The next day, Meg and Adam both noticed the smell. Amelia had tossed her gym shoes, socks, and pants in the garbage can in the garage, but apparently there was enough of the stuff still on her bare toes to leave a trail behind her.
“I tripped over a pile of fertilizer,” she admitted, leaving out where it was. “Whatever you do, don’t go sit in the car. I’ll need to have the inside fumigated. Here’s your chocolate milk.”
She slammed the jug down in front of Adam. He looked sheepish, possibly thinking that his request might have had something to do with his mother’s accident.
“Dad called last night. Again,” Meg said as she pulled up a chair across from her brother and swiped the jug of milk.
“You were sleeping when I went to the store. What time did he call?” Amelia asked.
“Just a few minutes after you left,” Adam said.
“He called both of you?” Once again, the mere mention of her ex-husband sent Amelia’s blood pressure skyrocketing. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know where you were and what was happening with the wedding,” Adam admitted while shaking his head.
“Okay.” Amelia bit her tongue. “I’ll talk to him today. Maybe he’ll quit calling you guys for nonsense.”
“That’s the only time he calls us,” Meg said before taking a gulp of milk from the jug, her eyebrows up to the middle of her forehead.
“That’s not true. Remember, your dad is a busy guy. He just doesn’t know how to communicate with you. That’s all. And you guys are getting older, so he doesn’t know how to relate,” Amelia lied.
Of course, her husband knew how to relate. His current wife was only a few years older than his son. He certainly knew how to talk to the younger generation. He just chose not to talk to his children. These days, he picked them up for their weekly visits. The kids were left babysitting John’s new baby while he and Jennifer had date night. When Meg had first confessed to that being the case, Amelia was ready to march over to John’s house and read him the riot act from the middle of his front yard so all the neighbors would hear. But it is a delicate balance when walking the tightrope of divorce. Anything Amelia said or did would be repeated at the courthouse, and if John could point out any reason why he shouldn’t be paying child support or why his visitation should be increased, he would do it.
“It’s okay, Mom. We like that little baby. She’s really easygoing,” Meg had said. “Besides, it’s better than having to go to the places Dad likes. We have to get all dressed up in uncomfortable clothes and smile as he introduces us to people we don’t know. It’s boring.”
So Amelia didn’t rock the boat. But now that things had changed with Dan and the wedding was being planned, John had become worse than a mother hen. And it wasn’t overconcern for Amelia’s well-being. It never was.
“I’ll call your dad,” she said as she grabbed her cup of coffee and shuffled toward the stairs. “And I’ll be sure to get some carpet cleaner for the smell. Unless you guys like this smell?”
“Gross, Mom!” Meg shouted.
“Meg likes it,” Adam replied, earning himself a soft kick under the table.
As soon as Amelia was in her bedroom with the door closed and about to step into the shower, her cell phone rang. Speak of the devil.
“Hello, John,” Amelia said with a sigh before flopping down on the edge of her bed.
“Amelia, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Don’t you carry your cell phone anymore?” he snapped without so much as a “hello.”
“I carry it everywhere,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you were dialing the wrong number.”
“Look, I need to know when you plan on talking to your lawyer about the wedding,” John said. “It is imperative that you let me know when this is going to happen.”
“What are you talking about?” Amelia rubbed her face. Why did it have to be like this? Why did John have to be an absolute jerk at every opportunity?
“Okay, Amelia, maybe you don’t realize this, but your marriage has an impact on more than just you. I have to get things finalized at this end and that takes time and money and…”
He was taking that bullying tone with Amelia that she’d heard for so long during their marriage and especially after their divorce. The man didn’t want to stay married to her but wanted to maintain control over her. She’d decided a long time ago that that was not in the divorce settlement.
“John, I have to get ready for work. Plus, I have to go put the money down on renovating my new truck, and I don’t have time to worry about you and your time and money,” she said sweetly.
“New truck? What happened to the old truck?”
She could hear the hope for bad news in his voice.
“Nothing. I’m expanding. I need a new truck to meet demand,” she said.
Part of her didn’t want to tell him anything about her life and what was going on in it. She suffered a slight case of pride and couldn’t help but lift her chin as she spoke about her business. He had, after all, pooh-poohed her idea of a baking business of her own when they were married.
“Look, Amelia, expanding a business requires more than just buying another truck. Do you have any idea what you are getting into? Do you know the responsibility? What about the kids? You are away from them enough as it is, and they need their mother to—”
“You better shut your mouth, John. Shut your mouth right now.” She squeezed the phone. “Don’t you dare try and tell me what my children need. I know what they need. I’ve always known because I’m always here. Now I have to get to work. If you need to talk to me, call Lila and schedule an appointment.”
She clicked the off button and sat as tears of anger flooded her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t let him get to her. But he did. He was just so condescending and rude. How could she have not seen it for so long? How could she have wanted to save her marriage to him? She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders before going into her bathroom for a quick hot shower before work.
As she let the water pull away her stress, Amelia tried to count her blessings, but, as always, John had this magical way of ruining everything. By the time she made it to Food Truck Alley, after kissing the kids goodbye and battling the early morning traffic, she was hopping mad and barely noticed the smell of fertilizer that was still lingering in her vehicle despite leaving the windows open all night. And her bookkeeper and dear friend Lila Bergman knew there was a problem immediately. Lila also knew the cause.
“Uh-oh. Let me guess. John?” Lila asked as she smoothed her hair from her face.
Amelia stomped up to the truck and hissed a good morning from between clenched teeth.
“That sounds like John, all right,” Beatrice Mooch, Amelia’s new baker, replied. She barely looked up, her hands and cheeks already coated with flour.
In the short time she’d been working for Amelia, Beatrice had won over her heart and taste buds with nothing more than a couple strokes of a wooden spoon and an oven continually set at three hundred fifty degrees. Beatrice was to The Pink Cupcake, what Michelangelo was to the Sistine Chapel.
“I thought once he heard about the engagement he might mellow out.” Amelia slammed her purse down and flopped into one of the stools at the service window. “What was I thinking? Of course he wouldn’t.”
“Here.” Lila handed Amelia a coffee as she took a seat across from her at the small working station they’d installed there. “What happened?”
Amelia ran through the latest drama with her ex-husband, and by the time she got it all out, she was exhausted.
“What is wrong with the man?” Amelia asked.
“Buyer’s remorse,” Beatrice piped up from her baking station.
“What does that even mean?” Lila asked.
“He had a perfectly good model. But something told him that he needed to upgrade, so he did,” Beatrice explained.
“That makes me feel so much better. John upgraded from me.” Amelia pouted out her lips, her eyelids lazy over her eyes.
“But, once he has the new model, he realizes it’s more work, more money, more worry and starts to remember that there wasn’t all that much wrong with his original model.” Beatrice’s hands flew in all directions as she added spices and colorings and sprinkles and everything within arms reach into the batter. “I could be wrong but I don’t think I am. Especially since the stock for his original model went up the minute she left him. Meanwhile, his new model was worth less the second he took her off the lot.”
“You are a regular poet, Beatrice.” Amelia smiled. “Being compared to an automobile never made me feel so good.”
“She’s right,” Lila added. “He can’t stand that you’ve survived without him and took back all the control he was used to having. The man just doesn’t cope well.”
“I didn’t want to do this, but I think, as soon as the wedding is over, I’m going to hand off all dealings with John to Dan. I think it will be a lot better doing that. Not that John will be nicer to Dan. He probably won’t be. But at least he’ll have to show a level of respect. Dan isn’t afraid of telling the highway patrol to keep a look out for John’s BMW. John might find himself in even more debt as the speeding tickets just keep racking up.”
“Speaking of the wedding, how did your visit to The Old Barn go? Did you book it?” Lila asked. Obviously, she hadn’t heard anything about the murder either.
“Well, let me tell you.”
She explained the whole gory story to the girls and wrapped it up just as they opened for business. She didn’t tell them about paying a late-night visit to the crime scene, however. But that reminded her of the torn piece of paper she had absconded with. A tiny piece of a will. What could it mean? Maybe that strange woman who ran out to the smokehouse was just getting rid of some outdated paperwork. Maybe that was policy to burn old documents and prevent any kind of fraud. Or maybe she was trying to destroy something that would impact the business should it fall into the wrong hands.
Amelia mulled it over and over in her head as she and the girls opened to a line of customers waiting for the daily special, PB&J cupcakes, and cornbread cupcakes with maple bacon.
The day zoomed by and was busier than usual. The blue sky had white clouds roll past, covering the sun, and the only break Amelia was able to take was five minutes when Dan called and asked if she and the kids would like to go out for dinner.
“Adam is going to the skateboard shop with a couple of friends, and Meg is going to go home with Katherine. I guess you are just stuck with me,” Amelia said, letting out a huge sigh.
“Oh, that will be terribly awkward,” Dan replied, telling her to wear something nice and that he’d pick her up at six thirty.
When Amelia got off the phone, Lila had another comment to make.
“I swear you are easier to read than a Dick and Jane book,” Lila teased. “What did Dan have to say?”
“We’re going for dinner together. The kids have plans, so it will be just the two of us. To tell the truth, it hasn’t been just Dan and I for a long while. He’s so great with the kids. I mean, he really cares about them, and they like him too.”
“You’re lucky,” Lila said as she took the money from the till and started counting. Once again, it was almost too much to fit in the bank bag. After she finished running the numbers and balancing the register, she handed Amelia the bag for the deposit.
“Well, I guess now is as good a time as any. You guys know that the second truck will be ready soon,” Amelia said. Lila and Beatrice both nodded. “Well, Beatrice, you are going to be calling the shots on one truck. Lila and I decided that was best. Now, we need to hire another baker. I’m still going to be involved with the day-to-day operations, but my time will be split between the two trucks. So do you have any suggestions as to who might want to work for us?”
Lila and Amelia looked at Beatrice. The petite woman slowly took a seat, folded her hands in front of her, and looked off into the distance.
“I know a person,” she said seriously.
Amelia was waiting for her to launch into a story about the USS Indianapolis delivering the bomb during World War II and how Beatrice would never wear a life jacket again. Her face grew grave and her eyes sharp.
“What’s her name?” Lila asked carefully, seeming to sense Beatrice’s tension.
“Him. Lionel Hascolm,” Beatrice said cryptically.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Amelia asked.
“Only if you think having the ability to create decadent pastries with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back is wrong. He was my nemesis in baking school.” Beatrice lifted her chin.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to have to work alongside someone who made you uncomfortable,” Amelia said only to be cut down by Beatrice’s intense stare.
“Uncomfortable? More like awe-inspiring. He was the master, and I the lowly student. As much as I tried to keep up, he bested me at every turn. And now, look at this. I am looking to have my own creations measured up to his again.” She slowly stood from her seat, her chest out, and her head back.
“Beatrice, I just need someone who can bake.” Amelia started to giggle as Lila poked her in the side.
“No. You’ve come too far. The Pink Cupcake has come too far to just settle for a baker. You deserve the best. The Pink Cupcake does. But let me ask you this.” Beatrice looked at Lila and Amelia as if she were about to warn them they might have to wear garlic around their necks, carry crucifixes with them, and, on occasion, pound a stake in someone’s heart. “Are you ready for your business to explode off the chart? Because, if Lionel Hascolm becomes your next baker, that is exactly what is going to happen.”
Amelia looked at Lila and then back at Beatrice. “Rock and roll, Beatrice,” was all she said.
“Excellent.” Beatrice smirked while rubbing her hands together.
For another ten minutes, the ladies bustled around The Pink Cupcake, getting everything ready for the following day. Beatrice left quickly, her short legs moving at breakneck speed. She promised to talk to Lionel this very evening.
“That girl is as weird as they come. I just love her. You never know what to expect,” Lila said as she and Amelia waved to Beatrice as she sped past in her smart car.
“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to get a load of Lionel Hascolm. If he’s bested Beatrice at every turn, we may as well start planning our retirement.” Amelia chuckled.