Free Cupcake Club 04 - Honey Pie by Donna Kauffman Page A

was to it. But . . . it wasn’t that simple. Couldn’t be. Honey knew otherwise. Didn’t she?
    â€œOkay, so maybe Franco won’t.” Lani laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, he’ll love you. But he’s a bit like a big, untamed French poodle, so we’ll have to work on him.”
    â€œFranco?”
    â€œOne of the cupcake crew. You’ll love him, trust me. A better friend and a more staunch ally, you couldn’t hope to have. Plus he’s very tall and can reach the high things. Win-win, really. So, I’m sorry, I don’t remember. What kind of art? It’s sculpting or something, right?”
    Honey felt . . . dazed. She sat there, trying to keep up and regroup at the same time, wanting to step away from her own spinning head and thundering heart long enough to take stock of this moment, of what was happening, so she could understand how things could simultaneously be so horribly wrong, and yet feel almost magically right.
    â€œOh,” she said, when she saw Lani’s expectant face and realized she’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Yes, I work with clay; I’m also a wood carver. Not a serious one. I mean, I’m serious about my work, but my eye lends itself more to the whimsical than the thought-provoking. As a kid, I learned to whittle from my dad and started making little fantasy creatures and woodland critters.” My own circle of friends, she thought. “My mom would tuck them here and there in her gardens and around the property. Then I discovered clay and . . . well, it kind of mushroomed, as my dad loved to say, into a business.”
    â€œI’m sorry to say I’ve never checked out your catalog, but I will now. Do you have somewhere to stay? Oh, right, you were here yesterday if you saw us at bake club—and your car’s in the shop. Wow, welcome to Sugarberry, huh?”
    â€œIt’s been . . . memorable.” Despite all the incredible things that had happened in the past hour, the first thing that came to mind when Honey thought of memorable welcomes was Dylan Ross. And his hands on her arms. And his grin when he told her a little crazy was a good thing. And that he didn’t plan on touching her again.
    And how much she really wished he would. And that she could let him.
    â€œSo, where are you staying now?”
    Honey snapped out of thoughts she had no business thinking about. “At the Hughes’s place. My car is going to take a while. Barbara—Mrs. Hughes, lent me her bicycle to use. Is it always this hot in the spring?”
    â€œNo, this is unusual, even for the South. Listen, why don’t we do this? Let me get someone to cover the shop tomorrow morning, and I can take you over the causeway to get the papers and whatever copies you need from the county, and then we can come back over here and see Morgan—our lawyer and Kit’s significant other as it happens. Kit is the manager next door. At least we can get that part settled. I don’t know what to tell you about your plans and about the shop itself. I’m pretty sure my lease is valid and—”
    â€œYou’re right. I need to get up to speed on, well, on a lot of things, it seems. I appreciate your willingness to drive me, but please don’t go to the trouble. I can get a cab and—to be honest,” she added, when Lani started to reassure her, “I’d like to handle it on my own.”
    â€œI completely understand. I am really sorry. I wish it wasn’t happening like this, but, trust me, between me and Char, and Kit, and Morgan, Baxter, everyone . . . we’ll find a solution that works.”
    â€œHonestly, I don’t know if I’ll stay, but—” Honey was surprised by how stricken Lani looked at the news. They’d just met, after all.
    â€œBea wanted you here. And you wanted to be here, or you wouldn’t have uprooted your whole life to come all this way to