The Cupcake Diaries Recipe For Love Part 3

Not exactly the happily-ever-after Kim had been hoping for. Or Rachel either. While the two-date-only method was great at protecting a broken heart, it didn't do much mending.

Sometimes, although she'd never admit it, she wished she could find the kind of love Andi seemed to have found. The kind that lasts forever.

BACK AT THE shop, Andi placed sticker labels on the Tupperware bins and wrote the names of the ingredients in each one with a blue marker. "This is so we don't mix up the flour with the sugar."

"We sure don't want that to happen," Rachel said, a trickle of heat sliding into her cheeks. She'd put cornstarch instead of baking soda in the batter of cherry cupcakes earlier that morning. She thought her slip had gone unnoticed, but Andi caught her dumping the mix in the trash.

Rachel took a new three-ring binder filled with notebook paper out of a shopping bag and placed it on the counter. The cover sparkled with enough glittery images to grace Hollywood.

"What's that?" Andi asked, catching a glimpse over her shoulder.

"Our new Cupcake Diary. The other one was filled up."

"It's so glitzy I'll be afraid of getting it dirty," Kim said, coming around the counter to take a look.

Rachel tossed her red curls over her shoulder and opened the new binder to the first page. "We need to be more glitzy to outs.h.i.+ne the compet.i.tion."

Andi nodded. "You mean improve our public image with advertising?"

"But not false advertising," Kim warned. "We need to stay true to ourselves."

Rachel laughed. "What does that even mean?"

"It means," Kim said, giving her a direct look, "don't get carried away."

Rachel frowned. "Creative Cupcakes must have an effective promotion plan to fight back against our new French rival and stay in business."

"In addition to birthday parties, we now have three groups using the party room each week," Andi informed them. "Our children's cupcake camp program is on Tuesdays."

"Mia's kindergarten friends waste more cupcakes than they make," Rachel complained. "They need constant supervision, and they get flour and sugar everywhere."

"No wonder their parents are willing to pay to have them come," Kim added. "Some of them are monsters."

"The kids have fun learning to bake," Andi said, lifting her chin. "And the cupcake camp brings in good money. Almost as much as the Romance Writers who come on Thursdays."

"The Romance Writers are loyal customers," Rachel agreed. "Those women absolutely devour anything chocolate."

"I don't trust them," Kim said, shaking her head. "They're always leaning in as if listening to what we have to say and writing in their little notepads. I'm afraid they might be writing about us, and we'll end up in one of their books."

"A story about three women who run a cupcake shop in a small town and find romance?" Rachel smirked. "Doubt it."

Taking out a pen, she wrote in the new Cupcake Diary: Kids camp (messy monsters): Tuesdays Romance Writers (Chocoholics): Thursdays "Who's the third group we have coming in?" Kim asked.

"The Sat.u.r.day Night Cupcake Club," Andi replied. "More like a Lonely Hearts Club, if you ask me. Whoever in their group doesn't have a date on Sat.u.r.day night can come commiserate and eat cupcakes together."

"Sounds pitiful," Rachel said. "You wouldn't catch me at one of their meetings."

"Me either," Kim agreed.

"They aren't any different from us," Andi said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Isn't that how Creative Cupcakes started? With the three of us commiserating over the fact we had no jobs, no money, and no men? Sometimes it's good to open up and talk about your feelings. The year after my divorce, I was alone. If I'd known about such a group, I might have gone, but I had you."

Rachel thought about their birthday tradition. Their birthdays were exactly four months apart, so they split a cupcake three ways and made goals for themselves from one birthday to the next, much easier than setting goals for a whole year. Their last goal was to open a cupcake shop.

Back at the beginning of March, on the night of Kim's twenty-sixth birthday, Andi had convinced a guy sitting at a table in the Captain's Port to give them his cupcake. That's how Jake and Andi had met, with Jake agreeing to split the cupcake in fourths and sharing with them. Shortly later he became their financial partner for the cupcake shop, and Andi's Mr. Romance.

Rachel nodded toward the Cupcake Diary. "Okay, so we have three groups for the party room, but what else can we do for promotion?"

"We could hand out a red carpet invitation to everyone at the Crab, Seafood, and Wine Festival to visit our shop and sample Creative Cupcakes' award-winning flavors," Andi teased.

"That's good!" Rachel turned back to the Cupcake Diary and wrote in bold block letters: Red carpet invites.

A chuckle greeted them from the doorway, and Guy Armstrong, the middle-aged tattoo artist from the next building, walked toward them and leaned over the marble counter. "Maybe offer a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Like 'get a tattoo, get a cupcake.' Or 'order two dozen cupcakes and get five dollars off your next tattoo.'"

Kim waved a hand toward her watercolor paintings adorning the shop's interior walls. "Buy a painting, get a free cupcake?"

Rachel shook her head. "We need to-"

"Think smarter?" Andi suggested.

"Be more creative?" Kim offered.

"Play dirtier," Guy said, bobbing his white pony-tailed head and pus.h.i.+ng the sleeves of his black s.h.i.+rt up his tattooed forearms. "I love it when you women cook up a scheme. Sometimes I miss having my shop in the back room, but you inspired me to go after my dream and expand the business. And now I have more customers than ever before."

"That's it," Rachel said, pointing her pen at him. "We need to expand. We need to offer catering services for weddings and . . . and . . . get a cupcake truck!"

Andi's and Kim's mouths popped open.

"The Cupcake Mobile," Guy mused. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Where would we find a delivery truck?" Rachel asked.

Guy grinned wide enough to reveal his missing tooth. "I think I could help you with that."

RACHEL WIPED CRUMBS off the table by the front window and heard an awful click-clackity commotion outside. Lifting her gaze, she watched in horror as an old blue-and-yellow bread-loaf-shaped truck pulled up to the front curb. It almost looked like a trolley car except there were also three silver trumpet-shaped horns attached to the roof. This couldn't be the truck Guy had been referring to, could it? She spotted Jake and the tattoo artist sitting in the front seat. Andi arrived a minute later and parked Jake's blue convertible behind them.

"They're here," Rachel called to Kim.

Kim followed her out the door and stood by her side on the sidewalk. "Looks like an antique."

"I'm surprised it runs," Andi said, getting out of the car to join them. "Guy says it's been sitting in his garage for decades."

"More like a century," Kim said, her expression doubtful. "What year is it?"

"Nineteen thirty-three."

Rachel pursed her lips. "Eye-catching."

"Don't frown like that," Guy said, climbing out of the pa.s.senger side of the vehicle. "It's a fully-restored Helm's bakery truck, and Kim can paint colorful cupcakes all over it."

"I could," Kim agreed, and her face brightened.

"She can also paint the name, Creative Cupcakes, in big swirly letters across the back and sides with our phone number to advertise the shop," Andi suggested.

"With a motto," Rachel said, walking closer to the vehicle to look inside. "Creative Cupcakes should have a motto."

Kim laughed. "'No time to bake? Call Creative Cupcakes!'"

"'Sweet cakes for every occasion'?" Andi asked.

"'One bite and you'll know it's right' or 'Tasty treats for toothless tattoo artists,'" Guy joked. "Like me."

Rachel gave him a friendly poke in the shoulder. "'If you like to flirt, try our hip little dessert.'"

"Gaston Pierre Hollande would paint a picture of a sword like the one in the movie Highlander and use the main character's quote, 'There can be only one!'" Kim said with a grin.

"We have a sword," Andi reminded them. "Our golden cupcake cutter. Maybe we can stick it in a giant cupcake and put it on display like King Arthur's sword in the stone legend."

"I have a better idea," Rachel said and pointed to the side of the Cupcake Mobile as if she could already see the image. "We can be like the three musketeers and borrow their motto: 'All for one, one for all.' And over that a logo, with three cupcake cutters like crossed swords sticking into a cupcake, dividing it three ways."

"What about Jake?" Andi asked. "He's part of Creative Cupcakes, too."

Rachel nodded. "He can be the fourth musketeer in Alexandre Dumas' story, who joined them later."

"Just like our birthday tradition!" Andi exclaimed.

Kim nodded her approval, a big smile on her face. "Just like us."

ON FRIDAY, RACHEL and Andi loaded the Cupcake Mobile, left Kim in charge of the shop, and headed toward the Clatsop County Fairgrounds for the Crab, Seafood, and Wine Festival. Andi drove the truck, and Rachel followed behind in her own car since they would be leaving at different times.

They'd borrowed some folding tables from Guy for their booth in the main food tent and brought hundreds of cupcakes packed in stackable plastic containers. Andi had also found pink tablecloths to match their pink bandanas and ap.r.o.ns.

Upon arrival they were given their ten-by-ten s.p.a.ce between a wine vendor and another food vendor selling crab and melted cheese on thick, crusty bread. The aroma made them salivate until Andi finally broke down and bought them each one.

"Now we're down $10, and we haven't sold a single cupcake yet," Rachel complained.

She called out to the hundreds of people who packed the fairgrounds, and her face hurt from smiling, but despite her efforts, their booth was humiliatingly ignored.

"Maybe people don't think cupcakes go with crab or wine," Andi suggested.

Rachel's gaze drifted over to Gaston's setup. His booth was located in the corner, diagonal to their left. He looked up, caught her watching him, and smirked. His booth had a line thirty people long. Some of them backed up to the end of their cupcake table, all because he was serving crab chowder in fresh-baked bread bowls.

"Got to hand it to him," Rachel said, her spirits sinking. "Gaston has a smart marketing plan."

Andi nodded. "His success is in the presentation."

"He's slanted his product toward the venue, while we didn't." Rachel chewed on her lower lip. "Maybe we should have decorated the cupcakes to look like crabs."

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for us to come," Andi said and winced. "How much did this booth cost us?"

Rachel didn't even want to think about it. Thinking about money made her think about her grandfather. "We'll get some sales."

But by six o'clock that evening they'd sold only a few dozen cupcakes, not enough to cover a third of the cost. Rachel wondered what would happen the other two days of the festival. Would it be worth coming back? Since they'd already paid, they had no choice.

Andi glanced at her watch. "Time for me to pick up Mia from the babysitter's. Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?"

"Go ahead," Rachel replied. "We're dead here anyway. And someone has to stay in the booth till the end."

Her feet were tired from standing all day. The chatter from the crowd droned in her ears, giving her a headache. By the time she could leave and walked out to the parking lot, she was emotionally weary as well. She couldn't wait to get home and . . . what was going on? Why was her car hooked up to the back of a tow truck? Her heart leaped into overdrive, and despite her aching feet, she ran toward it as fast as she could.

"Wait!" she shouted, waving her hands.

The tow truck driver gave her a quick glance and moved even quicker. Jumping into the cab, he started the engine.

"Where are you taking my car?"

"Ask the bank that gave you the car loan." He pulled away before she could respond.

Her chest caved in, making it hard to breathe. She'd been two months' late on her car payment, but she didn't think she was in danger of having it repossessed. And how did they know she was at the festival? She scowled. Either someone had blabbed, or the tow truck driver just didn't have many places to look. One of the unfortunate "benefits" of living in a small town.

She reflected back to the day she'd handed her car payment money to her mother to cover some of her grandfather's medical bills. She'd thought she could live without a car if she had to. Now she wasn't so sure.

"How am I going to get home?" she said out loud to no one in particular.

An elderly man wearing the yellow vest of a festival worker pointed to the dozens of school buses taking festivalgoers to various drop-offs around town.

Take a bus? She sighed. Better that than call Andi to come back out to get her. She was probably already putting Mia to bed, and there was no one else she could call. Her mother was never available. Kim had no car. Jake was away for the weekend. Guy didn't have his license due to a past DUI. And her cop friend, Ian Lockwell, was on duty.

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she headed toward a yellow school bus, climbed the steps, and found a seat in the crowded reaches of the back.

She loved her red Mustang. It was a cool car, even if it was dented and she couldn't afford a new one. Red was vibrant and an eye-catcher.

But the payments had been steep for her tight budget. The truth was, she was better off without the car. She'd felt guilty keeping it while her mother worked two jobs to cover her grandfather's medical bills. Now the matter was resolved for her.

She took her iPod from her purse, put on the connecting earbuds, and cranked up the volume to m.u.f.fle the loud, boastful chatter of the obnoxious fairgoers who had drunk one too many samples of wine. They were having their own party, giggling, laughing, shouting at the people walking down the sidewalk as the bus stopped to drop people off at various locations. She hoped the bus would circle back into the heart of downtown Astoria soon, but she knew she had to be patient. Each bus had an a.s.signed route. Rachel found it hard to keep her eyes open. She dozed off again and again only to wake with a start.

"This is our last stop," the driver said over the intercom. "Please make sure you don't leave any articles behind. Pick up any trash you might have and deposit it in the garbage bag next to the exit."

The bus slowed to a halt and let off a hiss like a giant sigh of relief as twenty-five or more people stood up to get off, the noisy group that was having the party. Rachel was glad to see them go, but as they stepped off the bus, she realized she was the only one left. This couldn't be the last stop. The driver had to have misspoken.

She glanced out the darkened window and saw the headlights from the bus illuminate the sign for the remote Fort Stevens Campground out by the ocean. She couldn't get out here. Fort Stevens was in the middle of nowhere.

And she wasn't much of a camper.

Chapter Four.