She stormed out of the donut shop herself, but Tina never moved a muscle to try to stop her.
I walked over and topped off her coffee. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pull you two into my argument."
Tina offered me a slight smile. "Are you kidding? I welcome the peace and quiet."
"But what about Gail?"
Tina laughed. "It will do her some good, storming around town until her temper settles down. This has been brewing since we had to get off the ship, and I for one am relieved it finally blew. Once she's over her fit of pique, things will be fine again." She nodded to me, then added, "Your friend will feel the same way, I'm sure."
"I hope you're right."
Tina said, "Well, Gail's probably had time to cool off by now. I'd better go track her down." She touched my shoulder lightly as she added, "Keep your chin high, and don't let the monkeys of the world get you down."
"I'll do my best."
"Must have coffee," Terri Milner said an hour later as she presented herself at the counter. She was, at that moment, the epitome of a frazzled mom.
As I poured her a cup, I said, "What happened, did you have a rough night?"
She waited for the mug, then she took it from my hands the second I offered it to her. After taking a bigger gulp than I ever would have recommended, she smiled blissfully. "That almost made what I just went through worth it."
"I'm still waiting on the update," I said.
"The girls have discovered boys," she said. "Eight is a little young for that, don't you think?"
"How have they discovered them, exactly?"
Terri took another deep drink, then held the mug out for a refill. As I topped her off, she said, "There's
a boy in second grade named Ethan Marks, and he's all my girls can talk about it. I'm so tired of Ethan this and Ethan that, I could scream."
"It sounds rough," I said, as I looked out the window. "Where's Sandy?"
"She's on her way. Her son forgot his homework--yet again--and she had to take it by the school first." Terri pointed out the window. "Here she comes now."
As the second mother came in, I had another mug of coffee poured and waiting for her.
The second she saw it, she smiled and said, "Thanks for thinking of me, but I'd rather have apple juice."
I started to dump it down the sink when Terri made a grab for it. "Don't just waste it. I'll take it."
I laughed as I handed it to her. After the women placed their donut orders, I heard Terri say, "Has your son ever talked about Ethan Marks?"
"Sneezin' Ethan? Sure, why?"
"Why do they call him that?" Terri asked.
"The poor boy's allergic to just about everything," Sandy said.
"Well, apparently he's not allergic to my girls. They both appear to have raging crushes on him. Tell me something, and be honest with me. Doesn't the second grade seem too young to start noticing boys?"
Sandy patted her friend's hand. "I had my first true love in first grade, so by my clock, they're a little late."
Terri looked a little mollified. "What about you, Suzanne?"
I gave them their donuts, then I said, "I can beat that. Kyle Peters shared his mat with me in kindergarten after Jenny Grace stole mine, and he had my heart forever, at least until the next day, when Steve Brewer gave me his juice box. What can I say, my head's easily turned."
Terri stared at us both intently. "So, you two don't think it's anything to be worried about?"
"Not until they start bringing him home with them," Sandy said.
Terri's face fell.
Sandy said softly, "What did I say?"
"He's coming home with them after school today."
Sandy and I grinned at each other, and Terri finally said, "Go ahead and get it out of your systems. I don't want you two exploding on my account."
We laughed, and she finally joined in. "I feel better just talking about it."
"I'm always here for you," Sandy said as they found a couch to share.
That was one of things I loved about Donut Hearts. There was more to the place than donuts and coffee. It was, in its own way, a safe harbor in the storm of life.
Twenty minutes later, two grown men came into the shop wearing Carolina Panthers football jerseys and matching hats. They barely glanced at me as they ordered a dozen donuts to go. Instead, they were debating the team's off-season acquisitions as though the coach were standing by waiting for their advice.
After they were gone, I realized that Emma was standing right beside me.
"I don't get it," she said. "Why do grown men get so attached to their sports teams?"
"It's usually innocent enough," I said.
She shook her head. "I don't know. You'd think that bankers, cops, and even judges had better things to do with their time."
"Hey, as long as they come in here for their donuts, they can talk about whatever they want to."
I got a call from George a little later. He said, "I've got some news about Blaine. I've been doing some digging, and to be honest with you, I don't like what I've been hearing."
"Go on, tell me," I said. "I know he wasn't perfect, but he was still my friend."
George said, "From what I've heard around the courthouse, he was in some pretty severe financial trouble when he died. His credit cards were maxed out, the house Rita lives in is mortgaged to the rafters, and his car was about to be repossessed. Does that sound like a successful banker to you?"
"What on earth did he do with his money?" I asked, remembering the ten-thousand-dollar withdrawal. I suddenly realized that I'd forgotten to tell George about finding the receipt. After I told him about it, I said, "I don't know how anybody manages to get into that kind of debt."
He nodded. "That makes sense, based on some of the rumors I've heard swirling around. I suspect he was a gambler, and not a very good one at that. I should have more answers for you later, but I thought it might help you to know what I've been hearing."
"It definitely gives me something to think about," I said. "It sounds like he was in some real trouble."
George said softly, "Well, we know that he didn't shoot himself and then throw himself out of that car. So at least we can rule out suicide. Sorry, that wasn't very tactful, was it?"
"I'm sure you're as frustrated as I am trying to figure out who did this."
After George hung up, I started thinking about what he'd told me. If Blaine was really that overextended, was there anything he wouldn't do to get his hands on some cash? Was that why he'd been dealing with the investment broker and the construction company? Was he looking for a way to dig himself out, or had he gone for broke pushing through a dirty deal, and ended up losing everything?
I didn't know, but I had high hopes that before I was through digging into the man's life, it would lead to more answers than questions.
"I need ten dozen glazed donuts," a heavyset man with gray hair said when he walked into the shop a little after eleven.
That's what I liked, big orders. "Sure," I said as I got out my pad. "I'll be glad to help. When would you like them?"
"Right now," he said, looking at me as if I were some kind of moron.
I put my pen down. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you."
He looked up at the Donut Hearts sign over the register. "This is a donut shop, isn't it?"
"I hope so, or I'll need to change all of my business cards."
"So what's the problem?" he asked. "You make
donuts, and I need some. I would think it would be a simple business transaction."
I wasn't a big fan of being treated in such a condescending way, but then again, if I explained the situation to him, maybe he'd come back another day. "It takes twenty or thirty minutes to mix the dough for yeast donuts. Then it has to rise for forty minutes. After that, I punch the dough down, roll it out, and cut out the donuts. They proof for around thirty minutes then. After that, I can fry them and glaze them in fifteen minutes."
"So it takes two hours," he said. "Is that just for the glazed jobs?"
"It is," I admitted. "The cake donuts don't take nearly that long. Maybe we can work something out after all."
He shook his head. "No, they have to be glazed." The man checked his watch, then said, "Fine. I suppose I can wait that long if I have to. I'll be back in two hours."
I stopped him before he got out the door. "I don't think so."
"Now what's the problem?" he asked.
"We've already made the donuts for today. The kitchen is closed. If you'd like to order them for tomorrow, we'll have them ready by 6 A.M."
I swear the man looked like he wanted to wring my neck. "That won't do. You see, I need them today," he said. "I don't know what the problem is. I'm willing to pay you your going rate."
"That's not the issue. I've been here since one-thirty this morning."
He nodded. "Now I understand. So, I'll pay for
the privilege. How much do you usually charge for ten dozen donuts?"
If he'd been nicer to me, I would have quoted him a bulk rate with a nice discount, but instead, I gave him the same price he'd pay if he bought each donut individually.
It didn't even faze him. "I'll double the price, then. What do you say to that?"
"You'll have to pay for them up front," I said, still not all that enthused about going back into production, but slowly warming to the idea with the profits we'd make.
"Put it on my credit card," he said as he handed me his corporate account charge card.
I rang up the order, watched as he signed the receipt, and then said, "See you in two hours."
I was starting to wish I'd padded the time it took. It was going to be tight having them ready by then.
At least we'd make good money for the extra work.
Emma had been sweeping the back room, so I called her out front.
As she stowed her broom, she said, "It's kind of quiet. Do you mind if I take off early today?"
"Sorry, I was just about to ask you if you could work a little overtime. We just got an order for ten dozen glazed donuts."
"And you took it?" she asked.
"Let's just say the customer sweetened the pot a little."
Emma smiled. "Just like you're going to sweeten my paycheck, right?"
I nodded. "You're absolutely right. I don't see why we both shouldn't profit from it."
"Sounds great. I'll start measuring the yeast, the water, and the flour."
I thought about closing the shop while we filled the special order, but I didn't want to turn away legitimate customers who were used to having Donut Hearts stay open until noon. We'd be able to wait on them most of the time, and during the critical times when I was kneading dough and cutting out rounds, Emma could handle the front on her own.
Our impatient customer was back just as the last dozen donuts took their glaze bath. "Are they ready?"
I'd unlocked the door to let him in, since we'd shut down at noon, just like always.
"Nine dozen are boxed up, and while you load those, I'll get the last one ready. I'm throwing in some donut holes as an extra," I said.
"No, thanks, you can keep them. The donuts are all I want."
What were we going to do with ten dozen donut holes? I'd fried them after the rounds, since I hated to see anything go to waste. Maybe I'd take them by the grade school and give the kids an afternoon snack. No, I'd had a few complaints the last time I'd done that, not from the students, but from parents who objected to their children eating my treats at school. I noticed that didn't keep them from supplying their little darlings with gummy concoctions and beverages loaded with sugar whenever they asked for them.
Then again, maybe there was some way I could use the donut holes to further my investigation. I'd learned early on that not many folks could say no to donut holes, especially when they were free.
"Come again," I said as I locked the door behind him once the last dozen was handed over.
Emma let out a woosh of air and said, "I'm beat. I can't believe we just did that."
My back was stiff from the extra work. "It's because I keep forgetting how much trouble it is to make a special order." I reached into the cash register and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. "That's for your overtime. Maybe that'll help a little."
"Thanks," she said as she slipped it into her jeans. "I was going to go see a movie, but I'm beat. I think I'll grab a nap before class tonight."
"I don't know how you do it," I said. "Tell you what. Why don't you go on home? I'll take care of the cleanup myself."
"Are you sure?" she asked as she grabbed her jacket. "I'd hate to put you out," she said, two steps from the front door.
"Just go," I said, laughing.
As I cleaned up after our unscheduled donut production, I wondered how I could best use the holes.
I was still pondering over it when there was a tapping on the front door that wouldn't go away.
"We're closed," I said as I walked out of the kitchen.
"It's me," George said. "You need to hear this."
"Come on in," I said as I opened the door. "I didn't know it was you. How'd you know I was here?"
"I saw your Jeep out front. Do I smell fresh donuts?"
"Yes, I just finished making a special order. Ten dozen glazed walked out the door five minutes ago."
He looked so disappointed, I asked, "Would you like a dozen donut holes on the house?"
"I hate to rob you like that."
"Please, I'd love it if you'd eat them."
He grabbed a few napkins. "Well, then, if it would help you out . . ."
