Twenty-One
The food tent was packedwhen I arrived, and most of the cupcakes had already fled the scene. Amber had given me a look that could mean nothing other thanhelp me!I waded right in, helping her hand out samples of the cupcakes, accept congratulations on another winning entry, and take cash from people’s hands as they snatched up prepackaged cupcakes like sugar addicts looking for a fix. I wasn’t complaining. The more they bought, the less we had to pack up and take back to the bakery when it was time to go home.
It had been almost thirty minutes when I realized I hadn’t seen Brady yet. “Hey, Amber,” I said, now that the crowd was down to a manageable size. “Have you seen Brady around anywhere? He was supposed to bring the van over here half an hour ago.”
“He came in about ten minutes ago and gave me the van keys. Then his phone rang, so he stepped out. It was way too loud in here,” she answered. A rumble of thunder boomed in the distance, and she grimaced, turning her head toward the door of the tent. “We’re almost out of cupcakes and bread. I think we need to pack up and get out of here.”
When Amber was thirteen, she’d been caught in a tornado in the family camper. It roared through the campground while they were sleeping, and she barely survived. She still lives with the after-effects of it now with her leg. She also has severe PTSD about thunderstorms, which is to be expected, and this storm was taking us by surprise.
“I agree. I’ll take the product to the van while you take down the banners and grab the rest. Leave the tables and chairs. They will break them down tomorrow.”
She handed me the key to the van, and I gathered the few containers of cupcakes and loaves of bread we had left, stacking them on the cart. I grabbed the cash box, too, and then pushed the cart toward the van. Once I had this stowed away, I’d look for Brady and let him know it was time to go.
When I finished loading the van, I still didn’t see him anywhere. I leaned on the back of the bumper to wait for Amber to bring the rest of the supplies and decided to text him. It was going to rain, and we needed to get out of here sooner rather than later if we were going to get the truck unloaded before it stormed. Then, I heard his laughter near the front of the tent. I peeked around the door, and he was talking to one of the Strawberry Fest committee members.
“No, we aren’t a thing,” I heard him say. “We went out for a few weeks, but she’s too needy and emotional.”
“Really?” the committee member asked. “That surprises me. She’s always so put together and confident.”
“It’s an act,” Brady said, his head shaking. “She has no self-confidence, and her self-esteem is equally nonexistent. I’ve come to realize I can’t be with a woman like that.”
The committee member said something else, but I didn’t hear it over the roaring in my ears. Was he talking about me? Brady’s phone rang again, and he told Mr. Cavanaugh goodbye and then answered the call. I ducked back behind the door, so he didn’t see me. He had to be talking about me, right? He hasn’t dated anyone else for a few weeks at a time, at least that’s what he told me that night in my apartment. The night I let him into my bed and my heart. Why would Brady say something like that to someone he hardly knew, though, when he had just told me he loved me. He just asked me to be his girlfriend last night, and now he’s claiming he can’t be with a woman like me?
The truth dawned, and I swallowed back the bile. Maybe Brady was embarrassed for people to know we were together. Wait. That doesn’t make any sense either. Sure, we work together, but he asked me to be his girlfriend. How did he think he was going to hide that from people?
“Thank you, Baker Robinson,” I heard Brady say, laughter in his voice again. “I guess you heard the news already.” There was a pause, and then Brady chuckled. “I’m highly sought after now. I didn’t even know my application had been approved. I’ve already had two job offers come into my email since this morning. Wait, what?” he asked, his voice pausing again. “You want me to take over your bakery?” He paused again, and I swallowed back the tears gathering in my eyes. Was he going to leave The Fluffy Cupcake? Was he applying to other bakeries? Why didn’t he tell me? What the hell was going on?
I couldn’t decide if I should be hurt or angry, but either way, he had to know I wasn’t leaving my business here in Lake Pendle, right? He asks me to be his girlfriend and then starts applying to other places? Maybe he thinks it will be too awkward to work for me now that we’re dating each other, but I warned him about that. He said he had no problem keeping the two separate, and so far, he hadn’t. Besides, if he were just going to work at a different bakery, he wouldn’t be talking to his old boss from Milwaukee.
Amber dumped everything in the back of the van with her eye on the sky. I slammed the doors, not even caring if Brady heard me, and motioned to the front of the van, praying my voice didn’t wobble when I spoke. “I’m going to take the truck back to the bakery and get it unloaded before the storms roll in.”
“What about Brady?” she asked, as more thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Give him a ride home for me? Tell him I’ll talk to him later,” I said, jumping into the cargo van and trying to close the door.
She grabbed the handle before I could slam it and pinned me with a look. “What’s going on, Haylee. You can’t just leave him here.”
“I’m not,” I said, gritting my teeth to keep the tears at bay. “You’re here and can give him a ride in your car. I’m sure he’ll be done with his call soon. Just let him know when you’re ready to leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I think you should wait for him. He won’t be happy if you don’t,” she said, still holding onto the door.
“I don’t care if he’s happy or not,” I said, relieved when she released the handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I started the van and pulled away, refusing to look in the mirror to see the look of shock on Amber’s face or the tears on mine.
SOMETHING WAS GOINGon with Haylee, and I had no idea what it was. I checked the clock again, and it was after eight o’clock in the morning. The Fluffy Cupcake was still without its main cupcake. I knew she was upstairs, but she refused to answer the door when I knocked. I even sent Amber up to talk to her, but she wouldn’t answer the door for her, either.
When I finished my call yesterday, the bakery van was gone, and so was she. Amber gave me a ride back to the bakery to grab my car, and the van was in its usual spot. Haylee’s car wasn’t next to it like it should have been, though. I didn’t know where she’d gone, but she wouldn’t answer my texts or calls. I figured it had something to do with what Darla had said at the competition. I thought I’d taken care of that situation, but clearly, I was mistaken.
I untied my apron and hung it on the hook, stopping in the doorway of the bakery until Amber’s customer left and closed the door behind her. “Something is wrong,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “Very wrong.”
“I agree,” she said, handing me a cup of coffee. “She never goes incognito for this long, and she always shows up to do her baking. I know we have extra product made, but it’s the weekend, and there are special orders to do. I don’t understand what’s going on. Maybe she’s sick and plans to come in later to get the orders done for tomorrow?”
I lowered myself to a chair and sipped the coffee. “I think Darla really got to her yesterday. She was cruel, Amber. Beyond anything you’ve ever heard.”
“She was mad that she lost, right?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “She’s that way every year.”
“She wasn’t happy about losing the competition, no. She said professionals shouldn’t be allowed to compete. If it had only been that, Haylee would have brushed it off. But Darla quoted the nursery rhyme Jack Sprat.”