surfaced—somewhere, anywhere—but had decided she was a better woman than that. Well, that, and Dre hadn’t been in her employ for a full week as yet. Still, she’d like to think she’d stuck it out because she was strong, independent, and didn’t really give a good ganache where Baxter was or what he was doing.
So ... where is he? What is he doing?
And how was it no one knew he was already here but her?
She’d almost talked herself into believing the entire episode had been some sort of stress-fueled hallucination, or a waking dream of some kind. Considering the way she’d all but yelled at him ... after which he’d kissed her—kissed her!—that was almost the more sensible, rational explanation.
Then Alva Liles rushed into Cakes By The Cup just as Patty Finch, the local librarian, and her nine-year-old daughter, Daisy, were leaving ... and Lani’s tidy little it-was-all-a-dream rationale went straight in the Dumpster.
“Afternoon, Patricia, Miss Daisy.” Alva smiled as they held the door for her. “Why, Lani May, there you are!” The petite senior bustled—which was the perfect description for how Alva Liles moved—straight up to the counter. She was also the very definition of all aflutter .
It made Lani’s heart sink. And her gut clutch. Here it comes, she thought, and braced herself. Of course, it was going to be Alva. She should have guessed. “Yes, Miss Alva, here I am.” Lani refrained from pointing out it was unlikely, during business hours, that she’d be anywhere else. Or that her middle name was Marie, not May. She’d learned it was apparently an affectionate Southern thing, then remembered Charlotte’s Indian-inflected version of a Southern twang as she’d repeated the name several times after Lani had shared it with her. Lani’s smile came more naturally, then.
“I’m sure you read this morning’s paper,” Alva said, her perfectly coiffed white-blond curls all but vibrating around her head like a miniature beehive. Everything about Alva Liles was in miniature, from her height, to her frame, to the itty bitty silver rimmed bifocals perched on the end of her perfect, tiny nose. She was, in a word, adorable. Sugarberry’s answer to Betty White.
Normally, Alva was one of Lani’s favorite customers and Lani always enjoyed seeing her come through the door. Normally. Alva had the best stories, yet somehow managed to sound like she truly cared, and cared deeply, about each and every person on the island ... as she threw them directly under the gossip bus. Lani loved her.
Normally.
She had a feeling, however, that the gossip bus was going to be aimed straight at her.
“I got a glimpse of it,” Lani replied. “I was up early working on a few special flavors I’m featuring during the fall festival tomorrow.” Hoping to distract and redirect, she leaned on the counter, inviting Alva to step in closer. “I have one available for limited taste testing. A new take on Boston Creme. The filling has a bit more of a kick and I think the new chocolate glaze is something special.”
“I’m certain you outdid yourself,” Alva said sincerely, “but then I’d expect nothing less. You’re an absolute marvel. My waistline might never forgive you, but I can’t seem to walk by without stepping inside.”
Lani smiled. “Then my work here is done.”
The twinkle in Alva’s eyes turned to more of a speculative gleam as she leaned across the counter and dropped her voice to a whisper. “What decadent treat are you tempting us with for the auction tonight, dear?”
Lani raised her eyebrows in surprise, as she was certain Alva was anticipating she would, given the satisfied smile on her powdered face. “Now that sponsor list is supposed to be secret,” Lani said mildly, but she wasn’t really shocked.
“You know nothing stays secret on this island for long.”
Lani wanted to point out the reason for that was standing right in front of her, but just smiled instead. “What did
So ... where is he? What is he doing?
And how was it no one knew he was already here but her?
She’d almost talked herself into believing the entire episode had been some sort of stress-fueled hallucination, or a waking dream of some kind. Considering the way she’d all but yelled at him ... after which he’d kissed her—kissed her!—that was almost the more sensible, rational explanation.
Then Alva Liles rushed into Cakes By The Cup just as Patty Finch, the local librarian, and her nine-year-old daughter, Daisy, were leaving ... and Lani’s tidy little it-was-all-a-dream rationale went straight in the Dumpster.
“Afternoon, Patricia, Miss Daisy.” Alva smiled as they held the door for her. “Why, Lani May, there you are!” The petite senior bustled—which was the perfect description for how Alva Liles moved—straight up to the counter. She was also the very definition of all aflutter .
It made Lani’s heart sink. And her gut clutch. Here it comes, she thought, and braced herself. Of course, it was going to be Alva. She should have guessed. “Yes, Miss Alva, here I am.” Lani refrained from pointing out it was unlikely, during business hours, that she’d be anywhere else. Or that her middle name was Marie, not May. She’d learned it was apparently an affectionate Southern thing, then remembered Charlotte’s Indian-inflected version of a Southern twang as she’d repeated the name several times after Lani had shared it with her. Lani’s smile came more naturally, then.
“I’m sure you read this morning’s paper,” Alva said, her perfectly coiffed white-blond curls all but vibrating around her head like a miniature beehive. Everything about Alva Liles was in miniature, from her height, to her frame, to the itty bitty silver rimmed bifocals perched on the end of her perfect, tiny nose. She was, in a word, adorable. Sugarberry’s answer to Betty White.
Normally, Alva was one of Lani’s favorite customers and Lani always enjoyed seeing her come through the door. Normally. Alva had the best stories, yet somehow managed to sound like she truly cared, and cared deeply, about each and every person on the island ... as she threw them directly under the gossip bus. Lani loved her.
Normally.
She had a feeling, however, that the gossip bus was going to be aimed straight at her.
“I got a glimpse of it,” Lani replied. “I was up early working on a few special flavors I’m featuring during the fall festival tomorrow.” Hoping to distract and redirect, she leaned on the counter, inviting Alva to step in closer. “I have one available for limited taste testing. A new take on Boston Creme. The filling has a bit more of a kick and I think the new chocolate glaze is something special.”
“I’m certain you outdid yourself,” Alva said sincerely, “but then I’d expect nothing less. You’re an absolute marvel. My waistline might never forgive you, but I can’t seem to walk by without stepping inside.”
Lani smiled. “Then my work here is done.”
The twinkle in Alva’s eyes turned to more of a speculative gleam as she leaned across the counter and dropped her voice to a whisper. “What decadent treat are you tempting us with for the auction tonight, dear?”
Lani raised her eyebrows in surprise, as she was certain Alva was anticipating she would, given the satisfied smile on her powdered face. “Now that sponsor list is supposed to be secret,” Lani said mildly, but she wasn’t really shocked.
“You know nothing stays secret on this island for long.”
Lani wanted to point out the reason for that was standing right in front of her, but just smiled instead. “What did
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