Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The final version of the pecan tassie cupcakes sat in a neat row, bathing in pale mid-morning light, perfect in every way, from the domed peak to the fluffy texture.
The cake itself was tender and buttery with subtle vanilla notes that complemented rather than competed with the maple-infused frosting.
The bourbon-aged syrup added depth without overwhelming the delicate crumb, and left the sugared pecans to be the true star of the dessert.
She’d also infused a shortbread cookie recipe with some of the syrup and overbaked them just a bit, using them as a crumble atop the frosting and halved pecans.
The buttery cookies helped balance out the sweetness and added a new layer of texture and interest. A fine sprinkling of raw maple sugar completed them to perfection.
Andrea slumped onto one of the kitchen stools; her body—and ankle—ached but her spirit soared.
Her phone rang, the sound jarringly loud in the quiet morning kitchen. Marren’s name appeared on the screen. “Hey,” Andrea answered, unable to keep the smile from her voice despite her exhaustion. “How’s LA treating you?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful! Your place is absolutely gorgeous, and the weather has been perfect.
” Marren’s voice was warm but slightly hurried.
“I’m so sorry to call and bother you, but I just got a text from a delivery service.
There’s a grimoire from a rare collection being delivered to the house today and they require a signature.
I completely forgot about ordering it before our swap.
Is there any chance you’ll be there today?
If not, it’s okay. I can try to call them and see if they’ll hold it.
It’s just—” Marren broke off, the undercurrent of anxiety evident in her voice.
“It’s a rare grimoire. Irreplaceable. And I’d hate for it to go back to a warehouse and get lost in the shuffle between now and New Year’s. ”
“Oh, of course. Don’t even worry about it. I’ll be here,” Andrea said, stifling a yawn. “What time should I expect it?”
Marren gave an audible exhale of relief. “They said sometime between nine and noon. Thank you so much, Andrea. Really. It means a lot.”
“Don’t mention it. Where should I put it? Someplace out of Phantom’s reach, I imagine.”
Marren chuckled softly. “I hope he’s been behaving himself. My office is fine for the package, though. Thanks. How is everything going, anyway?”
Andrea laughed, glancing over at the cat who was currently seated beside Crumpet at the front window, their heads turning in unison as they tracked the progress of a squirrel on a quest for some long-buried treasure under the barren maple tree in the neighbor’s yard.
“Phantom and I have reached an understanding. And aside from the construction zone next door, everything has been great.”
“Construction?” Marren sounded horrified. “What construction?”
“A pipe burst in the townhouse next to yours. They’ve been doing repairs all week. Lots of drilling and hammering and general chaos.” Andrea found herself smiling as she spoke. “It’s been … loud.”
“Oh stars above, I’m so sorry! That must be awful for your work. Are you able to concentrate at all?”
“I’m making good progress,” Andrea replied, nearly laughing when she realized how many times she’d uttered that same line to Martina in an effort to get off the phone with the disgruntled editor. Only this time, it was true. “What about you? How’s life in the city treating you?”
“It’s incredible!” Marren exclaimed. “I’ve been so distracted finding little nooks and crannies around Hecate’s Kitchen, I’ve hardly gone into Los Angeles itself!”
Andrea laughed, even as a pang of homesickness bit into her. “I know what you mean. We pack a lot of magic into a twenty-block district.”
“I’ll say!” Marren agreed with another hearty laugh. “And Andrea, I can’t thank you enough for the tab at Sunset Sweets! I can certainly see why it’s so popular.”
Andrea perked at this and straightened, no longer leaning back against the kitchen counter. “It’s been busy?”
“Oh, not too bad when I’ve been there. Like, no long line or anything,” Marren hurried to say, her tone making it clear she was attempting to defuse anything that could come across as a complaint. “And everyone is so nice! They always try to slip a few extra goodies into my bag.”
Andrea smiled and nodded, but in her chest, she felt her heart sinking.
Giving away free pastries could be a simple courtesy, knowing Marren was an acquaintance of hers, but it could also be a sign that there were too many day-olds at the end of the night.
In the peak of the holiday season and tourist boom, every pastry would be prized, not given away for free as a throwaway. Not even for a VIP customer.
“That’s—that’s great. I’m so glad you’re having a good time,” Andrea said.
From the other room Crumpet started barking, and Andrea snapped out of her reverie. “Oh, that might be the delivery,” she told Marren, already crossing the kitchen to go check out the front window.
“Oh! Well, I’ll let you go. Thanks again for handling that for me. If you need anything from me—a favor or errand or anything—just ask!”
Andrea peered out the window, only to see a man and a German Shepherd walking down the sidewalk in front of the townhomes.
Not a sign of a delivery truck. With a frown she shot Crumpet a “you really think you’d win that fight” look and then turned away from the window.
“Not a problem, really. Now go soak up some sun for me.”
Marren laughed softly. “I think I will! Have a cocoa for me.”
Andrea nodded and let the curtain fall back into place. “Will do.”
The brief conversation with Marren echoed through Andrea’s head long after she hung up the call.
She kept herself busy, working on her rum-soaked cherry recipe, but all she could think about was what Marren said about her visit to Sunset Sweets.
This time of year the line should be out the door and halfway around the block.
A week and a half had passed since William’s review in the Sunday paper.
Surely it was buried in recycling bins and lining bird cages by now. So, where was everyone?
Andrea’s fingers itched to reach for the phone and call Paige and demand an update on sales and the corporate accounts, but she decided against it.
She was exhausted from the all-night baking spree, and knew it would be better for all parties involved if she at least got a solid power nap in before diving into spreadsheets and sales reports.
She kept working until the delivery man dropped off the grimoire, and when it was safely stowed away in Marren’s office, Andrea returned to the kitchen and put everything away.
Once the kitchen was more or less clean, she dragged herself upstairs, showered, and dozed a bit, still swaddled in her plushy bathrobe.
Upon waking, she dressed in a blue sweater and pair of black skinny jeans, pulled on a clean pair of knitted socks, and set about blow-drying her hair.
Fortunately, with its short length, it didn’t take long.
She applied a tiny bit of makeup—mainly to cover the dark circles under her eyes and bring some color to her cheeks.
When she was satisfied, she added a spritz of her favorite perfume, and headed back downstairs.
Shockingly, Phantom and Crumpet hadn’t teamed up to knock the cupcakes down from the counter, and Andrea made a mental note to reward them for their good behavior when they woke up from their own afternoon naps.
It was a little past one o’clock, the time when the crew usually stopped for a meal break.
“You should know the mutt was plotting something, but I put a stop to it,” Phantom said, padding into the kitchen, his green eyes bleary.
Andrea’s lips twisted to one side. “Is that so?”
Phantom flicked his tail. “Why would I lie?”
“Hmm. I don’t know, but it’s kind of giving me mafia shakedown vibes. Sort of a ‘gee, those are some nice cupcakes you’ve got there, it would be a real shame if something were to happen to them.’”
Phantom scoffed and swirled in a half-circle. “Ridiculous. I’m a cat. I don’t need to play such games.”
Andrea smiled and inspected the tops of the cupcakes for any signs of pet hair. “So, you don’t want me to open a can of tuna, then?”
“Well, if you’re offering…”
“That’s what I thought.” Andrea smiled and rolled up her sleeves.
She selected another platter, this one featuring a painted Christmas tree design, and loaded it with the pecan tassie–inspired cupcakes.
“You’ll have to wait for me to get back,” she told the cat over her shoulder. “And you’ll have to share with Crumpy.”
Crumpet—never one to miss an opportunity for a T-R-E-A-T—came trotting into the kitchen at the sound of his name, his ears perked in a way that made him irresistibly adorable.
Phantom, however, was impervious. His eyes narrowed in the terrier’s direction. “Why? What did he do?”
Crumpet wagged his tail, clearly just happy to be included.
“He’s a good boy!” Andrea said in her dog-mom voice.
The tail wiggled faster and smacked against the archway between the kitchen and living room.
Phantom made a hairball-hacking sound and sauntered out of the room. “Fine! I’ll be in the laundry room until you get back.”
Andrea rolled her eyes and picked up the platter of cupcakes. “I closed the dryer door,” she called after the cat.
She’d made that mistake the day before, and found the cat asleep atop her freshly laundered towels.
Phantom muttered something to himself, but was far enough down the hall she couldn’t hear the specifics. Which was probably for the best.
Andrea picked up the tray and Crumpet escorted her to the front door, likely expecting a sample for his trouble, but he waited while she stepped into her winter boots and tied the laces, not disturbing the platter as it balanced on the narrow entryway table.