Bossy Cakes: A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery (Yellow Rose Mystery Series Book 3) (2 page)

Betty and Briana’s plane landed without incident, except for a small bout of turbulence that made Betty think she should have updated her will before going on the trip. The two women left the plane in a long line of people and waited for what seemed like years for their luggage to appear on the conveyor belt.

The airport was massive. Both of the women were hungry, so it wasn’t difficult to convince themselves to stop for a quick bite to eat. When they'd finished, it was a short tram ride to another terminal, then out the front of the building where a sea of yellow cabs were waiting. It seemed like a thousand people were coming and going all at once, a stark contrast to the small town of Yellow Rose, Texas that Betty and Brianna were used to.

Betty approached a parked taxi, but a large woman with splotchy red skin and big sunglasses shoved her out of the way and threw her bag into the open trunk.

“Rude,” Brianna said, loud enough for the woman to hear, though she gave no indication that she'd heard the remark.

“Over here!” Betty said. She took off at a half run, slipping in the flip flops she had worn for a comfortable flight. She saw an open cab and knew she wasn’t the only contender.

“We’re coming!” her daughter called from behind her. The man standing by the cab looked indifferent. When Betty and Brianna were five feet from the cab they were bested again, this time by a family of five. The dad was a slim man with a large bald spot, but he was fast. He started throwing the family’s luggage into the trunk while his wife ushered the children into the back seat.

The driver shrugged, his eyes fixed on Brianna. “First come, first serve,” he said, dropping behind the wheel of his cab.

“Darn it,” Betty said, turning to her daughter. A loud horn blared behind her and the women jumped.

“Get out of the road!” a female cab driver shouted out of her open window. “I run tourists over!”

Betty took Brianna by the arm and pulled her quickly out of harm's way. The woman slammed down on the gas pedal. Her cab burst forward, speeding past them.

“Welcome to Tampa,” Betty muttered. Brianna grinned.

It took them another twenty minutes to find a cab, including one instance where a man of at least seventy snatched Betty’s suitcase out of the cab trunk she had just slid it into before popping his own bag in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Betty asked the man.

“I’m old,” he said simply. He was in the cab before she could reply.

“We made it,” Brianna said, out of breath. Their cab moved forward with a lurch as they pulled away from the front of the massive Tampa International Airport.

Betty leaned forward, giving the Cuban man the name of the hotel she had booked. She leaned back and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “Gosh, it’s hot,” she said.

“Texas is hot too,” Brianna answered. “But this is terrible.”

“It’s so humid,” Betty said.

“I’m not sure if I’m sweating or if I’m melting.”

Betty looked at her daughter and laughed. “Melting, I think, hon,” she said.

The sound of slushy water emanated from the front seat. The driver was holding a dripping bottle of water out toward the women, one he had pulled from a red and white cooler situated next to him on the passenger seat.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Betty said as she accepted the water. She opened it quickly and took two deep gulps while the driver fished out another for Brianna.

“Seven dollars,” the driver said.

Betty almost spit her water out. “Seven dollars? For a bottle of water?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the driver said. He wagged a bottle at Brianna. “Want one?”

“I’ll just share with her,” Brianna said, accepting the bottle of water from her mother and taking a drink.

“I’m not paying seven dollars for a bottle of water,” Betty argued with the man as he drove.

“You opened it,” the driver said. “You bought it.”

“Does your boss know you’re selling water to sweaty tourists on the side?”

“Know about it?” The driver laughed. “He came up with the idea.”

Betty frowned, crossed her arms and remained silent for the rest of the drive. When the driver pulled up to the hotel she paid him for the trip and the water and even tipped him. As a form of protest, she didn’t say
thank you
when he pulled the four bags out of the trunk and set them on the curb.

“Seven dollars,” Betty grumbled as she wheeled around and looked at the hotel. It was large and a horrible shade of pink, with white columns holding a slanted roof over the entrance and the half circle drive that made up a drop off point.

A young man who couldn’t have been older than nineteen pulled the door open for them as they approached. He wore a name tag that read Jeb. The website had said that there were bellhops, but Betty sure didn’t see any. She and Brianna lugged their bags to the front desk where a middle aged woman with large eyes and thin lips sat. Her neck bent as she watched a small TV tucked up under the lip of the desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked without looking up.

“Checking in,” Betty said. The woman behind the desk smiled and looked at her.

“You must be here for that cooking thing down the street,” she said.

“Yes, that’s right," Betty told her. “Are there a lot of people here for that?”

The woman laughed. “Honey, there are at least a hundred people here for that. Would have been more, but Dunbar's promoter wanted something easily manageable since he's about to resume shooting for his cooking show.”

“Do you think the temperature will be cooler any time soon?” Brianna asked.

“You kidding? In Florida at this time of year you don't get normal
go down to the beach hot
. It’s more of a
I ain’t wearing anything under this uniform cause I’m not sure I can get it off when it starts sticking hot
. This is the tail end of summer season, and you all are in for a doozy.”

“Perfect,” Betty said with more than a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“At least we have seven dollar water,” Brianna said, craning her neck and draining the last drop. “Well, had,” she joked.

“You’ll have fun anyways,” the woman said. “I’m Wanda,” she added, motioning to the name tag she wore on her uniform.

Betty and Wanda took a few minutes to go through the check in process, then Brianna and her mom pulled their bags behind them as they made their way to the top floor. Betty slid the key card into the door and pushed it open with her hip, allowing her daughter to slide in past her. She carried her two bags to one of the twin beds and unceremoniously dropped them onto the floor before flopping herself down.

“I might not move until the first seminar tomorrow morning,” Betty groaned. Brianna ignored the beds and stopped just long enough to drop her own bags. She went out onto the balcony, sliding a glass door which didn’t seem that keen on opening and stepped through.

“Mom, wow. You have to see this,” she called.

Betty thought about ignoring her, but mustered the last of her energy and pushed herself up from the bed and stumbled to the balcony. The view was grand, if you were someone who loved staring at another hotel. Less than twenty feet away was a hotel across a slim alley, painted sea foam green.

“They said ocean view!” Betty complained.

“Do this,” Brianna said. She leaned over the railing of the balcony and craned her neck to the left. Betty followed suit. Sure enough, there was the ocean, blue and sparkling in the afternoon sun.

“I’m going inside,” Betty said, shaking her head in disbelief. She went back to her bed and collapsed onto it once again like a felled tree.

Outside, Brianna sat on a lopsided plastic chair and kicked off her sandals before setting her bare feet up on the railing.

Cracking open the sliding door that her mother had just closed, she called out, “This isn’t so bad. In fact, I think it's a good place to people watch.”

“
Mmm hmm
,” Betty called back, her face buried in a pillow.

“Maybe not!” Brianna yelped.

Betty heard the distress in her daughter's voice and immediately sat up. “What is it?” she asked.

“Old, hairy, naked guy across the way,” Brianna said, pointing.

Betty laughed. “When you say 'old' do you mean my age? How old?”

“Ancient,” Brianna said, as if that clarified matters.

“This I have to see,” Betty said. She climbed off the bed and went out to the balcony once more. It took her a moment to find the right room in the hotel across the alley, but suddenly there he was. A man of about seventy or so, with no hair on top of his head, but plenty on his body. He stood at the window in his birthday suit. He met Betty’s gaze and gave her a little wave. Always polite, Betty returned it, then carefully walked backwards into the hotel room.

We should just go home,” Brianna said. “I need to bleach my eyes.”

“I think I might just sleep until tomorrow,” Betty said, lying back down.

“You can’t!” Brianna said. “It’s barely early afternoon.”

“Fine. Let's go see the sights,” Betty replied, but she made no effort to move.

The women made it down to the street a half hour later after deciding where to go. They had put on their sneakers and walked down the block to the ocean. The boardwalk stretched alongside the beach, and had a large number of shops and restaurants along it. Among them were narrow mini golf courses, loud arcades, and T-shirt stands with cheesy slogans on white shirts.

It was so hot Betty didn’t think about her figure when Brianna suggested ice cream. They found a small ice cream stand sandwiched between one of the deafening arcades and a British style fish and chips.

They got their cones and walked the length of the boardwalk. Toward the end of the trip they stopped to grab some shrimp scampi and hot buttered bread before heading back to the hotel.

In the lobby Brianna announced, “I’m not ready to go up yet; it’s only seven.”

“I know, but I’m going to have a bath and then try to get to bed early,” Betty said. “I’m kind of nervous about the first day tomorrow.”

“Mom, you’re the best cook I know. No one will be able to touch you when it comes to baking. Don’t be nervous. Just try to learn some new tips and techniques. Or try to get Johnny Dunbar to fall in love with you. He’s so good looking. Doesn't hurt that he's rich, either.”

“Is that all you look for in a man? Rich and good looking? If so, you’re barking up the wrong tree with Ethan, I think.”

Brianna laughed and playfully slapped her mom’s arm. “Hey, he’s good looking. And someday his band is going to make it big.”

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to buy Mud Hole Jones' first album,” Betty said sarcastically.

“You're always putting him down,” Brianna said.

“He needs to think about a real career. And maybe take some remedial classes to polish up his basic math and English skills.”

“He's not dumb, you know,” Brianna said.

“I didn't say he was,” Betty carefully replied. “But I once overheard you asking him how to spell 'Mississippi' when you were working some sort of puzzle.”

“And...” Brianna prompted.

“Well, when he said,
You talking 'bout the river or the state?
it just gave me pause.”

Brianna frowned at her mother and breathed hard through her nose.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Betty said. Changing the subject, she asked. “So what are you planning on doing?”

“I don’t know,” Brianna replied, her mood brightening. “It’s kind of late for swimming, but I might go and walk barefoot along the water's edge. Maybe look for seashells.”

Betty nodded and hugged her daughter. She looked at her for a minute and remembered the conversation they'd had several months previously. Brianna had decided to drop out of community college and become a hair stylist, but for awhile she had been afraid of telling her mom. That had hurt Betty, because even though she didn’t agree with what Brianna was thinking about, she never wanted her daughter to be uncomfortable sharing something with her. So here in the lobby, for a split second, she thought about bringing it up, but didn’t. The moment had passed and Brianna was arching a brow as she stared at her mother.

“Mom, you all right?” she asked.

“Yes. Just be safe, okay?”

“Always,” Brianna said.

“You need a towel, don’t you?” Betty asked.

Brianna pointed to a stack of towels in a basket by the front door of the lobby. A sign said
Take One
. She did, and Betty suddenly found herself out of something else to say. Even with Brianna being twenty-one, her mother’s instinct never went away. She always worried, always stayed up late if Brianna was slow getting home, always fearing the worst. Betty thought it would always be that way, regardless of how old she got. Brianna turned and went out the door, turning left and cutting toward the beach. Betty stood and watched her go.

*  *  *

The sand was still hot, even as the sun started its long descent toward the horizon. Brianna hurried to a spot she wanted, careful not to disturb the few people on the beach. She threw her towel out and sat on it, kicking off the sandals that hadn’t done much to keep her feet protected from the burning sand. She looked out over the ocean. It was a beautiful sight – green and blue with sparkling edges of purple from the sinking sun. Waves peaked and came toward the beach and broke in furious small white froths.

Down the beach, two young men about Brianna’s age were throwing a Frisbee. Brianna watched them. They were both fit and tan, but one had a fantastic face with a strong jaw. Brianna found herself watching him mostly. His friend made a bad throw and the better looking guy dove to catch it but missed. The plastic disc sailed over to Brianna, landing with a soft thud in the sand next to her. She reached out and picked it up, then stood, preparing to throw it back. But the good looking guy was already jogging over to retrieve it.

“Sorry about that,” he said with an easy smile.

“No problem,” Brianna said, flinging the disc the short distance to him.

“Hey, you want to join us?” the guy asked.

Brianna laughed. “Is this a ploy? Throw the disc over here, see if I want to play? And then what?”

The guy smiled. “Then nothing. But between us, I’m pretty sure my friend did throw it over here on purpose. He’s always trying to help me out. He’s still dating his high school sweetheart, and I think he gets tired of me being the third wheel.”

Brianna smiled. “Well, it does look like fun. But I’m only here for a week, and I have a boyfriend back home.”

The guy held up his hands. “Hey, we can hang out for a bit, right? Nothing fishy, I promise.”

“All right,” Brianna said.

The guy held his hand out to her. “Brent,” he said.

“Brianna,” she said, shaking his hand.

“My friend is Davis,” Brent said as they walked over.

“New player?” Davis asked.

“I’m Brianna,” she said. “Davis is your first name?”

“No, it’s Justin. But there was another Justin in my class at school back in the sixth grade. Somehow everyone just started calling me by my last name and it stuck.”

Brent threw the disc to Brianna. She caught it and chucked it to Davis.

The sun sank and they remained on the beach for some time after, until a security guy in board shorts drove by on a four wheeler and told them it was too late to be out on the sand.

“They don’t let people sleep on the beach if they want?” Brianna asked.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Brent said. “The tide can change in a second. Where are you staying?”

Brianna pointed to the pink hotel. She had told the two young men about the cooking seminar her mother was going to.

Brent nodded and said nothing about the hotel's aesthetics. “Hey, I have a summer class in the morning,” he said. He'd told Brianna during their Frisbee game that he was studying to become a high school English teacher. “But tomorrow night, Davis and I and his girl Melody are going to this club a little ways down the road. You want to come?”

“A club?” Brianna asked hesitantly.

Brent held out his hands, palms up. “Hey, just as friends. I know you got that guy waiting for you back home.”

Brianna thought it over, then nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

Brent walked her to the front of the hotel, while Davis went the other way toward his car parked in a nearby lot. He got in and waited for his friend.

“We can pick you up at nine,” Brent said.

“All right,” Brianna said as she tried to hide a smile. “I’ll be ready.”

“Nice meeting you,” Brent said, flashing a grin. He turned and jogged over to Davis. Brianna went inside, wondering what she should wear the following evening.