Chocolat Chaud Murder Page 9

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Mrs. Vega. Nice to meet you, Matthew.”

  Once back safely out of the elements and inside the Pink Cupcake, Amelia and Lila played a game of cards and waited for the rain to end.

  “You’re not very good at Go Fish,” Lila teased. “I didn’t think there was anyone who could be bad at Go Fish.”

  Amelia laughed and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. My mind is just going over the numbers in my head. I know what I need to make each day to break even. Any day that I don’t make that, I’ll have to try for double the next day. It’s just… frustrating.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s too early to panic.” Lila looked out the open window and inhaled deeply. “This rain won’t last.”

  She was right. After another hour, the rain stopped as quickly as it had started. Like bees to honey, the lunchtime crowd scurried out of their buildings wearing galoshes, carrying umbrellas, and looking for sustenance.

  The rest of the day flew by as Amelia baked more of the special cupcakes of the day while Lila handled the cash. No matter how busy she got, Amelia made sure each of her creations had the special little touches that she thought set her apart from other bakers, like a fresh raspberry on the top of her raspberry-chocolate cupcakes, with a pinch of powdered sugar for contrast. The lemon-poppyseed cupcakes were decorated with three little silver balls of candy in the center of each, with half a purple bachelor button flower that could also be eaten. They were little works of art that tasted heavenly.

  By the time Mrs. Vega dropped off three giant burritos—she didn’t want to leave Lila to go hungry—Amelia’s tiny kitchen looked as if a tornado had hit it. Lila calculated the receipts while Amelia cleaned and secured everything for the drive home. After everything was done according to code, Lila gave Amelia the news.

  “Here’s the damage for the day.” She handed Amelia the total and watched.

  A smile spread across her face. “This is correct?”

  “I’d bet my life on it.”

  “This means we made a profit of fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents.”

  Lila grinned.

  Amelia wanted to cry but remembered her promise to herself from that morning. Swallowing hard, she let out a giggle, tucked the receipt in the bag to turn in to the bank, and hugged Lila tightly. “Thank you. If you hadn’t been so optimistic, I might have just turned around and gone home this morning.”

  “If I weren’t optimistic, I wouldn’t have taken this job at all.”

  Declining a lift home, Lila hopped off the truck and walked in the direction Amelia had seen her come from that morning. She stepped outside the truck to wind down the awning, and a familiar voice startled her from behind.

  “Hey!” It was Adam.

  “Hey,” Amelia said, smiling. “Where is your sister?”

  “She got a ride home with Katherine and her mom.”

  “You didn’t want to take a ride with the BFFs?”

  Adam rolled his eyes and snorted. “I have something for you,” he said, handing his mother his cell phone.

  “What’s this? You’re giving up your phone? You’re going to learn how to read books with pages and catch fireflies after the rain and—”

  “Mom.”

  “Oh, sorry. I thought that’s what you were doing. Okay, tell me what I’m looking at.” She smiled, watching her boy smirk. That was the best smile she could get out of him, and she was happy for that.

  “I set you up with a webpage, blog, Facebook profile, Twitter, and Instagram accounts and have a trademark pending for the Pink Cupcake.”

  Amelia watched as Adam scrolled through the pages, everything bursting with the hot-pink color to match her truck.

  “It’s beautiful, honey. But how am I going to keep on top of this? I barely know how to turn on your laptop.” She smiled.

  “See, that’s the beauty. These are all linked, so if you update one, it will automatically update the rest. All you have to do is post a thought or a special or a recipe or coupon, and it will transfer to all the other outlets. I doubt even the Kardashians are as immersed in the Matrix as you are now.”

  Pulling her son close, she kissed him on the forehead. That required she stand on tiptoe. “This is really great. Thank you. Hey, I’ve got burritos for supper from—”

  “You shut up! You think I’m scared of you?” A man’s voice was coming from the direction of the Burrito Wagon.

  Amelia couldn’t understand the muffled reply, but then another explosion of words made them both jump.

  “This isn’t over! I’ll be back! Yeah! Come down here and say that to me!”

  Carefully Amelia stretched and looked around the Turkey Club to see what was happening. Adam moved to look too, but Amelia held him close, not wanting him to get too close.

  A man was stomping off down the sidewalk, his arms flying and his voice rising and falling while he continued to carry on the argument he’d had with whoever was at the Burrito Wagon.

  “I know that guy,” Adam said. “That’s Mr. Indesh. Peter Indesh.”

  “Ruth Indesh’s husband?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t he used to be partners with Bill Banks at your skateboard shop?” Amelia asked.

  “Shooshies. Yeah. Used to. Until he started stealing money. I’m going to go see who he was yelling at.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She held Adam by the back of his shirt collar. “Respect people’s privacy and their right to argue when they want. It doesn’t concern us.”

  “But aren’t you curious?”

  “Too many cooks spoil the broth.” And the marriage. “The Vegas are our neighbors down the street at home. We don’t want to act like greedy hogs, sniffing around in their business. They can handle whatever it is, I’m sure.” Amelia didn’t mention the size of Mrs. Vega’s nephew but was sure she was as safe as a kitten whenever he was around.

  Adam rolled his eyes and slumped.

  “Need a lift home?”

  “No. Swooshies is getting some new Port Nation gear I wanted to check out.”

  “Okay. Be home right after,” Amelia said. “We’ve got mutant burritos for dinner, and if you’re too late, your little sister will eat a whole one herself.”

  “All right, Mom.”

  Her son hopped on his skateboard and headed toward his favorite home away from home.

  Finally, she climbed into the cab of her truck—the front seat feeling like a mound of down pillows—revved the engine, and pulled out of Food Truck Alley. She hadn’t realized it, but that was the first chance she’d gotten to sit down all day. Her legs and back cried with relief. It was the kind of exhaustion that came with knowing you did your best.

  Amelia yawned as she stopped at the bank to make her deposit. Before heading home, she also made a stop at the St. Michael’s Food Pantry to donate two dozen cupcakes that hadn’t been scooped up by the end of the day. Nothing had gotten really burned. There had been no accidents. No one came running back to the truck clutching their stomachs claiming ptomaine poisoning. Plus, she had fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents in the till. This was a fantastic day.

  The following days were an absolute landslide of business. The weather was great, with the majority of rain peeking in between mostly sunny skies. The customers were lining up, requesting dozens to take to their offices and asking if the Pink Cupcake did weddings or bridal showers. Amelia found it all very encouraging.

  “Weddings and showers. That’s not a bad idea.” Lila’s eyes widened.

  “No. It certainly is not. But I think we better get this truck under control first and then see how we can branch out.”

  “Yes, proceed with caution, of course, but cupcakes at a bridal shower is as logical a partnership as peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Oh, now there’s an idea. Peanut-butter-and-jelly cupcakes.” Amelia began composing a list of ingredients in her head in order to try the new concoction and bake a couple of test batches at home. “Can you beli
eve it’s Friday already?”

  “Nope,” Lila said while wiping down the counter. “This sure does beat the heck out of working in some office.” She leaned out the window to take in the scenery and see what, if anything, was going on.

  “Don’t fall out,” Amelia teased.

  Lila pulled her head back in and smiled. “Have you met the people at the Turkey Club?”

  Amelia shook her head. “No. I’ve seen the woman who runs it and waved hello a couple times.”

  “Did she wave back?”

  “Yeah. I think she is a workaholic, you know. No time for socializing. Just do the J-O-B. Nothing wrong with that.” Amelia shrugged.

  Lila nodded. “What about the guy on the left? What does he sell? Philly cheesesteaks?”

  “Yeah.” Amelia said, looking down at the decorating project she was working on. If she wasn’t careful, her frosting would end up looking like slugs rather than delicate orange petals.

  “That’s it? Yeah?”

  Amelia felt a blush fall over her cheeks.

  “Wait a minute. What? Are you… blushing?”

  Amelia said nothing but shook her head.

  “Oh, I have got to go get a look at this!” Lila teased, dashing toward the back door.

  “No, you will not. You are my employee, and you have to stay in the truck.”

  Lila froze, turned, and, flashing that gaping smile, waved her red-nailed hands toward herself. “Spill it.”

  “I haven’t spoken to him.” Amelia rolled her right shoulder up to her ear. “I just waved. Besides, hadn’t you noticed that his customers are almost seventy-five percent female? Young females.”

  “No, but I will now,” Lila said. “How old is he?”

  “Actually, he looks like he’s about our age. His hair is almost all gray, but it’s cut really short, you know. Like he might have been in the service or something. He’s no kid. But you don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Certainly not. That would be just horrible.” Lila laughed.

  Suddenly a sharp, high-pitched scream echoed through Food Truck Alley.

  Sweets and a Stabbing is available everywhere