Recipe for Love (9 page)

Gaston’s face reddened, his forehead creased, and his hands balled into fists of rage.
“This cannot be! What do you people know about quality cupcakes? No one can beat Hollande’s
French Pastry Parlor! The trophy should be
mine.
”

“Sorry,” Rachel told him, holding the trophy up for all to see. “Looks like you may
need to move to another town if you want to be number one.”

Gaston snarled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Eight

Ideas should be clear and chocolate thick.

—Spanish proverb

R
ACHEL LEANED OVER
the shop counter and looked at the notes she’d written in the Cupcake Diary. Her
handwriting lacked its usual boldness, appropriately enough since Creative Cupcakes
lacked its usual sales. The contest at the Sunday Market hadn’t helped. A week had
passed, and Rachel was afraid to show Andi and Kim the latest receipts.

Mike came back from delivering a couple of dozen cupcakes to a birthday party and
sat on a stool opposite her.

“Having a bad day?” he asked.

Rachel looked up. Never had she met anyone who could pick up on her moods so well.
Most people bought the perky smile, laughter, and happy attitude act. Of course, when
you spent as much time together as she and Mike had over the last couple months, your
inner emotions were bound to show. A simple “I’m fine” wasn’t going to cut it. Mike
would know if she wasn’t telling the truth.

“My grandfather’s taken a turn for the worse,” she said, forcing the words from her
mouth. “He didn’t say anything when I brought him his slippers last night, but I didn’t
think anything was odd until my mom told me this morning that he hasn’t spoken in
three days. There’s an experimental treatment that might help him, but Creative Cupcakes
isn’t making enough money for me to help my mom with the finances.”

“What about a window display to draw more people into the store?” Mike suggested.

Rachel glanced at the large front window. Sheer pink curtains framed the glass, and
dozens of cupcakes in assorted colors sat on multilevel tiers.

She shrugged. “We have a window display.”

“I keep imagining a four-foot detailed miniature model of the Astoria−Megler Bridge
lined with cupcakes in the shape of cars.”

“Ooh! That would be perfect! Tourists could look at the real bridge, turn around,
and see the model in our window.” Rachel sucked in her breath. “What if we have a
sign saying, ‘See more of Mike Palmer’s models inside’? Then people will come through
the door and have their noses assaulted by the strong aroma of fresh-brewed coffee
and sweet, creamy, melt-in-your mouth cupcakes. They won’t stand a chance. They’ll
have to purchase some to take home, and Creative Cupcakes will be a raving success.”

Mike grinned. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“With your help,” she said, staring at his handsome face.

She picked up a pen to write the new idea down in the Cupcake Diary, and her hand
accidentally brushed the pages backward. The words “Red carpet invites” jumped out
at her. Of course! One of their original ideas for a promotion. Andi had been joking
at the time, but, hey, why not?

“When could you have the window display ready?” Rachel asked, her voice trembling
with excitement.

Mike took a moment to consider. “Next weekend?”

“Perfect,” Rachel said. “I’ll plan a promotion party with ‘red carpet invites’ for
people to come see your models, and Creative Cupcakes will be the talk of the town.”

She could already see the headlines in the
Astoria Sun,
drawing attention to their success. With Mike’s models and her party planning, how
could they lose? For Mike had already had his talents featured in the paper, and if
there was one thing she was good at, it was throwing a great party.

T
HE ONLY DRAWBACK
to Mike’s model-building idea was the fact he’d had to cancel their date that night
to start gathering supplies.

Rachel washed the beaters of the industrial mixer in the sink, wiped her wet hands
on a dishtowel, and decided to approach Andi. They’d been so busy the last few months
with the cupcake shop, they hadn’t had a chance to hang out like old times.

“Would you like to go to the mall tonight?” Rachel asked. “We could go window shopping
and make a wish list so when we get rich someday we know what to buy.”

“Sorry,” Andi replied. “Jake and I are taking the girls to see my father’s new house
in Warrington.”

“Oh.” Rachel smiled to mask her disappointment. “I’ll ask Kim.”

Andi hesitated. “Kim’s going, too. It’s my dad’s birthday. But I’d love to go to the
mall with you. Soon?”

Rachel’s smile faltered when she heard that all-too-familiar word. “Sure,” she said.
“Soon.”

The group of women entering the shop waved to her and asked her to join them: the
Saturday Night Cupcake Club, or the Lonely Hearts Cupcake Club, as she, Andi, and
Kim referred to them. Pathetic souls. Rachel took a look at their long, drawn faces
and felt sorry for them. In fact, she felt so sorry for them, she served them a batch
of Andi’s Recipe for Love triple-chocolate cupcakes on the house. It was the least
she could do. Some of the stories she overheard wrenched her heart.

“He said he didn’t know who I was, that I never showed any emotion,” one thirty-year-old
woman told the group. “So he gave me a choice: open up to him about my feelings, or
he’d go.”

Rachel gasped. “What did you do?”

“I came here,” the woman replied. “A chocolate cupcake is better than a smarty-pants
old man any day.”

“Didn’t you love him?” Rachel asked, the question popping from her mouth before she
had time to think.

The woman stared at her for several long seconds, and then her shoulders began to
shake. It looked as if she wanted to say something when suddenly she nodded and burst
into tears. Rachel joined the others who put their arms around her.

“We all make mistakes,” Bernice said in a tone meant to soothe.

Rachel realized she might have made a mistake by misjudging the group. They were all
here for each other when they needed support. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

After the meeting, Bernice drew Rachel aside. “I’ve brought you something,” she said
and handed Rachel a tattered black-and-white photo.

The picture had been taken at the beach with the
Peter Iredale
shipwreck in the background, a young couple in front. The man looked familiar.

“Is that my grandfather?” Rachel asked.

Bernice nodded. “And me.”

“Your hair was dark.”

“Used to be red like yours a long time ago.” She patted her white bun atop her head
and smiled. “I was hoping you could show this photo to Lewis to see if he remembers.”

Rachel took the photograph but didn’t have the heart to tell her that Grandpa Lewy
didn’t recognize anyone. Not even his own granddaughter.

T
HE FOLLOWING
F
RIDAY
Mike unveiled his exquisite model of the Astoria−Megler Bridge for Creative Cupcakes’
promo party that night. Rachel’s gaze followed the sweeping midair curve of the miniature
ramp to the high steel girder, continuous truss, cantilever stretch with its two mint
green triangular peaks, then down to the flat, open, low-water section leading across
the Columbia River. The model bridge had two lanes, one going in each direction from
Astoria to Point Ellice near Megler, Washington.

On the Oregon side, Mike had constructed a replica of Astoria, with the white
Queen of the West
paddle wheeler, the waterfront park, piers, the Maritime Museum, the hillside’s famous
Astoria Column, and a square brick shop on Marine Drive with a bright red door.

“Creative Cupcakes!” Rachel said, pointing. “Mike, I had no idea you were so talented.”

“Don’t you mean ‘magnificent’?” he teased.

“Yes,” she said, flinging her arms around his neck. “Mike the Magnificent.”

“Magnificent enough to marry me?”

“Very funny.” She laughed. “Now, be serious.”

Mike kissed her and then looked around the interior of the shop and frowned. “What’s
all this?”

Rachel glanced behind her. “Decorations for the party.”

“They’re . . . fancy.”

Silver and gold streamers hung from the ceiling. Silver tiered trays held dozens of
beautifully decorated cupcakes with gleaming candy pearls. White tablecloths covered
every table, and shiny silver ice buckets held bottles of wine and champagne.

Kim marched toward her. “This isn’t who we are at all. I told you not to go overboard.
Andi, tell her.”

Instead, Andi scowled and held up a handful of flyers. “What’s this?”

“Release forms,” Rachel replied.

Andi narrowed her eyes. “Release forms for what?”

“The party is going to be on YouTube,” Rachel explained. “I thought about Gaston’s
reality TV show and figured we could do the same. I’ve arranged for a camera to film
short, sporadic segments throughout the night.”

“Where is it?” Kim asked, looking around.

“In the corner, hidden behind that fake tree,” Rachel told her.

Andi and Kim glanced at the tree and then stared at her, as if shocked. Didn’t they
realize how much a video of a party like this could boost their shop’s reputation?

“Why don’t the two of you dress up for the party and wear something a little more
stylish,” Rachel suggested.

Kim glanced down at her black cap-sleeve shirt and jeans and pursed her lips. “You’re
the party girl, not me.”

“I don’t have any elegant dresses to change into,” Andi complained. “And I had no
idea you planned to turn the shop into a glitzy Hollywood extravaganza. How could
you do this without talking to us about it first?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kim said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “We’re surprised, all right.”

Great. Now, Andi and Kim were mad at her.

Okay, she should have let them in on the plans. But Andi had been busy with Jake,
and Kim had kept her nose stuck in her paintings most of the week. They’d left it
up to her to make Creative Cupcakes a success. And a success it would be.

“Here they come,” Rachel said and pasted on a dazzling smile as the guests began to
arrive.

The glassblower, Danielle Quinn, and Mike’s brother, Tristan, headed toward them hand
in hand.

“I won the raffle for two tickets to Hawaii at the Crab Festival,” Danielle announced.
“But I can’t use them because my brother is getting married that weekend in Ohio.
If you want them, I can sell them to you cheap.”

“Thanks,” Kim said, “but I’m terrified to fly. Besides, I have my own trip to go on.
Not far, but I’m traveling to Portland to display my paintings in my first art gallery
show.”

“I have no money right now,” Rachel told her. “Every penny has to go to help my mom
and my grandpa.”

“I’ll take them,” Andi said in a rush. “Jake and I would love to go on vacation, and
I’ve never been to Hawaii.”

Rachel smiled and congratulated everyone else on getting everything they ever wanted.
Danielle had Tristan. Kim had her art gallery show. Andi had her vacation with Jake.
Life was wonderful, wasn’t it? Perfect. Just
great
.

“The cupcakes are fabulous,” one woman raved, latching on to her arm. “Are you the
one who created these exquisite crystallized designs on the tops of each cupcake?”

“No,” Rachel said, wishing she had. “That was done by Kim. She’s the skinny one with
the shoulder-length dark hair.”

“Looking good, Rachel,” a man she’d met at a friend’s party the previous month called
to her.

She glanced down at her glittery gold dress and then at the young man’s Armani suit.
“So are you, Gabe.”

Rule number one at a party: learn everyone’s names. Rachel smiled at him and turned
to the throng of others waiting to speak to her.

“Lots of gorgeous guys here to help celebrate,” another female acquaintance said,
her tone appreciative. “Great going, Rachel. You’ve got it going on, girl.”

“This place is the ‘cupcake connection,’” Rachel told her. “The perfect place to meet
and fall in love.”

“Is that why we haven’t seen you lately, Rachel?” asked another guy. “Have you fallen
in love with someone?”

“Oh, no. I’m single and loving it,” Rachel replied. Turning her head, she caught Mike’s
eye.

He didn’t blink, didn’t turn away, but looked straight at her. What had he wanted
her to say? They’d never discussed the
L
word.

Then why did she feel so guilty?

Maybe because she was single and
not
loving it.

She hadn’t been to many parties the past two months. She’d been busy working. But
now as everyone flirted with her and she flirted back, the whole popular party girl
persona she strived to keep up felt more unnatural than ever before.

Fixing her attention on the goal of promoting her party, she walked over to Caleb
O’Neal. He worked with a local media crew, and they’d met when Jake had him install
a security camera in the shop.

“Are we being recorded right now?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah,” Caleb assured her. “It’s on a timer, and I’ll upload to YouTube as soon as
the party’s over.”

“Make sure you film everyone having a great time,” Rachel told him.

She walked toward the front window display by the model Astoria−Megler Bridge lined
with cupcakes, and Mike joined her.

“Who was that?” Mike asked, nodding to Caleb.

Rachel smiled. The young tech guy was only twenty-two but looked much older, old enough
to be considered competition. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” she teased.

Mike grinned. “I can’t ask you to marry me if you’re interested in someone else.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Be careful how you joke with me, Mike Palmer. One of these
times when you ask me to marry you, I might be tempted to say yes.”

“Really?” Mike asked. “Then tell me, who’s the techie?”