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Authors: Donna Kauffman

BOOK: Babycakes
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Alva smiled. “I Googled him, too. And I might have read a few things about the sale of your family business.” She laid her hand on Kit’s arm again. “Don’t worry, dear, he seems to be nothing like his family.”
“And she’d know,” Lani added. “If there were any skeletons to be found, then—”
“Now, Miss Lani May, don’t make it sound like that. I wasn’t snooping. I was merely looking out for a dear friend.” Alva turned to Kit. “Turns out he got himself into something called environmental law. Moved all the way to Colorado over a half dozen years ago. Hasn’t had a thing to do with his family during that whole time. Normally, I’d say that’s a shame, but given what I know about his mama, I’m thinking he had the right idea. In fact, I’m surprised he stayed on the same continent with that nasty bi—”
“I think what she means,” Lani jumped in, “what we both mean—is it looks like you don’t have to worry about him being anything like the parts of the Westlake clan that helped your brother-in-law.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Kit said with mixed emotions. “I know the word is he’s here to do the right thing by his niece, which is really admirable. I just don’t want to start my new path by tangling it up with any part of my past one—especially the bad parts. He might not be involved in what happened, but he’s directly related to the ones who were. And that’s an extended family I don’t want any part of.”
“Hear tell, neither does he,” Alva said. “That’s why he came out to Sugarberry.”
“Wonder why he didn’t just take Lilly back to Colorado?” Kit asked, curious even though she knew she shouldn’t be. The world was filled with other guys she could meet and be interested in, whose last names weren’t Westlake. She should save her curiosity for them. If she could just get those gorgeous baby blues and that wicked fast grin out of her head, she could get right on top of doing that.
“He stayed here so he could give Miss Lilly a chance to know the rest of her family,” Alva said.
“And keep her close to her Westlake relatives, too, I’m guessing,” Lani added.
“And that’s a move I applaud,” Kit went on. “I know he just lost his brother and sister-in-law, and now he’s raising a small child, and he’s helping Gabe fight for the lives of endangered turtles, so he’s almost a local hero already, but—”
“And he’s a hunk,” Alva offered. “Never hurts. I wonder what he looks like with his shirt off.” She seemed to ponder that while Lani grinned.
Kit just sighed. “Yes, he’s completely, one hundred percent white knight material. I get it. But I have no intention of getting close to him. There are a million other men out there who aren’t related to anything about Mamie Sue’s or the sale, or . . . any of it. I don’t want to get involved with the Westlakes on any level. I just . . . don’t need that.” She looked at the two women who were quickly becoming good friends. “I hope you can understand that.”
Lani smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “I do, honestly, I do. I just think that—” She broke off. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter what I think, just what you do. I don’t know and can’t know what it was like to go through what you did. And steering clear of all things Westlake probably does feel like exactly the right thing to do.”
“It does.” Kit slid her arm around Lani’s waist and squeezed back. “Thanks. For supporting me even if you don’t agree with me.”
“Oh, I get it. I just . . . ” She grinned. “Well, I’d want to see him with his shirt off, too. Just sayin’.”
“So . . . does this mean no one is going to tell me what you young people do with crayons that constitutes a date these days?” Alva straightened her apron and smoothed her netted hair. “I have a column to write and this sounds like something juicy I could use.”
Lani and Kit laughed. “I’m sure you already have plenty of other juicy tidbits to share,” Lani said. “You always do.”
And I hope I’m not one of them,
Kit silently prayed. She’d heard so much about Alva’s column, she’d taken the time to read a few of her pieces. And, well, let’s just say she was hoping it would be a good long time before Alva offered her any advice in print. She had a way of illustrating her points by using stories about other island denizens. Generally not the most flattering ones. Kit had had enough of being devoured and spit out by the press. She’d take a bye this go around. For life, if she could get it.
“So, are you at least going to go color with Lilly?” Lani asked. “I mean, I know she’s a Westlake, too, but—”
“I’m not going to turn down the poor little orphan girl, so stop looking at me like that.”
“I’d have used that exact line on you if you had made even the slightest noise about backing out. Just so you know,” Lani said, smiling.
“I had a feeling,” Kit said, smiling back. “But whether or not her uncle is there is secondary to doing right by the child, okay? We all understand that?”
“We do,” Lani said, but Kit didn’t miss her and Alva exchanging a knowing wink.
She sighed in defeat. For now. “You know, I don’t think I’ll need to call the electrician back after all. I think I’ll go smash down that wall all by myself.” She left the kitchen, realizing the other side of all this compassion, friendship, and empathy was that they’d be sticking their noses into every part of her business from now on . . . and she’d better get used to it.
She heard Lani’s laughter and Alva saying, “So, are they dating then? They’d make such a nice pair.”
Dear Lord help her, what had she gotten herself into? Seriously.
She was walking to the front door of the shop when Dre said, “If you need a big mallet or an ax, I have one of each in the trunk of my car.”
Of course you do,
Kit thought, waving, shaking her head, and laughing all at the same time as she let herself out.
Chapter 8
“
I
s Miss Kit here yet, Uncle Moggy?”
“Not yet, sweet pea,” Morgan answered, just as he had the last dozen times she’d asked. “We don’t know for sure she can make it. She’s pretty busy getting the new bakery shop ready.”
“But they already have a bakery.” Lilly looked up from her latest Crayola masterpiece. “With the fairy lady.”
“Her name is Miss Dre.”
“I like her.”
“I know you do.”
“Maybe she can come color with us sometime.”
“Maybe.”
“Why is Miss Kit having a bakery?”
Morgan paused with a hammer in one hand and the bulletin board he was hanging in the other. At the rate Lilly’s questions were coming, he’d never get it put up. He supposed he should be grateful she was chatty today. Yesterday had been a completely different story.
The picnic with Birdie hadn’t gone well. Between Lilly’s last-second ambivalence about meeting her estranged grandmother and Birdie’s nervous excitement, it had been somewhat strained and awkward, which was a first for him since arriving in Sugarberry. Unfortunately, it had happened with the one person he’d hoped Lilly would instantly befriend, as she had Kit and Dre. Maybe Birdie needed green hair or some interesting tattoos.
Or course, Birdie wasn’t at all what her name might imply. She’d been quite friendly and outgoing when they’d spoken on the phone, so that hadn’t been a surprise, but, given the nickname, Morgan had pictured a tiny, more fragile type. In truth, she was quite tall, thin to the point of gangly, and significantly older than he’d expected. He knew Delilah had been a later-in-life baby, but had assumed her mother would be somewhere in her sixties, not much older than his own mother. Birdie, however, was in her mid-seventies, at least, which meant she’d been in her forties when she’d had Delilah.
Still quite energetic and sharp, Birdie was a little flamboyant with her short blond bob and brightly colored caftan. And she was chatty. Very chatty. Her exuberance over the reunion—understandable as it was—along with her towering height and boldly patterned clothes, had been more than a little intimidating to Lilly, who had hid behind Morgan almost immediately. He’d made gentle efforts to get her to at least come out and be polite, if not social, but he could feel her physically trembling. Unlike his mother, he didn’t put social niceties over compassion and empathy.
To Birdie’s credit, she immediately realized her faux pas and tempered her enthusiasm, but by then, the initial damage had been done. Morgan had eventually coaxed Lilly to take a seat at the table inside the rec center that Birdie had so beautifully set with their indoor picnic. But Lilly had eaten little and said even less. Morgan made his own small talk with Birdie, hoping Lilly would see that she was a nice woman, and otherwise harmless, but his efforts hadn’t made any obvious difference. Finally, Birdie had stepped in and suggested perhaps they could meet again another time, in a place of Lilly’s choosing.
Birdie had pulled over a bench seat from the table behind them and sat down near Lilly without getting too close—her aging knees and hips made it impossible for her to crouch down. Gently and kindly, she told Lilly how happy she was they’d met and she hoped they would eventually come to be fast friends. She reminded Lilly it was a blessing to have people in life who loved and cared about her.
Lilly had nodded, though she hadn’t made eye contact. Morgan had instead, with an apologetic expression. Birdie had merely winked at him, making it clear that while she was surely disappointed, she wasn’t offended in the least.
Birdie had packed up enough lunch goodies to keep them fed for a week, insisting they take all but two of the cupcakes they’d brought with them. She kept one of her favorites, and one of Lilly’s, and mentioned that next time they got together, they could talk about which one they each had liked best.
Morgan suspected she’d had more than a few little gifts for Lilly, if the bags stuffed under a neighboring table had been any indication, but she’d chosen to give her just one thing before they’d left. Morgan had mentioned in their conversation that Lilly and he were helping at the research center, in hopes it might encourage Lilly to join in the discussion. She hadn’t, but Birdie had clearly been paying attention.
She’d given Lilly a special coloring book and paint brush set, explaining that if she brushed water over the pictures, they would magically turn colors. Morgan had yet to see Lilly pick it up since they’d gotten back home, but she had managed a whispered thank you to Birdie when the older woman had given it to her.
Only Morgan had noticed Birdie’s eyes swim with joyful tears, and that had made his own eyes burn a little, too. Birdie didn’t want much, or even expect much, and he knew that even though the day had not gone as hoped, seeing her only grandchild, for any amount of time, had been a gift she’d likely never thought to have. Morgan had intentionally put the meeting off until Lilly had settled somewhat on Sugarberry, and perhaps he should have pushed it even further back, but he’d wanted Lilly to start getting to know the folks on the island and for them to be out and about more together. The initial meeting with her grandmother was important . . . not something he wanted to have by accident if they happened to bump into each other.
He might still question the timing, but the look in Birdie’s eyes in that one single moment had answered any remaining questions he might have had about relocating to Sugarberry.
He took solace in the fact that everyone on Sugarberry that had any involvement with the two of them, clearly wanted what was best for Lilly so he remained sincerely hopeful that with time and the development of trust, it would all work out.
“Is Miss Kit’s bakery gonna have cupcakes, too?”
Morgan pulled himself from his thoughts and positioned the corner of the bulletin board where he’d marked the wall. “Actually, Miss Kit’s shop is part of the cupcake bakery.”
“How?”
“Well, the bakery where Miss Dre works will sell cupcakes to people like us who live here and walk in to buy them. Miss Kit will run the part next door that makes cupcakes for big parties and to send to people who don’t live on Sugarberry, but want cupcakes.” Of course, he hadn’t known any of that, but Birdie had filled him in when they’d given her the cupcakes.
“Don’t other people have cupcakes where they live?”
“Maybe. But you tried Miss Lani’s turtle cupcake for lunch today and you thought it was pretty good.”
“Ah-mazing.”
Morgan missed the nail and hit the frame of the cork bulletin board instead. He turned to grin at Lilly. “Ah-mazing, were they?”
She nodded enthusiastically at that. “The bestest.”
“Well, see? If someone wanted the bestest, most ah-mazing cupcakes, now they’ll be able to get one no matter where they live.”
Lilly went back to drawing and Morgan made good use of the brief moment he had before the next barrage of questions began, sinking the nail in the wall with three short raps.
The sound of the hammer was still echoing from pegging the other end when Lilly said, “Can we call Miss Kit?”
Morgan sighed, but he smiled when he glanced at her. “Not today. Maybe we’ll stop by and see Miss Dre later. We can leave a message there for Miss Kit and ask if she can come next time.”
Lilly paused in her drawing and looked up. “Is she mad at us? We didn’t buy her cupcakes.”
“No, sweet pea, she’s not mad. And she sells the same cupcakes as Miss Dre. But she’s very busy getting the shop set up and probably couldn’t make it.”
“Can we go see her bakery being made?”
Morgan didn’t know where the fixation with Kit was coming from, any more than he had with the turtles. He supposed he should be grateful Lilly wasn’t grilling him about fairy tattoos—though he knew better than to drop his guard in that respect. “Maybe we can take a peek. I don’t think there’s much to see yet. I’ll check later, okay?”
He turned and made a grand sweeping motion with one arm toward the bulletin board. “What do you think?”
Lilly looked up and studied it for a moment. “It’s crookded.”
Morgan looked over his shoulder. “Crookded, huh?”
Lilly nodded and pointed. “That side isn’t the same.”
Morgan turned fully and studied his handiwork. “Huh. You’re right.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I can try, but I’ll need to go borrow a few more nails from Dr. Gabe.” He put the hammer on the cabinet. “You keep drawing and I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Okay.”
She went back to her picture in progress and Morgan swung out of the room—smack into Kit. He reached for her arms as she stumbled back and both staggered a step or two before coming to rights. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”
She let out a short laugh. “That’s okay. No harm done. I don’t think, anyway.”
He got caught up in her eyes and didn’t respond. Green and sparkling, lit by her open smile, it was such a contrast to the wary expression she’d sported when they’d spoken at the bakery the day before, he found himself staring.
“Morgan?” Her smile faltered. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he murmured. “Just fine.”
The dark centers of her eyes expanded and a different kind of awareness crept in. Morgan’s body responded swiftly to the message and his gaze shifted to her lips.
Her gaze did the same; then they looked again into each other’s eyes. Morgan might have started to dip his head, the tiniest fraction toward hers, and her lips may have parted, just slightly, on the softest of sighs.
Flustered, she straightened, eyes blinking and wide. “Okay, well, that’s good. I’m good, too. Fine. Really . . . fine.”
Morgan let go of her arms as she stepped back. Well . . . he certainly hadn’t anticipated that little . . . moment. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated her instinctive response to it—to him. There was no denying it had happened. Intrigue added to intrigue, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her mouth . . . and what it would have tasted like.
“Is, uh, Lilly here?”
He lifted his gaze to take in her entire face, his mind—and body—still hung up on their almost . . . something. Her cheeks had pinked with a light flush. He bet she probably hated that about her pale, Irish skin. He found it rather charming. “She’s in the lab, coloring. I’m putting up a bulletin board so we can post pictures the kids draw of the turtles.”
“What a nice idea,” Kit said, sounding casual . . . except she was looking at her hands, her feet, the room—anywhere but at him.
More and more intriguing.
Morgan’s grin widened. “I’ve been informed I hung it a bit
crookded,
so I’m off to hunt up more nails.”
“Crookded, huh?” She smiled naturally at that and their eyes met again.
He held her gaze and was rewarded when she didn’t look away. “I could use some help getting it straightened out. If you’re game.”
She searched his face, as if trying to figure out if she should read something into his words. Her smile stayed, though it turned a shade wry. “As long as you don’t plan on my wielding a hammer.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Am I in some kind of danger?”
Her smile spread briefly with a flash of white teeth. “From me? No. I’m just more adept at hitting my thumb than I am the head of a nail. I try not to repeat my mistakes.”
Morgan wondered whether there were lines there he should read between, but he didn’t push. “You hold the board in place, I’ll hammer.”
“I think I can manage that.”
“So, are you planning to contribute to the art board?” He nodded at the coloring book in her hand.
“From Dr. Gabe,” she explained. “But I’m afraid I’m all out of crayons.”
“Well, I happen to be the proud owner of a brand-new sixty-four pack.”
“Lilly mentioned she had crayons.”
“She does. But these would be my crayons, thank-you-very-much.”
Her eyes danced. “Ooh. Your very own. The kind of set that comes with a sharpener?”
“The very same.”
“I always wanted that set when I was a kid. Had to settle for the twenty-four pack. I tried to explain that I needed more colors, but my mom thought twenty-four was more than enough.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s such a thing as too many colors. And I play well with others, so I’ll share.”
She nodded, the whimsy still in her smile. Morgan found himself more than charmed, more than simply intrigued. With her thatch of red cropped hair, fair skin still glowing pink, and green eyes dancing, she was like a fairy sprite. A fairy sprite with a knowing smile. Hell of a combination, as it turned out. Damn sexy, too.
“Fair warning,” she said. “I have been known to be a little hard on my crayons. I especially liked cerulean.”
“You like blue, then? So does Lilly.”
“Blue’s okay. I just thought it was a really cool name.
Cerulean
.” She drew out the syllables. “Sounded exotic, even to a five-year-old.”

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