheduled five bridal consultations and three catering consultations. That alone is going to see us through July and into August. I would call this a success.”

  “We have a lot of baking to do,” I said.

  She grinned, eyes illuminated. “I know! Good thing William’s gotten us a ten percent discount on delivery, huh? Thanks, kiddo, for all you did today. I owe you.”

  “Never,” he murmured.

  She whacked him in the leg. He waved her off with a tired grin, eyes still closed, his foot bobbing to the music. I pushed up and grabbed my crutch. My ankle throbbed but not as badly as I’d expected. When I grabbed the broom to start sweeping, Sophia snatched it back and batted me away.

  “Go on, Rachelle. Go home.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll get this. It’s pathetic watching you try to navigate a crutch and a broom.” Her eyes twinkled. “Besides, I need to stay and frost those cakes, anyway. Couldn’t do it with so many people coming in and out.”

  “You’re going to be here forever tonight.”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “But I love it. I’ll be fine. I’ll just sleep on my couch in the office again. There’s a shower in the back bathroom, anyway, and the A/C works better here. Besides, William is going to go get dinner for me and keep me company, isn’t he?”

  He lifted a hand. “Chinese, for sure.”

  “Not to mention the fact that I need you back here by six in the morning to get those orders filled for the afternoon.” She snatched the tip jar off the counter and shoved it toward me. “And don’t forget this. You earned it. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early. I’ll provide the coffee, like always.”

  I set the jar on William�
�s lap as I moved past him.

  “Take it for your college fund. You earned it today, my friend.”

  Sophia shoved my backpack into my chest. With a delicious thrill, I remembered that I had driven to work that morning. Yet another thing that went well today.

  “Oh, I saved you a couple of the soda cupcakes to take home to your mom,” Sophia said. “They’re boxed up and in your bag. Sprite, Coke, Pepsi, and Fanta. Let me know what she thinks of them.”

  “Ah. Thanks.”

  “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Cannot wait!” Sophia fluttered around, hands clapping, whirling in circles that made William smile like a drugged man. “Can’t believe how many sales we had today!”

  After sliding my backpack on, grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge, and snatching a small quiche from the display case, I dug my keys out of my pocket with a yawn.

  “See ya,” I called, waving. “Thanks again.”

  Heat blasted my face when I slid into my car and set my bag on the opposite seat. My phone rang as I tore into the quiche with a savage bite.

  Lexie.

  I quickly swallowed the food and answered it.

  “Hey, Lex!”

  “How did it go?” she asked. “I’m dying here. Did the Coke cupcakes sell out? Those are my favorite. Although I still think you should consider a mint Oreo variation. Or a birthday cake Oreo cupcake! They have those now, you know. I’m convinced Nabisco is out to see me gain eighty pounds.”

  The happy chirp of her voice relaxed me. I turned the engine on and blasted the A/C. It hit my face with hot moisture at first, then slowly cooled. I took a bite of quiche.

  “A raving success. Mostly thanks to William. And his friends.”

  “William?”

  “Oh, a friend I made. Long story.”

  “I won’t forget him, but tell me everything else first. Did you save The Frosting Cottage? Was everyone super excited about your random ideas? Did they sell out? What happened?”

  I combed through the details of the day, right down to how deeply weary I was, and polished off the quiche. The car cooled down, and my leg stopped throbbing. Having food in my belly settled my ravenous hunger pangs.

  “Bitsy and Mira came in the afternoon after the girls got out of school, so it was fun to see them there.”

  “Did Bitsy eat something with sugar?”

  “Yes! Well, sort of. She bought the healthy cupcake we were attempting that failed miserably. She even bought a cupcake each for her girls.”

  Lexie gasped. “Miracle!”

  “She broke her recent no-sugar streak and tried the taste-tester Pepsi cupcake on Mira’s pleading.”

  Lexie laughed. “Of course.”

  “Anyway, it was really fun to see them at the store. I wish you could have been there to see William sing Lana’s favorite song. Bitsy was mortified when Lana requested it, but William just laughed.”

  “The theme song from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

  “Yep. How amazing is that? He just played it after she asked. He’s really talented. I mean … blew me away. People just shouted songs from the crowd, and he’d play them on his guitar and sang beautifully. Either he knows way too much music, or he’s one of those gifted people who can figure it out as he goes.”

  Her tone deepened. “You’re talking about him quite a bit. Am I sensing something? A little … crush perhaps?”

  I scoffed. “Hardly. I just…”

  The words faded.

  She giggled. “Oh, Rachelle. I know everything about you, my friend, and you are crushing bad.”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “Fine. But you can still crush on a friend. Also, he sounds awesome.”

  A man of many facets, that was William. Awesome was certainly one of them. His relationship with Sophia still awed me a little. The two of them were best friends, despite their past.

  “I’m not doing the dating thing right now,” I said, fidgeting. “You know that.”

  “I didn’t say you had to date him. I’m just pointing out what I see. That’s it.”

  I pressed my lips together. I’d never had a man as a friend. They’d all been dates. Lovers. One night stands. The idea of broaching into friend territory first was infinitely overwhelming, new, and terrifying.

  But pretty wonderful.

  “Give me some time to think about this one,” I said. “In the meantime, I need to go home, and shower, and crash. I have to be at the bakery in the morning at six. We have a ton of orders to fill and don’t want to make anyone wait. Not to mention restocking the store as people come back.”

  “A beautiful goal, as Bitsy would say. Hey, did you get any for your mom?”

  I eyed my bag.

  “Yeah. Sophia sent four.”

  “Good. You should tell her what’s been going on.”

  “Ah … maybe.”

  “Rachelle…”

  “You know we haven’t been talking since I had that dream! It’s just too weird. Not that we talked much before that, anyway. I can’t get over how things really are between us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “ … I don’t know. It’s not easy to be around her. I just see…”

  Someone who gave up on me.

  “I know you can’t get over what’s happened between the two of you. Your mom has made some decidedly sucky decisions. That’s why it’s so important you at least try to talk to her. C’mon, it’s food! You can bond over food with her anytime.”

  I fought off a rebuttal. It had been so easy to just avoid Mom and not think about how to broach the topic. Maybe never. Neither Mom nor I would want to discuss it, so what was the point?

  The point is not running away, I thought. I couldn’t avoid her forever. Not unless I wanted to become a shell of a person, the way she had.

  “Fine.” I let out a heavy breath. “I see your point. I’ll try having another conversation with her, but it hasn’t gone well in the recent past.”

  “I know, but you’ll never regret trying, right? Just let me know how it goes.”

  “Of course.”

  “Drive home, be safe, get some water in you, and we’ll chat later. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Only the blast of the A/C filled my car when I ended the call and set my phone aside with a sigh. The euphoria of the day had tapered into extreme fatigue, a pounding ankle, and a building sense of dread in my chest. It wasn’t that Lexie was wrong.

  It was that she was right. I needed to stop avoiding Mom.

  I just didn’t want to do it.

  Chapter 15

  Into the Past

  I don’t want to do this, I thought as I stared at the back door. I don’t want to see Mom. I don’t want to talk to her and be rejected again.

  She’d be in the house, absorbed in television and food. Crumbs would litter the kitchen counter. Or maybe it would be pristine and smell like Windex, a sure sign that she’d hidden a massive food binge and didn’t want to leave any trace. We used to binge together, laughing at TV comedies, finding a restless kind of peace in the wild indulgence.

  But I had to try this. I didn’t know why, but I had to attempt to reach through to the mom who had to have been—or I hoped was—once there.

  “I got this,” I said, sucking in a deep breath through my nose. Hearing my own voice gave me strength. “I can do this.”

  With a sigh, I grabbed my bag, carefully swung it onto my shoulder, and slowly worked into the house with both crutches. Twilight fell behind me, welcomed by the chirp of crickets and the thick humidity that settled like a wet blanket.

  Except for the television flickering in the background, only the kitchen lights illuminated the tired house. Remnants of kettle corn—she’d polished off three bags while watching the new Thor movie—littered the ground.

  The shadows grew long and gray, highlighting spots of chipped paint and worn furniture. Envelopes and paper stacked high under the cupboard. C
ups full of change. Piles of unfolded laundry. The clutter, in the dim light, seemed pervasive. Why did the darkness show more truth than the light?

  My forehead furrowed. When was the last time the carpet had been vacuumed? I had a sinking suspicion it was right before I broke my ankle. I’d tried my best to keep up with what I could, but the long hours and annoying crutches prevented any in-depth cleaning.

  Mom puttered around the kitchen, oblivious to my presence. The smell of burnt toast filled the air. I shut the back door behind me. A cup of coffee would put some power in my legs and voice.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  At first, she didn’t respond, just stared at a pan of browning sausage that filled the air with a sweet, reminiscent smell. Several cracked eggs rested near a bowl by a carton of milk, whipped to a light froth. Of course. Her favorite. Sausage omelets with mango salsa, Monterey Jack cheese, and hot sauce. A pile of buttered toast waited on the counter. She nibbled her way through food—three slices left, and who knows how many already gone—whenever she cooked.

  “Have a good day?” I asked, infusing strength in my voice. She jerked up, startled, and blinked.

  “Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” I asked, setting my bag aside. “I think I need a small cup just to get me through a shower.”

  “Sure.”

  For a long stretch of time, the only sound that filled the air was the whir of the coffee machine. I shouldn’t drink coffee right now. Not when I just wanted to crash before an early morning. But I couldn’t stop my hands from doing something, so I kept going through the motions.

  “Busy day?” I asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Good.”

  But is that a good thing? came the thought. Another silence. Mom stirred the sausage. I contemplated the box of goodies sitting in my bag. I could throw the cupcakes away and ditch this attempt. She’d never know. But something in the slope of her shoulders and the way her lips tugged down prevented me. I couldn’t stop seeing her as a young woman, lost, with a husband she felt was trying to control her and a daughter to take care of.

  “The bakery I worked at had a big sale today,” I said. “We sold out of almost all the cupcakes and other goods.”