Free Recipe for Love by Darlene Panzera Page B

figured
     she’d better be sure. Taking a spoon, she scooped some of the batter and lifted it
     to her mouth.
    “Ugh!”
    Andi turned toward her. “What’s wrong?”
    “Salt.” Rachel scrunched her nose and wiped her tongue with a nearby towel, but the
     sharp taste remained.
    “Did you mix up the ingredients?” Andi asked.
    “No.” Rachel shook her head and pointed to the label on the container of salt, which
     now had an uneven cap. “It wasn’t me. I think it was Gaston. He dumped salt into the
     batter.”
    Kim came toward them and pointed to her watch. “Do we have time to make another batch?”
    Andi shook her head. “Worse. We’re out of ingredients.”
    Rachel called Mike over to them. “Can you go back to the shop and bring us the extra
     batter I put in the refrigerator?”
    Mike nodded and dashed off to the Cupcake Mobile.
    Ten minutes later he was back, bowl of batter in hand. Andi, Rachel, and Kim scooped
     the cream-colored mixture into the last tray and put it in the oven.
    “Five minutes to ice and decorate these,” Andi called when the cupcakes were finished
     baking.
    Kim nodded. “Ready and waiting.”
    The announcer began counting down the minutes over the microphone, and Rachel held
     her breath. Her fingers had never worked so fast. She, Andi, and Kim plopped icing
     onto the last dozen cupcakes, spread the mixture with a knife, and finished placing
     Kim’s sugar sculptures on the tops just as the final whistle blew.
    Rachel narrowed her gaze at Gaston as the cupcakes were distributed and people placed
     their votes in the ballot box. He gave her a smug look, then turned to converse with
     his two helpers.
    Members of the Astoria Fire Department had been chosen to count the votes, and after
     twenty minutes, the announcer stepped up to the stage and took the microphone in his
     hand.
    “The winner of the contest is . . . Creative Cupcakes!” he exclaimed.
    Gaston’s face reddened, his forehead creased, and his hands balled into fists of rage.
     “This cannot be! What do you people know about quality cupcakes? No one can beat Hollande’s
     French Pastry Parlor! The trophy should be mine. ”
    “Sorry,” Rachel told him, holding the trophy up for all to see. “Looks like you may
     need to move to another town if you want to be number one.”
    Gaston snarled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 
    Chapter Eight
----
    Ideas should be clear and chocolate thick.
    —Spanish proverb
    R ACHEL LEANED OVER the shop counter and looked at the notes she’d written in the Cupcake Diary. Her
     handwriting lacked its usual boldness, appropriately enough since Creative Cupcakes
     lacked its usual sales. The contest at the Sunday Market hadn’t helped. A week had
     passed, and Rachel was afraid to show Andi and Kim the latest receipts.
    Mike came back from delivering a couple of dozen cupcakes to a birthday party and
     sat on a stool opposite her.
    “Having a bad day?” he asked.
    Rachel looked up. Never had she met anyone who could pick up on her moods so well.
     Most people bought the perky smile, laughter, and happy attitude act. Of course, when
     you spent as much time together as she and Mike had over the last couple months, your
     inner emotions were bound to show. A simple “I’m fine” wasn’t going to cut it. Mike
     would know if she wasn’t telling the truth.
    “My grandfather’s taken a turn for the worse,” she said, forcing the words from her
     mouth. “He didn’t say anything when I brought him his slippers last night, but I didn’t
     think anything was odd until my mom told me this morning that he hasn’t spoken in
     three days. There’s an experimental treatment that might help him, but Creative Cupcakes
     isn’t making enough money for me to help my mom with the finances.”
    “What about a window display to draw more people into the store?” Mike suggested.
    Rachel glanced at the large front window. Sheer pink curtains framed the glass, and
     dozens of