Page 57 of Cupcake

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Twenty-Two

Itook a deep breathbefore I knocked on the office door in the 4-H building. It was only eight a.m., and I should be at the bakery, but there was something I needed to do before the parade started at noon. If I were smart, I’d turn around and pretend I didn’t know this information, but I couldn’t with a good conscience. The town of Lake Pendle deserved to know the truth.

“Come in,” called a voice from the other side of the door.

I pushed it open, and Mrs. Mulberry sat at the makeshift desk with piles of paperwork and ribbons around her.

“Hi, Mrs. Mulberry,” I said, scooting sideways to fit into the small office. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

She motioned around and chuckled. “Hi, Haylee. I’m just working on the usual stuff that has to get done before the parade. I’m secretly glad today is the last day of the fair. I’m exhausted, but it sure was well attended this year, wasn’t it?”

I nodded my agreement. The older woman was echoing what I was feeling about it, too. “It grows every year, which is wonderful to see.”

“Did you hear the good news?” she asked, standing up to join me by the door. “Mrs. Barton had a baby boy last night at six o’clock. Phillip John Barton was six pounds and healthy as a horse. Probably all those cupcakes,” she said with a wink.

I chuckled and gave her a little shoulder bump. “That’s wonderful news. We were worried when we hadn’t heard anything when we left last night. I’m so glad everything turned out well for them.”

“Was this a social visit, dear, or did you need something?” she asked right before she snapped her fingers. “I bet you’re here for your sticker, aren’t you? Oh dear, I wonder where that is,” she said, tapping her chin.

I waved my hand immediately. “No, the committee always delivers it once everything is ready. Don’t worry about it, please. I’m here about a different matter. Well, two, actually.”

“Oh, well, hopefully, I can help,” she said, “I don’t have much time.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here early. I wanted to let you know that we won’t be competing in any further cupcake competitions as a bakery. I think after all these years, I can no longer consider myself anything but a professional, and that’s not fair to the other teams who want to compete.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, her lips in a frown. “I suppose you are right in that matter. There is no rule about it, though.”

“I know there isn’t, and the committee should probably consider changing that. If they do, they could even consider doing a bake-off between bakeries or something that gives the professionals a handicap. The bragging rights are fun and all, but I feel like when others know they’re going up against professional bakers, they won’t even bother to sign up. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” she agreed. “I’ll bring it to the rest of the committee to consider before next year.”

“Great. Let me know if I can help with judging or for ideas on ways to get the professionals involved but still keep the competition clean for the amateurs. I knew it was time to stop competing when I decided to give the trophy to the second-place winner if we won again this year. It no longer felt right to keep it.”

“Oh, should I have the sticker go to Darla then?” she asked, her head tipped to the side.

“No. I didn’t give it to Darla. I will be giving the trophy to the Bartons, though. It can be a fun story they tell little Phillip when he’s old enough.”

“Whatever you’d like to do, dear,” she said with confusion.

“Darla is the second reason I’m here,” I said, swallowing down the panic, so my voice stayed even.

“I know you two have never gotten along,” she agreed. “Did something happen?”

“You could say that, on both accounts,” I agreed. “I don’t know where her issues with me come from, truthfully.”

“Darla is just that way, Haylee. She picks the person she thinks is the weakest and uses them to make herself look better.”