Free Recipe for Love by Darlene Panzera

picnics by the ocean. We’d talk about sweet nothings and walk
     for miles along the water. He was my first real love.”
    “What happened?” Rachel asked, sitting down beside her.
    “I wanted to marry him, but his father didn’t think I was good enough to be his wife
     and sent him off to college.”
    “No!” Rachel exclaimed. How could her great-grandfather have done such a thing? How
     could anyone do such a thing? Who were they to judge who was good enough? What did “good enough”
     mean, anyway? Who gave others the right to think they were superior and others inferior?
     Fury burned through Rachel’s veins, and she took Bernice’s right hand in her own as
     if she still needed comfort after all this time. “Tell me what happened.”
    “After three years of separation he met someone else and had redheaded babies like
     you.” Bernice paused, and her eyes filled with concern. “How is he?”
    “My grandfather has Alzheimer’s,” Rachel told her. “He doesn’t remember much.”
    Bernice sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    Rachel couldn’t help but wonder what would become of her and Mike. Would they become
     separated for all time like Bernice and Grandpa Lewy? Would she end up in the Saturday
     Night Cupcake Club, alone and withered with no one to love?
    Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want to be alone.
    The front door jingled as it opened, and Rachel rose to greet the new customer only
     to find Mike coming in from his last delivery. His gaze met hers, held, and then he
     turned away.
    “Mike,” she said, her voice raspy, probably from too much small talk with Bernice.
    He turned back.
    “If you still want to go, I’d love to see a movie with you tonight.”
    N OT ONLY DID she break her two-date rule, but she busted it to pieces by seeing Mike nearly every
     second of every day over the next full week. Today they’d be working together at the
     Astoria Sunday Market and compete against Gaston for the title of Best Cupcake Shop.
    Rachel, still in pajamas, entered the kitchen of her family’s house, poured herself
     a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and noticed her mother getting ready for work.
    “Mom, you can’t work today,” she protested, jumping out of her chair.
    “Rachel, I have to.”
    “But it’s Mother’s Day, a day of rest. No way should you have to work today.”
    “You’ll be so busy with your cupcake contest you won’t even miss me,” her mother replied.
    “That’s not true,” Rachel told her. “I want you to be there.”
    “Andi, Kim, and your new boyfriend, Mike, will be there.” Her mother grabbed her purse
     off the table and headed toward the door. “You don’t need me.”
    “I do need you, Mom.”
    But her mother didn’t hear. She’d already left.
    T HE BRILLIANT BLUE sky sparkled with sunshine, drawing a large crowd to the Sunday Market in the historic
     downtown district. The tables of vendors selling fresh flowers, honey, oysters, jams,
     lavender, pottery, chainsaw carvings, and a unique assortment of homemade crafts spanned
     four blocks from Marine Drive to Exchange Street.
    A teenager sat on the curb strumming his guitar. A hand-printed sign next to his open
     guitar case said he needed money to buy a car. He already had several donations.
    “I should have brought some of my paintings,” Kim said, scanning the artisans.
    “You’ll be too busy baking to sell your artwork,” Andi told her. “Did you call to
     put your watercolors in the gallery in Portland?”
    Kim bit her bottom lip. “Not yet.”
    “I’ve printed up a full-color flyer advertising that your paintings are available
     for purchase,” Rachel confided. “And after we beat Gaston in the cupcake contest,
     there will be more customers coming into Creative Cupcakes to see them.”
    Kim’s face brightened. “Thanks, Rachel.”
    A band played on the music stage as Jake helped Mike unload the tables and bakery
     equipment from the back of the Cupcake Mobile. The ovens were