Death of a Cupcake Queen Read online

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  Hayley walked over to him and kissed him softly on the lips. “No, it’s perfect.”

  “Really? So the odds are good I’m going to get lucky tonight? Because I’m really hoping I get lucky tonight. It’s been a while.”

  “Trust me. I’ve thought of every conceivable interruption and I have headed it off at the pass. No one is going to bother us tonight.”

  “Good,” Aaron said, grabbing her by her butt cheeks and pulling her into him. “Because I say we skip the wine, blow out the candles and start with the bath.”

  “When did you become such a mind reader?” Hayley said, smiling, as she ran her fingers over Aaron’s bare chest underneath the white robe.

  They kissed again.

  Suddenly without warning Aaron bent down and scooped Hayley up in his arms.

  “Aaron, what are you doing?”

  “This is my best attempt at being chivalrous. I’m going to carry you upstairs.”

  “Are you crazy? You’ll hurt yourself.”

  Hayley was remembering what Sabrina had said about her second husband Jerry’s back going out during an ill-fated attempt at sex. She didn’t want the same fate befalling Aaron.

  “Seriously. Put me down. I can walk.”

  “I know you can walk. But I want to carry you.”

  They had reached the foot of the staircase. Hayley noticed perspiration forming on Aaron’s forehead, but he was trying his best to hide the gargantuan effort it was taking to lug Hayley up the stairs with a forced smile.

  Up the stairs they went.

  One foot after another.

  On the third step, Aaron had to toss Hayley a few inches into the air with all his might to adjust his grip on her. When she came back down, the strain of her weight was almost too much, but he kept that big smile plastered on his face. He was not going to admit feeling any pain.

  Why did she have to pack on seven pounds during the winter? She usually lost most of it in the spring so she would be at a good weight for the summer, but this year the April showers were more like an April biblical flood so she hadn’t exercised nearly enough. She spent most of the season sitting at home watching Lifetime movies and baking cakes and pies.

  Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Aaron’s foot settled on the top of the landing.

  They were almost home free.

  Just a mere seven feet from the bathroom where the hot water was already running. Hayley could make out the steam rising from the tub and fogging the mirror.

  They were going to make it.

  And she promised herself she would make it worth his while.

  But then she heard the back door slam open and a familiar voice scream, “Mom!”

  No.

  Please, God, no.

  Gemma wasn’t supposed to be home until nine o’clock.

  It wasn’t even seven.

  There was thumping up the stairs.

  Aaron just stood there with Hayley in his arms, not having a clue what to do.

  Gemma, wearing a green and gold softball shirt, matching cap, and khaki shorts suddenly appeared, a euphoric look on her face. “You will never believe what just happened! We finished softball practice and were going out for pizza when all of a sudden I saw Nate Forte hanging around the ball field waiting to talk to me. And guess what? He asked me to prom! Can you believe it? I have been crushing on this guy all year, and I didn’t even think he knew I existed, and then all of a sudden out of the blue he asks me to be his date for the prom!”

  “That’s wonderful, Gemma, but why aren’t you out having pizza with the rest of the team like you said you were going to?”

  “Pizza? Are you kidding me? I have to lose ten pounds!”

  Like mother like daughter.

  Aaron was now sweating profusely, the beads landing on his white terrycloth robe as he struggled to keep Hayley in his arms.

  “Mom, did you sprain your foot or something?” Gemma asked, as if noticing the scene she had just interrupted for the first time.

  “No, I . . . I mean, Aaron and I were just . . . it’s . . . we . . .” Haley stammered.

  “And why is it so dark? Did you forget to pay the electric bill again?”

  “We were just . . .” Aaron tried interjecting helpfully, but then didn’t know where to go from there.

  A lightbulb went off in Gemma’s head.

  “Oh, wow. I get it. Don’t mind me. I’ll be in my room. Just pretend I’m not here.” Gemma scooted into her bedroom and slammed her door.

  Aaron’s knees suddenly buckled and he and Hayley fell to the floor with a thud.

  “Damn, Hayley, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride.”

  “You think there is any way we can salvage this evening?”

  “Yes. In about an hour or so.”

  “Why an hour?”

  “That’s probably going to be how long it takes to mop up the bathroom?”

  “What? Why?”

  Water was gushing over the side of the tub as it overflowed.

  Aaron jumped to his feet and ran in to turn off the water but slipped on the floor and landed hard on his butt.

  You know what they say about the best laid plans.

  Chapter 3

  “You can’t boycott the reunion!” Hayley wailed before stuffing a forkful of her favorite Jalapeno Macaroni and Cheese into her mouth at the Side Street Cafe. She was cramming in a quick lunch with best friends, Mona Barnes and Liddy Crawford, and Mona had just unceremoniously announced she would not be participating in their upcoming high school class reunion.

  “Give me one good reason why not,” Mona growled before chugging the rest of her Bar Harbor Blueberry Ale.

  “Because it will give you a chance to catch up with people you haven’t seen in twenty years,” Hayley said.

  “I see you two every week. That’s enough. And I run into half our class all the friggin’ time at the grocery store and at the high school basketball games. As for the rest of the uppity snobs who went to fancy colleges and got high-paying jobs and just want to come back to the island and flaunt their success in front of us, well, to hell with them!”

  “You really shouldn’t force her to go if she doesn’t want to, Hayley,” Liddy said quietly while stirring her cup of Jasmine tea with a silver spoon.

  “But she has to go! I can name a dozen classmates coming from all over who will be disappointed if Mona’s a no show.”

  “And I can name twice as many more who would rather not have a repeat of our ten-year reunion,” Liddy added, squeezing a lemon into her cup before delicately taking a sip.

  “That wasn’t Mona’s fault,” Hayley said hastily.

  “Of course it wasn’t my fault,” Mona bellowed. “That punk ass DJ you hired from Bangor refused to play any music from the year we graduated! I thought that was the whole point! Was it really going to kill him to play one, just one Hootie and the Blowfish song?”

  “You didn’t have to punch him in the face!”

  “I’ve told you a hundred times, Liddy! That was not my fault.”

  “How can you blame the DJ? He just asked you politely to back away slowly from his turntable and then you went on the attack like some feral Pit Bull that hadn’t been fed in a week!”

  “I don’t blame the DJ. I blame you!”

  “Me? How is your lightning quick temper my fault?”

  “Because you were the one who insisted on splurging for an open bar, and you know how I get when I am overserved!”

  “Ladies, please. Can we dial it back a bit, please? You’re scaring the wait staff,” Hayley begged, nodding to the bar.

  A few of the servers were bunched up together, their eyes glued to the loud scene. When Mona spun her head around like Linda Blair in that Exorcist movie and glared at them, smoke practically steaming out of her ears, they banged into each other, pretending to be hard at work and not watching.

  “Well, I’ll vote to have a cash bar this year so we don’t have a repeat of our tenth r
eunion,” Hayley offered diplomatically, while poking at the last bit of macaroni in her bowl.

  “I’m still not going,” Mona barked.

  “Why not?” Hayley asked, sighing.

  “If I never lay eyes on those three mean girl bitches who made our lives a living hell in high school then I’ll count myself lucky!”

  “You mean Sabrina, Nykki, and Ivy? They’re not so bad, Mona,” Liddy said, slurping down the rest of her tea.

  “Not so bad? Are you kidding me? They wrote the word dyke on my locker in lipstick just because I had short hair and was fond of wearing bulky sweatshirts with dirty jokes written on the front.”

  “You still have short hair and wear bulky sweatshirts with dirty jokes written on the front,” Liddy said, smiling.

  “Those girls were vicious. They didn’t care that I had a picture of Brad Pitt barechested wearing a cowboy hat from Thelma and Louise taped to my locker! They just didn’t like the way I dressed or acted so they made me a target! Don’t get me wrong! I love lesbians. Some nights I hear my husband farting and I see my kids starting a mash potato fight and I think to myself, why on earth didn’t God make me a lesbian? I’d be so much happier!”

  “I think we’re getting a little off track,” Hayley said, scraping the bottom of her bowl for any excess clumps of cheese before setting her fork down. “I’m certainly not making excuses for them. They were horrible to me too. But that was twenty years ago. I’ve at least gotten to know Sabrina better through my dealings with her as county coroner and she’s mellowed. I’m sure Nykki and Ivy have too. People change.”

  “I haven’t changed,” Mona said huffily.

  “You can say that again,” Liddy whispered under her breath.

  “Liddy, you’re not helping!” Hayley barked.

  “I’m just saying, I’m exactly the same as I was in high school so I don’t expect those high and mighty harpies to have changed either!”

  “Hayley, she’s not going. Accept it,” Liddy said.

  “Now you’ve got me all worked up. I need another blueberry ale before I go back out on my boat to haul traps!” Mona grumbled while waving a finger at the skittish waitresses, who cowered at the sound of her voice.

  Chapter 4

  Hayley scurried back to the office after hugging Liddy and Mona goodbye in the parking lot behind the Side Street Cafe. She tip-toed through the door to the Island Times front office and noiselessly slipped behind her desk hoping nobody would notice she had taken an extra fifteen minutes for lunch. Mostly due to Mona’s ranting about the upcoming reunion.

  As she set her bag on the floor next to her chair, she heard someone clear his throat and it startled her. She looked up to see a gangly, awkward kid with a pronounced nose and big brown puppy dog eyes, around seventeen years old, slumped in a chair across from her and holding a large brown paper bag.

  “Hi, Mrs. Powell,” the boy said, his voice cracking.

  “I’m sorry, and you are . . . ?” Hayley said, sizing the kid up, trying to place him, but having no luck.

  “Oliver Whitfield,” he said, offering a stiff smile. “I’m in your daughter Gemma’s class.”

  “Why aren’t you in school, Oliver?”

  “Oh, the principal lets me off at one on Tuesdays and Thursdays to help out at my parents’ new sandwich shop. It’s like a work-study program. I’m learning the business and even help out with the books. But my Dad’s sick today so I’m handling deliveries.”

  Hayley remembered seeing an ad for a new sandwich shop in town called Well Bread. She had heard a new family called the Whitfields had recently moved to Bar Harbor from Ohio, but she hadn’t met them yet.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Oliver. Did somebody here at the office order some sandwiches?”

  Oliver nodded.

  “Does anybody back there know you’re here?”

  Oliver shook his head.

  “How long have you been sitting here?”

  “About fifteen minutes. Nobody was here and I didn’t want to bother anybody so I thought I’d just wait.”

  “I see. Well, there’s no point in mentioning that to anyone, especially my boss, so let’s pretend you just walked through the door. It’s not like the sandwiches had time to get soggy, right?”

  Oliver nodded again.

  “Who placed the order? I’ll have them come out and pay you.”

  “Mr. Linney.”

  Bruce Linney.

  The Island Times crime reporter.

  And a big pain in the you know what.

  “Mrs. Powell, I’m glad I ran into you because I wanted to ask—”

  Before the kid could finish his sentence, Hayley’s corpulent boss, Editor-in-Chief Sal Moretti, stormed out from the back bullpen and roared at the top of his lungs, “What the hell took you so long, kid? My stomach’s growling so loud I can’t hear myself think!”

  “Sorry, sir,” Oliver said meekly.

  Sal yanked the brown paper bag out of the kid’s bony little fingers and stuffed his hammy fist in it, pulling out a giant-size sandwich wrapped in white paper. “This my roast beef with cheddar cheese and horse radish?”

  Oliver nodded.

  “Great. Bruce is in his office on the phone. He’ll be right out to take care of the bill.”

  “Sal, didn’t you already have lunch? I saw you leave around 11:30 with some of your fishing buddies to go have fried clams at the Thirsty Whale.”

  The moment the words came tumbling out she regretted saying them.

  “Yeah, okay, I had an early lunch. Before noon. It’s after two now. Can’t a guy have a midday snack? What are you all of a sudden, the food police? I’m hungry! Sue me!”

  “You’re absolutely right. You work hard. You deserve a little afternoon treat,” Hayley said, backpedaling.

  Sal had already unwrapped the sandwich and taken a giant bite. A few strands of stray roast beef hung out of the side of his mouth, bouncing up and down in front of his bottom lip as he chewed.

  Both Hayley and Oliver pretended not to notice.

  “So Mrs. Powell, while I’m here there’s something I’d like to—”

  “Well, well, well, look who’s finally back from lunch,” Bruce Linney sneered as he sailed into the front office and snatched the brown paper bag off Hayley’s desk where Sal had set it down to free both of his pudgy hands so he could devour the stack of roast beef and cheese between the two pieces of homemade rye bread.

  “You got my turkey avocado, kid?”

  “Yes, sir. With extra mayo.”

  “Right,” Bruce said, slightly embarrassed. “Don’t worry. I ran two miles this morning before work.”

  But nobody in the office really cared about how much mayo Bruce was consuming even though his ego would forcefully disagree.

  Bruce plucked a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to Oliver. “That should cover it and leave you a little extra for a tip.”

  “Actually, sir, it’s twenty-one dollars and sixty-two cents.”

  “That’s awfully pricey for a couple of sandwiches, if you ask me,” Bruce said with a raised eyebrow.

  “That includes your sandwich from yesterday which you didn’t pay for yet. You said to start a tab. But my Dad really wants me to collect today.”

  “Oh. Okay. Hayley, can you cover it with petty cash? I promise to replace it tomorrow. It’s just that I’ve been working through lunch lately and staying late because I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a moment to go to the ATM or take care of any of life’s little errands.”

  “Was that for my benefit, Bruce? You know how much I hate a kiss ass!” Sal yelled, his mouth full, chewed up pieces of bread and meat flying across the office like Japanese Kamikazes.

  Bruce was speechless as Sal wandered back to his office. After quickly unfolding the white wrapping paper to insure the sandwich shop had prepared his turkey avocado to his exact specifications, Bruce followed, leaving Hayley alone with Oliver.

  Hayley had already counted out som
e dollar bills to cover the rest of the bill as well as a generous tip for the delivery boy.

  Oliver smiled as he pocketed the money and then pulled out a small plastic bag filled with gourmet potato chips and handed it to Hayley.

  “What’s this?”

  “I brought them special just for you.”

  “Me? Why that’s so thoughtful, Oliver. Thank you.”

  “I knew you would be working today.”

  “Well, I will be sure to try them later. I just came back from lunch and I’m quite full at the moment.”

  “They’re homemade. My mother makes a bunch of different flavors. This one is Gorgonzola Red Onion.”

  That was all Hayley needed to hear.

  She ripped open the bag and tried one.

  “Oh my God, these are so decadently delicious.”

  She tried another.

  And another.

  And another.

  What was that saying about not being able to stop after just one?

  “So I was wondering if you could tell me . . .” Oliver said, his voice trailing off as if he was debating whether or not to ask.

  “What is it, Oliver?”

  “Do you know if . . . um . . . well I was hoping you might . . .”

  “Sometimes it’s best just to spit it out.”

  “Does Gemma have a date for senior prom?”

  This was not what Hayley was expecting.

  “Actually, just last night Gemma told me she had been asked by a boy named Nate Forte,” Hayley said, feeling sorry for the kid who suddenly looked crestfallen.

  “I see. Well, I’m not surprised. She’s a very popular girl and . . .”

  His voice trailed off again.

  “But I’m sure she will be flattered you asked,” Hayley said, knowing full well this would not make the poor boy feel any better.

  “Yeah, I better go,” Oliver said softly before beating a hasty retreat.

  “Thank you for the chips,” Hayley managed to get out before the door slammed behind him.

  Sal stomped out of his office. “Hayley, check the bag to see if my side of chips is in there.”

  Sal stopped suddenly at the sight of Hayley’s hand inside the now half eaten plastic bag of homemade potato chips Oliver had so kindly presented to her. She instantly dropped the chips on her desk and rummaged through the brown paper bag but there were no other bags of chips.