Nothing smells finer than opening the door to Sweet Cakes and getting that first inhaled scent of sugar, cream, and vanilla. Larkin Mancinkus is an absolute genius when it comes to baked goods, and in my personal opinion, makes the best angel food cake this side of heaven.
“Hey, Mary Margaret,” Larkin calls from behind the sleek, curved glass case that showcases fresh baked goods.
“Evenin’,” I say back to her. “Need some angel food cake. Going to make some strawberry shortcake later.”
“Oh, that sounds good,” I hear from behind me. Turning, I see Trixie, one of Larkin’s sisters, walking in behind me. “Although if you only have one left, I’m okay with arm wrestling Mary Margaret for it.”
“I’m feisty,” I warn her, although truth be told, my arthritis has me a bit hobbled in my hands. Otherwise, I’d be baking my own cake.
“You’re both lucky,” Larkin says as she slides the door of the case open from the other side and pulls out two cakes. “But I only have squares today. Not rings.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her.
Trixie adds, “And throw in a few chocolate-chocolate-chip cupcakes. Ry gets all kinds of ‘appreciative’ when I bring them home.”
“Things going well then?” I ask Trixie. She and her longtime love, Ryland Powers, have reconnected and he’s moved down South to be with her.
“Going swimmingly,” she says with a bright grin, then levels a knowing look at Larkin. “Now if we can just get Lowe’s head out of his butt about Mainer House, my life would be almost perfect.”
Oh, this is interesting. “Head out of his butt? I thought Judge Bowe settled all that nonsense about Mainer House. Earl told me so.”
Earl Cooke is the courtroom bailiff. Frankly, he should have retired about two decades ago, but it’s not too strenuous a job for him to stand in the courtroom each day while the judge parcels out justice.
Trixie leans an elbow on the glass case and tilts her head to me. I lean in closer. “Let’s just say Lowe doesn’t like the woman who bought Mainer House. While he told me just a bit ago he’s let things go, he still had that look in his eye.”
“Look in his eye?” I press.
“Like he has something up his sleeve,” she says. “That woman, Melinda Rothschild, has pushed his buttons in a way I’ve never seen him react to before. Lowe’s not the type to be rude or inconsiderate, so I can’t figure it out. But yes… he needs to get his head out of his butt or Judge Bowe is going to throw him in jail.”
I nod wisely. This makes sense. “Well, Earl said that Yankee lady is really quite the shrew. Said she’s pretty as all get out, but she was a veritable ‘witch’ in the courtroom.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if under that skirt she’s hiding a pair of big, brass ba—”
Trixie cuts off abruptly, her eyes shooting to Larkin, who ducks her head and grins.
“Big brass what?” I ask curiously. These kids and their slang these days.
“Nothing,” Trixie says as she snags the pink box Larkin packaged her cake in. “Gotta get going. Put this on my tab, Larkin. Bye, Mary Margaret.”
“Toodles,” I say before turning to Larkin, waiting for her to box my cake.
“She’s not a shrew,” Larkin says. I lean in toward the counter, eager to get her take on the newcomer. “She comes in almost every day, and she’s actually really nice. Not sure why she’s so riled up with Lowe, but I like her.”
“I thought all New Yorkers were sort of… what’s the word… aloof?” I inquire with genuine curiosity.
“Can’t say as to that,” Larkin says as she works on closing the lid to the cake box and adding some tape at the edges. She then carries it to the register. “But I do wonder what her plans are with the house. She seems to be dropping a lot of money into the renovations, although I guess she’ll save some since the Judge ordered Lowe to do some of the work for free.”
“That boy’s impetuous,” I muse with a smile. “Just like his grandpap.”
“Well, I’m going to dig around a little when she comes in again,” Larkin says as she rings up my purchase. “See exactly what her motives are when it comes to Mainer House.”