Sweet Reality Read online

  Strawberries peeked over the top of each white dome, and the bowl in the sink held the remnants of what turned out to be whipped cream, not vanilla icing. She’d made strawberry shortcake cupcakes! Judging from the little white cake bits on the counter beside the plate, the strawberries weren’t only on top: Sarah stuffed these babies. It was just like her to hide the best treats for last, to completely floor me after I finished raving about everything else she’d made.

  If I wasn’t careful, I’d gain three hundred pounds working here. Unless Sweet Reality turned enough profit to buy me a whole new wardrobe in the next few months, I should talk to Justin about signing up for a joint gym membership before Sarah and I opened. Or maybe I should walk to and from work every day instead of taking the bus.

  I promptly abandoned my plan to find a broom. We could clean up later. Instead, I ripped the wrapper off one of these amazing cakes, grabbed another with my free hand, and backed into the swinging door leading to the main room.

  “Look what I found.” I called.

  Sarah stood at the front of the shop, peering out the window and nibbling her thumbnail. “You got a broom?”

  “Better! Why didn’t you tell me you’d hidden strawberry shortcakes back there? They look amazing!”

  Sarah whirled around, her face stricken. I bit into the first cake, holding the second out to her.

  “Wait!” She said at the same moment.

  Too late. My teeth sank through the whipped cream and vanilla cake, closing in on the sweet, sticky strawberry filling. I savored the flavors in my mouth for a moment, eyes closed. Then my tooth hit something hard. A foreign object flew down my throat. I choked. The other cupcake tumbled to the ground, exploding at my feet.

  “Oh, shit!” Sarah said. She ran toward me. “Are you okay?”

  Unable to answer, I coughed and spit. Something hard lodged in my throat. Tears poured down my cheeks.

  “Water,” I croaked. “I think I just lost a filling.”

  Spinning around, I tore for the sink, one hand over my mouth to catch the crumbs spewing everywhere. Running my tongue around my mouth, I didn’t find any holes, so my dental work remained intact. What I choked on was a mystery.

  What the heck did Sarah put in these things? How did strawberries and cake get so hard? And why would anyone put them in food if they did?

  When I reached the sink I leaned over, hacking until I feared a lung might come up. Something shot out of my mouth, clattering against the sink. I shut my eyes, sagging against the counter for support.

  Sarah appeared at my side. “Jen! Can you breathe? Talk to me.”

  “I don’t think those are going to be a bestseller,” I said when I finally got control of myself. “One of them cut me. My mouth tastes like metal.”

  I was reaching for the faucet to get some water when Sarah’s hand closed over mine, staying it. Her green eyes were huge. “Listen to me. Did you swallow the ring?”

  Did I what the huh?

  I stared at her at her for what felt like a full minute. “The . . . ring?”

  “My grandmother’s diamond ring. I hid it in your cupcake. Where did it go?”

  Chapter 2

  CELEBS MAGAZINE

  Runaway Fishbowl Couple Returning to TV?

  by Anna Gomez, Nov. 4

  The couple sits on the couch, holding hands against the cushion. It’s a sweet scene, made more touching by the way Justin occasionally rubs the back of Jen’s hand with one thumb or she rests her head on his shoulder. To anyone who doubted this “showmance,” the love in the room is palpable.

  My first question for them is what everyone in America must be wondering: What’s it like transitioning from TV “love” to a real relationship?

  “Any relationship has a honeymoon period at first,” Justin says. “But now we’ve more or less settled into a routine.”

  “We’re focused on developing full lives, apart and together.” Jen adds. “Justin’s sister welcomed me into her circle of friends. I started a new dinner club, I still host board game nights, and Justin and I are determined to beat every mystery escape room in Florida.”

  “Next year, we’re planning a week-long vacation to Boston to beat a questing place there,” Justin says, flashing those irresistible dimples. “We’re not so different from any other couple. We just have a cool ‘How We Met’ story.”

  It’s fun to see them so lively, but board games and escape rooms aren’t what readers care about. Finally, I ask the twenty-five-thousand-dollar question: What’s next for this couple? Are wedding bells in their future?

  Jen ignores the second half of my question. “There’s a lot of hard work ahead for us. Justin’s getting his bar exam results any day. He’s excited to work full-time as a lawyer after all these years of studying.”

  “Jen and my sister are opening a bakery.” Justin chimes in. Undeniable pride shines from his eyes. “It’s called Sweet Reality, with recipes inspired by several people I think you’ll recognize. It’s going to be a hit.”

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  As Sarah’s question sank in, realization slowly dawned. The hard object in the cupcake. The clattering when I spit what should’ve been strawberries and cake into the sink. The four cupcakes set apart from all the rest. The romantic dinner Justin planned for this evening. He was going to propose!

  . . . And I’d ruined it. Dread replaced my growing excitement. Because I hadn’t swallowed the ring at all.

  Without speaking, I pointed down the sink. Desperately, I grabbed the bowl beside the sink, praying the ring had landed in it. Nothing but whipped cream.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I didn’t know.”

  For a heart-stopping moment, she didn’t answer, shoving her arm down the garbage disposal. I winced, remembering this article I once read that garbage disposals in some states were illegal due to domestic disputes. Even knowing the machine wouldn’t spontaneously start on its own, I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Finally, she sighed, pulled her arm out, and pulled her phone out of a pocket in her apron. “I’ll call a plumber. But you need to get out of here before Justin shows up. Go wait in the front and act like you’re watching Patty’s Cakes.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Sarah raced around, flipping on the oven, filling a cupcake tin with batter from the fridge. “I’m going to burn some cupcakes so Justin doesn’t know you’re the one who ruined his surprise. I just hope he doesn’t get here too long before the smoke alarm goes off.”

  “You’re a real friend,” I said.

  “I know. Now get out.” Her broad smile took the bite off her words. Unlike her twin, Sarah didn’t have dimples, but her green eyes crinkled when she smiled. “My future sister-in-law deserves a dream proposal.”

  Her words sent a thrill through me. Her sister-in-law! Justin’s wife! Mrs. Jennifer . . . Well, Mrs. Jennifer Reid, actually. But still. Justin and I were getting married! Or we would’ve been, if I hadn’t choked on the ring. The antique, irreplaceable ring.

  Oh, hell. I’d ruined my own marriage proposal.

  Grabbing the broom and a rag, I thanked Sarah again and trudged to the front room. The few crumbs I’d originally gone to sweep up now resembled a Jackson Pollack painting on our floor. Not wanting Justin to wander into a war zone, I scrambled to clean up the scattered crumbs, strawberries, and frosting.

  By the time I finished and returned the broom to the kitchen, I’d nearly forgotten about the line of people waiting to buy baked goods from our competitor. I couldn’t stand and watch. What a mess. Instead, I pulled a tablet out of my bag and sat on a stool behind the counter, reading article after article on Patty’s Cakes. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  A few blogs me
ntioned plans to start at least one surprise new location. Other than a blog posted half an hour ago, none hinted they’d be opening across the street from us. Not a single article mentioned the competition at all, because no one presented real competition for Patty’s Cakes in the area. They dominated the cake and cupcake market.

  Sarah joined me a few minutes later, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

  I only wished her words made me feel better. What if the ring couldn’t be recovered, and Justin never forgave me?

  Twenty minutes later, the front door opened, bringing in a blast of hot air from outside and my boyfriend. As always, being near him lifted my spirits. No problem seemed insurmountable when the two of us put our heads together. Not even the slight problem of him giving money to the enemy, as evidenced by the pink cardboard box in his hands, “Patty’s Cakes” emblazoned on the top.

  “Hold on there a minute,” Sarah said. “You’re not coming in here with that.”

  Ignoring her, Justin greeted me with a kiss, sending tingles down to my toes. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hi. Kiss me like that, and you can shop anywhere you want,” I said.

  “No you can’t,” Sarah said.

  Justin peered at my tear-stained face. “Were you crying?”

  “Just stress. I’m fine now,” I said.

  He pulled me close, running one hand up and down my arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

  If only he knew what truly bothered me. But telling him how I ruined his surprise proposal would kill him, so I kissed his cheek and murmured something unintelligible. Hopefully he’d reach the logical conclusion that I was upset about the imminent demise of our fledgling business.

  Before he asked too many questions, Sarah said, “Seriously, what’s going on? Why are you consorting with the enemy?”

  “Calm down. How can we prepare to take out the competition without seeing what they do? Knowledge is power. This isn’t betrayal; it’s recon.”

  Genius. My boyfriend, the genius. I kissed him again. “Good call.”

  Sarah dropped her hostility like a Halloween mask. “Okay, fine. Tell us what you found out.”

  Justin opened the box, revealing three cupcakes, which he gave to Sarah to cut up into pieces for sharing. “First, they’re not only selling cakes and cupcakes anymore.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve expanded their line,” he said. “They’re selling cannoli, cookies, brownies . . . all kinds of stuff.”

  “All the same stuff we make.” If Sarah’s face fell any further, her chin would hit the floor. I suspected my own expression mirrored hers.

  “Well, the good news is, their cookies aren’t shaped like fishbowls, so yours are cooler. Also, they’re selling them freaking cheap. No way they can stay in business at those prices.”

  If he thought this news would perk me up, he had another think coming. “That’s a marketing ploy. It’s called a loss leader. They sell the cookies below cost to bring customers into the store. Once they’re inside, everyone buys the stuff that’s marked up more. That was our entire plan with the ninety-nine-cent fishbowl cookies.”

  “Well, crap,” Sarah said. “So much for your marketing expertise.”

  “Hey. It was a good plan. It’s not my fault they also took Marketing 101. I couldn’t have predicted this.”

  “No one could have known this would happen,” Justin said. “Let’s all calm down and put our heads together. We’ll find a solution.”

  Sarah handed us each a small plate of cupcake bites and fell into a chair. “Good luck with that. These are amazing.”

  First, I tried a carrot cupcake with vanilla frosting. It turned to glue in my mouth, but I didn’t know if I should blame the bakery or the gaping pit of despair in my stomach.

  Justin spit his bite out onto the plate. “Ugh. Do your customers a favor and use cream cheese frosting. That’s terrible.”

  “We’re offering options,” I said. “The Birdie is carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, but we also do one with vanilla. Options are part of our hook. It costs almost nothing to make two types of frosting, especially when we use both for other things.”

  “I appreciate the loyalty, guys, but this is delicious. Trust me,” Sarah said. “At least, if you don’t hate carrot cake. And this chocolate? It’s like an orgasm in my mouth. A painful, miserable orgasm.”

  With my stomach flip-flopping all over the place, I couldn’t eat any more. It didn’t even matter whether our cupcakes tasted better than these if we couldn’t bring anyone into the store to try them because they all lined up across the street.

  “What else can you tell us?” I asked Justin.

  “I was the youngest person in the store by about thirty years. They’re more elegant, catering to the mothers and the grandmothers. The reality TV shtick you guys created may help bring in the Millennials.”

  “Millennials are broke,” I said. “Remember? Lots of student loan debt, no jobs?”

  Justin shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Broke people are sad, and sad people like baked goods,” Sarah said. “What we need is to wow the customers. Justin, these are all fairly basic: chocolate, vanilla, carrot cake. What else did they have?”

  He shrugged. “All the usual stuff: vanilla with vanilla frosting, chocolate with chocolate, vanilla with chocolate, etc. I didn’t see anything that holds a candle to your raspberry lemon cupcakes with almond frosting.”

  “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” I said. “We can promote the heck out of those. Sarah, what other special recipes do you have?”

  Before she could reply, the fire alarm went off.

  Sarah shrieked, so convincingly she’d either forgotten about “accidentally” burning the cupcakes or she should’ve been the twin to appear on TV. She tore into the kitchen, blond hair streaming behind her. I followed on her heels before skidding to a halt inside the door.

  Thick, black smoke billowed out of the oven, stinging my eyes. The stench of burning sugar made me gag. Coughing, I raced past Sarah to open the back door.

  What a friend. She didn’t need to actually burn the cupcakes to tell Justin she’d done it. But now he witnessed the glorious wreckage as she flipped the entire pan upside-down over the sink.

  Justin stayed in the doorway, his eyes swiveling from the smoke now rising from the sink to the bowl of strawberries on the counter. “What happened?”

  “I got so wound up by Patty’s Cakes, I must’ve spaced on setting a timer. I completely forgot these were in the oven.” She yelled over the still screeching alarm.

  Grabbing a towel from a drawer near the stove, I waved the black clouds toward the open door, praying no reporters lurked in the alley. The last thing we needed was a reviewer on the way to check out Patty’s Cakes to see me and Sarah nearly burning down our kitchen.

  The alarm stopped, silence blanketing the kitchen.

  Justin’s face looked much like Sarah’s when she’d seen me spit the ring into the sink. Barely moving his face, he whispered. “What were you making?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened so much I would’ve laughed if the entire morning hadn’t been so wretched. She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, crap. Justin, I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, Jen, could you go up front while I talk to my sister?”

  I started to go before remembering it wasn’t in my nature not to ask questions. “What’s up?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just . . . need to talk about Mom for a minute. Sarah’s staying with her while we go out tonight, remember?”

  I nodded. “Oh, right.”

  “These cupcakes were for her,” Sarah added, not convincingly. “I feel terrible.”

  Justin’s face crumpled. This illusion made me feel like the worst person in the world. If Sarah couldn’t get the ring out of the sink, I’d tell him the truth. For now, I needed to leave before I burst into tears.

  “Actually, if you guys don’t need me here, I’m
going to head home,” I said. “With this new store opening, I need to tweak our marketing plan, and I’ll work better where it’s quiet. Okay?”

  Justin nodded, relief flooding his features. “Take my car. Sarah can give me a ride to your place before dinner.”

  Something silver flashed through the air. I reached up cupped hands to make the catch, unable to speak. His keys. Holy shit, he must love me more than I thought.

  As a graduation present, Justin’s father surprised him with a brand-new Audi. I’d never driven in my life before moving to Florida. Although he’d been giving me driving lessons for almost six months before the gift arrived, all lessons since took place in Sarah’s beat-up old Toyota. He must desperately want me out of the store to hand over the keys when he wasn’t missing a couple of limbs.

  The fact that Justin trusted me with his car stunned me even more than the news that he was about to propose. I stood there, the metal cold against my palm, afraid that if I moved he’d change his mind.

  Sarah gasped. “You don’t even let me drive your car!”

  “You’re a terrible driver. It’s only a couple of miles.” To me, he said, “I’ll see you later.”

  Before he changed his mind, I kissed him good-bye and left.

  The whole way home, I prayed they would find the ring. Sinks have traps, right? In the movies, people are always opening sinks and finding stuff caught in them. We hadn’t turned the water on at all after I spit out the cupcake. If we found the ring, I’d always help the needy. I’d give leftover cupcakes to the homeless. We’d donate a percentage of our profits to charity. But we couldn’t lose Justin’s grandmother’s engagement ring. It would kill him.