Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,73
tangent down before it gained even a fraction of a toehold.
Honey beat him to it, and with surprising directness. “Miss Alva, that’s not something I do. Séances I mean. I think that’s for contacting spirits in the afterlife. I know Bea used to help folks out with the benefit of her second sight, but as I mentioned at the bakery when we first met, that’s not something I’m altogether comfortable with.”
“Well, dear,” Alva said, taking the disappointing news in stride, “perhaps once you get to know us better, you’ll feel more comfortable. After all, if you know something that might be of help, it simply doesn’t seem right not to share it, now does it?” She smiled, and Dylan shifted his weight. The gleaming twinkle was back. With a vengeance.
“Of course, I’ll be happy to help introduce you around, put you at ease. And, it goes without saying that if you need any help delivering your . . . well, your news, so to speak, I can help there, too. Smooth things over, and all.”
Alva leaned in closer. “Not everyone wants to hear the difficult things, of course. Why, I mentioned in my last column that perhaps it would be wiser for men who like to spend every last minute of their spare time with a fishing rod in one hand and a beer in the other, to consider filling their hands with the ripe and neglected body parts of their lonely, devoted spouses, instead. And, wouldn’t you know, Bucky Hibbener got his nose all out of joint. As if he’s the only one on Sugarberry who fishes like he’s in some kind of lifelong tournament.”
She sniffed, then beamed a particularly satisfied little smile. “Of course, Natalie Hibbener sure looks a might rosier in the cheeks of late, so . . . sometimes you just have to put the information out there and trust those who need it to take it to heart.”
Dylan didn’t risk a look at Honey, who had made a gargling noise indicating she was a breath away from strangling the tiny senior . . . or from giving in to a fit of hysterical laughter. Since Dylan was quite certain he would follow either path with the least bit of provocation, he kept his gaze strictly forward.
“Well,” Alva said, “I’ll leave you two to your . . . deliberations.” She winked at Honey, who went blush pink. “Come by the bakery later. We’re staying late tonight to bake for a charity event over in Savannah tomorrow. We’re all contributing something from our own personal recipes. Kit taught me how to make my famous apple pies into little pot pie size miniatures. Isn’t that just the most darling thing? Have you met Kit yet? She ran her family’s pie empire until her brother-in-law sold it out from under her. Evil, evil man. Best peanut pie you’ve ever tasted.”
Alva waved her hand. “Well, that’s another story. Please do come. Everyone will be there. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the club. You’ll love them and I know they’ll love you. You don’t have to bake, of course, but if you’d like to join in, we’ll take all the donations we can get.”
“I”—Honey stopped and cleared her throat—“I’ll try.”
“A nod is as good as wink,” Alva said cheerily, then took one last look around the place, let out a satisfied sigh that Dylan expected had very little to do with the empty building space or memories of times gone by. And before he could so much as offer an arm, she sailed out quite capably on her sturdy lavender pumps.
Dylan and Honey stared after her for a full minute without saying a word.
He cleared his throat first. “You handled her really well for a beginner.”
“Good to know.”
“It was smart to set her straight right off on the whole séance thing.”
“You said I should just own it, so . . . I did. Begin as you mean to go on, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Felt pretty good, actually. It’s very different. From before, I mean.”
“New place, new people, opinions yet unformed.”
She let out a slow, whistling breath that let him know she’d been a lot more tense than she’d let on. “Yeah. I’m still getting used to that. But, so far . . . it’s been a good thing. Well, that and the fact that in this particular place, with these particular people, I benefit from Bea somewhat paving the way.”
“I thought you handled it just right. If you want the word out,