even going to be a pageant now.”
“Oh, there’ll be a pageant,” Ginny said. “There’s too much money with sponsors and prizes for them to cancel it.”
Mel glanced over toward the crime scene. Mariel Mars was dead. Like her or not, it seemed wrong that the pageant would just carry on as if her role as a judge was insignificant and her life replaceable.
Fifteen
“Mel, I had the most amazing epiphany in the van today!” Tate said as he pushed through her office door and stepped into her inner sanctum.
Mel glanced up from the computer on her desk. She was trying to combine a triple word and triple letter tile in Words with Friends to beat her friend Erika Ona Sanborn, a Canadian cupcake baker who was also an elementary school teacher, bless her heart. Erika had dusted her in their last match and Mel was looking to even the score.
“Can you make a word out of three L’s, two P’s, a Z, and a Q?” she asked.
“Qlzlplp?” he offered.
Mel growled and slammed the lid on her laptop.
“Back to me now?” Tate asked.
“Yes, you had an epiphany,” Mel said just to prove she had sort of been listening.
“So, I was parked down by Patriots Square Park in Phoenix and what did I notice but tons of delivery trucks,” he said. “And it hit me—all of those trucks are delivering packages.”
“Hence the name
delivery truck
,” Mel said.
He ignored her and took the seat across from her. He looked positively giddy, which was Mel’s first clue that she probably wouldn’t like what was coming.
“Just think,” he said. “What if all those trucks were delivering our cupcakes? Come on, say it with me,
Cha-ching
.”
“Did you hit your head on the service window in the van?” Mel asked.
“No, why?”
“Tate, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but cupcakes are an extremely perishable food item, not to mention they get mushed pretty easily,” she said. “Even if there were enough people who wanted us to send cupcakes for them, it would be prohibitively expensive. We’d be better served opening a franchise in downtown Phoenix.”
“Hey, now you’re talking,” he said.
“No.”
“I could study up on franchises and do a cost analysis.”
“No.”
“Aw, come on, Mel, you’re killing me,” he said.
Tate looked so crestfallen that Mel felt herself weaken. Darn it.
“If I say yes to you writing up a business proposal, will you go away?” she asked.
“I will be nothing but a memory,” he promised.
“‘Memories are meant to fade. They’re designed that way for a reason,’” Mel said.
“Ha!” Tate grinned at her. “From the movie
Strange Days
.”
“Correct,” Mel said returning his grin. “Now go away.”
Tate raised his hands in surrender and backed out of her office and into the kitchen.
Mel knew that taking the bakery to the next level had become Tate’s personal mission. The trouble with that was if they expanded she feared their product—
Ack!
That was the problem right there. When she started thinking of her cupcakes as product instead of yummies from her own kitchen, well, she was going corporate and she really didn’t want to venture down that path.
She rose from her desk and went into the kitchen. The telltale whoosh of the kitchen door clued her in that Tate had gone into the front part of the bakery.
Mel thought about going out front to see what was happening, but she knew she had to finish up tomorrow’s cupcakes for the pageant. Ginny had been right. They didn’t cancel the pageant or postpone it; they just rolled it back one day. Tomorrow they would finish the swimsuit contest and the girls would submit their cupcake recipes, the day after that would be the talent show and finally the last day would be cupcake tasting and evening gowns and the winner would be crowned. It made Mel tired just to think about it.
She went to the walk-in cooler and pulled out a large tray of butter-flavored cupcakes. She planned to decorate them with vanilla buttercream and then
“Oh, there’ll be a pageant,” Ginny said. “There’s too much money with sponsors and prizes for them to cancel it.”
Mel glanced over toward the crime scene. Mariel Mars was dead. Like her or not, it seemed wrong that the pageant would just carry on as if her role as a judge was insignificant and her life replaceable.
Fifteen
“Mel, I had the most amazing epiphany in the van today!” Tate said as he pushed through her office door and stepped into her inner sanctum.
Mel glanced up from the computer on her desk. She was trying to combine a triple word and triple letter tile in Words with Friends to beat her friend Erika Ona Sanborn, a Canadian cupcake baker who was also an elementary school teacher, bless her heart. Erika had dusted her in their last match and Mel was looking to even the score.
“Can you make a word out of three L’s, two P’s, a Z, and a Q?” she asked.
“Qlzlplp?” he offered.
Mel growled and slammed the lid on her laptop.
“Back to me now?” Tate asked.
“Yes, you had an epiphany,” Mel said just to prove she had sort of been listening.
“So, I was parked down by Patriots Square Park in Phoenix and what did I notice but tons of delivery trucks,” he said. “And it hit me—all of those trucks are delivering packages.”
“Hence the name
delivery truck
,” Mel said.
He ignored her and took the seat across from her. He looked positively giddy, which was Mel’s first clue that she probably wouldn’t like what was coming.
“Just think,” he said. “What if all those trucks were delivering our cupcakes? Come on, say it with me,
Cha-ching
.”
“Did you hit your head on the service window in the van?” Mel asked.
“No, why?”
“Tate, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but cupcakes are an extremely perishable food item, not to mention they get mushed pretty easily,” she said. “Even if there were enough people who wanted us to send cupcakes for them, it would be prohibitively expensive. We’d be better served opening a franchise in downtown Phoenix.”
“Hey, now you’re talking,” he said.
“No.”
“I could study up on franchises and do a cost analysis.”
“No.”
“Aw, come on, Mel, you’re killing me,” he said.
Tate looked so crestfallen that Mel felt herself weaken. Darn it.
“If I say yes to you writing up a business proposal, will you go away?” she asked.
“I will be nothing but a memory,” he promised.
“‘Memories are meant to fade. They’re designed that way for a reason,’” Mel said.
“Ha!” Tate grinned at her. “From the movie
Strange Days
.”
“Correct,” Mel said returning his grin. “Now go away.”
Tate raised his hands in surrender and backed out of her office and into the kitchen.
Mel knew that taking the bakery to the next level had become Tate’s personal mission. The trouble with that was if they expanded she feared their product—
Ack!
That was the problem right there. When she started thinking of her cupcakes as product instead of yummies from her own kitchen, well, she was going corporate and she really didn’t want to venture down that path.
She rose from her desk and went into the kitchen. The telltale whoosh of the kitchen door clued her in that Tate had gone into the front part of the bakery.
Mel thought about going out front to see what was happening, but she knew she had to finish up tomorrow’s cupcakes for the pageant. Ginny had been right. They didn’t cancel the pageant or postpone it; they just rolled it back one day. Tomorrow they would finish the swimsuit contest and the girls would submit their cupcake recipes, the day after that would be the talent show and finally the last day would be cupcake tasting and evening gowns and the winner would be crowned. It made Mel tired just to think about it.
She went to the walk-in cooler and pulled out a large tray of butter-flavored cupcakes. She planned to decorate them with vanilla buttercream and then
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