Four

“Shut the front door!” A shout sounded from the front of the bakery, and Mel snapped her head at the swinging doors, expecting to see her octogenarian counter help, Marty Zelaznik, appear. He did not.

Angie was seated on a stool across the steel worktable from her. They were decorating a batch of specialty gender-reveal cupcakes so the frosting was half-pink and half-blue. Inside the cupcakes was a pink center of raspberry cream, because the baby was going to be a girl. They had not done the same thing for Angie because, much to everyone’s chagrin, she and Tate had decided not to find out if Baby Harper was a boy or a girl.

“What do you suppose that was about?” Angie asked.

The swinging doors slammed open and Marty appeared. His bald head was pink and shiny and his navy blue Fairy Tale Cupcakes apron was askew and had a smear of buttercream on the bib.

“Turn on the TV, Channel Nine,” he cried.

“What?” Mel asked.

“Why? Is there a fire?” Angie asked.

She was already in motion and pushed off her stool and crossed the kitchen as swiftly as her pregnant belly would allow. She grabbed the remote and switched on the television they kept in the kitchen. It was mounted on the wall, as Mel liked to watch old movies when she pulled an all-nighter on a special order.

Angie flicked through the channels, pausing on Channel 9. In seconds, the beaming smile of Oscar Ruiz, former employee of Fairy Tale Cupcakes, was smiling out at them as he demonstrated the proper technique when piping icing out of a pastry bag.

Mel felt her mouth drop open. “Oz? That’s our Oz!”

“I know! Look at him!” Marty clapped a hand onto his bald head. “He looks like a movie star.”

“But he said . . .” Angie paused and bit her lip. She looked at Mel and asked, “He did say he wasn’t interested, right? My pregnant brain didn’t make me hallucinate that, did it?”

“No, that’s what he said,” Mel agreed.

“Hush, he’s talking,” Marty said.

“Then you want to hold the bag at an angle and pipe the frosting in a thick swirl, working from the outside to the center,” Oz instructed.

“My, you do have a wonderful technique,” Stella, the morning-show host, purred as she leaned up against Oz.

Angie made a low rumble in her throat. “I didn’t know Stella was so handsy.”

They watched as Oz handed Stella a pastry bag and helped her decorate a cupcake. He was handsome and charming and the camera loved him. When he flashed a smile, two dimples appeared in his cheeks, which clearly charmed the socks off Stella.

“Hoo boy, look at him,” Marty said. “He’s like the Henry Cavill of cupcake baking.”

The segment ended with Stella biting into one of Oz’s cupcakes and fake-swooning. Oz deftly caught her in his arms and then smiled at the camera. Marty was right. He was 100 percent movie-star Foodie Channel material.

“How?” Mel turned to Angie.

Angie shrugged and switched off the television as it segued to the weather. “Search me. He sounded like he’d rather be dipped in honey and tied to the top of a hill of fire ants when the owner of the resort suggested it.”

“So, he must have changed his mind,” Mel said. “But why and when?”

Marty pulled out his phone and rapid-fired a text. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

“Hey, is anyone working here?” A man in black leather pants topped with a blue silk shirt unbuttoned down to his chest hair, allowing the thick gold chain around his neck to be seen, poked his head around the door.

“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on,” Marty said. Then he squinted at Ray, one of Angie’s brothers, and added, “In your case, please, keep your shirt on. No one needs to see that much hair when trying to eat a cupcake.”

“What? Chest hair is a sign of manliness.” He extended his arms wide as if shocked by any insinuation otherwise.

“Right,” Marty said. “Very GQ that shag carpeting you’re sporting.”

He strode towards the door, glancing back at Mel as he went. “If you hear from Oz first, you tell me what he says.”

“Same,” Mel said.

“Yo, Ange, how’s my little namesake doing today?” Ray asked. He crossed the room and leaned down to kiss Angie’s cheek.

“I am not naming the baby after you, Ray,” Angie said. “We’ve been over this.”

“You’ll change your mind,” he said. He seemed very confident. “After all, how else can you show your affection for your favorite brother?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” Angie said. “I hate you all equally most of the time.”

Ray laughed. He looked at Mel and said, “Just a couple of weeks until the big day, eh, Sis?”

His eyes twinkled at her, and while Ray might not be Angie’s favorite brother, he was Mel’s. Mostly because they had a bit of a checkered history of escaping from gunmen together. In-laws that run from bad guys together bond, plus, Ray made her laugh.

“Yeah, it feels like it came up really fast,” she said.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” he asked. One hairy eyebrow shot up higher than the other.

“Nope,” she said. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Melanie DeLaura, it’s got a nice ring to it.”

Mel and Angie exchanged a look but neither of them said anything. No need to make Ray fret over Mel’s indecision about her surname.

“Did you want cupcakes or what?” Marty poked his head back through the door to yell at Ray.

“Keep your apron on, I’ll be right there,” Ray said. Then he swiped one of the gender-reveal cupcakes on his way out.

“Ray!” Mel and Angie protested together.

“What?” he asked. “They’re pretty.” He chewed and a look of sublime happiness made his features relax into a dopey puppy look. “And tasty.”

“Those are for a baby shower,” Angie said. “Not for public consumption.”

“Sorry,” he said. He glanced at Mel. “They’re really good though. I like that pink goo in the middle.”

“It’s raspberry cream not goo, but thank you,” Mel said. “And don’t worry, I made extra.” She always made extra.

“Cool.” Ray slipped out the doors and they could just hear the murmur of Marty and Ray harassing each other. Mel shook her head. So much testosterone in her little pink bakeshop.

She turned back to the gender-reveal cupcakes. They had piped ruffles of half-blue and half-pink icing on top of the chocolate and vanilla cupcakes, and now they just needed to be topped off with white fondant question marks.

She began placing one on each top while Angie watched. She hugged her belly and asked, “Do you think we should have found out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Oh, dear, what was the best answer here? Mel wasn’t sure. Angie’d had a pretty unremarkable pregnancy so far, but she didn’t want to say anything that set her friend off into some existential crisis of pregnancy. She did not have enough extra cupcakes on hand for that sort of comfort eating.

“Do you think you should have found out the gender?” Mel asked. When all else failed she’d always found it best to turn the question back on the questioner.

“I don’t know,” Angie said. She looked exasperated. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“How does Tate feel about it?” Mel asked. Deflect, deflect, deflect!

“He wanted to wait,” she said. “He said there aren’t any surprises in life anymore and wouldn’t this be a great one?”

“He has a point,” Mel said.

“He also has a waistline,” Angie said. “Which makes me think he really shouldn’t get a say.”

“Also a worthy opinion,” Mel said.

She could feel a fine sweat beading up on her forehead. Angie had been nothing but sunshine, daisies, and buttercups since she got pregnant. It was alarming mostly because it was so out of character. Was now the moment she cracked and the feisty Angie of their youth came back?

Having carried the baby for months, with her feet beginning to swell, her back aching, and her bladder shrinking, was Angie done being nice and about to let loose the wrath that had been bottled up for so many weeks?

“Nah, he’s the dad,” Angie said. “Of course he has a say; just, you know, less of one.”

Mel glanced at her friend and there was a small smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

“So, you’re okay with not knowing the gender?” Mel asked.

“Yes, I mean, I wanted to wait, too,” she said. “It’s just that we’re so close. I mean, the nursery is painted a brain-engaging green with blue sky and clouds along the upper walls and ceiling. Perfectly neutral, just like all of the clothes. Lots of yellow and green in there. I hope the baby doesn’t look jaundiced.”

Mel grinned. “It won’t, because the minute you know whether it’s a he or a she, the mothers are going to go into a frenzy of shopping. You know this.”

Angie laughed. “Yeah, I do.” She hugged her belly. “We’re cutting it awfully close to your wedding day. Are you sure you don’t want to prepare a backup matron of honor?”

“Nope,” Mel said. “You’re it. You and Tate are our only attendants, and you’re not due for at least four weeks after the wedding. We’ve got this.”

“If the baby makes a break for it, I’ll just cross my legs and tighten it all up down there,” Angie teased.

Mel laughed, relieved that Angie seemed to be maintaining her momma Zen.

“There is one other thing we need to talk about,” Angie said.

Mel glanced up at her. “What?”

“We have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Actually we have three meetings,” she said. “But it’ll take less than an hour, I promise.”

“Three?” Mel gaped. She hated meetings to begin with, so to have three of them starting in less than fifteen minutes, she was not a happy camper. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We have to hire Oz’s replacement,” Angie said. Mel opened her mouth to protest but Angie put up her hand in a stop gesture. “I’m going to be out on maternity leave for months, and it’s already been a struggle to get the baking done and cover the front counter without Oz. Without both of us, you and Marty are doomed. Plus, you’re getting married and going on a honeymoon. Who exactly is going to take care of things?”

“I . . . maybe we could close?” Mel asked. She really hated the idea of replacing Oz. Angie would be back; she and Tate had already decided that she could work a few hours per day so that she could get out and he would watch the baby so that he could bond as a primary caretaker as well, but that was months away. Closing wasn’t practical, but Mel found she was very protective of the dynamic they had in the kitchen.

“We’re not closing,” Angie said. “What would Marty do with his time?” She gasped. “He might go work for Olivia!”

They exchanged an alarmed look. Olivia, Marty’s girlfriend, owned a rival bakery and would be happy to steal away her man to go work at Confections.

“All right, you win,” Mel said. “When are these interviews starting again?”

Angie glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes.”

Mel heaved a sigh. She did not want to do this.

---

The first candidate was late. Mel was already scratching a line through their name when the front door to the bakery flew open and a woman came in on a cloud of patchouli and wearing a tie-dye maxi dress in the colors of the rainbow. She had long, light brown hair that almost reached her waist, and she was slender but had a prominent nose and chin, which weren’t flattered by the middle part she was rocking. She also carried a bakery box. The sight of it made Mel nervous.

“She brought food?” she whispered to Angie.

“I asked them to bring samples of their cooking, given that it is a baking position.”

“Ah.” This did not reassure Mel in the least.

The woman approached the counter and Marty looked her over and pointed to the booth where Mel and Angie sat waiting.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” the woman said. She slid into the booth across from them. “Ruby Gillespie, pleased to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m Angie and this is Mel,” Angie introduced them.

Ruby smiled and nodded. “I’ll clarify and say I’m not really late.”

“No?” Mel asked. It was five minutes after the scheduled interview time.

“No, you see, I’m in my time of flow, and as such I can’t be held accountable to the chronological constructs of the patriarchy,” she said.

Mel blinked. She had no idea what this woman was talking about.

“Time of flow?” Angie asked. Then her eyes went wide and her mouth formed an O. “Never mind.”

“When you say you can’t be held accountable to the chronological constructs of the patriarchy,” Mel said, “how do you see that impacting your work schedule?”

Ruby shrugged. “I am woman. I am synced to the moon. The imaginary fetters of man can’t constrain me.”

“So, that’s a no on having a set schedule?” Angie asked.

“It is set by the tides,” Ruby said.

“We’re in the desert,” Mel pointed out.

Ruby shrugged as if this was of little consequence. She then pushed the box towards them. They sat there with the plain white box in the center of the table. Finally, Angie reached across the table and pulled it close. She blew out a breath and popped the lid.

They both leaned over and glanced inside. Mel gasped. Inside were four perfect cupcakes that looked so delicate and artistic it was as if they’d been conjured by magic. One was a lavender-colored cupcake with a glittery ball of spun sugar sitting on top of it. Another was a dark ganache with a delicate bird’s nest complete with three little eggs nestled on top. The other two were equally inventive, one with a detailed fondant flower and the other a traditional vanilla but piped with a thick swirl. It was clear Ruby had tried to showcase her abilities. Despite her unusual ways, Ruby clearly had skills.

“These look amazing,” Angie said. “We’ll be tasting them and evaluating them later.”

“Excellent,” Ruby said. She gave them a small smile. “I’m sorry I have to go. I’ll let you know what I decide about the job later.”

Mel’s mouth dropped open. She wondered if she should correct her or just let it lie.

“I really like the aesthetic here, you know,” Ruby said. Her gaze swept the bakery. “Very good energy.”

“Cool,” Mel said. She flashed Ruby a peace sign. The woman bobbed her head in response and headed out the door.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Mel said.

“The cupcakes look amazing,” Angie countered.

“True.”

Angie closed the lid and pushed the box aside. Marty was approaching their booth with a middle-aged man wearing glasses and standard-issue accountant attire. His hair was styled in a militarily precise cut and he had a slight overbite, making him appear younger than the stray gray hairs threading through the brown would indicate. He wore creased pants and a plaid dress shirt with short sleeves. The shirt was tucked in and his brown belt matched his loafers. Mel wondered how he’d feel about getting messy in the kitchen.

“This is Kevin Morgan,” Marty said. He didn’t look impressed.

Kevin thrust a plastic container at Mel. It was a standard-issue grocery store cupcake container and inside were six identical vanilla cupcakes with vanilla icing and sprinkles.

“Hi, Kevin,” she said. She gestured for him to take a seat. He did, looking wary, as if he were there for an interrogation instead of a job interview. “I’m Mel and this is Angie.”

He nodded but didn’t speak. He didn’t make eye contact, either. With his slumped shoulders and overall downtrodden appearance, he wasn’t really selling a happy cupcake vibe.

“Did you bake these?” Angie asked.

He glanced up and away. His gaze fixed on a spot in the corner and he said, “Sort of.”

Mel and Angie exchanged a look. What did “sort of” mean?

“Well,” Angie said. She fingered the label of the grocery store on the plastic container. “Are you a grocery store baker then?”

He shrugged.

Mel could feel her patience wearing thin. She wondered when Angie would send Kevin packing because, truly, this was beyond awkward. There was no way they could hire a guy who didn’t speak when they weren’t even sure if he could bake.

“What would you say your greatest strength in the kitchen is?” Angie asked. Mel was shocked. Angie was showing a fortitude that she herself seriously lacked at the moment.

Kevin stared down at his hands and mumbled something that Mel couldn’t hear. She was done. If Ange had gone soft and Mel had to be the bad guy, so be it.

“All right, thanks for stopping by,” Mel said. “We’ll call you if you’re chosen for the position.”

Kevin gave them a curt nod and slid out of the booth with a decided air of relief. At the door, a woman who wore the same wire-rimmed glasses and had a matching slight overbite stood waiting. Her hair was white, her face finely wrinkled, and she looked to be an older version of Kevin. Mel assumed it was his mother. As soon as he joined her, she smoothed his shirt at his shoulders and then gave him a nudge with her elbow to straighten up. Yup, definitely his mom.

The woman glanced past Kevin and sent a little finger wave to Mel and Angie, which they returned.

“Okay, I’m really not feeling this process,” Mel said to Angie. “Where did you get these people from?”

“I put up an ad online,” Angie said. She sounded defensive. “You think these are bad? You should have seen the applicants I rejected.”

“You sure you didn’t mix them up?” Mel asked. She tapped the store-bought cupcakes with her index finger.

Angie rolled her eyes. “I can’t help it if his mom filled out his application for him.”

“Hi! Oh, wow, is it really you?” a voice interrupted. “I’m going to die, just die.”

Mel and Angie turned to see a petite young woman standing at the edge of the booth. She was cute with big brown eyes and honey-blond hair that she wore all one length at her chin. Her smile was wide and warm and she clutched a large box in her hands, which were trembling.

Marty was beside her but when he went to speak she ran right over him. “Hi, I’m Madison Jacobson and I’m so excited. You’re them, aren’t you? Mel and Angie, the owners of the bakery? I’ve been such a fan of yours for so long. I follow all of your social media accounts and, oh, I just love you guys.”

Angie perked up. She had been running their Instagram account for years. She loved it. Taking photos, looping in cupcake influencers and fans from all over the world. Mel still had no idea what that even meant or why it helped their business in any way, but it made Angie happy so whatever. Judging by Madison’s overwrought fangirl moment, it was more important than Mel had previously realized.

“I would just love, love, love to work with you.” The girl burst into tears.

Angie clucked and pushed out of the booth. She immediately put her arm around the sobbing young woman. “There, there, honey, it’s okay.”

Mel and Marty exchanged a look of horror. “I’m going to be over there,” he said. “Way way over there.”

Mel envied him. She had no idea what to say to the sobbing young woman. Angie helped the girl into the booth and said, “Just take a minute to catch your breath and we’ll look at your cupcakes, okay?”

Madison nodded. She snatched a napkin out of the silver holder and sobbed into it. Angie slid back into the booth and smiled at Mel in a way that said she was charmed by their young fan. Mel could see the appeal. Who didn’t like worship? But this was about finding an assistant baker, not a groupie.

Angie popped the top on the box and they looked inside.

“Oh, wow,” Mel said.