back door to the alley was open, and the rich scents of butter and baked goods wafted through the screen door. Also wafting out was the pulsing sound of a tune she couldn’t quite make out, which meant someone was in the kitchen baking. Hopefully, that someone was the owner, and Honey could at least begin the conversation between them in private.
She crossed the alley and found herself smiling as she recognized the music—it was the soundtrack to the Broadway musical, Wicked—and she realized someone was singing along. Not too shabby, either, she thought. Certainly a far cry from her own less-than-stage-ready voice. Not that that had stopped her from bopping and singing loudly to the music she’d always had pumping inside the barn as she worked. After all, the garden gnomes and fairy sprites she created weren’t likely to be too offended when she went off key.
Her smile turned wry as she recognized the specific tune from the show. “Popular.” “Oh, the irony,” she murmured as she stepped under the awning and up to the screen door just as the final strains echoed, and the kitchen singer ended with her own flourish.
Honey took a moment to smooth her hair, straighten her blouse, shake the wrinkles from her recently unpacked skirt. The hottest part of the day had passed, but tell that to her sweat glands. Nerves weren’t helping the situation, either.
The opening strains of South Pacific faded as someone inside turned the music down. Honey let out a long, shaky sigh, then took a steadying breath, pasted on a smile, and knocked on the door. Only no one came. Instead, she heard someone call out, “Alva, I’ve got to run these next door to Kit. I’ll be right back!”
If there was a response, Honey didn’t hear it. She was too busy leaping back as the screen door was suddenly shoved open by someone backing out of the bakery with a huge tray of cupcakes in her hands.
Honey caught the low heel of her sandal on the edge of the stone walkway that had been put in between the back doors of the side-by-side shops, sending her wheeling into the small parking lot. “Oh!”
The woman with the cupcakes spun around, sending a few of the cupcakes tottering dangerously close to the edge of the rack she held. “Oh, no! I didn’t see—crap!” Two of the cupcakes took the death plunge off the side and landed, icing down, between the stone pavers.
Honey banged up against the front bumper of somebody’s red Jeep, and finally managed to stop by bracing her hands on the hood—the sun-burnished, blazing hot hood. She swore and leaped away as the woman in front of her did a quick step to keep any more cupcakes from taking a dive.
“I’m . . . I’m so sorry!” Honey managed as she pressed her throbbing palms to the sides of her skirt. “I knocked on the door, but . . .”
“No, no, it’s my fault. I had the music on too loud. Baxter’s always telling me I’m going to boogie myself straight into—” The woman broke off, and rearranged her grip on the tray, then grinned at Honey. “Straight into a cupcake Armageddon. I hate it when he’s right.”
Honey found herself smiling back. It was impossible not to, really. She looked down at the smashed cupcakes and the creamy pink icing presently oozing in between the walkway bricks. “Let me at least pay for damages.”
The dark-haired woman shook her head, her expression open, naturally friendly. “I make extras, and it’s really not your fault. Were you looking for me? I’m Leilani Dunne, the shop owner. Everyone just calls me Lani.”
Honey’s gaze went from Lani’s warm eyes and cheerful smile to the apron she wore, which had only now caught her attention. It featured poster art from the movie Chocolat, with Johnny Depp’s handsome face smiling beside the title.
Lani tracked her gaze. “I know, right? Show tunes and wacky aprons are us, what can I say?”
“There’s nothing wacky about wanting to wrap yourself in Johnny Depp.” It was only when Lani laughed that Honey realized she’d spoken out loud.
“I like you already. What can I do for you?”
This was so not how Honey had planned the conversation to go, so she was a little bit flummoxed. “Did you—do you want to go ahead and deliver those?” She inclined her head toward the cupcakes. “I can wait. I just needed a few moments of your time.” To start.
“Um, sure, yes. Probably a