Sugar Rush (6 page)
Lani raised her eyebrows in surprise, as she was certain Alva was anticipating she would, given the satisfied smile on her powdered face. “Now that sponsor list is supposed to be secret,” Lani said mildly, but she wasn’t really shocked.
“You know nothing stays secret on this island for long.”
Lani wanted to point out the reason for that was standing right in front of her, but just smiled instead. “What did you hear?”
“That you’ve whipped up boxes full of something deliciously decadent to tempt us all.” Alva pouted a bit. “Walter, the old bear, wouldn’t budge when I asked him for more details this morning over my morning biscuits and jelly at Laura Jo’s place. By the way, have you seen Laura Jo since she talked Cynthia over at the salon into dyeing her hair? My land, she’s a sight, but she dearly loves being a redhead, let me tell you. Claims it makes her feel bold, willing to take risks.” Alva lowered her voice, but just slightly. “Ask me, I think if she wants to be bold, she should reconsider those floral blouses she favors for solid colors and something a little more form fitting. Show a little cleavage. I keep telling her she’s got a figure under all that foliage. Assuming, of course, that this entire makeover business is really all about snagging the attentions of that new fellow who took over Biggers’ Bait and Tackle after Donny Biggers up and took off with Delia Stinson. Delia Stinson. Twenty years younger and she could do much better if you ask me. I didn’t see that coming. Felipe Montanegro is the new fellow’s name. Have you met him?”
Lani shook her head, trying to keep up. Twitter had nothing on Alva Liles. For that matter, neither did all of Facebook. She was a superhighway of information, all by herself. “Not yet.”
“Well, he’s dashing enough, I suppose. If you like the swarthy Ricardo Montalbán type.”
Lani had no idea who Ricardo Montalbán was, but didn’t ask for further illumination.
“Although, I suppose being a redhead certainly didn’t hurt Lucy when she went after Desi.”
Okay, Ricky Ricardo she did know, but Lani didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head. She’d lost track, so she changed the subject. “I’m sure she’ll figure something out. Did you want to look at today’s special flavors? Maybe try a taste bite of the Boston Creme?”
Alva bent slightly so she could peer down her nose through her bifocals as she investigated the various trays and stands filled with cupcakes lining the inside of the pastry case. “I’m tempted, but your red velvet there is simply sinful. Like heaven in a cup.” She glanced up at Lani, with a speculative twinkle in her eyes. “It’s by far your best, if you ask me. Is that, perhaps, what you made for the auction?”
Lani shook her head.
“Oh, come now, don’t be coy. You know you can tell me. I won’t breathe a word to a soul.”
Lani struggled not to roll her eyes, but her smile was genuine. “You’ll have to wait until they put the official auction list up before the dinner tonight.”
“You know, I tried to explain to Walter and Arnold that they’re being very shortsighted about this whole secret silent auction thing. If they’d let us know more in advance about the sponsors and the specifics of the auction items, we could start talking them up, get a bidding war going before the auction even begins.”
Lani knew exactly why the silent auction was a secret silent auction, but there was no point in belaboring it directly with the very person responsible for the rule change.
“I will tell you this much,” Lani said, and Alva moved closer, her expression sparked with conspiratorial glee. “If you do score a dessert box? Your poker group will think they’ve died and gone to heaven. I promise. These are the most decadent cupcakes I’ve created yet.”
Most women Alva’s age played bridge. Lani’s mother, her grandma Winnie, and her great-grandmother Harper—Nanny, as Lani had called her—had all loved the game, and Sugarberry had always boasted quite a lively and active women’s bridge club. Lani had learned, however, that the Sugarberry senior center sponsoring the card club had politely asked Alva to quit their bridge group when they found out she was taking side bets on the North and South partnerships versus East and West teams. Betty White the neighborhood bookie.
Alva had responded by starting her own ladies poker club, which had all but decimated the ranks of the original bridge club. They played once a week in the back room at Laura Jo Starkey’s diner and had the reputation for being quite the competitive poker sharks. Average age: seventy-six.
In fact, it was Alva’s penchant for setting up betting pools for everything from how many hurricanes would threaten their shores in a season (Category 3 or higher, no wimpy hurricanes for Alva) to, oh, what item would take the highest bid at the fall festival silent auction. That had been the cause of the silent auction rule change. Last Lani heard, Alva wasn’t allowed in the senior center on bingo night anymore, either.
“My dear Lani May, I have had
that
little talk with Walter,” Alva said, the twinkle a bit smug. “I don’t know what’s in them, but I’ve got dibs on two boxes, sight unseen. We’re having our monthly all-nighter tournament this Monday.” She leaned closer. “Can’t you just give me a tiny little hint?”
that
little talk with Walter,” Alva said, the twinkle a bit smug. “I don’t know what’s in them, but I’ve got dibs on two boxes, sight unseen. We’re having our monthly all-nighter tournament this Monday.” She leaned closer. “Can’t you just give me a tiny little hint?”
“How exactly did you find out I was a sponsor?”
“You know Walter’s wife, Beryl? Well, she currently holds the number two ranking in the club.” Alva lowered her voice again, despite being the only one in the shop at the moment. “It’s no secret she wants her title back. Dee Dee Banneker—she took the points lead after the last tournament. Well, she’s a wiley one, Dee Dee is. So, Beryl will take any advantage she can get. And don’t you know she’s not above hoping a little sugar rush will put the other girls off their game. Namely Dee Dee and her two closest friends, Suzette and Louise. Those three make a formidable little clutch, let me tell you. But your cupcakes are simply to die for, and Beryl knows the girls won’t stop with just one. Plus Beryl’s got Laura Jo on her side.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Laura Jo is going to serve that sangria she learned to make on her cruise last year. Between that and all the chocolate—I know you had to do something chocolate, am I right? Well, between the cupcakes and sangria, if Beryl can just resist temptation, I think she’s got this one in the bag.”
Only because all the other women will be half in the bag
, Lani thought, thinking that mixing black forest ganache cupcakes, sangria, and senior citizens up past their bedtime was trouble just waiting to happen, but she kept a smile on her face all the same. Picturing Alva’s peers getting looped on sweet wine and chocolate pretty much did the trick.
, Lani thought, thinking that mixing black forest ganache cupcakes, sangria, and senior citizens up past their bedtime was trouble just waiting to happen, but she kept a smile on her face all the same. Picturing Alva’s peers getting looped on sweet wine and chocolate pretty much did the trick.
“What happens if you don’t win the bid?” Lani asked.
Alva’s smile curved more deeply. “Mark my words, Beryl will make Walter’s life taste like a bitter, bitter pill if we don’t serve your delicious cupcakes Monday night. She can’t bid herself, conflict of interest and all, so she came to me. I’ve already got odds on Beryl, but the line, of course, still favors Dee.” Alva winked, then primly tucked her itty bitty clutch under her arm and stepped back from the counter, looking as innocent as a nun in church. “They don’t know we’ll have the secret weapon.”
Lani couldn’t help grinning. Betty the Bookie, indeed. With her secret weapon cakes. “Speaking of weapons, how’s the campaign for your column coming? Have you convinced Dwight yet?” Lani leaned her hip against the counter and smiled. “You know, I hear he’s a sucker for cupcakes. Just saying.”
Dwight Bennett was the editor of the local
Daily Islander
, for which Alva had been quite vocally lobbying to write an advice column. Dwight wanted a gardening column, or what he termed “ladies club” news. But since Alva’s idea of a ladies club included no-limits Texas hold ’em tournaments and bourbon tastings, he somehow didn’t think she was the right woman for the job.
Daily Islander
, for which Alva had been quite vocally lobbying to write an advice column. Dwight wanted a gardening column, or what he termed “ladies club” news. But since Alva’s idea of a ladies club included no-limits Texas hold ’em tournaments and bourbon tastings, he somehow didn’t think she was the right woman for the job.
Too late Lani realized she’d led Alva straight back to the topic she’d come into the shop to gab about in the first place.
Dammit.
Dammit.
“The dear man can’t see beyond his stodgy, narrow-minded view of how the world should be, bless his heart,” Alva said, and Lani couldn’t really tell if she was sincerely worried about the man ... or wanted him dead. “I tried to explain that it was hardly an unbiased, balanced, and fair approach to reporting the news when he only printed the parts he personally approved of. We might as well just call it the
Dwight Bennett Herald
then. But actually, dear, it was an article in this morning’s paper that brought me in here to see you. Of course we’ve all read the little write up about your boss coming right here to our island! And bringing his television show along with him!” She clasped her hands together, purse still tightly tucked under one arm. “Isn’t that just the most exciting news we’ve had in ages?”
Dwight Bennett Herald
then. But actually, dear, it was an article in this morning’s paper that brought me in here to see you. Of course we’ve all read the little write up about your boss coming right here to our island! And bringing his television show along with him!” She clasped her hands together, purse still tightly tucked under one arm. “Isn’t that just the most exciting news we’ve had in ages?”
“Former boss,” Lani clarified, not that it would matter.
“Why, you’ve been holding out on us, Miss Lani May,” Alva said, her tone scolding, even as she smiled. “Surely you’ve known all along about this little surprise visit. Were you the one to coordinate the show coming here? Certainly that’s the way to guarantee a big debut at your first fall festival.” She leaned closer, clutching her tiny bag to her thin chest. “Naturally, I wanted to be the first to talk to you about getting him to stop by the club tournament Monday night. Talk about distractions! And, just between us, if I scoop that story, Dwight will simply have to let me have my column.”
“Well, I don’t have anything to do with—wait, I thought you wanted to write an advice column? A Dear Alva sort of thing. What would Baxter dropping by the poker tournament have to do with that?”
Alva straightened, squaring her narrow shoulders. “I want to write what the women on Sugarberry want to read. A little advice here, a little gossip there. The kind of thing everyone goes to Cynthia’s salon to find out. Or Laura Jo’s. But then it has to make the rounds, and surely you know how it gets turned entirely upside down and backwards from how it actually happened. Not that anyone intentionally twists the truth, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I just want to put the news all in one convenient place and tell it like it really is, as it actually happened. Along with that, of course I’ll offer advice as I think it would benefit everyone. A true public service.” She smiled so sweetly, Lani thought she actually believed that. “Trust me, it’ll be the first thing they turn to when they pick up the paper. Mark my words.”
Lani didn’t doubt it. “Sounds like you have it all figured out, Alva, and I wish I could help you with your scoop, I truly do.” The bells jingled on the door, so Lani leaned closer and hurried to say what she had to say, wanting to close that particular conversational thread—the thread being Baxter—before it got picked up by the next customer. Alva had a point—a big one—about how the actual details of this story or that one were forever getting spun all out of proportion to the original happening. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to do with Baxter’s itinerary while he’s here. I found out about the show the same time you did. So, I can’t do anything about getting him to come to your club—”
“What club would this be?”
At the sound of the new voice, Lani looked up ... and there he was. How was it he always seemed bigger than life, no matter the size of the room he was in?
It’s that smile
, she thought, as Alva spun around and beamed up at him with enough wattage to light the Vegas strip.
It’s that smile
, she thought, as Alva spun around and beamed up at him with enough wattage to light the Vegas strip.
“Why, my goodness gracious,” she said, fluttering a hand over her hair, then tucking her purse smartly back under her other arm. “I can hardly believe my own eyes. If it isn’t Baxter Dunne, Chef Hot Cakes himself. Right here in our little town. My, my, and look at you.” She glanced at Lani, then beamed right back at Baxter. “Quite the tall drink of water, aren’t you? I had no idea. The television doesn’t nearly do you justice, and of course, we all think you’re just the handsomest thing to ever put on an apron.”
“Chef’s jacket,” he said, but his responding smile was wide and sincere.
Lani watched the scene unfold, thinking it was sort of like having an out-of-body experience. Only she wished she really could leave her body at that moment, and be just about anywhere else.
“And please, you can call me Baxter.” He glanced at Lani. “I only make my employees call me Chef.” He leaned down—way down—so he could put his mouth near Alva’s ear. “I’ll leave it your call on the Hot Cakes part, however.”
Lani thought Alva might simply expire right there on the spot. She’d never seen the woman blush before—ever—that she could recall. Alva might look tiny and fragile, but she was pretty much bulletproof, in that steel magnolia kind of way most women on Sugarberry were. At the moment, however, Alva was as bright pink as the plump, perfect raspberries Lani had placed on top of each and every one of the twelve dozen surviving Kiwanis cakes that morning.
“Why, listen to you!” Alva exclaimed, trying to look properly shocked at his cheeky forwardness, but clearly enamored straight down to her sensible senior pumps. “Aren’t you just the charming devil.” Alva’s hands still fluttered about. “I was just telling Miss Lani May how excited we all are to have you here.”
Baxter glanced at Lani with a lifted brow and a delighted twinkle in his dark brown eyes. She scowled back at him, then quickly shifted to a sunny smile when Alva glanced from one to the other.
Alva turned right back to Baxter, and continued gushing. “And to think you’re going to film your television show right here on our little island. Why, I can’t even believe our good fortune. Perhaps I could interest you in a cup of coffee? You see, I write this little column for the local paper, and I’d love to get a one-on-one interview.”
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