The Cupcake Coven (4 page)

“Did anything happen to you? Did anyone hurt you that you know of?”

“No, sir. My head was just fine. Nothing on me hurt. A lot of people have asked me that.”

“Okay. So, what happened when you got off the bus?”

“Well, I waited for a good half hour, then walked around some. I never did see anything familiar. There was a newspaper stand, so I looked at the date on the papers, and it was April first. That’s how I got the name April. Some of the newspapers were from other places like Boston, Manchester, and Lawrence, so I still didn’t know where I was or who I was, but at least I knew it was April First.”

Dr. Frampton smiled slightly. “You must have felt like the butt of the worst April Fool’s Day joke ever.”

Danielle was afraid she’d be insulted, but she didn’t appear to be. She simply nodded and seemed quite calm, even if sad.

“So how long have you been here, April?”

“I think it’s been…eighty days since the day the cops asked me what I was about.”

“What you were about?”

“Yeah. You know. What was I doing here? What was my name? I couldn’t tell them anything except that I was hungry, so they brought me here.”

Her sad gaze fell to her lap. She really did look lost.

“So, you’ve been here for well over two months.”

“Them’s the facts,” she said.

There it was again. It wasn’t so much the accent, but the word choices that reflected a very different part of the country.

Danielle had told him, that if she had to guess, the girl hailed from the Deep South. Anywhere from Georgia to Texas. She picked up a pencil and tapped her desk calendar. “We kept expecting her memory to return, or we’d have called before this.”

“Doctor?” April asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m goin’ stir crazy just sittin’ around and waitin’ for my memory to come back. Is there anything you can do to hurry it up?”

Dr. Frampton glanced at Danielle. “We have open beds at the hospital, but I don’t see her needing that much care. Most of our patients have pretty major psychological problems. I want to keep an eye on her, though.”

“She can stay here for as long as she needs to, but I’d love to see her get a job and a nice place to live. She’s a good little worker. She helps around here as much as we’ll let her.”

“One of our social workers at the hospital should be able to help with some kind of temporary placement.” He turned his focus to April. “I think you might do well in our adult day care program. With no ID, we don’t know if you have insurance, but we can deal with that later.”

“Day care!” April exclaimed. “I’m not an infant or elderly person who needs a diaper change every few hours. I just need a job and a place to live—if they get sick of me here.”

Dr. Frampton suppressed a chuckle. “Adult day care is a place for adults in transition. Sometimes, they’re finished with hospitalization and getting ready to go home. Sometimes, they never need the hospital at all—just a little guidance.”

She folded her arms. “Well, I could use some guidance, I guess. I just wish someone knew how to guide me home.”

Danielle’s heart went out to her. She wasn’t faking the amnesia—she’d bet her only pair of designer shoes on it.

After April left the office, she asked the doctor for his impressions.

“If I had to hazard a guess at this point,” Dr. Frampton said, “I’d say the symptoms point to a dissociative episode called a Fugue. It often involves travel. Sometimes people show up clear across the country with no memory of who they are, where they came from, or even how they arrived. They know no one in the area and have never been to the place before.”

“Wow. I’ve never heard of it. Is it rare?”

“Yes, but the lack of physical trauma and evidence of travel make a strong case for it. If I’m right, there’s something you should know…Sometimes when a person just can’t face some kind of psychological trauma, the subconscious suppresses it. When amnesia and flight result, you can imagine the situation must have been extremely traumatic for that individual.”

“I see. So if she remembers…”

“Call me immediately.”

Dru hadn’t meant to get emotional about Shasta, but he wanted to be up front with his new ‘boss’. Finding his sister was the most important thing to him right now. He might have to drop everything and follow a lead. Did he make that clear? Sometimes he figured people understood things when they really didn’t…especially women.

“I need to ask you somethin’ before I accept your generous job offer.”

She snorted. “Who said it was generous?”

He needed her on his side so just grinned at her joke. “Even though I’ve only known you for a bit, I can tell you have a generous spirit.”

She hesitated, then mumbled, “So I’m told.”

There seemed to be a story there, but he couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. “Well, I hate to say this, but findin’ my sister is more important to me than anything else. If I get a lead, I’ll have to go and investigate it. I hope you can be flexible.”

“Of course!”

She seemed offended that he even had to explain.
Women…Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t.

Her expression softened. “I’m hoping we can help each other. I don’t have as powerful a gift as Hanna does, but I’m trying to develop my psychic senses. I could do readings for you after the store closes.”

Hanna.
He hadn’t even thought about the magic she had demonstrated.
Talk about getting sidetracked. If she can make things disappear, maybe she can make people reappear.

“Uh oh,” Rebecca said.

He was snapped back to reality. “What?”

“Are you thinking about going to Hanna for help?”

Surprised, he took a step back. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…well, because. She’s not someone to approach the wrong way.”

Knowing how powerful she was, Dru imagined she could zap him back to Texas…probably someplace with tumbleweeds and steer skulls for company.

“I believe you.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Just like that? I thought you’d want to know why.”

“I saw her do something last night. Something downright supernatural. Let’s just say I was impressed.”

“Hmmm. Whatever it was, she meant for you to see it.”

“How did you know I was wonderin’…Oh, yeah. You’re probably super psychic like most witches.”
Well, this could be a pain in the ass…her always knowin’ what I’m thinkin’.

She chuckled. “I wasn’t reading your mind. Just going where my mind would go in your position.”

“Ah. Empathy. That’s a nice trait. Not everyone can put themselves in someone else’s shoes. Shasta’s like that too.”

Dru was beginning to wonder if all this magic and psychic ability could be learned or if it was a gift…like ‘the sight’ he had heard of.

The timer buzzed and Rebecca took the muffins out of the oven. They smelled incredible. He glanced at the clock. It was almost 6:30. Plenty of time before they opened, but he wanted to start earning his meager pay.

“What tray do you want the bear claws on?” he asked.

She pointed to a stack of cafeteria-like trays on a rolling cart. “Any one of those. Just line it with wax paper first. The roll is on the shelf underneath. Oh, and please wash your hands before you touch anything.”

“Got it.” He didn’t know a lot about baking, but he was pretty sure presentation was important. Cafeteria trays didn’t shout ‘quality.’

She flashed him a smile. “Tell me how they taste.”

He took a bite of one, and as the sweet goodness met his taste buds, he moaned his appreciation. “Mmm…mmm! That’s incredible. How’d you learn to bake like that?”

She shrugged. “Practice.”

“You know, I may be able to help you in the sales area.”

She tipped her head. “Really? How?”

“Well, I can give you the customer’s point of view. For instance, wouldn’t your stuff look nicer on those doily things in a more professional looking tray?”

She sighed. “Yes, they would. But I got the trays free when a cafeteria went out of business. And wax paper is cheaper than doilies.”

“Hmmm…being frugal is a good thing, I guess.”

“It’s a necessary thing, especially right now.”

“Why now?”

She let out a long sigh. “I’m going under.”

He hesitated, then seemed to pick his words carefully. “I’m sorry. Are you in big trouble right now or just projecting down the road?”

“Unless I can convince my father to give me a little longer to pay back his loan, and instantly get a whole bunch more customers, it’s pretty certain.”

“How long did you have to pay back the loan?”

Here we go.
I hate to confess my own stupidity. She folded her arms. “We didn’t write up any kind of contract. He just said, ‘Pay me when you can.’”

Dru’s jaw dropped. Before he could say anything, she held up a hand to stop him.

“I know. I know. That was stupid of me.”

Again, he paused as if he didn’t know what to say. Would he agree with her? Lie to make her feel better?

“In Texas many businesses are family owned and operated. The ranch I work on certainly is. But even then, people ‘put it in writing’ as they say.”

“I know. My father can be, um…moody is the best word I can come up with. Sometimes he’s the nicest guy in the world…Most of the time, in fact. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he gets angry and unreasonable.”

“So, do you think he was just in a bad mood when he called the loan due?”

“Maybe. That’s what I was hoping. But he can be kind of stubborn too. He might want to change his mind, but unless there’s a good reason to…” She looked off into the distance.

“Hmmm. I guess we need to drum up business.”

“We? Since when did my problems become yours?”

“Since I took the job. If you don’t stay open, I’ll have to go and get another one. And I’ll bet my next boss won’t be nearly as pretty.” He winked.

She couldn’t help smiling and lapping up the flattery. She needed to feel good about herself, even if the compliment was entirely comprised of something as superficial as her looks.

Dru snapped his fingers. “I have an idea. Can you bake up some little samples of somethin’ I can give away?”

“I always have a plate of cookies on top of the display case and give those away for free. Kids come in with their moms and they look for them.”

He scratched the stubble on his chin. “I don’t think that’s workin’. I mean, you’re only gettin’ the same customers who already walked in—and kids don’t buy stuff. Maybe at lunchtime I can take a plate out into the neighborhood and tempt some of the folks who’d just walk on by.”

Rebecca mulled it over. “Hmmm…”

“It works like a charm on me at the mall. Although if I see the perfume lady comin’ I run like hell.”

Rebecca smiled. “It’s not a bad idea. Not bad at all. You’d do that for me?”

“Hell, yeah. I’d be doin’ it for me too. Like I said, the next boss could be downright ugly.” He winked at her again and she laughed.
Sexual harassment be damned. I like how this guy makes me feel.

An hour later, the display case was full and Dru had learned how to make coffee and keep an eye on the urns. Rebecca showed him how the cash register worked, and he assured her he was comfortable with everything except the baking part of her operation. That was the part she loved, so Rebecca felt lighter than she had in a long time.

Even though Dru said he didn’t think he was doing much, she assured him that his contribution would be an enormous help.

A couple of people appeared on the sidewalk outside the door.

“Should I let in the hungry masses?” he asked.

Rebecca glanced at the clock and saw it was five minutes before their scheduled time to open. “If I didn’t need the business so badly, I’d let them wait while I straighten up the back, but it’s fine.”

She returned to the kitchen and heard him unlock the door, then give a big ol’ Texas “Welcome ‘y’all” to her customers.

She smiled inside and even started to hum as she wiped down her prep counter. The future seemed a little brighter with Dru here. Maybe she’d even experiment with a new recipe she’d dreamed up—literally—and use the rest of the fresh strawberries she had on hand.

She was rinsing the fruit in a colander when Dru poked his head around the door.

“Somebody wants to speak to you. Are you busy?”

“I’m not doing anything I can’t walk away from.” Rebecca grabbed a towel and dried her hands on her way through the door. She spotted a woman waiting near the cash register.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, yes.” The woman smiled. “Are you the baker?”

“I am,” she said proudly.

“Last fall, I got some of the most delicious apple cupcakes here. Do you know the ones I’m talking about?”

“The ones with caramel buttercream frosting?”

“Yes. They were incredible. Can you tell me what was in them? I’d love to know why they’re so much better than anything at the grocery store.”

Because I’m not taking shortcuts, like they do. “Sure. I start off making a normal cupcake batter...

After reciting the whole recipe, she said, “When I have loads of apples, I make a double recipe.”

“I think it was the frosting that made it so unusual,” the woman said. “What was in that?”

“1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

1/4 cup water

1/4 cup heavy cream

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 sticks unsalted butter, softened

4 large egg whites, at room temperature and

2 teaspoons vanilla extract.”

Rebecca noticed Dru glancing over at her and his brow was furrowed. Maybe he was trying to remember it in case she let him help with the baking someday.

“It’s a recipe I adapted from Martha Stewart. Bring 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar and the water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Then, cook it, swirling the pan occasionally, until the caramel is dark amber. Immediately remove it from the heat, and slowly add cream, salt, and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, stirring with a wooden spoon until it’s smooth. Then let it cool.

“I place the whites and remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a heatproof mixing bowl set over a pot of simmering water. Whisk until the sugar dissolves and the mixture registers 160 degrees on a candy thermometer. Then I use a mixer on medium speed for about 5 minutes. Then I increase the speed to medium-high until stiff, glossy peaks form. Then I reduce speed to medium and add the beaten butter, a cup at a time, and then vanilla, whisking well after each addition.

“Then with the mixer on low speed, I add the caramel, and beat it until smooth, about 3 to 5 minutes.”

“Wow,” the woman said. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is. But you asked why they’re better than the grocery store’s baked goods. That’s why. I’m pretty sure they take short cuts and mix up a lot of ingredients ahead of time. They never taste as fresh as homemade.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’ll bet that’s it. Well…keep up the good work,” she said and waved as she left.

Scowling, Dru set his hands on his hips.

“What?”

“You’re goin’ under, huh?”

“Yeah. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just that you’re givin’ away the candy store. No wonder your business is in trouble.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “First of all, it’s a bakery. Not a candy store. Secondly, one customer won’t put me out of business. People come here because they can’t be bothered to go through all the trouble of making something like that.