Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,71
was the one, wasn’t he?” Alva sighed again.
As did Dylan. In relief. Old flames and even older gossip he could handle.
“Knew it, too,” she went on. “Before your time, of course, but oh, he was a handsome devil, smooth as they come. A kind word for every customer, but especially the ladies. Always noticed if they’d done their hair up a different way, or had on a new perfume. Always had eyes for me, he did. Harold—my late husband,” she added for Honey’s benefit, “never did trust me alone with him.” She smiled and a particularly delighted twinkle lit up her eyes and deepened the crinkles at the corner as she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll admit I might have encouraged him, just a little, you know. Perfectly harmless, of course. But it never hurts to keep your beloved on his toes.”
Dylan found his lips twitching at that, and Honey was already smiling.
“I’ll never understand how Beaumont Junior turned out to be such a prune. I knew Senior’s wife Petula, God rest her soul, and, oh she was a delight.” Alva looked at Honey. “Senior might have been something of the island ladies man, but when he met Petula Schipps, that was it for him. A late in life romance and an even more surprising late in life baby, but a happier twosome you never saw.” Alva sighed one more time. “Such devoted, loving parents. Junior was the apple of their eye, he was. But then, I’m convinced some apples just blossom on the wrong tree.” She gave Dylan a slightly extended glance, and he noted the twinkle had shifted to a more decided gleam.
Once again, he’d let his guard down too soon. He’d been on the receiving end of that gleam and he knew it meant trouble. He had the jelly roll to prove it.
“I knew right from the start when he took on the place that his days were numbered. He wasn’t a people person, never did seem to be comfortable in the role. Of course, his father’s shoes were hard to fill, especially for someone as closed off as Junior was. Never married, that one. Still, it was a shame when he had to let the place go. I might not have been a fan of his stiff, overly formal manner, but you couldn’t fault him on his love of books. Why, I used to think he was more comfortable with fictional characters than he was with people.” Her gaze found Dylan’s again. “We all have our coping mechanisms, I suppose.”
“I suppose Beaumont Junior did the best he could under challenging circumstances,” Dylan said cordially enough, but with a steady gaze intended to quell further “innocent” commentary. “Thank you for stopping by,” he added, starting toward the front door in the hopes of herding her straight through it, only he wasn’t quite fast enough.
“Oh my,” Alva gasped as if an idea had just occurred to her. The exaggerated lift of her perfectly penciled on eyebrows suggested otherwise. Never one to let things like a well established wily reputation slow her down, she clasped age spotted hands under the delicate fold of her dainty chin and gave them her best “sweet little old lady” routine. “Why, you’re thinking of taking over this space for your little shop, aren’t you?” she exclaimed, turning her attention squarely on Honey. The woman also knew how to pick her quarry.
It took significant will to tamp down a scowl and force a polite expression as he answered for Honey. “Well now, Miss Alva, I don’t rightly know what I’ll do with the space, but, as I said, I appreciate you stopping by now.” He gestured toward the door and took another step in a gentlemanly attempt to see her to the door, but she smoothly sidestepped him and kept her eyes on her new target.
“What a marvelous, marvelous idea!” Alva gushed, ignoring Dylan as she swept her gaze over the space again, then focused on Honey, eyes in full twinkle. “Such charm and unique style would be perfect for your little carved creations.”
“You know about my work?” Honey asked.
Alva made a token effort to look abashed. “Well, Bea was always going on and on about it, but I confess I didn’t look you up until we met at the bakery when you first arrived. Quite the enterprise you’ve built. And such adorable little creatures. My, what an imagination you must have. Must come from the family gift, I suppose.”