Cupcakes & Chardonnay Page 8

  She measured and mixed, and added the secret ingredient—the chardonnay. She made three batches of a dozen each, altering the amount of chardonnay each time until she found the perfect proportion. It was therapeutic to just leisurely bake for a few hours. She didn't have as much time for that anymore, to just experiment in the kitchen and try out new ideas to see which ones worked. She watched the girls slide tray after tray of cupcakes in and out of the big ovens. They worked smoothly together, a well-oiled team. Suzanne was grateful for their hard work because, let's face it, The Cupcakery would not be the success it was without them. And Karen, she had been with Suzanne from the very beginning.

  I am blessed, she thought, as she watched the shop's activity from her corner of the kitchen. Customers happily selected their favorite flavors—or took a suggestion from the counter girls to try something new. Everyone left with a smile on their face. Even when the shop was crazy-busy and everyone was scrambling to keep up, it was hard to pull from the oven a tray of freshly baked cupcakes and not smile. We sell happiness, Karen had said once. And it was true.

  When her final batch of cupcakes was cool, she slathered them with a rich, dark chocolate buttercream icing—one of the shop's specialties—arranged them on a large platter, and took them out to the front.

  "Well, the mad scientist emerges," Karen teased her. "What do you have there?"

  "Chardonnay cupcakes."

  There was a reverent silence. Then Kyleigh squealed, "Wine and cupcakes? That's brilliant!"

  "I need some guinea pigs for a taste test," Suzanne warned. "Do I have any brave takers?"

  "Are you kidding?" Karen replied. "I want to be first in line."

  Suzanne passed out the cupcakes to her entire staff and even to a few lucky customers who came in at just the right moment.

  "These are divine," a well-dressed fortyish woman said. "When will they be for sale?"

  "They'll debut at our new Napa location, and then we'll add them to the menu here."

  Chapter 7

  "I like it, Suzie-Q," Brent said as Suzanne pulled her car up to the curb in front of the soon to be Napa Cupcakery. Suzanne had roped Brent and Seth into spending a lovely Saturday morning and afternoon helping her paint the new shop. "The building has a lot of character. But it looks like someone is already here."

  The front door to the shop was already wide open and Suzanne could see men inside, some on ladders.

  "Hmm ..." Suzanne said as she got out of the car and walked briskly into the building.

  Inside, half a dozen strapping men were busy painting the walls and ceiling. Somehow, the walls had been already sanded, prepped and primed. Suzanne looked at the men in confusion and their faces reflected her confusion right back.

  "What are you doing?"

  One man, dressed in paint-spattered overalls, looked toward the kitchen.

  "This is my store!" Brent and Seth came in behind her. Brent spoke to the man in overalls in Spanish. The man pointed back to the kitchen again. Suzanne headed off to see who was back there and nearly ran smack into Daryle. He reached out and gripped her shoulders.

  "Whoa! You look ready to kill someone," he said.

  "What ... what are you doing here? I came up here with Brent and Seth to start painting and ..." Suzanne looked back toward the front entrance.

  "Well, I beat you to it apparently," Daryle replied. "I stopped in the other day to make sure the power had been turned on and I noticed all the brand new cans of paint and painting supplies. So I brought some guys over from the winery to do the painting."

  Suzanne was speechless. It was a nice gesture, and the winery's employees would probably do a better job than she would. Still, it would have been nice if Daryle had given her a call or texted her. It would have saved her, Brent and Seth a trip up.

  "Hope you don't mind," Daryle said, looking at her uncertainly. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, a friendly hello sort of kiss. The clean lavender scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils. He wanted to give her more than just a friendly kiss, but he was a little puzzled by her response. He'd thought she would be happy not to have to deal with the painting—who likes to paint walls?—but now he wasn't sure. He tilted her face upward, trying to read what was going on in that pretty mind of hers. Whatever it was, she wasn't revealing it. He kissed her gently, warily, on the lips. Hadn't it been just a week ago that she had let him make love to her? He'd been replaying that scene all week, so many times in fact that it had begun to interfere with his work productivity. Even now, he could feel the faint beginnings of a stirring in his groin.

  "Hey, what can we do to help?" Brent's voice boomed into the kitchen.

  Daryle took a quick step back from Suzanne, remembering his "interaction" with Brent at the museum.

  "We are here to paint and paint we shall," Brent continued.

  Daryle shoved his hands into the pockets of the old track pants he was wearing. "Well, my guys haven't started on the trim yet, so there's that. Also, the trellis outside next to the seating area needs to be scraped and painted."

  "I vote for working outside," Seth volunteered.

  Brent bent over the painting supplies and selected two scrapers. "We'll be outside then," he said, giving Daryle a stern look as he left.

  Suzanne proceeded to drag a ladder over to the big front window. Daryle followed her, with a can of paint and several paint brushes.

  "We already scraped all the old paint off," he said, running a finger along the window trim. "There were about seven layers of paint. It'll look a million times better now."

  "Thanks," was all Suzanne said in reply.

  Ugh, he thought. I just can't read her. She's been working so hard, he thought she'd be glad for the help. Opening a new shop is a lot of work, and with this one so far away from the one in the city ... and that was his fault. He was the one who had leased this location. But it was perfect, wasn't it? Just yesterday, his mother had hosted a group of women friends for lunch and the new Cupcakery was nearly all they could talk about—that and the wedding, of course. Mrs. Whitney said she always made her son stop by the Marina shop to pick up cupcakes when he was in the city on business. Daryle had even felt a twinge of jealousy when he'd heard that. Of course, he knew that women weren't the only people who ate cupcakes but the thought of men going into Suzanne's shop ...

  He pried the lid off the can of paint for Suzanne, then beat a hasty retreat back into the kitchen to finish up painting there. There were gaps in the countertops where the old appliances had been hauled away. The linoleum floor had been scrubbed recently. A pile of new gel mats lay neatly stacked in the corner. New boxes of supplies were three and four high against the back wall. Suzanne had been busy, obviously. And she'd been up here. That was the real reason he'd brought the men over yesterday and today. Suzanne had been coming up here to work on the shop and not once had she stopped by the winery or even called to let him know she was here. She'd been coming into town, working and then leaving. That bothered him, though he knew it shouldn't. Suzanne was one of those super-efficient people. She got more done in a single day than most people get done in a week. It was totally like her to drive up to Napa, do what she had to do, and then head back to the other shop. There was no compelling business reason for her to stop by the winery. Still, the thought that she had been in town and he hadn't known it ... he would have liked to see her, that's all.

  Oh, what was he thinking? She was behaving exactly as he had originally wanted her to. Their marriage was for the sole purpose of furthering their individual business ambitions. Emphasis on individual, he thought. And that's what she was doing. She was working like crazy to get the new Cupcakery open and she didn't have time to waste on him. Sure, they'd slept together last weekend. And clearly she was treating it the way he had treated sex with so many women over the years. It had been a fun romp, nothing more.

  Good, Suzanne thought, Daryle was staying in the kitchen. Though she had to fight the urge to check in on him periodically to make sure he wasn't ge
tting paint on her new gel mats. Daryle painting? That was a new one. But she resisted the urge—because, damn, that man could make even old track pants and a ratty, paint-spattered tee shirt look good. She had to stick to her resolve to spend as little time as possible in his company. Brent was right, as usual. People didn't change and the one mistake she was not going to repeat was losing her heart to Daryle Catterton again.

  Still, as she dipped her brush into the paint and began to apply it to the window trim as smoothly and evenly as she could, thoughts of last weekend in her apartment intruded.

  "You're just sex-starved," Brent had said. "You need to find a boyfriend, just not Daryle."

  Suzanne had laughed. "Hard to find a boyfriend when you're married!"

  An hour later, Suzanne climbed down from the ladder and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Not bad, she thought. She'd learned a lot about painting when she did the first shop. Now that had been done on a shoestring budget, she reflected. If you looked closely, you could tell that a rank amateur had painted the walls, hung the posters, even patched the tile in the restroom. She'd justified her slapdash job at the time with the thought that she'd go back and do it over at some later date. That later date had never arrived—she was always too busy.

  Outside, Brent and Seth were hard at work scraping layers of old paint off the trellis.

  "How's it going, guys?" Suzanne asked.

  "It's going," Brent replied. "Daryle might have to get his guys to finish this up though. I don't think we'll be done with this today."

  Suzanne scrunched up her face.

  "I take it you weren't expecting his crew to be here?" Brent asked.

  "No, I wasn't," she admitted. "And I don't know whether to be grateful or annoyed. On the one hand, it's a big help. On the other hand, it feels like he's intruding on my space. Our pre-nup was very clear that Iris Vineyards is his and The Cupcakery is mine, no matter what."

  "Well yeah, but he can't very well have his wife's shop look shabby," Brent pointed out. "Not that your shop in the Marina looks shabby. But you know what I mean. This place is a reflection on him, too. He has a vested interest in its success."

  Suzanne mulled over Brent's words for several minutes. He was right again, as usual. That Daryle might have more than a passing interest in the Napa shop hadn't occurred to her. She'd been too busy with all the details of opening a new shop to think about his true motivations.

  "Great. So people are going to think that this location was successful only because I'm married to Daryle Catterton. Lovely. And what happens when we divorce?" Suzanne said. "Will people stop coming here? I'm investing all this money in this location—"

  Brent knew he needed to cut off this train of thought. "Suzie-Q, I don't think that's what will happen." He laid a paint-stained arm around her shoulders. "This is a perfect location for The Cupcakery. And I'm sure a lot of your customers here will be tourists, people who come up to visit the wineries. They won't know who you were married to."

  "Ah, you're right, Bre—" Suzanne started to say, but then stopped. Daryle had just come out into the courtyard.

  "I'm having the winery restaurant send over some lunch for us. I think we all could use a break," he said. Suzanne saw him take note of Brent's arm around her shoulder. Daryle had always been jealous of her friendship with Brent. And maybe he was right to be, she reflected. In many ways, she was closer to Brent than she and Daryle had ever been. Brent was a darn sight more reliable than Daryle, that was sure. And this location was going to be a smashing success and it would have nothing to do with Daryle Catterton.

  Brent turned to look back at Seth, who was still busily scraping long layers of paint off the trellis. "Actually, I think we're going to take a little stroll downtown and pick up something on the way," he said, looking uncertainly at Suzanne. "If you don't mind."

  Suzanne shook her head and smiled, at last. "Go right ahead. It'll be good to get away from these paint fumes for awhile."

  After Brent and Seth left, she went into the restroom to scrub the white paint off her hands and fingernails. She rubbed at her bare ring finger. She'd left the wedding band at home today, not wanting to get paint all over it. She found herself taking it off a lot, actually, especially in The Cupcakery's kitchen. She worried that it might slip off, unnoticed, and get baked into a cupcake by accident. That would be a surprise for someone. Or a chipped tooth—and then a lawsuit for her.

  She'd noticed that Daryle was wearing his ring today. It was hard not to notice his long, tanned fingers. He had restless hands, always tapping or drumming on whatever surface was handy. The soreness in her shoulders, caused by a morning of painting, reminded her that Daryle's hands gave good massages, too. She groaned a little, thinking about those strong fingers kneading her sore muscles, causing all that tightness to just let go and relax. She'd have to settle for a hot bath and a nice cup of tea, instead. She finished rinsing her hands and then pushed the large button on the hand dryer. Nothing happened. She groaned again, this time from aggravation. She'd have to add that to her growing list of things to do. Get hand dryers fixed.

  When she went back outside to the courtyard, lunch had arrived. Daryle had spread a painting tarp on the ground and was taking sandwiches and plastic containers out of a large canvas tote bag.

  "I didn't think to have them send over a bottle of wine," he said when she approached.

  Suzanne couldn't prevent a short laugh from escaping her lips. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea, anyway. Painting under the influence. The Marina shop already looks like I painted it drunk."

  "Your customers don't seem to mind. A friend of my mother's makes her son go to your shop whenever he's in town on business," Daryle said.

  Suzanne gestured at the building behind them. Well, soon enough he will be relieved of that chore. She can just come here."

  "Lot of people up here are looking forward to that day," he replied. "Chicken salad okay?" He removed a sandwich from its white paper wrapping and placed it carefully on a plastic plate. He peered into a salad container. "I think this is some sort of wheatberry salad. I asked the restaurant to send over something healthy."

  "Wheatberry sounds good," Suzanne said and scooped out some salad. So people up here were eager for The Cupcakery to open. She didn't spend enough time up here to get a feel for what people in Napa thought about it. She drove up, did what she needed to get done, and then drove back home. "I hope everyone won't be disappointed," she said.

  "I have a hard time imagining that," he said. "Your cupcakes have quite the reputation. Were there any even left after Alanna's reception?"

  Suzanne smiled. "Not many."

  "So what's to worry about?"

  "It feels like a lot of pressure. Everyone up here knows you, and your family." She was trying to draw out Daryle, get him to admit his real motivation for helping her paint the shop.

  He waved off her comment, his mouth filled with sandwich. He swallowed, then said, "We're one of dozens of wineries here. People are fond of my mother, of course, but they don't watch every little thing we do."

  Hmm. Maybe he was right, she thought. Sometimes a cupcake shop is just a cupcake shop. Not that it wasn't still a lot of work to open one. And she doubted the pressure she was feeling would subside anytime soon. If the Napa location didn't work out well, The Cupcakery's brand would be damaged and it would be that much harder to open other locations.

  They ate in silence for awhile. Brent and Seth were gone. The men from the winery were eating in their van. It was just the two of them outside, sitting on an old paint tarp, at a loss for what to say to each other. This was how it felt before, when their relationship was falling apart, Suzanne recalled. They'd be sitting in a restaurant together, their knees mere inches apart beneath the table, yet above the table their minds had been miles away from each other. Or more painfully, those last few months in bed, their bodies in perfect sync as always, craving each other's touch. But Suzanne's heart had been breaking, each day opening up the crack anot
her painful inch, as she came closer to acknowledging what her subconscious had known for awhile already: that Daryle was never going to be who she needed him to be.

  After awhile, Suzanne asked how Iris was doing. She hadn't felt up to attending Alanna's reception. That must have been a huge disappointment to her, not getting to see her daughter's paintings hanging in the museum.

  "Well, you know, the chemotherapy is hard on her. Hardest on her spirit, I think. She's not used to having to depend on everyone else to take care of her. She's not using to running out of energy halfway through the day."

  "My mother's doctors took her off the chemotherapy after awhile, when it was apparent that ...," Suzanne's voice trailed off as she thought of her mother's last months of life.

  "Her doctors have suggested that, too. It's only buying her time at this point. But she wants to buy every last day she can."

  "Do you think she would be up for a visit from me?" Suzanne hadn't seen or spoken to Iris Catterton since their lunch, the day after the wedding.

  "I think she'd love a visit from her daughter-in-law."

  "Maybe tomorrow?"

  "Why not today? We could drive over as soon as we finish eating."

  Suzanne looked back at the building. "But the painting ..."

  Daryle laughed. "My guys can finish it up. Probably faster, too, if we're not all around in their way."

  Suzanne smiled. "Yeah, I guess we aren't much help, are we? But Brent and Seth rode up with me, so I need to give them a ride back home."

  "Let them take your car back. I'll drive you down to the city this evening."