Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,1
since packing up her entire life and hitting the road, Honey wondered if she should have stayed in Oregon. It had been silly, not to mention completely irrational, to think things would be different on the island, no matter how many times Bea had insisted they would be.
Honey missed her aunt terribly and would forever regret not getting to spend more time with her, face-to-face. Bea was the only other person on the planet who’d understood. The only person Honey had been able to relax with and completely let down her guard. Be herself. Along with all the lovely eccentricities that entailed.
Eccentricities. Honey smiled faintly, hearing her mother’s voice echoing in her mind, as that was the term she and Honey’s father had taken to using for their only daughter’s odd little “differences.”
Of course, growing up in the Pacific Northwest, being different should have meant she’d fit right in. After all, her own parents—God rest their unconditionally loving souls—hadn’t exactly been mainstream. Her father had grown up on a commune in northern California and become an herb farmer and wood carver, while her mother was a rug weaver who spun her own wool, straight from her own personal little herd of llamas. Her parents’ circle of friends had been equally . . . interesting. If anything, growing up, Honey had always felt like the normal one.
As it turned out, there was a limit on just how different one was allowed to be. And if she’d failed that litmus test in Juniper Hollow, Oregon, why on earth would she expect anywhere else to be more welcoming? Even though Bea had sworn she’d found just that place on Sugarberry.
Of course, Bea had always considered those same eccentricities to be a gift, rather than the curse Honey felt they were. But Honey was working on gaining a new perspective, or trying to, anyway. She was on the island, wasn’t she?
“And yet, the joke? Is still on me.” She finished her second bottle of water, staring at the building across the alley. “That’s a stunner.”
Honey was still there an hour and a half later, working on water bottle number four and starting to feel like a camel, when the same women exited Cakes by the Cup, boxed up goodies tucked under their arms. The rich scents of freshly baked cake, warm, buttery, and delicious, followed them into the little lot behind the shop, then wafted through the thick air, making her stomach grumble in appreciation.
She watched them pile into their cars, continuing to toss comments back and forth, still laughing and chatting, until they finally pulled out of the tiny lot in their various vehicles and drove off, leaving only the scent of buttery, sugary goodness in their wake. None of them had noticed her, sitting across the way. Maybe they were used to customers hanging out behind the repair shop, waiting for their cars to be ready. Or maybe she was as invisible as she’d been in Oregon.
She pushed up her prescription glasses—again—and scratched at the mosquito bite on her neck. She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to such humidity. Or the bugs. The sun dipping behind the row of shops had only seemed to increase that particular carnivorous hoard. And, again, it had to be said . . . it was only April.
At the moment, she was praying her poor old Volkswagen Beetle would be ready soon so she could stop thinking about the happy, peppy cupcake bakers and start figuring out how she was going to inform the Queen Bee of Cake about her inheritance.
Honey decided she was okay with not being noticed, thankful for it, in fact. She’d had no real idea how she’d planned on introducing herself to her new community, but was well aware how crucial first impressions could be. She’d figured she’d settle in, get the lay of the land, start with plotting and planning out her new enterprise, then see where that might lead. Gradually integrate herself. Given her personal demons, it would be best to take folks on a few at a time, rather than en masse. At least until she felt comfortable, after such a long time spent . . . well, hiding.
Confronting the owner of what appeared to be a very popular island establishment with news that was definitely not going to go over well wasn’t exactly the best way to kick things off.
For a very long time, Honey had convinced herself that being a social pariah was a blessing. If she didn’t