Cupcake Club 04 - Honey Pie by Donna Kauffman

kitchen and letting herself inside.
    â€œMiss Lani Mae, I’ve locked up out front for you, but wasn’t sure if you wanted me to count the till—oh! Sorry. I heard the door and thought Lani had come back. Can I help you?”
    Honey stood just inside the door, hands folded in front of her, careful not to touch anything lest she inadvertently create another disaster, and smiled at the tiny, white-haired woman who’d just come from the front of the shop. “I’m waiting for Lani. She knows I’m here.” Honey’s gaze strayed to the apron the diminutive senior wore. This one featured Channing Tatum on the movie poster for Dear John . A very fine looking Channing Tatum. What was it with the cupcake ladies and the hot guy aprons? The older woman looked down at her apron, then beamed a twinkly-eyed smile back at Honey. “I liked him better in that stripper movie, but Miss Lani thought he might be too distracting to the customers without his shirt on.”
    Honey tried to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. Maybe it was all the sugar, or maybe they were just crazy, but all Honey could think was, My God, Bea, you were right. I’d fit right in here. Not because Honey was crazy, but because she was already half convinced between the sugar buzz, the hot guys, and the show tunes, the cupcake ladies might not even notice her occasional “unexplainable insights.”
    If only she didn’t have to ruin everything with the real reason she was here.
    â€œI, uh . . .”—Honey had to clear the laughter from her throat—“think he’s distracting at all times, but in a really good way.”
    â€œI’m Alva Liles,” the other woman said with an approving smile.
    â€œHello, I’m Honey. Honey D’Amourvell.”
    And just like that, the twinkle dimmed.
    News traveled fast in small towns. She wondered exactly what Mr. Ross had said about her. Had to be him. The only other person she’d met was Barbara Hughes, and a nicer woman Honey had never known. She’d even loaned Honey her bike until Honey’s car was fixed. Besides, they’d only spoken a handful of words to each other, all pleasant. No odd or awkward moments. Honey had already had all of those with Mr. Ross.
    Well, it wasn’t like the happy cupcake vibe would have lasted much longer, anyway. As soon as she told them she was the owner of the building they’d illegally turned into a cupcake mail-order business, all the happy happy joy joy would have come to an abrupt end.
    And to think she’d been worried about being ostracized because she was clairvoyant.
    â€œWhy, my goodness gracious,” Alva was saying. “If it isn’t little Miss Honey Pie. The sweet, sweet child my dear friend, Miss Bea Chantrell spoke so fondly of, every chance she had.”
    Honey’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t thought—hadn’t figured that folks might know her by name. But of course Aunt Bea would have talked about her family.
    Before Honey could respond, Alva finished with, “That same sweet child who never managed to make it out here to visit her only kin before she passed.” She was still smiling, but there was no mistaking the flinty edge to her words.
    Oh yeah. Fun time was officially over.
    Not that it was any of this woman’s business, but Honey made a stab at explaining. “Yes, I’m Bea’s niece. We were very close. I miss her terribly. I would have spent every minute with her if I could have.”
    The grudging look didn’t entirely leave Alva’s eyes, but her tone was a bit less frosty when she spoke. “We all miss her terribly, too. She was a wonderful addition to our little island. You have a bit of the look of her. Same eyes.”
    Bea had been short and built like a fireplug, but, it was true, they did have the same clear green eyes. They ran in the Chantrell family. As did the curse. “Thank