was only what Lola deserved after what she’d said.
Becky licked the cupcake’s frosting. “Mmmm. Yummy.”
Lola grinned. Drew’s daughter was officially her favorite person in Sunshine.
“Rebecca Maureen Taylor.” Drew’s voice rose above the crowd. “Did I give you permission to eat that?”
Traffic around their tables slowed. Wendy froze midslice.
Becky took one look at her father’s face and set the cupcake down, wiping trails of white frosting on her pink-flowered blouse. “Sorry.”
And Drew called Lola wound too tight? She rubbed the turquoise pendant. Maybe it was time someone told the sheriff what to do.
“Now, normally,” Lola said in a voice sweetened by justice, “I’d say it’s okay to put it back, but if you taste it, your dad kind of needs to buy it.” Lola nudged the cupcake toward the girl and smiled. “Which means you get to finish it. Pay up, Sheriff.”
“Let’s have Becky taste Wendy’s Bundt cake and decide which one we buy.” Drew guided Becky toward the end of the Bundt-cake line. “What?” he said when his mom gave him a disapproving look.
Susie Taylor shook her head. Drew’s mother was probably a customer of Barbara Hadley. There was no gray showing in her shoulder-length warm-brown hair. “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
“Are you going to ground me?” Drew chuckled, a sound nearly swallowed by the crowd.
Susie crossed her arms over her chest and turned away. She was ahead of him in line.
“Looks like you’re in trouble, Sheriff,” Lola taunted.
Becky giggled, which made Lola feel great until she realized no one was stopping at her table. She’d need some master salesmanship to get things started.
“These cupcakes are awesome,” Lola said at megaphone volume. “Right, Bitsy?” Lola gestured toward the cupcake the older widow had taken. And then she gestured again, because she had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to sell any cupcakes and she’d have to stand here for an hour, watch Wendy’s Bundt cakes disappear, and smile as if it didn’t matter.
Bitsy looked at Lola the way you did when your boss asked you how good his crappy work was. But she had game. She nibbled on the cupcake. “It’s good.”
“That hardly seems enough to make a judgment.” Drew grinned. He was about eight back in Wendy’s line.
“Can I finish mine?” Becky had slipped back to Lola’s table and her cupcake.
Drew reluctantly waved his approval. Becky didn’t need to be told twice.
“You need to pay for that cupcake.” Drew’s mom studied Lola with unabashed curiosity. “And buy yourself one too.”
“No.” Drew’s smile disappeared. “I’m saving room for Wendy’s Bundt cake.”
Disappointment tried to shrink Lola’s shoulders inward. Pride kept them thrust upward.
“I’m all sold out.” Wendy shouted and threw her hands in the air as if someone had called Time! in a baking competition.
Sold out? Lola’s jaw dropped. How had that happened?
Lola took advantage of the situation and held a cupcake toward the rest of Wendy’s line. It was one of the prettier ones with a near-perfect swirl of coconut and cream cheese. “Get your red-velvet chocolate snowballs before they’re gone.”
Most people in Wendy’s line moved away.
With a sigh of defeat and a regretful glance toward Wendy’s empty cake plate, Drew reached for his wallet. “We’ll take three.” He handed over some bills and picked out two cupcakes, handing one to his mother.
“Mmmm.” Becky’s smile revealed teeth covered in chocolate.
Behind her table, Bitsy was sucking down water. Her cupcake was half eaten.
“It’s gloopy,” Drew said, sounding like he’d eaten too much peanut butter. He turned to his mother, who didn’t seem able to pry her lips open.
Lola had a gut-dropping suspicion that her cupcakes hadn’t cooked all the way.
Bitsy sidled closer, running her tongue around her teeth and looking a tad judgmental. “Did you follow my directions?”
“I tried to.” And based on the reactions of her customers, Lola hadn’t been successful. She lowered her voice. “Should I give them their money back?”
Bitsy shook her head, still working her tongue around her mouth. “No refunds.”
“We’b gotta glow,” Drew said, mouth full of gloop. He looked surprised by Lola’s cupcakes, and not in a good way. “It’s a stool knife.” Drew led his family toward the door, presumably because it was a school night. He stopped to buy water from Mims.
People walked past Lola’s table without slowing or looking her in the eye. The dull burn of being a misfit flared to life in Lola’s chest, more unsettling than the heartburn she’d gotten after that cheap Cabernet she’d drunk with Avery’s five-alarm chili last week.
“I should go,” she told