Five

Staring back up at them from inside the box were cupcakes made to look like Mel and Angie. Cartoonish depictions with exaggerated features, but definitely them, as one had short spiked blond hair—Mel—and the other boasted Angie’s long dark curls. There were several of each of them with different degrees of finesse but on the whole they were . . . terrible.

Mel had no idea what to say. While she could see the effort that had gone into them, they were in a word, hideous, and most likely would scare people off their food. But there was no way in heck she was going to tell the overly excitable and emotional Madison that.

In that moment, Mel found she had great sympathy for the judges of baking shows like The Great British Bake Off. How did you tell someone who had obviously worked very hard that their creation was a bust? Maybe they wouldn’t taste that bad. She tried to imagine biting into her own head. Nope, just nope. Too weird.

“These are incredible,” Angie said. “I can see how much effort you put into them, Madison. Truly, a lot of effort.”

Mel said nothing. She was speechless, plus she felt like the cupcake in the middle was staring at her and she was afraid to look away as it might jump out of the box and try to kill her. Yes, it was that creepy.

“You don’t like them?” Madison asked. She was looking at Mel. “I can see it on your face.”

Mel swiftly shut the lid, breaking the staring contest with the cupcake. She forced a smile and said, “Are you kidding? In all my years as a baker, I have never seen anything like these.”

“Really?” Madison asked. “That’s so nice of you to say . . .” Her words got drowned out on a sob.

With a helpless look Mel turned to Angie. She had no idea how to help a crying stranger. She felt like she should hug the girl or something, but her introverted tendencies held her back. Angie was not shy about it at all. She abandoned their side of the booth and slid in next to Madison.

“Sorry, I’m not usually so emotional, but . . .” Madison’s words trailed off, and Mel was half-afraid she would say it was her time of flow and then Mel would have to lock herself in her office and never come out because the world was officially too crazy for her.

“I’m just so nervous,” Madison said. “I cry when I’m nervous.”

“Really?” Mel asked. “I giggle. It’s so embarrassing.”

Madison stared at her for a second and then gestured to her face with an expression of chagrin. “Worse than this?”

“Well, no.” Mel laughed and she was relieved when Madison did, too. Okay, so the kid could laugh at herself, that was definitely a point in her favor.

“Why don’t you take a minute to get yourself together,” Angie said. She pointed to the public restroom in the corner. “And we can discuss the job here when you get back.”

They watched Madison leave and as soon as the door shut, Mel said, “You want to hire her.”

“I like her enthusiasm,” Angie said. Mel stared at her. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have someone who could take over the social media account while I’m away. She’s young. She’s probably super on top of all the trends, like a real hashtag expert.”

“But I need her to bake in the kitchen,” Mel said. She gestured to the box. “I don’t think this is going to cut it.”

“Maybe they taste better than they look,” Angie said.

She opened the box, reached in, and grabbed one of her own heads. So weird. She broke it in half and handed a chunk to Mel. It was an eyeball, the mouth, and a gob of the hair.

“Bottoms up,” Angie said.

Mel bit into the cupcake. Buttery rich chocolate cake with a nice texture, topped with a frosting that was all vanilla but not too sweet, and it complemented the chocolate cake perfectly. She was pleasantly surprised. She turned to Angie, who was looking equally pleased.

“We can teach her what she needs to know about decorating,” Angie said. “These are a solid start.”

Mel nodded while she chewed. “But the crying?”

“She’ll calm down,” Angie said. “You’ll see.”

“Let’s not do anything too hasty,” Mel said. “We should at least taste Ruby’s before we make a final decision.”

“Of course,” Angie said.

They wiped their fingers on napkins and closed the box. When Madison reappeared, she looked serenely composed, as if she’d finally conquered her nerves.

“So, Madison, when can you start?” Angie asked.

WHAT?! Mel was grateful she didn’t shout it out loud.

Unsurprisingly, another Madison weepfest ensued, and Mel made an excuse to go and hide in the kitchen. Apparently, Madison would be starting at the bakery next week, and Mel figured they were going to need to up their supply of tissues. She honestly had no idea what Angie was thinking to offer the young woman the job without even calling her references.

She was going to give in to Angie’s intuition on this one, but she was also going to prepare Madison for the reality of a baker’s life. People could be persnickety about their baked goods and not shy about expressing their persnicketiness. She was going to have Madison train on the front counter with Marty for a week. If she survived that then she could come and work back in the kitchen.

It was depressing to remember how easy it had been to hire Oz. He’d just walked in the door and made the job his. Mel hadn’t thought finding a decent replacement was going to be such a challenge, but now it looked like they might be in a time of high turnover for a while. She really didn’t think Madison had what it took to work with demanding customers.

Angie strode through the swinging doors, carrying the samples the interviewees had brought. “What should I do with these?”

“Since you’ve already offered the job to Madison, I’d say you can pitch them,” Mel said.

“Don’t be mad,” Angie said. She dropped the boxes in the large bin they kept in the kitchen. “My intuition dinged and I just knew she was the one.”

“We should have discuss—”

The back door opened with a bang, interrupting what Mel had been about to say, which was just as well as the damage was already done, and lecturing Angie at this point wasn’t going to change the outcome.

“Marty! Stop texting me!” Oz yelled at the swinging bakery doors as he stepped into the kitchen.

Mel and Angie turned to look at him. He was still in the chef’s coat he’d been wearing on television earlier, the one with the Sun Dial Resort logo embroidered on the left breast. His hair was disheveled and he looked sweaty, as if he’d run to the bakery.

“Marty’s out front,” Mel said. The television was still on, although it had rolled to the next program and was muted.

“You all saw?” Oz asked, glancing at the screen.

Mel nodded and Angie said, “You’re a natural. Plus, Stella was clearly warm for your form.”

Oz blanched. “She’s old enough to be my mom.”

His phone chimed again from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen and then at the door to the front of the bakery.

He fired off a text and had barely hit send when the swinging door to the kitchen blasted open and Marty strode in.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence—the movie star,” Marty said. He sidled up to Oz and clasped his hand under his chin, then he batted his eyelashes at him and simpered, “Can I have your autograph?”

Oz lifted one eyebrow and glanced over Marty’s head at Mel. “He’s loving this, isn’t he?”

Mel laughed. “Yeah, you just made his week, possibly his year.”

Oz cracked and laughed. He nudged Marty with an elbow and said, “Get a celebrity a cup of coffee, would you? I had to be at the studio so early I didn’t get any, and I think I’m getting a caffeine headache.”

Marty dropped his hands and strode over to the coffeepot that was kept in use all morning at the bakery. “So, I’m a gofer now? Can I shine your shoes, pick up your dry cleaning, go get your lunch?”

“Well, if you’re offering . . .” With a grin Oz took the mug Marty handed him.

“Come on, come on.” Marty rolled his hand in a circular motion. “We want the deets.”

“We really do,” Angie chimed in. She sat and scooted her stool over to make room for Oz at the steel worktable.

He slumped onto the round metal seat and sipped his coffee. “There’s not much to tell. Miles was supposed to be on the morning program but he didn’t show. Clay called me in a panic because he didn’t want to lose the free publicity for the resort, so I stepped in and did some cupcake-decorating demos. Really, not a big deal.”

“That’s it?” Marty asked. He looked disappointed. “I thought you’d been hired to be their new foodie guy.”

“Sorry, no,” Oz said. “Just a stand-in.”

“Well, you were really good,” Angie said. “Although I might have let the fainter hit the floor.”

“Yeah, what was up with that?” Oz asked. He shrugged as if to say Women without actually saying it.

“Isn’t Miles going to be furious with you for usurping what I’m sure he thinks was his spot?” Mel asked.

Oz shrugged. “Maybe. But Clay said that Simon, the producer, had set up the shoot and he would freak out if someone didn’t show. I was just trying to help.”

“I doubt that Miles is going to see it that way,” Mel said. She got a sick feeling in her stomach. This was the same thing she always felt when she was nervous about something or about someone being disappointed or upset with her, but she was transferring her angst to Oz’s situation. Things had been so tense at the resort the other day, she really didn’t want him to get into trouble with the executive chef, who could clearly be petty and mean.

“When will you have to deal with Miles?” she asked.

“Technically we don’t cross paths much, but if he’s going to be nasty about the show this morning, it’ll probably happen while we’re prepping for dinner this afternoon,” Oz said.

“Huh, it turns out Joe and I are meeting with Courtney, the reception coordinator, to go over the room and any extras we might want,” Mel said. “She’s pushing the ice sculpture hard, but I’m holding the line on that.”

“Really?” Angie asked. She sounded disappointed. “I bet you could have a supercool swan the size of a small car, with its wings spread out.” She gestured and Marty shook his head.

“Nah, you want a mermaid,” he said. “Life-size with a huge tail and big—”

“We get the picture,” Mel interrupted.

“Eyes,” Marty said. He quirked an eyebrow. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“Eyes,” Mel lied.

Oz snorted and Angie giggled. Mel grinned. It felt good to have the team back together.

“As I was saying,” Mel continued. “Joe and I will be there this afternoon, so if you get into a jam, we can help out.”

“I really don’t see him coming after me,” Oz said. “His beef would be with Mr. Perry or Simon, don’t you think? They’re the ones who sent me to the station.”

“Is this Miles a coward?” Marty asked. He poured himself a cup of coffee, pausing to hold the carafe up to Mel. She shook her head. She didn’t need any more go juice today.

“I don’t know if he’s a coward,” Oz said. “He’s definitely a bully.”

“Then he’s a coward.” Marty sipped from his mug as the bell chimed from out front. He walked towards the swinging doors and then paused to turn around and say, “Be careful and watch your back.”

Oz exchanged a look with Mel. This confirmed what she had already told him. She nodded. “He’s right but don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll have Joe be at his most lawyerly this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” Oz said. He took a sip of his coffee and said, “But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Really.”

Mel wasn’t sure whom he was trying to convince, them or himself.

---

“Are you sure you don’t want an ice sculpture?” Courtney asked for the fifth time. It was clear she was definitely supposed to push the ice artistry.

Mel glanced around the moderate-sized room where they planned to have their reception. It was enough to accommodate fifty people, who were their families and a handful of friends. Mel was introverted enough that the thought of a big wedding was enough to give her hives, and Joe had made it very clear that he didn’t care what they did so long as they managed to get down the aisle this time and were a Mr. and Mrs. at the end of it.

There was a small dance floor, space for a band, and the room had floor-to-ceiling French doors that opened onto to a private veranda that overlooked the resort’s gardens. It was perfect.

Despite the badgering about the ice sculpture, Courtney was adorable. Twenty-three years old with a sleek mane of long blond hair, and wearing the requisite purple Sun Dial Resort polo shirt with the same logo that Oz wore on his chef’s coat, only she’d paired her top with a black pencil skirt and stiletto sandals. Mel glanced down at her Keds and wondered how Courtney managed an entire day in those arch crampers.

Courtney had the bubble and sparkle of an event coordinator—she was clearly born to this, and Mel liked her even though the young woman made her feel about a thousand years old, which was why she’d refused the ice sculpture. It felt like a young-person thing, and Mel and Joe were not in the bloom of youth anymore. Mel attempted to refuse in the nicest way possible.

“Sorry, but no ice sculpture for us,” she said. She pointed to Joe. “He’s allergic.”

Joe didn’t even bat an eyelash at this flagrant fib. Instead, he nodded and said, “They make my throat close up. Very dangerous.”

A tiny vee formed between her carefully sculpted eyebrows and Courtney said, “Wow, I had no idea that was a thing.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s a thing,” Joe said. “But very rare.”

Mel felt a twinge of conscience as Courtney looked so reassured that this wasn’t something she was going to have to worry about with future clients. Mel decided that escaping was their best option.

She held out her hand and said, “I think everything we’ve discussed will be perfect. We’re trying to keep the day simple and not too fussy.”

“Of course.” Courtney grinned. She shook Mel’s hand and then Joe’s. “You leave it to me and I will make sure your day is picture-perfect.”

“Thank you,” Mel said. When Courtney went to walk them out, Mel added, “We’re going to stop by the kitchen and say hi to our friend Oz, the pastry chef.”

“Oh, right.” Courtney’s face turned pink. “He’s so ho—such an amazing chef.”

Mel and Joe exchanged a small smile. “He is really talented.”

“If you have any changes or concerns, let me know,” Courtney said.

“I will,” Mel promised.

Courtney walked them out of the small banquet room and with a wave, she turned to go down the hall that led back to her office. She had her phone out and was texting while walking. Mel was surprised she didn’t run into a wall since she never looked up, but maybe it was a new sense that was evolving in humankind. The ability to perceive obstacles without looking up from their phones. Handy.

“You don’t suppose Oz has any more cupcake samples, do you?” Joe asked as they went down the opposite hallway, through the lobby, and turned down another passageway that led to the resort’s public dining rooms and on to the kitchens.

“I can ask,” Mel said. She took out her phone to text Oz that they were here. She assumed he was in his kitchen, but he might be out in his little garden or on a break. She waited but no dots appeared to indicate that he was writing back. She put her phone back in her purse. “He’s not answering. Should we wait or just go on back there?”

“Let’s go back,” Joe said. “Worst-case scenario, if we get busted by security, we’ll say we got lost.”

“So devious,” Mel teased, shaking her head.

“Obviously I’ve been spending too much time with my brother Ray.”

Mel laughed. They crossed the mid-century modern dining room, which was empty at this hour of postlunch, predinner purgatory, and pushed through the doors that led to the kitchens. She led Joe past the main kitchen, which she noticed was awfully quiet. The last time she’d been here at this time, they’d been busily prepping for dinner. She shrugged and continued down the short hallway that led to Oz’s kitchen.

She checked her phone again just to see if he’d texted back. He hadn’t. Mel pushed open the set of doors that led to the smaller pastry kitchen and stopped short. Joe plowed into her, catching her before she went sailing forward.

“Mel, are you all—?” Joe glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath.

Oz was crouched on the floor, leaning over the inert body of Miles Gallway.