The Chesapeake Diaries Series (123 page)

“I get requests all the time for cakes to go with the ice cream I sell for kids’ parties and showers,” Stef continued. “It would be great if you had some samples right there in the shop so customers could try them out. And after school I am deluged with hungry kids. Maybe we could work out a cupcake-and-one-scoop special.”

“Whenever you say, I’ll bring down a tray.” Brooke’s heart danced in her chest. She’d been wanting to approach Steffie about selling her cupcakes from the very popular ice-cream shop for the past
couple of weeks, but wasn’t sure how Stef would feel about it. “Just give me a call.”

“Whenever you have—let’s say, a dozen, dozen and a half—bring them down. You don’t need an invitation. Just pack them up and bring them. And hope that I and my staff are able to resist eating them before we can sell them. If you have more of those”—Stef pointed to the tray—“at home, you can bring them down tomorrow.” She picked up one of the cupcakes and turned it around. “These would be darling for a shower. Baby or bridal.”

“I actually have other designs in mind for showers. Some, I might add, are quite adorable,” Brooke said modestly.

“You should make up a few and we’ll put them on the counter under a glass dome,” Steffie told her. “And bring your business cards down so that everyone knows that they’re yours. St. Dennis loves to support its own, you know.”

“Thank you, Stef.” Brooke smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Stef turned to Vanessa. “So what else do we have to discuss tonight?”

“Just the ice cream for the party …”

“Which I am taking care of myself,” Stef reminded her.

“What kind are you making?” Brooke asked.

“It’ll be a surprise, but it will be something really, really good,” Stef assured her.

“It won’t be beer flavored, will it?” Vanessa frowned.

“Why would I make ice cream that tastes like beer?” Stef stared at Vanessa.

“Well, you know, because Wade owned a brewery. Beer is his life,” Vanessa explained.

Stef rolled her eyes. “Remind me to consult with you the next time I’m stumped for a new and exciting flavor.”

Dallas pulled a pen and a small notebook from her bag and opened it.

“So the cupcakes are under control, as is the ice cream.” She crossed two items off her list. “And the caterer has the final count?”

“I’ll give it to them on Thursday morning,” Vanessa told her. “I don’t know that there will be any changes, though. Anyone?”

The other three women shook their heads.

“Petals and Posies will bring the flowers over on Saturday morning,” Vanessa continued, “and that’s about it for the party. Except, of course, to add that if you’re looking for something new and gorgeous to wear, I just took a delivery this afternoon of some stunning little numbers. Nice discount if any of you are interested.” Vanessa’s shop, Bling, carried upscale clothes and accessories, and she was always generous in offering discounts to her friends.

“Thanks, Ness, but I’m set,” Steffie told her.

“Me, too.” Dallas closed the notebook and dropped it into her bag along with the pen.

“I might take you up on that,” Brooke said. “It’s been a while since I bought something new.”

“I have just the perfect dress for you. Gorgeous shade of green to set off your eyes.”

“I’ll be in to take a look.”

“Are you bringing a date?” Steffie drained the wine from her glass.

“Me? Nah.” Brooke brushed off the question.

“You’re welcome to bring someone if you like.” Steffie stood and stretched. “You know that, right?”

Brooke nodded. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“If you want, I can have Grant bring that new vet that just moved to Ballard …” Dallas offered.

“No, thanks. I’m okay going stag.”

“It’s not like there aren’t any guys in St. Dennis who wouldn’t be more than happy to be your date for the evening,” Steffie noted.

“Stop. You’re starting to sound like my brother,” Brooke griped. “And I don’t mean that in a good way.”

“I just wanted you to know that you were welcome to bring someone,” Vanessa said, and Stef nodded in agreement.

“I appreciate that, but no thank you. Besides, anyone I asked would think that I was interested and I’d never get rid of him.”

“And besides, too, every eligible guy in town has asked her out at one time or another,” Stef reminded them, “and she’s sent them all packing.”

Not quite everyone
, Brooke could have told them. One eligible guy had noticeably
not
asked her out.

“I haven’t met anyone I wanted to spend any time with.”

Brooke took a few flat white boxes from her bag and began to assemble them.

“What are they for?” Dallas asked.

“So you all can take the leftovers home. I know that your aunt Berry has a fierce sweet tooth,” she told Dallas.

“That’s so nice.” Dallas kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” Brooke split the little cakes equally between the three boxes and left them on the counter. “I should get going. I want to see Logan before he falls asleep. I’ll see you all on Saturday.”

“Thanks for the bringing the refreshments.”

“You’re welcome, Ness.” Brooke opened the front door. The wind had picked up since she arrived earlier, and a cool shot of air hit her in the face. She lowered her head as she headed out.

“Wait up,” Steffie called just as Brooke was about to close the door behind her. “I’ll walk out with you.”

“Brr, it’s getting chillier every day.” Brooke huddled inside her sweater and watched a small tornado of leaves spin across the front lawn.

“I know. We both should have worn jackets.” Steffie followed Brooke down the sidewalk.

Brooke stepped into the street and stopped in front of her car. “Stef, I really do appreciate your offer to sell my cupcakes at Scoop. I want you to think about what percent of the sales you want.”

“What are you talking about? You mean charge you?” Steffie frowned. “I’m not going to charge you for bringing them in.”

“But you’ll be taking your time …”

Steffie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, as much time as it takes for me to say, ‘Would you like a cupcake with your ice cream?’ and ‘Which flavor?’ ”

“Still, I think I should …”

“And I think you shouldn’t. If you want to do anything at all, just pay it forward someday when you get the chance.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“People were very kind to me when I first started Scoop, gave me breaks that I didn’t expect. It’s my turn now. Someday it’ll be yours.”

“Thanks, Stef.” Brooke unlocked the car with the remote.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, right?” Stef called over her shoulder as she hurried against the wind to her car.

“Right. See you then.” Brooke opened the driver’s-side door and slid behind the wheel of her old Toyota. She took her time getting her seat belt on and the key into the ignition. Stef’s unexpected kindness had almost brought tears to her eyes. Not that Stef would have made very much off a few dozen cupcakes, but still, it was the gesture that mattered.

Brooke shifted into gear and headed toward the farm, the game plan for her business running through her head. She really believed that if you visualized what you wanted often enough, sooner or later it would become reality. So in her mind’s eye, she saw her cupcakes displayed on a tiered stand on the counter at Scoop. Then she visualized the stand empty after all the little cakes had been sold. She saw them in the front case at Cuppachino, the coffee shop where the local merchants met early in the morning before they opened their respective establishments and stopped in for a quick bite at lunchtime. She saw them on the dessert cart at Café Lola, St. Dennis’s upscale dining spot. She saw herself making her deliveries—and for a while, even selling down in the municipal parking lot—from a pink van with a big pink-frosted cupcake on the side. Lastly, she saw
them in the window of her own shop on Charles Street, right in the very heart of the business district. There’d be an old-fashioned striped awning and fancy letters spelling out the name:
CUPCAKE
.

Every journey begins with a single step, she reminded herself. Tonight, she’d taken hers. Feeling better about things than she had all day, she drove slowly up the long drive to the farmhouse, envisioning herself behind the wheel of her van, then eventually, turning the sign in the window of her shop from
CLOSED
to
OPEN
.

She parked the car near the back gate and got out, pausing for a moment to look up for a star to wish on. It didn’t occur to her until much later that, for the first time in a very long time, her wish had been all about her and her plans for the future—
I wish this could work out for me
—and not about her past.

Chapter 3

“Wow, they look great.” Clay reached a hand out just as Brooke began to arrange cupcakes in the covered carrier she would use to transport her carefully crafted creations to Scoop.

“Keep your mitts off, bro.” She moved the tray out of his way. “None for you this time around.”

“Who are they for?”

“I’m taking them to Scoop. Stef offered to sell them in her shop, so I made a few batches when I got home last night.” She added the last two cakes to the carrier.

“Nice of Stef.” He watched her snap on the lid.

“It really is. And she won’t even take a percentage of the sales.”

“That’s a good friend.”

“Don’t I know it. I need to get my business up and running as soon as humanly possible so that I can cash in on the coming holiday season, then hopefully build it up through to next year’s wedding season. A lot of brides are replacing the traditional wedding cake with special cupcakes. Dallas serving my cupcakes at her birthday party last month did a lot to call
attention to me, but now I have to capitalize on that.” Brooke looked through her bag for her car keys. “I want to stop at Lola’s and Cuppachino this morning and see if they’ll let me sell there as well.”

“You’re going to be baking around the clock if everyone says yes,” Clay pointed out. “Which I fully expect they will. The last time I was in Cuppachino at lunchtime, the only baked stuff they had were the muffins left over from the early-morning delivery, and to tell you the truth, they weren’t all that good. Maybe you could take over the muffins, too.”

“That’s up to Carlo. Meanwhile, I have to get moving. I have a class at one.” She glanced at the clock as she gathered her things. “By the way, that old van in the garage?”

“What about it?”

“Are you using it for anything?”

“Not at present.”

“Could I use it?” She paused in the doorway.

Clay frowned. “Something wrong with your car?”

“No, but it’s too small. I could use the van to deliver my cupcakes and I could sell out of it, sort of like a hot-dog vendor.”

“The van needs a lot of work, sis. For one thing, it has some body cancer. Rust. For another”—he poured himself a glass of water and took a long drink—“it doesn’t have a backseat. I took it out so I could transport stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know, stuff. Bushels of apples. Buckets of herbs. Stuff for the restaurants that we supply during the summer months.”

“Can I clean it up? Paint it?”

“Sure. Do whatever you want.” Clay shrugged. “I’m not using it.”

“Great! Thanks!” Brooke blew past him on the way to the back door.

Brooke mentally checked off
van
from her list of things she needed to keep her plan moving forward. There was a place in town that painted cars. Over the weekend, she’d drive the van out and get an estimate. Maybe they could do something about the body rust, too. And she’d need to see about having some advertising painted on the side of the van as well. She knew exactly how she wanted it to look.

The flagman for the road repair crew held up a hand for her to slow, then motioned for her to detour from Charles Street onto Elgin. She waved to acknowledge the instruction then turned left. She made a four-block loop before taking a right onto Old St. Mary’s Church Road and around the square, the heart of the historic district. A tall, lanky dark-haired man crossed diagonally at the intersection ahead of her, and she stopped at the stop sign to let him pass. He wore a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and khakis. Brooke smiled as she rolled down the driver’s-side window. He certainly did justice to those khakis.

“Looks like casual Friday,” she called to him.

“No court today.” Jesse walked over to the car. “No tie, no jacket.”

She made a point of looking at her watch. “I’ve heard of banker’s hours, but I didn’t know lawyers had them, too.”

“I’ll have you know I was at my desk before seven
this morning.” He held up a brown paper bag. “I just ran up to Cuppachino for a midmorning snack.”

“Let me guess.” She closed her eyes and pretended to go into a trance. “I see … a cranberry-orange muffin.”

“Not even close. Walnut-apple muffin for me, a strawberry scone for Liz—she’s my paralegal—’cause she has to put up with Mrs. Finneran.”

“Violet Finneran? Your grandfather’s secretary?”

“The one and only.”

“She’s been there forever,” Brooke said. “She has to be … jeez, about a million years old by now.”

“Close enough.” Jesse nodded. “My granddad expected her to retire when he did, but she wasn’t ready. She only comes in three times a week, but when she’s there, she makes her presence known.”

“Bless her for her fortitude.”

“I’m not sure it’s fortitude that keeps her coming in,” he said drily. “I think she’s afraid I’ll bring the firm to ruin if no one keeps an eye on me.”

“Now why would she think that?”

“Who knows?” Jesse shrugged. “Probably because I’m not my grandfather and I’m not my uncle Mike.”

“She taught us Sunday school one year,” Brooke recalled. “She can be a bit formidable.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“So here’s a hot tip. You’re the first to know.” She lowered her voice as if she were about to share a secret. He leaned in closer, close enough for her to see that his brown eyes were flecked with gold. Nice. “As of today, you’ll be able to get one of my amazingly fantastic cupcakes at Scoop. Cupcake—that’s what I’m calling my business—is ready to roll.”