Seven

The girl was tiny and blond with round silver-framed glasses that made her blue eyes enormous. She was missing a front tooth on the bottom and she had a smear of chocolate batter on one cheek. She was also carrying a spatula like it was a weapon.

“It’s okay, Sydney, we’re on our way,” Holly said. “Thank you.”

Sydney gave her mother a stern look and waved her spatula. “But the buzzer!”

Tate held out his hand to the little girl and said, “Lead on, young chef, we can’t have anything burnt on your watch, now can we?”

“No, sir!” The little girl grinned at him with a smile as big as the sky. Then she slapped her hand into his and began to run, leaving Tate no choice but to jog to keep up.

“Your daughter is adorable,” Angie said before she hurried after them.

“That’s one word for it,” Holly said. She and Mel fell into step behind the others. She glanced at Mel and said, “Thanks for coming today.”

“No problem,” Mel said. She glanced at Holly. Somehow knowing that she was a mom changed everything. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Holly said although she sounded wary.

“Why exactly do you want to open a bakery?” Mel didn’t want to be the one to break it to her that houses like this were generally out of a baker’s salary range, even if they owned the bakery, but it was clear they were going to have to discuss it at some point.

“Well, I love baking,” Holly said. “But mostly, it’s for Sydney. She’ll start school next year, and unless I find something with different hours, I will literally never see her except on Monday afternoon and evening. I want to be a baker, but even more I want to be a mother.”

“How does your hus—”

“I’m not married,” Holly said.

“Oh, sorry,” Mel said. She desperately wanted the details but she knew it was rude to ask, so she said nothing, although it about killed her.

“No, it’s fine,” Holly said. “We divorced when Sydney was just a baby and it actually saved our relationship. We co-parent better than we ever did the whole husband and wife thing. Billy’s a great father and it works quite well, actually.”

The hallway to the kitchen was a long one. The floor was a rich hardwood, and the walls were painted pewter gray. Recessed alcoves with track lighting illuminated the various pieces of art. Mel couldn’t even hazard a guess at how much the little gallery of eye-popping paintings was worth. She didn’t want to know, fearing it might make her queasy.

If Holly was this well-off, why did she want to buy a franchise? She could easily redistribute some of this largesse and open up ten or twenty bakeries all on her own. She didn’t need Mel or Fairy Tale Cupcakes. Mel wanted to ask, but again, it felt rude.

They turned the corner into the kitchen. Mel stopped in her tracks. Tate and Angie were already staring openmouthed at the plethora of cupcakes that littered every surface of the enormous kitchen.

Many of the flavors Mel recognized from her bakery. She saw Blonde Bombshells, Tinkerbells, Death by Chocolates, but also there were cupcakes that were eye catching in their artistry. A dozen vanilla cupcakes sat front and center on the sparkly granite counter. Perched on a fat dollop of vanilla buttercream on each cupcake was a miniature fondant version of the iconic WELCOME TO FABULOUS LAS VEGAS NEVADA sign that has greeted visitors to the city since 1959.

“Oh, my,” Angie breathed. “How did you do this?”

“It was easy. I made an edible transfer onto the fondant,” Holly said. “Sydney was happy to eat the ones that didn’t come out very well, weren’t you, cutie pie?”

Sydney giggled. “I got a stomachache.”

“She did,” Holly confirmed. “I felt terrible. Of course, it might have been all the chocolate icing that she ate on the sly.”

Holly gave her daughter a sideways glance and Sydney giggled again and then said, “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

This was said with such wide-eyed earnestness that the grown-ups all laughed. The affection between mother and daughter was evident in the way they smiled at each other like they shared secrets. It made Mel miss Joyce, her mother, who was manning the bakery back in Scottsdale.

“Now you have to try them,” Sydney said. She pushed her chef’s hat back off her head and passed out paper plates and napkins.

“I don’t know,” Mel teased. “I had a really big breakfast. I don’t know if I can manage all these cupcakes.”

“Not all of them, silly, just most of them.” Sydney gazed at Mel with the inexhaustible stubbornness of the young.

Mel took a plate. She was a little nervous about trying the cupcakes. She realized that she liked Holly and she was anxious on her behalf. She didn’t want the pretty confections to prove too dry or too sweet and ruin the amazing first impression that they had made. Then again, they looked so delicious, she was a little afraid that they might actually taste better than hers. The thought horrified her.

Tate had no such qualms. He went right for a vanilla one with the Las Vegas sign. Angie took the almond-flavored Blonde Bombshell. Mel decided to stick with the lighter-flavored lemon and raspberry combo in the Tinkerbell. The three of them glanced at one another and then Tate counted down.

“Three, two, one . . .”

They each took a bite. Mel was pleasantly surprised to find that Holly’s cupcake tasted exactly like her own. Tart lemon cake with sweet raspberry icing, it was a one-two punch of cupcakey goodness. Mel nodded at Holly while she chewed, and as soon as she swallowed, she smiled at the other woman.

“This is excellent.”

“This one is even better,” Angie chimed in. “I think it might even be better than yo—”

“Yum!” Tate interrupted his fiancée with an enthusiasm that didn’t fool Mel one bit. He’d tried to cut off Angie before she said that Holly’s cupcake was better than Mel’s.

“Where’d you get the recipes?” she asked Holly.

“I asked Tate—”

That was as far as she got before Mel whirled on Tate. “You gave away my recipes?”

He had his mouth full of fondant so he was forced to shake his head back and forth.

“He didn’t,” Holly said. “I swear. He just described them to me and I made them to the best of my ability based on his information.”

Mel glanced between the two of them. Tate was pointing at Holly and nodding, clearly backing up her story.

Mel glanced at Angie and asked, “Did you know about this?”

“Nope,” she said. Unfortunately, her attention was caught up in scraping every bit of cake and frosting off her paper plate.

“Why don’t you just lick it?” Mel snapped.

Angie lowered her plate and frowned. “Why are you not happy? You should be happy. Holly is a fantastic baker. You aren’t going to have to worry about quality control at all. This girl has it going on.”

“Do you really think so?” Holly asked.

“Yes,” Tate mumbled through a mouthful.

“Absolutely,” Angie said.

Holly turned to Mel, who still had most of her cupcake on her plate. Mel knew that Holly was looking to her for a final say as if she were the mean guy on Cupcake Wars who could make or break her.

She sighed. She had to agree with the others. Holly was obviously more than capable of whipping together an amazing assortment of tasty cupcakes.

“She’s right,” Mel said. “You are truly gifted in the cupcake arts.”

Holly and Sydney squealed and hugged each other. Then they exchanged a complicated handshake that ended when they linked arms and did a very Vegas showgirl high kick. Mel couldn’t help chuckling. She’d never had an employee who could high kick before. She tried to picture either Marty or Oz busting out that move, and the image made her laugh out loud.

A cell phone began to ring and everyone checked their pockets. Angie was the winner as it was her phone. She checked the display and then glanced at Tate.

“It’s my brother Ray,” she said. “I’d better take this. You know how they worry.”

“Yes, we do, and we don’t want them showing up here to hold us prisoner while we’re in Sin City,” he said. “Talk him down.”

“I’ll do my best,” Angie promised. She wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a zero-edge pool and a view of the desert mountains beyond.

Mel sampled another cupcake. She was torn between the Snickerdoodle cupcake and the Elvis, a banana cake with peanut butter frosting, but finally settled on one of the vanilla ones with the Las Vegas sign on it. Good-tasting fondant was tricky for even the best pastry chefs. As she nibbled the marshmallow-flavored decoration, she had to admit that Holly had done an incredible job. It tasted just as good as anything that had ever come out of Mel’s kitchen. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Excellent,” Angie said into the phone as she rejoined them. “I’ll tell everyone the news. Thanks, big brother.”

“Ray called with good news?” Tate asked. He looked dubious.

“He called with excellent news,” Angie said. “Ray knows a guy—”

“He always knows a guy,” Mel said. “You know how Joe feels about Ray’s guys.”

Ray DeLaura was the brother that flirted with the boundaries of the law the most, so naturally he was the one who gave Joe DeLaura, a county prosecutor, the most heartburn.

“I know, but this is good,” Angie said. “Ray knows a guy who has a storefront right off the Strip that he’s looking to lease. It was a sandwich shop, so it already has a full kitchen. Ray said the guy is willing to lease it for a song. Apparently, he owes Ray a favor.”

“Yes!” Tate cried. He raised his fist in the air.

“Oh, no,” Mel said. She shook her head. “No, no, no.”

Holly looked at them, her eyes darting back and forth between their faces. “Sorry, you lost me. With my future swinging in the balance, can you clarify if it’s a yes or a no?”