Nine

“How about we go inside?” Holly asked. “You know, check out the shop as a possible bakery?”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Peter agreed. “You have the keys, Mr. Ross?”

When Quentin didn’t move, Peter gave him a nudge with his elbow. Without taking his eyes off Angie, Quentin took his keys from his pocket. He gave her one more second of his flat, dead-eyed stare before he turned away.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Mel didn’t think she was imagining the fact that no one seemed to want to go first. She shook her head. Just because the other bakery blew up did not mean this one was going the same way.

She stepped forward at the same time that Tate did. She gestured for him to let her go first but he shook her off. Mel went to cut in front of him just to keep him safe; not that she believed he needed a blocker it was just instinct. Tate grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“Together?” he asked.

Mel realized she could live with that. She nodded and they stepped through the wide doorway together, with Angie wedging herself right in between them as they went. The three of them stepped over the threshold and nothing happened.

A powerful surge of relief ran through her, and Mel realized she’d actually been holding her breath as if there would be another explosion. She wondered if she had a little bit of post trauma still rocking her world. She glanced back at Holly and saw her holding Sydney’s hand, looking as relieved as Mel felt.

They exchanged a look of understanding and Mel smiled. She remembered looking for the location of her first bakery. She had been such a mix of nerves and excitement. She knew that Holly was probably feeling all of that and more at the moment.

She turned away to take in the shop. It was small but cute with black-and-white flooring like Mel’s own bakery back in Arizona. The walls were a butter yellow color that she didn’t love but paint was cheap.

There was no furniture in the shop and she tried to imagine what it would look like with a few tables or booths. They’d have to keep it to a minimum so that people could move around. She glanced through the windows. The sidewalk in front was big enough for a few small café tables. Overall, space-wise it had promise.

Quentin had begun his spiel on the features of the property and Mel turned back to the group to listen to him espouse the pluses of the site as a bakery. There was adequate display space with the big wide counter and a built-in glass case. Behind the counter the work area was tight, but beyond that was a very well laid-out kitchen.

Holly and Sydney ran from each appliance, squealing and chattering. The oven would have to be replaced with a larger professional convection oven, but the steel workspace and the walk-in cooler were practically new.

“What happened to the previous owners?” Mel asked.

“They went belly-up, which was a surprise to no one,” Quentin said. He gave them a look of disgust.

“Why?” Angie asked. “What did they do wrong?”

“It pretty much started and ended with their menu,” Quentin said. “They were trying to be food innovators and catch a foodie movement like the cronut, you know the croissant donut thing that was a super hit for fifteen minutes on the East Coast.”

“I’m afraid to ask, and yet, I find I must know,” Tate said. “What was their product?”

“The jelly dough-burger,” Quentin said. He grimaced a bit and Mel suspected he was having a bad taste bud flashback.

“I don’t get it,” Holly said. “What was it made of?”

“A cheeseburger served on a jelly doughnut which was cut in half like a bun,” Quentin said.

“That is . . .” Tate seemed stumped for words.

“Disgusting,” Mel offered.

“Revolting,” Angie said.

“Gross,” Sydney chimed in. Her little nose wrinkled as if she smelled something bad.

“I would vomit,” Peter said. He looked green at the thought of eating such a concoction and Mel had to agree.

“I don’t know,” Holly said. “Maybe it wouldn’t be totally terrible.”

They all turned to look at her and she shrugged. “I just think you shouldn’t knock it until you try it.”

“Mom, jelly on a burger is nasty,” Sydney said.

“Oh, really?” Holly asked. “Is that your professional chef opinion, missy?”

“No, that’s my mouth talking,” Sydney said. “And it knows what it likes and a burger wrapped in a jelly donut isn’t it.”

“I admit it’s a little out there,” Holly said. “But remember there are some weird flavor combinations that don’t seem like they could go together but they do.”

Sydney looked dubious.

“How about those ginger milk chocolate cupcakes?” Holly asked. “Those were delicious.”

“They’re cupcakes,” Sydney said. She held out her hands for dramatic effect, as if to say anything in a cupcake would be good, although Mel knew from experimenting that this was not necessarily so.

“Okay, how about the bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with pistachios that we made for the holidays? You ate your body weight in those,” Holly said.

Sydney rolled her eyes to the ceiling and declared, “I can never talk food with you.”

“I know exactly how you feel, kiddo,” Angie said. She pointed at Mel and said, “She’s the exact same way.”

Mel turned to Holly. “Recipe, please?”

“For which?”

“All of the above,” Mel said. She paused and then said, “If you have cupcake recipes of your own that you want to sell, we can talk about that, too.”

Holly beamed at her.

“So, can I assume you approve of this space?” Quentin asked. He looked eagerly at Holly and then Tate, as if he knew Tate was the driving force behind franchising.

Mel took a moment to picture a Fairy Tale Cupcakes bakery here in this spot in Las Vegas. Instead of the usual crippling doubt and panic, she found cautious excitement in the idea.

She glanced at Tate and Holly, who were both looking at her, and said, “Works for me.”

Holly jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Sydney did the same. Tate smiled, looking proud of her, which made Mel feel as if she’d grown exponentially as a person.

“All right,” Peter said. “If we’re all agreed, we can go back to the office and initiate the paperwork.”

Holly took a minute just to look over the place one more time. She glanced out the front window at the view she would have when she opened her shop.

“I really think this will work,” she said. “I think we’re going to be very successful here.”

Mel stood beside her. “I think so, too.”

Peter led the way out of the bakery. Tate and Angie followed and then Holly and Sydney. Holly took some pictures of the inside and then took her camera outside to get some more shots of the storefront. Mel and Quentin were the last to leave.

Quentin set the alarm and locked the door while Mel went to stand beside the others. She had almost reached them when the sound of a car engine revving caught her attention. She turned back just in time to see a large four-door sedan hop the sidewalk, roar across the parking lot, heading straight for the bakery.

“Quentin, look out!” she yelled.

Quentin glanced over his shoulder. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. He was stunned into immobility and instead of jumping out of the way, he raised up his arms as if he could ward off an entire car.

Before Mel could register the movement, Tate shoved her and Angie aside and dove forward, grabbing Quentin by the sleeve and yanking him out of the way just before the car launched itself right through the windows of the shop in an explosion of glass.

Tate almost made it, but Quentin’s right leg was clipped by the car, knocking them both into the side of the building before they crumpled to the ground.

“Tate!” Angie screamed. She ran toward him and Mel was right behind her.

The two men lay on the ground. Holly had her arms shielding Sydney while Peter was already on the phone calling 911.

“My leg, my leg,” Quentin moaned.

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Tate said as he rolled over onto his back.

Mel checked him over anyway. He had minor cuts and scrapes and he was wheezing, but that could have been because Angie had him in a hug that was probably compressing his lungs as she was holding on so tightly.

Mel could see the unnatural angle of Quentin’s leg. She grabbed his hand and told him that an ambulance was on its way. He nodded and then he fainted, which Mel figured was probably a blessing.

“What about the driver?” Peter asked. The car had stopped with its nose planted in the glass display case.

Mel looked in through the smashed window. As she watched, the driver’s side door was pushed open and a man wearing a motorcycle helmet climbed out of the car. He was limping slightly but managed to haul himself through the broken window and out onto the curb.

“Hey! Are you all right?” Mel cried.

The driver started and glanced up at her. Then he began to back away, moving slowly at first but rapidly picking up speed even though he was still limping.

“Hey! You! Hey!” Peter yelled.

The man, dressed all in black leather, turned and began to limp run across the parking lot. Holly had her cell phone up and was taking pictures of him. Mel thought about giving chase but running really wasn’t her gift. She’d be winded by the time they reached the corner and even at his slower pace the driver would outrun her.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said to Peter. “Go after him.”

“What? Are you crazy?” he asked. “He might have a gun or something.”

“Where?” Mel asked. “In his helmet?”

The man had disappeared down the street and around the corner. It was a moot point now.

“I do not get paid to chase down crazy drivers,” Peter said. He looked defensive about it.

Mel gave him a scrutinizing glance. Under the impeccably cut suit, she noted there was a bit of a paunch and his eyes had tiny lines in the corners. Upon closer inspection, his hair also appeared to be thinning in the front. So, Peter Kelly was not nearly as young as she’d first guessed and she suspected he was in about as good a shape as she was. Fine. She supposed she’d have to give him a pass, but still, it was very disappointing.

Mel saw a flash of red and blue at the same time that she heard the sirens. An ambulance arrived first followed by a police car. They parked right in front of the storefront and the emergency medical technicians went right to Quentin and began checking his vitals.

The police officer approached and Peter stepped up to tell him what had happened. Angie had loosened her grip on Tate and helped him to his feet. He looked steady enough but Mel kept one eye on him just in case as they joined Peter with the police.

Mel saw Holly standing off to the side. Her bright blue eyes were filled with tears and Sydney was sobbing softly into her mother’s belly.

Mel didn’t think about it. She just reached out and pulled the two women into her arms. They were both shaking and Mel tried to absorb some of their fear while she braced them with her arms.

“It’s going to be all right,” she said.

“But that man,” Holly said. “That’s not normal to wear a crash helmet while driving. He must have done it on purpose. But why, why would someone drive through a storefront window? And why when we were looking at it? Does someone want to stop us from opening a bakery? I just don’t understand.”

Mel had been pushing that thought aside ever since the man had popped out of the car. She didn’t want to think that this incident was intentional, because if she did, then she had to assume that yesterday’s exploding bakery had been on purpose as well and that was bad, very very bad.

She glanced at Tate and Angie. Angie was staring at her and Mel knew exactly what her lifelong friend was thinking. This was their fault. Somehow, someway, the explosion yesterday and the crash today were because of them. But how? And why?