Page 79 of The Icing on the Cake
Asher and Mabel burst through first, carrying what appears to be a “TEAM NEESHA” banner made from a large sheet and a Sharpie pen. “We’re here for the cupcake party!” Asher announces to the entire store.
“It’s not a party,” Lucian says under his breath.
Behind Asher comes Clément, wearing an actual beret, withMarcy in tow. “Bonjour! I am here to provide ze ambiance! Sorry I couldn’t find an accordion.”
“What is he talking about?” I whisper to Lucian.
“I specifically told him no accordion,” he mutters under his breath.
Weston enters with Fiona, who’s carrying balloons and flowers. “We thought we should decorate before the food critic shows up,” Fiona says, beaming.
“Surprise!” Bailey squeals with Carson, both of them carrying homemade signs with my name on them. “I figure if the hockey guys get signs, then why not our favorite baker?” Bailey explains.
Carson tips his hat. “Don’t worry, darlin’, we kept it real classy. No line dancing. Yet.”
“Yet?” I repeat.
Cade enters with Clara, who immediately starts filming the crowd on her phone. “This is going to be amazing for our social media,” she announces. “Very authentic, small-town vibes.”
Mrs. Nelson has somehow managed to gather what looks like the book club and the historical society in the span of two hours. They spread out across the store, chatting with all the players and their girlfriends.
The final blow comes when Jamie enters with Ashlyn, who’s carrying what appears to be an official envelope from the mayor’s office.
“My father sends his regards,” Ashlyn announces when she arrives, then pulls out the letter from the envelope. “And this is the official declaration of Neesha Gilmore Appreciation Day!”
“That’s not a real thing,” I say, shaking my head.
“It is now!” Jamie says.
“This is actually real?” I whisper, then look around at everyone. “Thank you, but I don’t understand. I just make cupcakes!”
“You don’t just make cupcakes, Neesha,” Ashlyn says. “You’re part of every celebration in town because your cupcakes are there. That’s why we wanted to celebrate you.”
I turn to Lucian, who is looking proudly at me. “I may have underestimated their enthusiasm,” he admits. “Apparently ‘subtle support’ translates to ‘full-scale emergency intervention.’”
In the midst of the chaos, I don’t even hear the bell on the door or notice the woman who enters until it’s too late. Tall, stylishly dressed, with angular glasses and an air of confidence, the food critic stands in the doorway, taking in what can only be described as the world’s most chaotic cupcake party—and she’s walked right into the middle of it.
“I’m looking for Neesha Gilmore,” she announces, approaching the counter with a warm smile, despite the chaos.
“That’s me,” I say, wiping my suddenly damp palms on my apron.
“Vivian Johns.” She extends her hand. “Food and culture correspondent forNorthwest Food Magazine.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand. “Can I offer you a coffee? A cupcake?”
“Both, please,” she says. “I’ve heard quite a bit about your baking.”
“Really? I hope I can live up to the praise.” I throw a quick glance at Lucian, who mouths, “You’ve got this,” before retreating to a table in the corner with the other guys. Remarkably, everyone in the room gives us space.
As I prepare Vivian’s coffee, she studies the display case. “Tell me about your specialties,” she says.
My mind scrambles for an answer as I focus on making the best cup of coffee of my life. At least this time my espresso machine doesn’t die.
“Seasonal flavors are my focus,” I explain. “Right now, I’m featuring maple pecan with caramel, using local maple syrup from the Sweet Memories Maple Company”—I peek over at Bailey, whose family owns the business—“and pumpkin spice with cream-cheese frosting.”
“Hmm.” She takes notes on her phone. “And your background?”
“Self-taught, mostly,” I admit. “My mother was an excellent baker. I learned from her, then expanded through what I like to call ‘Pinterest experimentation’ and my job as cafe manager here. Turns out, stress-baking at two a.m. is very therapeutic—and actually profitable.”
