Recipe for Love (10 page)

Rachel shrugged. “He’s just a friend.”

“Like me?”

“Rachel has lots of friends,” a woman nearby interrupted. “She’s friends with everyone,
the friendliest person on earth.”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” Rachel told her.

“There’s never too much to drink,” the woman said and asked the crowd around her,
“Am I right?”

“Right!” the people cheered.

Two months ago Rachel might have cheered with them. Tonight all she wanted was to
kick them out of her shop. But she couldn’t. Tonight she was filming the promotion
video for Creative Cupcakes, the most hip, perfect party place in town.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Mike said, his face grim. “This isn’t you. This isn’t
the Rachel
I
know.”

“You’re right. This was a mistake.”

Mike gave her a solemn look. “The party? Or me?”

“Definitely not the party,” Gabe said, dancing around with a wineglass in one hand,
a rocky road cupcake in the other.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Mike told her and backed away.

“Mike, wait,” she called, but it was too late.

Other people were clamoring for her attention.

Suddenly, a loud shriek shot across the room. Rachel turned her head and saw a woman
jump back and bump into the four-foot-high tiered cupcake display. The entire table
of iced cupcakes tipped over and crashed on the floor.

Other people jumped back, and more screams erupted as everyone jostled this way and
that, hopping from one foot to the other. Scream after scream pierced the air. Then
the crowd parted, and a six-inch hairy gray animal ran straight across the middle
of the floor.

“Rat!” someone cried out.

Rachel groaned. She’d wanted this Memorial Day weekend party to be memorable in a
good way, but everything had turned terribly wrong, and this was the icing on the
cake, pun intended.

She found Andi’s and Kim’s horrified faces in the crowd. Then like magnets they pushed
through the screaming customers and drew together.

“How did a rat get in here?” Andi shouted.

“Through the front door?” Kim asked.

Beside them, their skinny, tattooed next-door neighbor began to sway.

“Have I ever told you I . . . I . . . have an extreme fear of rats?” Guy said, his
eyes rolling back.

“Oh, no!” Rachel exclaimed. “Catch him!”

“The rat?” Kim asked, confused.

“Guy!”

Andi caught him on one side, Rachel on the other, and Kim tried to support him from
behind.

“He’s fainted,” Andi said, her voice strained. “Put him down.”

They let his limp body sag to the floor, and the rat ran right past him. Good thing
he wasn’t awake to see it.

Goosebumps rose on Rachel’s arms and prickled her skin. She didn’t like rats either.

Jake ran forward with an empty garbage can and threw it over the rat, but the rodent
kept racing across the room, pulling the can with it.

The crowd shrieked even more, and everyone tried to run out the front door in a mass
panic. An old man fell to the ground and would have been trampled, but Mike pulled
him to his feet just in time.

Rachel let out a sigh of relief. The man reminded her of Grandpa Lewy.

A siren grew louder as it approached, and she turned her head toward the window. “Did
someone call the cops?”

Officer Ian Lockwell and his partner stepped inside. Mike must have slipped out while
she and the others were giving their statements because Rachel didn’t see him the
rest of the night. Caleb slipped out, too, before she could stop him from uploading
the video to YouTube.

And to add a final poke to the party, someone had stolen the golden cupcake trophy.

Chapter Nine

When stressed, women eat ice cream, chocolate, and sweets because stressed spelled
backwards is desserts!

—Author unknown

R
ACHEL WOKE THE
next morning after a restless sleep and sat at the kitchen table with Grandpa Lewy.
Neither of them talked. Her gaze drifted to his. Was it possible he was feeling as
down and depressed as she?

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the black-and-white photograph Bernice had
given her and slid it in front of him. Her grandfather didn’t look at it, didn’t move.
He just continued to stare into space.

Her mother, however, glanced over his shoulder as she brought the coffee mugs to the
table.

“Who’s that?” her mother asked, squinting at the photo.

“Grandpa Lewy and his long-lost love, Bernice Richards,” Rachel told her. “They met
right after high school before Grandpa went to college. Last month I met Bernice on
the bus coming home from the festival, and now she’s a regular at the cupcake shop.”

“Bernice Richards,” her mother repeated, sitting down at the table with them. “I know
that name. Your grandpa used to talk about her all the time after your father’s mom
died. He said it was misfortune that separated them. He loved your grandmother, but
he always referred to Bernice as ‘the one who got away.’”

Rachel thought of Mike and his pale, troubled expression the night before. She didn’t
want him to be “the one who got away” in her life.

“She had red hair.”

Rachel jumped back in her seat with a start. She glanced at her mother, who had spilled
her coffee, and then at her grandfather.

He was looking at the photo.

“Yes, Grandpa,” Rachel prompted. “She used to have red hair like us.”

“I was trying to remember her name,” her grandfather said, his voice soft. “I kept
seeing her face but couldn’t remember her name.”

“She remembers you,” she told him.

“Bernice looked a lot like you, Rachel. Young. Smiling.” Grandpa Lewy smiled, and
suddenly his memories sprang forth like a rushing river. He told them every explicit
detail of the day he and Bernice had met, the courtship that followed, the loneliness
after his father separated them.

“She really loved me,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Rachel and I love you, too, Dad,” her mother added.

He responded by telling more stories, stories of when Rachel’s father met her mother
and some of when Rachel was little. There was no telling how long his clarity would
last, but for the moment, it was enough.

When Rachel looked across the table, she saw that her mother was crying. “Mom, are
you okay?”

Her mother nodded. “It’s a miracle.”

“Miracles can happen.”

Pushing back her chair, her mother stood up, came around the table, and hugged each
of them. “Rachel, let’s make a date to go out to lunch.”

Rachel gave her a half smile and shrugged. Her mom meant well, but . . .

“I bought theater tickets,” her mother continued, and going to the kitchen drawer,
she pulled them out and waved them in the air as proof. “We can go to lunch before
we watch the show.”

Rachel stared at the tickets dated for the following week. “Where did you get the
money?”

Her mother hesitated as she laid a hand on Grandpa Lewy’s broad shoulder. “We don’t
have enough money for Grandpa’s treatment. Not nearly enough. There’s nothing I can
do about that. But I can do something for someone else I love, someone I’ve been neglecting.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I forgive you.”

“I know you do,” her mother assured her. “But your grandpa has taught me that recognizing
and loving each other is more important than working overtime. I don’t want to lose
you, too.”

“You’ll never lose me,” Rachel promised, and as they hugged, Rachel thought of Mike.
And Andi. Kim. Their cupcake shop.

She didn’t want to lose any of them, but after her disaster of a party the night before—uploaded
to YouTube for all the world to see—she doubted any of them would want anything to
do with her for a long time. Maybe not ever.

Was it too much to ask for two miracles in one day?

R
ACHEL ARRIVED AT
Creative Cupcakes determined to talk to them, but Mike didn’t show up, and Andi and
Kim avoided her the entire morning—except to make a few notable entries in the Cupcake
Diary.

One note written in Andi’s small typewriter print read,
“YouTube sensation, 10,000 viewers. Promotion guru throws heck of a party as rat is
released.”

The word “rat” was crossed out with a giant
X,
and Rachel’s name had been written above it in Kim’s swirly handwriting with its
cursive embellishments.

Andi and Kim both stayed in the kitchen and left Rachel to man the front counter.
She hadn’t realized what day it was until the Saturday Night Cupcake Club filed through
to the back party room. Except it was only midafternoon. What were they doing here
so early? Oops. She’d missed it. A note in the Cupcake Diary stated they were coming
in at three o’clock because it was Memorial Day weekend, and the holiday made them
extra sad.

Great.
The last thing she needed was to have to listen to another sob story. Loading a tray
of Hidden Berry cupcakes onto a tray, she made her way toward them.

They were talking about loneliness. Rachel thought of Bernice and her grandfather,
which led her to think of Mike and the beach. Would she spend the rest of her life
stuck in the same lonely spot like the
Peter Iredale
shipwreck? The ship’s captain had toasted his ship with these words: “May God bless
you, and may your bones bleach in the sands.”

She didn’t want
her
bones to bleach in the sands. She wanted a life filled with possibilities, a life
filled with love. Placing the tray down on a nearby table, she dropped into a chair.

“Rachel, what’s wrong?” Bernice asked, hurrying to her side.

The other women gathered around, too.

Tears stung her eyes, and whether she liked it or not, she began to cry. “I’ve dated
a string of men, one after the other, never going on more than two dates with any
of them. I’ve been afraid to let anyone get too close, afraid they will see who I
really am and not like me, not think I’m good enough. But I feel so alone, and I don’t
want to be alone anymore.”

“You aren’t alone, Rachel,” one of the other women told her and put her arms around
her shoulder to give her a hug. “We are here for you.”

The others all nodded their heads and chorused their agreement.

“The worst of it,” Rachel said, wiping her cheek with a tissue one of the women offered,
“is that I fell in love with one of them. Mike Palmer. He’s fun, talented, caring,
and insightful. I’ve never felt this close or this vulnerable to anyone before. He
sees into me, sees things I can’t even see. Except I messed up last night, and I think
he saw something he didn’t like.” Her throat constricted. “I know I did.”

“We all have regrets,” Bernice said, patting her arm.

“My grandpa Lewy hasn’t recognized anyone for two months,” Rachel told her. “We can’t
afford the treatment he needs, but this morning he saw your photo and remembered you.
He remembered everything about you, remembered you loved him. That’s the kind of love
I’m afraid I’ll never have.”

The corners of the old woman’s eyes grew moist, and another woman said, “We all share
the same fear, Rachel.”

“I’ve been hiding my fear behind an invisible mask of endless parties and fake smiles.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to wear a mask anymore, but I think it’s too late.
I think I lost him. Lost Mike. And lost Andi and Kim, my two best friends in the whole
wide world.”

“No, you haven’t.” It was Andi’s voice.

Rachel looked past the crowd and saw her friends standing behind them. The other women
let them through, and Andi and Kim drew in close to wrap their arms around her, too.

“You’re still my best friend,” Andi told her.

“And mine,” Kim added.

Jake appeared in the doorway, gave everyone a big grin, and held up the cupcake trophy.
“Look what Officer Lockwell found in Hollande’s French Pastry Parlor.”

“Gaston took it?” Rachel asked.

“He also released the rat,” Andi informed her. “Your YouTube clip caught him standing
by the shop’s side door and releasing the thing from a cage. As a result, everyone
we’ve talked to in Astoria plans to boycott his bakery.”

Kim smiled and quoted their motto borrowed from
The Three Musketeers
, “‘All for one, one for all.’”

“I’m glad we don’t have to worry about any more thieves,” Rachel said and frowned.
Didn’t she set a plate of Hidden Berry cupcakes on the back table? Her gaze swung
from the empty space to the outward swing of the front door, then back to the group.

“Nothing is going to tear us apart,” Andi vowed, her voice firm. “Or you and Mike.
You need to go after him and tell him how you feel.”

Kim nodded. “I saw him down by the waterfront. If we move fast—”

“Wait,” Bernice said and placed a handwritten check in Rachel’s hand. “Take this for
your grandpa’s treatment.”

Rachel gasped. “It’s too much—”

Bernice shushed her. “I’m old and rich. Very rich. Now, go. And don’t let anything
stand in the way of true love.”

“I won’t,” Rachel promised. And with the other women’s promise to watch over the cupcake
counter, and Andi and Kim by her side, she rushed out of the shop.

Chapter Ten

To love a person is to learn the song that is in their heart, and to sing it to them
when they have forgotten.

—Arne Garborg

O
UT OF BREATH,
Rachel reached the waterfront walk. “I don’t see him, do you?”

Andi shook her head. “No.”

“He can’t be far,” Kim encouraged.

The sky was dark and churning and held the threat of a storm moving in. The wind whipped
their hair back, and a foghorn blew somewhere in the distance. Then, appearing out
of the gray landscape, the pale yellow-green-and-maroon restored 1913 Astoria Riverfront
Trolley jingled as it came up the track and stopped in front of them.

“If we board the trolley, we can look for him along the whole two-and-a-half mile
stretch,” Andi suggested.