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Lauren hummed as she swirled cream cheese frosting on top of the carrot cupcakes the next morning. Mitch had called yesterday afternoon, agreeing with her that they shouldn’t have the reception at Stately Vue Hall.
The preliminary medical reports indicated that Reginald had been hit on the head before being shoved into the hedge, with flowers stuffed into his nose and mouth, including petals similar to the one Annie found inside the venue. The head wound explained the trickle of blood Zoe had spied down his cheek.
Lauren shivered at the thought, and made herself think about more pleasant things. Like her customers hopefully raving about her new creation.
“Ed, tell me what you think.” She offered him a cupcake. With monster rolling pins for arms, and short but shaggy auburn hair, Ed made pastry like a dream. Although Lauren loved making cakes, she was the first to admit her pastry wasn’t as good as Ed’s.
“Thanks.” He smiled briefly. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with the wedding.”
“You’re invited,” she replied instantly, realizing she’d forgotten to tell him before now.
Lauren had already told him they’d found Reginald’s body, and he’d been suitably shocked.
“Would you like a plus one?” she asked, knowing he was dating a fellow volunteer at the local animal shelter.
“That would be great.” His white teeth gleamed briefly. “I can invite Rebecca.”
She’d better amend the guest list to fifty-four.
“As soon as Mitch and I find a place, we’ll send out the invitations.”
“Sure.” He nodded.
Lauren carried the tray of goodies out to the café and slid them behind the glass case.
“Did you keep some for us?” Zoe eyed the treats.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A couple of minutes later, she unlocked the glass and oak entrance door. She’d also made lavender, and lemon poppyseed cupcakes, and Ed had already baked a batch of his popular honeyed walnut pastries, and was currently working on apricot Danishes. Now all they needed were customers.
Lauren wasn’t disappointed.
Mrs. Finch was their first arrival, wearing a beige skirt and pastel pink blouse.
“Hello, dears.” She stood at the Please Wait to be Seated sign.
“Brrt!” Annie ran to greet her, and slowly led her to a small table near the counter.
Mrs. Finch tapped her way there with her walking stick.
“You’re just in time to try the carrot cakes,” Zoe declared. “Fresh out of the oven.”
“I can’t wait.” Mrs. Finch beamed. “And I would love a latte as well, please, dear.”
“Coming right up.” Zoe zoomed back to the counter.
Lauren heard the exchange and was already grinding the beans, the machine growling away.
She waved to Mrs. Finch. Annie chatted away to her in a series of brrts and chirps.
Lauren finished off the latte with a peacock design. She and Zoe had taken an advanced latte art class a while ago, and it had really paid off.
“Thank you, Lauren, dear.” Mrs. Finch picked up the cup with a wobbly hand. “I do love your peacocks. And swans.”
“Thanks.” Lauren smiled.
Zoe placed the cupcake in front of her. “Tell us what you think. Lauren and I love these new carrot cakes.”
“I’m sure I will, too.” Mrs. Finch gazed at the creation, admiring the decorative frosting swirl. “I think you might have outdone yourself this time, Lauren.”
“I hope so.” She loved giving her customers and friends delicious treats as well as amazing coffee.
“Have you thought about making your wedding cake yourself?” Mrs. Finch inquired, forking up a small mouthful.
Panic fluttered in her stomach. “Not really.”
“Ooh, you should!” Zoe’s eyes rounded. “Why not? I bet your cake will taste just as good as any specialist baker’s.”
“Thanks.” Lauren touched her cousin’s arm. “But what about all the decorating? I can do frosting swirls, but what about all the specialized flowers and rosettes? I could manage some of it but probably not all of it.”
“That’s a point.” Zoe tapped her cheek. “And I guess you really don’t have time to take a class, with all the other five-hundred things you need to do before you marry Mitch. Hmm.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up.” Mrs. Finch looked regretful.
“It’s okay,” Lauren assured her. “I’ll just have to add organizing a wedding cake on my list now.”
“Maybe we should have three to-do lists,” Zoe suggested. “An immediate one, then one with a two-to-three-week timeline, and one called, things we don’t need to do until the last minute.”
“Zoe might have a point.” Mrs. Finch chuckled.
“Or—” Zoe paused dramatically. “You could make wedding cupcakes – with a cupcake tower! And have different flavors, so guests could choose their favorites. And I’d bet it would be a lot cheaper than getting a fancy baker to make you something.” She turned to Mrs. Finch. “The posh reception venue quoted us three-hundred-and-fifty dollars for a single tiered wedding cake.”
“That is a lot of money.” Mrs. Finch looked shocked.
“Especially with everything else Lauren has to pay for.” Zoe nodded.
“You mean my parents,” Lauren said.
“Yeah, Aunt Celia is paying for all the bride stuff.”
“And my dad,” Lauren reminded her.
“Oh, that’s right.” She giggled. “Your dad’s nice. So’s Aunt Celia.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m glad your parents are able to give you a lovely wedding.” Mrs. Finch beamed at Lauren. “And this carrot cake is delicious, dear. When I get home I’ll call all my friends and tell them about it.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Finch!” Zoe grinned.
“Now, do you have an update on the poor man who was killed at the reception venue?” she asked.
Lauren related what Mitch had told her over the phone.
Mrs. Finch tsked. “Someone must have quite a temper on them, to kill him in that way.”
“Yeah, especially stuffing the flowers into his mouth,” Zoe added. “He – or she – really wanted to make sure Reginald was dead. He even had some in his nose!”
Mrs. Finch shook her head in dismay.
A few more customers came in, and after Annie greeted them and led them to their tables, she returned to Mrs. Finch.
A short while later, Lauren smiled at the balding Episcopalian priest. “Hi, Father Mike.” Of medium height and build, he was beloved by the whole town.
“Brrt!” Annie trotted up to him.
“Hi, Lauren, and Zoe.” He beamed at both of them. “Have you decided where to hold your reception?”
“Not yet.” She quickly told him about the murder.
“That’s terrible.” Concern flickered across his face. “I didn’t know the poor man, but I’ll pray for him.”
“Thanks, Father,” Lauren replied.
“How’s Mrs. Snuggle?” Zoe asked. They’d recently cat sat the white Persian when Father Mike had visited Florida for a church conference. He’d adopted the Queen and show cat when her owner had been murdered, since it had been difficult to find her a new home due to her grumpy demeanor.
“Ever since I returned from Miami, she’s been a lot more affectionate,” he marveled. “She sits on my lap most nights and loves watching that movie over and over about the princess who discovers her whole life is a lie, apart from being a princess.”
“I love that movie, too.” Zoe grinned.
“Brrt!”
“Maybe she realized when she stayed with us how much she really does like you,” Lauren commented.
Mrs. Snuggle’s new life with Father Mike was totally different to her former one. Now she could relax all day and not be on display at a cat show, or nursing another litter of kittens. When the priest adopted her, he’d had her spayed, and had been kind and gentle with her, even when she remained grumpy and unaffectionate.
Lauren suspected that Mrs. Snuggle finally realized what a good home she had with Father Mike, and that he loved her.
“Maybe she and Annie can have a play date one day,” Zoe suggested.
Annie looked interested at the suggestion. She had done her best to look after the Persian, taking her cat sitting duties seriously, but although they had played together briefly, Mrs. Snuggle had spent most of her time with the trio watching TV and moping.
“Mrs. Snuggle might like that.” Father Mike smiled. “I’ll check with her.”
“Okay.” Lauren nodded.
“Let me know when your wedding is, and I’ll officiate,” Father Mike told her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Thank you.” Lauren smiled. “Mitch and I can’t think of anyone else we’d rather have marry us.”
They took his order of a latte and carrot cupcake.
Annie led him to Mrs. Finch’s table, the senior beaming in delight when he joined her.
“Two of Annie’s favorite people together.” Zoe grinned as she glanced at them.
A short while later, more customers trickled in.
“Where’s my cutie pie?” Martha barreled into the café, pushing her rolling walker at an impressive speed. She had curly gray hair, and wore blue pedal pushers and a matching t-shirt.
“Brrt!” Here! Annie scampered over, and leaped onto the black padded vinyl seat of the walker.
“Hi, Martha,” Lauren greeted her.
“You have to tell me all about the murdered man,” Martha instructed.
“How do you know about him?” Zoe’s eyes widened.
“I got the lowdown this morning from the senior center.”
“That place is a hotbed of gossip.”
“You know it.” Martha nodded.
“You’ve got to try Lauren’s new cupcakes,” Zoe informed her.
“They do look good.” Martha eyed the treats behind the glass case.
“What would you like to drink?” Lauren asked.
“Hmm.” Martha wrinkled her nose. “You know I love my hot chocolate, even in summer, especially with those yummy marshmallows you put in it, but right now I feel like I need a little pick me up as well.”
“Ooh – what about a latte with marshmallows?” Zoe’s eyes sparkled.
Martha’s mouth parted. “Now you’re talking!”
Lauren furrowed her brow. “I haven’t made a marshmallow latte before. If you don’t enjoy it, I’ll make you whatever you like instead.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Martha replied.
“Yeah, what’s not to like about coffee and marshmallows?” Zoe grinned.
“You haven’t tried the two together, have you?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Zoe admitted after a second.
Annie directed Martha to a table with a series of brrts from her position on the walker. They finally stopped at a four-seater in the middle of the room.
Annie jumped from the walker to one of the chairs, while Martha sat opposite her.
Lauren steamed the milk for a large latte, while Zoe grabbed the jar of marshmallows.
“I can’t wait to see how this turns out. I might make one for myself during my break.”
“Good idea,” Lauren replied. “I might try it as well.”
After making the latte, she added a generous amount of mini marshmallows, and stirred it carefully, not wanting to splash the hot liquid.
“That looks awesome!” The latte was pale fawn with pink and white streaks from the marshmallows.
“Let’s hope it tastes awesome.”
She carried it over to Martha, Zoe following with the cupcake.
“Well?” Zoe asked impatiently a second later after Martha took a sip. “How is it?”
“Yummy!” Martha grinned.
“We can call it Martha’s marshmallow latte,” Zoe suggested.
“Really?” Martha’s eyes lit up.
“If you don’t mind,” Lauren said.
“Why would I mind? I’ll be famous – in here at least.”
“You mean you aren’t already?” Zoe giggled.
Martha and Lauren joined in the laughter, Annie adding a happy, “Brrt.”
“I’m going to write this up on the chalkboard.” Zoe had recently bought a mini board but they hadn’t used it yet. She dug it out of the drawer and advertised the new beverage on it.
“How much should we ask for it?” she asked Lauren.
“We’ll charge Martha the normal latte price,” she decided, “since it was her suggestion, but we should add a little extra to cover the cost of the marshmallows when we make it for other customers.”
“What about thirty cents?” Zoe suggested.
Lauren eyed the jar of mini marshmallows. “That sounds about right, if we put in a large spoonful each time, like we did with Martha’s.”
Zoe wrote up the new drink, and set up the chalkboard on the counter. “I hope we don’t run out of marshmallows.”
When Martha paid her bill, she enthused about the new beverage. “I’m going to tell everyone down at the senior center.”
“Awesome.” Zoe waved at the chalkboard. “Look!”
“I really am going to be famous.” She grinned.
When Lauren handed back her change, she asked, “How’s the wedding planning going?”
They quickly filled her in about their new search for a venue.
“And the invitations?” Martha asked hopefully. “Have they gone out yet?”
“Not yet, but you’re invited.” Lauren smiled.
“Goody!”
A few of their customers tried the new latte, pleased expressions on their faces afterward.
“Maybe we’ll need to buy some more marshmallows,” Zoe observed that afternoon. The level in the jar was now dangerously low.
“I’ve got more in the pantry,” Lauren replied. “But you’re right. If Martha tells everyone at the senior center about her new drink, we might be slammed tomorrow!”