Babycakes Read online

  “I think it’s really sweet. And the perfect name.”

  “We did, too. I can’t believe we’re really doing it, but we are. With the publication of Baxter’s first cookbook last year, followed by the feature about us done on his cooking show filmed here on Sugarberry, and his show going to network TV filming in Savannah, things are taking off more swiftly than I ever imagined. Certainly a lot faster than I envisioned when I left New York and came down here. A lot of the added interest is for mail order to folks who can’t get here but are curious or interested in us, and more catering offers are coming in. I thought by opening an adjunct business to strictly handle those things, I could keep my initial shop the same, which is what I truly want.”

  “And this next cookbook features you and your husband’s joint story, right? How you met and worked together. So that’s probably going to increase demand.”

  “Given how things have gone so far since Baxter’s arrival here . . . ” She trailed off, smiled, and that thing, that twinkle, that . . . special knowledge in her eyes as she talked about her new husband reminded Kit of a look she’d witnessed in her own mother’s eyes and in Grandma Reenie’s as well. They’d become Bellamy women by marrying Bellamy men, and those bonds had been just as strong, just as loving.

  Kit had always wanted to have her own “special one” some day. Though she thought she’d been there a few times, she’d never felt . . . that thing she saw shining from Lani’s eyes. She always figured that was how she’d know for sure. “I’ve seen his cooking show about the two of you, and yeah . . . I’m pretty sure you can expect another upswing in business after your joint cookbook hits the shelves.”

  Lani laughed even as she blushed a little. “It’s doubtful we could get the place open by the time the book is released, but I’d like to be close. We started work on the cookbook just a little over a year ago, and with everything else going so well and momentum building, the publisher pushed us to get it done in record time. Now they’re pushing hard to get it ready for release. Lead time is usually ten to twelve months. We turned it in early in August and they’re releasing in March.”

  Kit’s eyes widened. “That’s just five months from now.”

  Lani smiled, but that twinkle was still there. “I know.” She lifted a hand to stall whatever else Kit might say. “Like I said, we don’t think we’ll be ready by then, but I’d like us to have a solid opening date to promote, if nothing else. We were hoping by the first of June.”

  Kit leaned back. “That’s a lot to think about.”

  “I know. It’s a tall order. But that’s the other reason you intrigued me and Baxter. You’ve had experience running a massive commercial operation. Your input and expertise would make this entire effort a great deal easier.”

  “Well, I don’t know about easier. It’s going to take time and a lot of hard work, no matter who is on board.”

  “It might help us make fewer missteps, though,” Lani said. “And talking with you today . . . I’m feeling more certain you’re the right person for the job. But I need you to be certain, too. This might ultimately be my show, as you called it, but I want someone who feels as strongly about the whole thing as I do. Someone who knows where things may go in the future and what opportunity there might be. I want to run and nurture my bakery. I don’t want to run Babycakes, too. Not now and not in the future.”

  Kit tried to take it all in. “It’s a lot to think about.”

  Lani smiled. “I’m sure you have more than a few questions. Why don’t you take some time, look around the island? Baxter’s at the studio in Savannah. He’ll be done right about the time I close up here. I thought maybe we’d head over the causeway and grab some dinner in Savannah, just the three of us. Talk more. We could book you a room, if you’d like.”

  Kit hadn’t even thought about accommodations. She hadn’t been sure she wouldn’t already be making the long trip back to Atlanta. “Oh, that’s gracious of you, but I—you don’t need to do that. As for dinner, I’d like that very much, but—”

  Lani’s expression fell.

  “No,” Kit laughed, “not that kind of but. I just—I agree about getting to know the island a little better. If Baxter will be heading back to Sugarberry later, is there somewhere here we can grab a bite? I’m not fussy.”

  “Yes, but there wouldn’t be much privacy.”

  “I guess having a famous husband—”

  “Oh no, not that.” Lani laughed. “We’re family here now, the whole celebrity aura with Baxter has long since worn off. I mean, everyone is proud to call him one of their own.” She grinned. “And take credit, of course, for the success of the cupcakery, the cookbook, and anything else that happens. In this case, you’d be the person of interest. Being family here means everyone thinks your business is their business. So we’d have some nosy stoppers-by, being neighborly.” She framed the last word in air quotes. “Checking out the new girl in town.”

  Kit laughed. “Actually, I know a little bit about that. Mamie Sue’s was it’s own small world. A village unto itself. We had families, generations of them, in fact, who’d worked for the company from the early days onward.” Her smile faltered, turned poignant. “I miss that part the most.”

  Lani’s smile shifted, too, then faded. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that has been on you.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I saw, of course, in the papers and in the news, but—”

  “They made it sound like I was some kind of ungrateful, spoiled heiress. I can assure you—”

  “No, Charlotte told me the real story. The whole story. It’s”—she paused—“ just me and my dad now, family-wise. I never had siblings, but I was close to my mom and my grandmother. I even remember my great-grandmother. And I can’t—I just can’t imagine that kind of betrayal.”

  “Thank you,” Kit said, surprised by the sincere heat she heard in Lani’s voice.

  “I left New York, came here to take care of my father after he had a heart attack. I’d lost my mom—”

  “A few years before that.” Kit smiled briefly. “You forget, because of Baxter’s show, your whole life is part of the fairy-tale legend. The hunky British television chef and the prodigy pastry chef-turned-cupcake baker.”

  Lani blushed, laughing at the same time. “Yeah, I keep forgetting people outside Sugarberry Island know all that. I want to let you know I realize this isn’t where you’d choose to be, that if you could, you’d be running the pie empire built by the Bellamy women, equally legendary in their own way. I know it’s all still fresh, the loss. The timing might not be exactly what you wanted. All I can tell you is that you feel like the perfect fit to me. You just need to figure out if we’re the perfect fit for you.”

  Kit smiled. “Well, then we’re definitely eating on the island tonight. If it turns out I’m going to be part of the island family, I want to get to know them and they me, sooner rather than later.”

  Lani grinned as she pushed back her chair and leaned across the table, hand extended. “You are so hired.”

  Kit took her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks. And, you’re right. I also want—need—this to be the right thing for me. I know that much.”

  “Well, fair warning. I’m not above using my incredibly hot husband to woo you with his even hotter British accent and worldly, charming ways.”

  Kit laughed as she reached for her sweater and purse. “I should be so lucky.”

  Lani came around the desk. “Speaking of that . . . the papers never mentioned much about your personal life, other than the Bellamy family history in general.”

  Kit gave her a wry grin. “That’s because I don’t have one.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m not prying . . . or even asking. I’m just—the only reason I mention it is, if you did, I wanted you to know . . . we’re happy to work with you on that, help with transition—”

  “It will just be me. And I’m sure I’ll figure something out”—she flashed Lani another smile as s
he walked back through the kitchen to the back door—“if, you know, I take the job.”

  “I’m also not above using my cupcakes as leverage,” Lani warned. “They’re no Mamie Sue’s Peanut Pie, but they’re pretty addictive”—she looked at Kit with a twinkle in her eye—“she said humbly.”

  Kit drew in the sweet scents of vanilla and chocolate and sighed. “Yeah, well, that might be more persuasive than the already taken hot British guy.”

  Lani laughed. “You’re going to take this job, you know. You fit here.”

  Kit looked around the kitchen. She hadn’t even seen the retail space of the cupcakery, much less the space they were planning to use for Babycakes. But this place felt like something between Grammy’s old kitchen with its lovingly restored antique appliances . . . and the far more cavernous warehouse kitchens that housed all the appliances and equipment used to produce Mamie Sue’s pies on a far broader scale. As the company expanded and grew under Laureen, and later, her own mother’s watch, they had worked hard to keep the ambience of those industrial size kitchens as homey and warm as possible. Mamie Sue had demanded only one thing, that there would always be “real hands, making real pie.” And that’s how it had always been.

  Lani’s bakery kitchen was like a tiny slice of that, and Kit felt naturally at ease. It was a place where she felt she could fit in. She glanced back at Lani, who was quietly allowing her to size up the place. Kit could see the pride she took in her shop and the worry that it wouldn’t measure up to Kit’s expectations.

  “I do have one very important question.”

  “Shoot,” Lani said, worry more evident on her face.

  Kit motioned to the Beatrix Potter themed apron Lani had on. “Will I get to wear awesome aprons at Babycakes?”

  Lani blew out an audible sigh of relief. “Absolutely.”

  Kit left the shop smiling, feeling lighter of heart than she thought she might ever feel again. “You’d like her,” she murmured under her breath, feeling the presence of Mamie Sue, Grandma Reenie, and her mother, as surely as if they were walking beside her. She’s not a Southern girl, but she understands family.

  Kit got in her car and pulled out of the lot with the idea of taking a slow, wandering tour of the island, then coming back to the town square to stroll around the shops, maybe peek through the windows at the space next to Cakes by the Cup that was going to house Babycakes.

  In all honesty, the interview had far outshone any expectations she might have had. Partly because she’d worked really hard at not having any. Why set herself up for more disappointment? What was important was to put aside the burgeoning little flicker of excitement and the natural urge she felt to tackle this new challenge and think the whole thing through as rationally and objectively as she could.

  But it was hard to ignore the little thrill of anticipation, and the relief that came with it. After the past year, it was a gift she hadn’t expected to receive.

  So, given that, it made no sense she was, once again, fighting tears as she took the loop road around the back, ocean-facing side of the island. It was what Lani had said about family. Kit missed hers so much. Even her sister, who, despite everything, she loved. She didn’t know what twist of genetics had made Trixie so different from the rest of the Bellamy women, but Kit understood, on a level far deeper than the superficial irritation and frustration Trixie had elicited from all of them, that her younger sister really couldn’t help herself. Trixie simply wasn’t hardwired like the rest of them. She wasn’t connected to the family, its history, the bond they all shared, the way Kit was. And nothing was ever going to change that.

  Which left Kit . . . where?

  “Here.” Kit stated it out loud, trying it on for size. Like a confirmation. Or an affirmation. “It leaves me here. On Sugarberry Island.”

  She smiled a tentative smile as she imagined herself there. Sugarberry was a surprising blend. The island was small, intimate, with fishing docks on the south end and the lively little town square located just north of that. The cluster of shops and central park area were surrounded by a small grid of narrow lanes dotted with houses. The narrow lanes turned to a lazy sprawl of development ending along the north end of the island, which was largely swamp and wilderness. Cottages periodically dotted the road looping around the exterior of the island. A few faced the sound, but most of them were on the ocean side, ranging in size, spaced somewhat sparsely, and nestled among the dunes, with the ocean lying just beyond.

  Kit cruised past the last one, then drove a stretch of road bordered only by dunes and sea grass to her right and untamed, swampy wilderness to her left. A contrast to the developed end, it was what made the place feel like an island, rather than an extension of the mainland that just happened to be across a short bridge. The beach, the dunes, the salt spray. Even with her windows up, she could hear the sounds of the surf.

  At the northernmost tip of the loop, she saw a large sign announcing a wildlife sanctuary and research area. Her attention was caught by the image of a sea turtle beautifully carved into the wood. She slowed, curious, but the dunes blocked anything beyond them from view. Well, almost everything. She noted a bright green kite dancing in the sky, far above the skyline. She smiled at the whimsy of it, as it also happened to be a sea turtle. She assumed it was meant to mark the research center, perhaps attract tourists and visitors, but wondered, briefly, how they kept it flying.

  Just past the sign she noticed the narrow crushed shell and packed dirt road leading, presumably, to the research center. Glancing at the clock on the dash, she saw she still had plenty of time before her dinner meeting with Lani and Baxter, and she’d already found Laura Jo’s diner, their designated meeting spot, so she knew right where to go when the time came. So . . . why not explore?

  Only two vehicles were parked in the tiny lot fronting a rambling, weathered, one-story building. She thought about poking her head in, but found herself drawn down the path through the dunes instead, toward the ocean . . . and the turtle kite. She’d have thought it would be attached somehow to the main building, but maybe there was more to the research facility than that.

  She drew her sweater closer around her. It had been a very warm autumn in the South, but it was late afternoon, and the steady winds on the beach were making the temperatures feel a bit brisk. “Good day for kites.”

  She emerged from the end of the dune path to find a series of narrow, open air, pavilion-style buildings with what looked like rows of worktables bolted down to cement slabs. Beyond that was a wide stretch of empty beach.

  “Look, Lills! Paddle feet are good for flying, too!”

  Kit spun around at the sound of a man’s voice. About twenty yards down the beach she spied him holding the kite. A few yards farther down the beach a little girl was crouched down, looking at something in the sand.

  Kit watched as he coaxed the kite into staying up in the air while closing the distance between himself and the child. The little girl looked up at him and he bent down, looking at something she was showing him. Then he held out the stick the kite string was wound around.

  The surf and breeze snatched their conversation away, so Kit couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but the little girl was clearly skeptical. Finally, the man took her hand and helped her to her feet, then positioned her in front of him, with her body backed up against his. Using his body as a brace and a shield against the wind, he lowered the kite string in front of her. After looking up for reassurance, she took the string. He held on for good measure, then slowly let his fingers lift away.

  Kit could clearly see her face when she lifted it to the sky, wonder and amazement clear in her expression. She looked up to the man, then back to the kite. Kit smiled, watching them. Simple things, like flying a kite, could bring so much joy. Her gaze shifted back to the man’s face. She’d expected to see him grinning or laughing, but he was watching the girl with . . . well, she couldn’t exactly say. He was a bit too far away. But she could tell he wasn’t smiling . . .


  Until the little girl looked up at him again. Then he immediately beamed back at her. When she looked back to their dancing turtle kite, Kit noted he wiped at his eyes. The wind, maybe?

  A moment later his gaze shifted as if he felt the presence of someone else on the beach . . . and fell directly on Kit. His smile turned polite and he nodded a short acknowledgment of her.

  Not knowing what to do and suddenly feeling as if she was intruding on a private moment between father and daughter, she automatically lifted her hand in a short wave, giving a brief smile.

  Good-looking father, too, she thought.

  He was tall and lean, with dark hair a bit on the shaggy side. Or maybe that was just the effect of the wind. But he had a lot of it to blow around. Nice smile. She couldn’t tell from that distance, but she’d bet on warm eyes. The little girl looked a lot like him. She had a small frame, but matched the dark, thick hair, at least if the ponytail sticking out from the back of her little baseball cap was any indication.

  Kit’s smile returned. Both had on hoodies—his navy blue, hers pink—and sported sandy, damp knees on their jeans. Like father, like daughter.

  Pretty charming pair, she thought, then decided maybe it was best to turn back to the path and leave them to their private moment. Her smile remained as she headed back through the dunes, even as her thoughts turned a bit more poignant. She hadn’t gotten any kind of time like that with her own dad. He hadn’t been the outdoor type. Or much of the dad type, truth be told. He’d followed the male tradition in the Bellamy family started by Mamie Sue’s brother, who’d been too frail for the war and had gone into banking. That was where the men of the family had made their contribution to the family business. Her father had been a shining example, working long hours and showing the same kind of dedication as the women of Mamie Sue’s.