Honey Pie (Cupcake Club)

chapter 17


“He cooks?”

“He designed a walk-in shower?”

Honey should be ashamed of herself, she knew that. But for the first time in her life, she had honest-to-God girlfriends. Well, girlfriends and Franco, who was like a bonus girlfriend, only better. She also had herself an honest-to-God man. Could she really be blamed if she gushed about her man to her girlfriends, just a little? Just this once? It wasn’t like she’d told them anything personal or intimate. That was just for her and Dylan.

“It’s heavenly,” she admitted. “I didn’t even know they made those kind of showerhead things. It was as big as a dinner plate. It was like standing in a rainstorm.”

“I saw in a magazine where you can have different nature scenes illuminate the glass enclosure like a screen, sort of like those digital picture frames,” Lani said. “And speakers that play matching nature sounds.”

“I already feel self-conscious in the shower,” Charlotte responded. “The last thing I need is to feel like I’m standing naked in the middle of the jungle.”

“I bet Carlo might think otherwise,” Lani teased.

Charlotte smiled, but said nothing.

“I wonder if you could get any sort of photos to show up on the glass,” Alva mused. “I wouldn’t mind taking a shower with Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Honey choked on a snort of laughter. “I don’t know which would make me more uncomfortable, feeling like I was showering naked in the jungle, or showering naked in front of Johnny Depp.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Franco commented, “as long as Johnny was naked, too.”

Everyone was still laughing when Dre came in, balancing her sugar work tool kit and several large paper bags with handles. Honey was closest to the door, so she helped her by taking the bags off her arm and closing the door.

“You can keep the white bag,” Dre told her as she made her way to her regular worktable. “It’s for you.”

Honey followed her and set the bags on her table, then slid the white one to the edge so she could look inside. Something was folded neatly in a plastic bag.

“I thought since you liked Kit’s apron, and you seemed to like some of my marketing ideas”—she shrugged—“anyway, you didn’t have an apron. You could just use it here, or at your own place. It’s more shop apron than baking apron.”

Honey was so surprised and touched she didn’t know what to say. “Dre, that’s, wow . . . that’s so nice of you! You didn’t have to do that.”

Dre continued setting out her tools and prepping her station. “Hope you like it.”

“I know I will.” Honey slid out the plastic bag and everyone pretty much stopped what they were doing to come closer so they could all see. She opened the bag and slid out the apron. It was of heavy cream canvas material and constructed like a shop apron with deep pockets, sturdy ties. She shook it out, then turned it around so she could see the front.

A collective “oh, wow” came from the entire group.

Tears sprang to Honey’s eyes and she had to dab them away so she could marvel at every detail. “This is . . . I can’t even . . . you’re insanely talented.”

It was a scene much like the one on Kit’s apron, but instead of a map of the island with cupcakes and fairy characters representing all of the cupcake club members, this one was of a clearing in a forest filled with magical flowers, toadstools, gnomes, and fairies—all her little forest critters and creatures tucked in here and there amongst the foliage and in the trees—every one of them a design from her own catalog, stunningly reproduced in one big mural. It was like a walking billboard for her work.

She slid the strap over her neck, then hugged the apron to her chest. “I love this. It’s brilliant. It’s . . . I have no words. I could hug you, except—”

Dre lifted her hands, palms out. “I’m good.”

Honey smiled at that, then went right back to gushing over her new prized possession. “My God, Dre, this is—well, you’ve got my marketing campaign, that’s for sure. When I have actual money, I’d like for you to look at my print catalog and online stuff, too. I want one look for all of it. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

Honey took off the apron and laid it on a clean worktable so they could all get a close-up look at every little detail. While everyone else was oohing and ahhing, Honey went back to Dre’s worktable. “If you’re ever interested in working with clay or carving, it would be my honor to teach you. On the house. I’d love to see what you’d come up with.”

Dre looked up at that, and though she seemed not to particularly care or be all that fazed by the reaction to her work, Honey could see that telltale gleam in her eyes, that satisfied feeling, knowing something you’d created had been sincerely appreciated and acknowledged. That it had found a good home. She felt like that every time someone bought one of her pieces.

“I’d like that,” Dre said, her gaze avid with sincere interest. “That’s not a field of art I’ve done anything with and—” She stopped, seeming to realize she’d almost let herself sound excited. “Listen, I know you’re trying to get up and running, so maybe we can swap classes for marketing?”

“Oh, I’d want to pay you for that,” Honey responded. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s a good offer,” Dre interrupted, the corners of her mouth curving in the closest thing to a smile Honey had ever seen her make. “I’d take it if I were you. I’m a fast learner. You’ll come out ahead. Trust me.”

Honey laughed, but then got a considering look on her face. “You’ll do great with clay, but I think what’s really going to get to you is carving. Ever done it?”

Dre shook her head. “But I’d like to.”

Honey smiled. “Good. Just a word of warning. It’s not a fast learning curve.”

Dre bent back to her work, but Honey could see an actual smile on her face. “We’ll see.”

“Dre, this really is amazing,” Lani said as the others remained crowded around the apron. “Honey, I can’t wait to see your creatures. They’re all so cute! I can put some in the cupcake shop, too. Maybe you can do some of your critters holding little cupcakes or something. They’d sell like mad.”

Honey beamed, ideas already pinging in her mind. “That’d be fun. I’d love that.”

“Did you get your stuff ready to ship yet?” Lani asked. “You must be dying to work. At least, that’s how I felt about baking the whole time it took me to get this place set up.”

“I am,” Honey said. “I’ve been sketching some new ideas in the evenings, and it’s helped me to stop thinking about the five million things I have to do.”

“Did the inspections go okay?” Charlotte asked.

“Define okay?” Honey replied dryly. “That list of five million things? Yeah, that’s all just from the inspection guy.”

Lani groaned. “I so remember those days.”

“I’m still living them,” Kit said. “We just got signed off on the final food services health inspection. Talk about cutting it close.”

“Dylan is giving me a list of names of guys who can do some of the work, but Lani, if you have that list you mentioned, it would be great. I’m pretty sure I need every kind of tradesman there is for something.”

“Oh, right! I forgot. I have it . . . somewhere.”

“I have it,” Kit said. “I kept a file on my computer. Just drop by and I’ll print it out for you.”

“Show-off,” Lani said.

“Yeah, but I work for cupcakes,” Kit shot back, and they both laughed.

Everyone wandered back to their workstations and Honey held up the apron to look at it again. “I could look for hours and keep seeing new things. I don’t want to put it on; I don’t want to mess it up.”

“That’s how I felt about mine,” Kit said, gesturing to her Babycakes apron. “I’ve washed this a hundred times already. They hold up.”

“I’m glad you said that, otherwise I might have just had to frame this.” Honey slipped the loop over her head and was walking past the back door as she tied it around her waist when the door burst open and a tall, buxom blonde with hair like big corkscrews came bounding into the kitchen. “Oh! Hi!” she bubbled, stopping just short of plowing Honey down. “I’m Riley.”

“I’m Honey.”

Riley’s eyes popped wide. “Oh, yea, I’m so glad you’ve joined us! Kit said you might.” Before Honey knew what was going to happen, Riley enveloped her in a hug. “Welcome to Cupcake Club!”

“Riley, no!” Lani shouted.

But it was too late. Off Honey went, but it wasn’t the big jerk sideways. In fact, she didn’t even really leave the room. It was like she was just having a little moment. Her pulse zoomed, but there was no dread, no fear. It was more of a pleasant little buzz as if she’d just gotten a private, cerebral text message with photo attached. She had a quick visual of Riley and, well, she recognized the man as Quinn Brannigan because she knew him from his book jacket photo, but she also knew he was Riley’s significant other. He was beaming, and Riley was—oh, poor thing. Riley was puking, actually. Why was he smiling? Then she saw a . . . a blue cross? A hospital? No, it was . . . on a white plastic stick. Oh, a pregnancy test!

Just like that, the vision snapped away and Honey was fully back in the kitchen.

Riley let her go, ducking down so she could look straight into Honey’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? They told me, but I wasn’t thinking. I’m a hugger, and I just . . . It was spontaneous. I was just so excited to tell everyone my news and . . . Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Excited to tell us what?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes, what?” Lani chimed in. “How was the boat trip? We haven’t heard a peep from you since you left. Was it good seeing your friends again?” She smiled. “Oh no. Did they want their boat back?”

“No, no, but something did happen with the boat.”

Lani frowned. “Are you okay? Quinn? I mean, did you get caught in a storm or something?”

Riley laughed. “No, but we kind of rescued someone from a storm. Of sorts.”

“A storm rescue!” Alva exclaimed. “How exciting. That would make a great article for the newspaper.” She sent a short glance toward Honey, then smiled back at Riley.

“There’s even more to it than that,” Riley gushed on, mercifully saving Honey from Alva’s continued, not-so-subtle campaign to be the one to “break” the story about Honey’s “gift.” “Her name is Emmaline Sweet. How awesome is that name, by the way? We brought her back with us. Well, that’s not entirely true. She sailed the boat back and Quinn and I flew back up. She’s an amazing cook and I got her a temporary gig working at Laura Jo’s starting next week.”

“Oh, sure, sure. You can call Laura Jo, but you can’t call your best friends,” Lani said with an exaggeratedly aggrieved air.

Riley laughed, but her cheeks were rosy and she was all but bouncing in her shoes. “There was a good reason not to call. At least it felt like a good reason at the time. I didn’t want you all to be mad at me. At us.”

“For rescuing someone and finding her a job?”

Riley lifted her hand and held it in front of her face, which was when Honey—and everyone else—saw the giant diamond sparkler on her ring finger.

“You got engaged? Did it have something to do with the rescue? How romantic.” Alva pulled a notepad out of her apron and started writing down notes. “How did he propose?”

“Actually,” Riley said, her gaze skimming the room. “He did more than propose. We eloped. We got married.” She covered her mouth with her hands, but her joy was all but dancing in her eyes . . . and her bouncing curls.

The room collectively gasped, while Honey sighed in relief. So, her vision was probably—hopefully—going to be a good thing for Riley. She already knew Quinn was going to be happy. As everyone crowded around Riley, with Franco being the first one to examine the diamond ring up close, Honey watched from the fringes of the excited group.

Not that she felt at all excluded. She was certain they’d be quite happy for her to join in. But she really didn’t want to know anything else about any of their futures, good or bad, at least not this evening. So she kept a little distance, and enjoyed their exuberant reaction to Riley’s big news, and the good natured ribbing they directed her way for having the nerve to get married and deprive them of a big, local wedding.

It made Honey think about what life was really going to be like with these people who had so openly accepted her, pulled her into their world, and seemed to sincerely want her to be part of their lives. She wanted all of that. Badly. Everything about it, about them, already far exceeded any hopes or dreams she might have had about having a normal life.

Except it wasn’t normal. She wanted to be right in the thick of the celebration, oohing and ahhing over Riley’s wedding ring and romantic elopement stories. She also knew she couldn’t handle a steady stream of visions like that, even the brief, essentially pleasant ones. It was still a lot to deal with, to be saddled with information about people she cared about.

In truly letting her guard down, letting people into her life, and actively participating in theirs, she wasn’t going to have the one protection she’d enjoyed in the past—that of not knowing things about those closest to her. She was still having visions about Dylan and imagined she would have them about many people in her life.

That was something she had to really think about—both the energy it took to experience them . . . and the burden of knowledge they left behind. Even though it was happy news, knowing Riley was going to become pregnant in the not too distant future was something Honey didn’t want to think about every time they saw each other or chatted. There was no compelling reason to tell Riley what she knew, nothing seemed wrong or dangerous in the vision she’d had, so that meant she should keep it to herself and just . . . know. That begged the questions, How much would she learn about her new friends? And when would it simply become too much?

Even worse, at what point would they realize they risked her knowing any number of things about them just by inadvertently touching her? Interesting and intriguing, it was like a cool party trick, but what happened when they realized she couldn’t turn it on and off? She was going to know whatever she was going to know, and there was nothing they could do about it. Not if they wanted to stay friends, anyway. Honey knew she wouldn’t want anyone knowing her personal business. She certainly wouldn’t want to think about that every time she looked at a person and wonder . . . She’d probably steer clear of them just to avoid it. Who wouldn’t?

“It’s just a matter of balance,” she told herself, trying to quell the surge of panic and tamp down the gut knowledge that this best life, these new friends and new community . . . couldn’t stay that way. Not realistically. She simply had to learn her limits and find a way to keep from knowing things. Pacing was the key. She’d stay a little apart, give herself some space and the protection that would afford her. She wanted her new life and her new friends, so she’d simply find a way to figure out how to balance it all, and be thankful for all the good things she had and would continue to have.

“You saw something, didn’t you?”

Honey jumped, startled, so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed Alva had come around to her side of the worktable. “Alva. Listen, I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to talk, you know, before I spoke to Barbara. That wasn’t planned—”

Alva waved her hand. “Water under the bridge.”

Honey glanced down at her, thinking it was obviously anything but without saying so.

Alva moved a hair closer and lowered her voice. “So, what did you see? When Riley hugged you. That girl deserves all the happiness in the world, so if you know something that might affect her newly-wedded bliss, you should tell me. We’ll figure out how best to handle it. I’m good with people.”

Honey didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she understood why Alva was willing to forgive her for letting Barbara Hughes scoop her on the latest in hot gossip. Alva wanted to be her partner in extrasensory perception crime. “It’s nothing to be concerned about,” she told Alva. “I think Riley and Quinn can look forward to a good life.”

Alva’s interest only increased. “So, you did see something! Well, perhaps you should let me be the judge of what should be passed along. After all, you don’t really know Riley as yet, about her past heartbreak and how truly wonderful Quinn has been for her. If it’s good news, perhaps that is something we should pass along.” She beamed up at Honey, who didn’t miss the calculating twinkle in her eyes. “Like a wedding present, of sorts.”

“I-I think we should just let Riley and Quinn be happy newlyweds and—oh look! Franco and Charlotte are already talking about catering a reception for them here on the island, and Lani’s going to do cupcakes for dessert. You should—don’t you want to be in on the planning?”

Alva was clearly torn between pursuing her new path as Honey’s second sight assistant and not being left out of the latest turn of events. “We’ll talk more later.” She bustled back over to the excited group.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Honey murmured under her breath.

It would take a little time to figure out the delicate balance of making friends and being a good friend in return, while keeping the visions separate, but she wasn’t exactly sure how that was going to work. Her friends were so good, so sweet and understanding about giving her space, about not intentionally intruding or making it hard on her . . . but the fact was accidents were going to happen. Contact amongst good friends was going to happen. At least, if she really wanted to be a part of this group, this community, it would. And if she wanted to gush about the man in her life and be a part of things like Riley’s big announcement it stood to reason her talent was also going to come up in conversation . . . like it just did with Alva. They were going to notice when she had visions and naturally be curious.

What would happen when it was something she did feel compelled to share? Something that did require a warning?

Honey rubbed her forehead as the mounting tension began to make her temples throb.

“You feeling poorly, mon amie?”

She looked up to find Franco standing on the other side of the worktable. The smile she gave him was sincere. “I’m okay. Just . . . a lot on my mind.”

“We’ll understand if you want to duck out.” He smiled. “With Riley’s big announcement and the party planning, I don’t think much baking is going to happen tonight, anyway. Just promise me you’ll come again next time. You are coming by the open house next Sunday, right?”

“The grand opening? Of course.” She had been planning on dropping in. But she might be a little more . . . tactical about choosing her timing. Hopefully a less crowded time. She’d keep watch from across the street, pick her moment.

Franco’s smile was steady, but his gaze was a bit probing. “Anything else on your mind, chérie?”

“I’m still getting used to this, I guess.”

His smile deepened. “We can be a lot. But we mean well.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she hurried to add, realizing it might have sounded like an insult. “I meant for me. I haven’t been around a lot of people for quite some time. I’m still . . . finding my way. It’s been wonderful, really. More than I ever expected.”

“Doesn’t make it easy, though, does it?” He laid his hand on the table between them palm down, and she understood it for the gesture it was. A pat on the arm, a squeeze of reassurance, just without the actual contact. “Maybe, since it’s more than you hoped, it also makes it more than you bargained on having to cope with?”

Honey’s smile grew as well, as did the honest affection she felt for her new friend. “You’re very wise, but then I hear you French-Italians are like that.”

Franco snorted a laugh. “And don’t you forget it, sister,” he said, all pure native Bronx.

“Thank you,” she said, never more sincere.

“Just remember, even when a lot feels like too much, real friends still understand, forgive when necessary, and want to be there. Our hearts are in the right place. I think yours is, too. At the end of the day that’s all that matters. Right, ma chérie?” He winked at her, then blew a kiss, making her laugh despite the tears she felt gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I told you none of us is perfect, and this group in particular is like the band of merry misfits.”

She let out a snort. “Then I’ll fit right in.”

He rolled his eyes, but was grinning. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You already do. Go on. I’ll cover for you.”

Honey slipped off her apron, folded it carefully, and put it back in the white bag. She didn’t have any baking tools of her own, so she winked at Franco, mouthed thank-you, and ducked out the back.

She had a lot to think about. Despite Franco’s much needed and timely words of encouragement, the fact remained that she was going to have to figure out how to handle a lot. She questioned if she could. How much harder would it be when she cared more deeply, loved more deeply, only to find out that the people who were being so wonderful to her found they had their own limits as to what they could handle.

She saw Dylan walking toward her across the alley and was torn between the strong desire to run and fling herself into his arms and pour out all of her mounting fears . . . and the equally strong urge to turn around and simply run. And keep running. From all of it.