15 Shades Of Pink (47 page)

She pulled back the checkered cloth covering her basket. “Can I interest you in a free pumpkin seed muffin? It’s made with spelt flour, oats, bran, and organic pumpkins, topped with pumpkin seeds. I own the bakery back there.”

The cabbie looked at her in the rear view mirror, wrinkling his big nose. “Got a cupcake? I could really go for a cupcake.”

She let out a long sigh. More than one customer had wandered into her shop—only to make a quick exit when they didn’t spot any cupcakes or gooey treats. She’d been so certain there was a market for her healthy baked goods. After her mother died from a heart attack, she’d been determined to give the world better food choices. Maybe it would’ve helped her mother; Rose owed her that.

Her bakery offered it all: gluten-free, casein-free, vegan, and multi-grain breads, muffins, and buns. The recent seaweed trend inspired her new Sea Goddess Muffin. It hadn’t caught on yet. Hopefully Grandma Kate would like them; she had quite a few in her basket. Perhaps Rose would tell her they were pistachio muffins instead.

She rubbed her thumb over the ridges on her basket, trying to soothe her nerves. What was she going to do if the bakery closed? She had no idea, but she needed to come up with a plan soon. She’d been shocked when Jiminy Shoes contacted her about showcasing her goods. She’d hoped the Shoe Ball would bring some new clients, but not so much. Her baked goods had remained untouched next to the cupcakes and desserts. Barring some lottery win or wish on a star, her bakery would be history. Her pity party consumed the rest of the ride and finally, the cab came to a stop. “We’re here already?”

“Yep. Over the river and through the woods. Well, past Sherwood park, anyway.”

“Thanks.” Always the marketer, she gave him her card. “Just in case you change your mind about healthy muffins. A daily serving of oats can reduce your cholesterol by ten percent, you know.”

“Uh, thanks, but I’m going to grab a pizza and take my chances with a slice of sausage and double cheese.”

Sausage and cheese had been her mother’s favorite. She was fairly certain her mother had never eaten bran in any shape or form. After paying the driver, she took the elevator up to the 55
^th
floor, rang her grandmother’s doorbell and stepped back. Swinging her basket back and forth, she waited. And waited. And waited.

Rose studied the square-toed, low-heeled shoes she’d stuffed her feet into that morning and frowned. She felt like a frump compared to all the glamorous people the night before.

She rang the bell again. What was taking her Grandmother so long? A nervous feeling left her hands shaking. She couldn’t lose Grandma, too. Her mother had passed two years ago; Rose couldn’t take another tragedy. She pounded the door with her fist. “Grandma?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” her grandmother said on the other side of the door.

Rose let out a long breath once she heard her voice.

The heavy door opened and Rose blinked at her Grandmother. Her heart rate picked up again. “Are you okay, Grandma Kate?” Grandma’s face was flushed and a sheen of perspiration covered her forehead. Grandma spent an hour every morning applying full makeup—eyebrow pencil, lip liner, false eyelashes—then tried on at least a dozen outfits before settling on the perfect one for the day: a casual pantsuit for a trip to the market, a form-fitting dress for the charity luncheon, smart business wear when she attended to her business affairs. Yet there she stood in her doorway with her hair out of place, much of her make up worn off, and wrapped up in a silky golden robe.

Rose reached for her arm. “Are you sick? What’s going on?” Fear tied itself into a knot in her belly. Or maybe it was the parsnip bread she’d made earlier. That hadn’t turned out so well.

Grandma led her inside. “I’m not sick. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

That’s when Rose noticed a man putting on a black wool coat in the living room. A man of the tall-dark-and-handsome variety. And young. Much younger than her grandmother. Under his coat, he was dressed casually, in loose pants and a turtleneck. Was he a neighbor, maybe? Someone from the building co-cop asking Grandma to keep her holiday decorations off her door? Even Rose thought the Valentine’s wreath covered with cupids that resembled drunk, naked babies was a bit tacky.

The man gave Rose the once over. Suddenly, her shoes seemed real interesting. She looked up at Grandma with wide, worried eyes—which flicked over to the strapping young man who widened his stance and crossed his arms. What was he doing, staking his claim?

Cricket trotted out and sat at his feet, looking up at him adoringly. Her jaw dropped. That little pooch didn’t like anyone.

Grandma gave Rose an odd look, then walked over to the man and hugged him. She tipped up on her toes and whispered in his ear. His eyebrows shot up, then he shrugged and nodded. Grandma giggled. Her grandmother
giggled
. “Thanks, Jack. That was wonderful.” Her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink.

“You were great,” he answered.

Rose’s mouth dropped open again. She looked back and forth between her grandmother, and this man, with his blue eyes, big muscles, and self-assured smile. Scratch that, it wasn’t a smile—it was a smirk. He was smirking at Grandma Kate! And you only smirk if you have something to smirk about.

Then Grandma smirked back at him. Heck, even Cricket seemed to be smirking.
Oh, my organic bran rolls.
Was Grandma having an affair?

Grandma broke their embrace and eyed Rose’s basket. “I’m starving. What’ve you got in here?”

Rose couldn’t take her gaze of the man looking possessively at her grandmother. “Uh, Sea Goddess muffins and a few pumpkin seed muffins.”

Her grandmother sighed. “I could really use a cupcake after … that.”

The basket slipped from Rose’s grip and thudded onto the floor.

“Did I tell you, Jack, my granddaughter owns the Yum Yum Good For You Bakery?”

“You didn’t.” His voice was deep and gravelly—just like an illicit lover’s voice should be. “A bakery that’s good for you? That doesn’t sound very exciting.” He walked over and picked up her basket, inspecting the contents.

Rose planted her hands on her hips. “Some people care about what they eat.”

He reached into the basket and pulled out a Sea Goddess Muffin. “What big muffins you have. I’d be interested in the calorie count of this versus a cupcake. Maybe they’re not so healthy after all.”

Huh. She had no idea how many calories were in her muffins. She was more interested in providing healthy ingredients. She tipped up her chin. “I’ll find out and let you know.”

He looked her up and down in a way that made her feel like she’d forgotten a key article of clothing that morning—even though she was still wrapped in her cape. “Good.” He turned his attention to Grandma. “So, I’ll see you Thursday, Kate?”

She winked at him. Winked! “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Then he pointed at Rose. “And I hope to see you later, Red.”

“It’s Rose.”

“Nope. With hair and a cape like that, you’re Red to me.”

The nerve of him making up a nickname for her. She’d just met him! What kind of guy does that? “That’s nervy. You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, that’s just his way. He calls me Kitten,” Grandma said.

Rose started coughing and spotted empty wine glasses on the marble coffee table in the living room. She couldn’t even find the words to demand an explanation; not that one was needed. Grandma was having an affair with this—this big, handsome player. Wasn’t there a knitting circle for her to join? Shouldn’t she have an elderly gentleman friend who smelled like olives and enjoyed bocce? You know, an appropriate boyfriend for a grandmother? Someone who would call her ma’am instead of kitten?

But then again, Grandma didn’t exactly look like someone’s old nana. She was just sixty-six, but she still wore her hair in a beautiful honey-blond bob, fit into her size four designer suits and never left her home if she wasn’t fully made up and wearing fabulous shoes. And Rose didn’t know for sure, but Grandma Kate most likely did not wear granny panties. All that, and she still had a smoking hot figure.

The man standing in her apartment was admiring that as well. Knowing she was loaded probably didn’t hurt either. He swaggered past them, and kissed Grandma’s hand while smiling at Rose.

Her eyes widened and she strapped her arms across her chest. When he finally let himself out the door—with the Sea Goddess muffin—Rose turned to her grandmother. “What was that?” she managed to ask.

Grandma blinked at her, suppressing a smile. “Don’t you mean ‘
Who
was that’ dear?”

Rose turned up her hands. “Yes, who was that and what was he doing here and what’s with all the smirking and winking and giggling?”

“That was Jack Wolff and I’m sure you can figure out what he was doing here.” Grandma plucked the wine glasses off the table and headed for the kitchen with a swing to her hips.

Wolff.
That sounded right. On wobbly knees, Rose plopped down on the couch. “But … but … he’s so young.”

Grandma looked over her shoulder at her and waggled her eyebrows. “I know. He’s perfect for the job.”

Job?
Oh, sweet berry muffins, she’s paying him.
“Why?”

Grandma drifted back into the room and sat in a chair across from Rose. “Darling, I really need it at my age. You know what it’s like.”

Rose’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to protest. “I’m not really part of that scene any more.” Sure, she’d had the boyfriend of the month for a while. But that was before, when she staggered in at all hours of the night, drinking and basically making her mother’s life a living hell. Everything was different now that Mom was gone.

Grandma leaned toward her. “Plus, he’s got the biggest—”

“Gosh, the weather’s been cold, huh?” Rose stood up, interrupting, so she wouldn’t have to wash out her ears later from their conversation. “Snow and sleet and freezing rain. And the barometer’s been falling…”

Grandma sighed. “Sweetheart, I’d really love to chat, but I’m exhausted and I need a shower. We’ll catch up later this week, alright?”

“Umm … yes. Of course. Right.” She gathered her things and headed for the door in a daze. She and Grandma usually chatted for hours while watching classic movies on cable, selecting an incredible wine from Grandma’s collection to go with the show, and usually ignoring her goodies from the bakery, now that she thought about it. “Well, bye, Grandma.”

“Wait, Rose!”

Thank goodness. Grandma was going to sit her down and explain everything. Rose turned around, hopeful. “Yes?”

Grandma dashed to the door with her basket. “Don’t forget these. I think those green ones have gone bad. They smell like low tide down at the pier.”

Rose grabbed the basket and she was so distracted, she left the building without her cape.

Five cabs passed her before she got a ride.

***

When Rose got home, she spent an hour checking the calorie contents on all the ingredients in her muffins. Then adding up the total—and adding again. “Six-hundred fifty calories?” she whispered to herself. But still, they were six hundred fifty calories of good, healthy ingredients. What made her even more upset, though, was that Jack had been right.

Jack. The name made her shudder just remembering his deep blue eyes, his bulging biceps, and entrancing smile. At least she thought the feeling was a shudder, because it would be really wrong to have any lustful thoughts for her grandma’s
lover.
She wondered how much she was paying him. Where’d she find him anyway? She had no idea how such an arrangement worked.

Curiosity was killing her, so she called Grandma, hoping she wasn’t asleep yet. Grandma answered on the third ring. “Rose, what is it? Did you get sick from one of those green muffins?”

“No. I was curious. Where did you meet Jack?”

“Facebook. He has a fan page celebrating older women. Good night, darling.”

Rose was woozy with shock as she sat in the corner of her apartment that served as her kitchen. Once she came back to her senses, she slammed her cookbook on the table. He had a Facebook page luring in seniors? He was a predator. Should she put a stop to this?

With a sigh, she slumped in her chair. No, she had to leave this be. It wasn’t her place. Grandma seemed happy and she knew what she was doing. At least someone in her family did, because Rose certainly didn’t.

***

Rose spent the next morning looking for ways to reduce the calorie count in her muffins. She replaced the olive oil in the Sea Goddess muffins with applesauce, and was pleased with the test batch.

She filled the display case with the muffins, trying to ignore the fact she hadn’t had a customer in twenty-two minutes. She always got nervous when half an hour had passed without a sale. She needed to sell just over five hundred-fifty dollars worth of goods a day, so on average, she needed to make twenty three-dollars in sales every thirty minutes. She wasn’t going to give up on this place. She’d be fighting for her business to the bitter end.

Cutting up one of the muffins, she placed a few samples of Bran Apple Betty on the counter. The bell on the door jangled and she let out the breath she’d been holding. A customer. She’d make sure they bought something, even if she had to offer a half-price discount. Smiling, she looked up.

The knife slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, which was probably for the best; Jack was standing in her store, grinning.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for another Sea Goddess muffin. It was good. I felt energized after I ate it last night. At least, I think it was the muffin that left me feeling that way.” One arrogant eyebrow popped up.

She pursed her lips. “I’m all out. And you were right. The muffins are high in calories.”

He walked toward her and leaned against the counter. “So make them smaller.” He smiled at her and darn her heart for kicking up a notch.

“That’s what I’d been planning to do,” she lied, although it was a good idea. She crossed her arms. “Are you seeing my grandmother today?”