Loose Lips Read Free Page B

his
head, up to his eyeballs, shoved out the obviously too–large crack
that I’d left in the window. The Cutie, busy stowing the brownies
in her car, looked over her shoulder at him and laughed.
    To my surprise, she didn’t stop there. After
securing the baked goods, she walked back toward my Jeep, a dog
cookie held out between two fingers.
    “Can I help you?”
    I turned to find Cindy watching me with an
impatient frown on her face.
    I hesitated, but just for a moment. Kiska
had no allergies, and if someone was offering him food, the last
thing he would do is alienate them by growling. He’d be fine. The
Cutie would be fine. And me rushing outside to check on either of
them might lose me my opportunity to talk with Cindy.
    I let the door close and pointed at myself.
“Lucy. We met a year or so ago... on the bike ride.”
    Cindy blinked. I could see her going through
the Rolodex of the past year of her life, and I knew the minute she
landed on my card.
    “Oh, yeah. You’re the antique store owner
who had my great–great–grandmother’s ruby.”
    That didn’t sound as grateful as I’d
hoped.
    “Did your family get it back?” I asked,
upbeat and enthusiastic.
    “No.”
    “Oh... that’s too bad.” The conversation
wasn’t going as I’d hoped. Time to redirect. “So, was that the
owner of The Caffeine Cartel? She’s young, isn’t she?”
    She tilted her head to the side. “Yeah.”
    “And already so successful. I drive by every
day and the line almost wraps around the lot.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t know.”
    “I’d been wondering what they were doing to
get such a crowd. I mean coffee is coffee, right?” I bit my lip,
grateful that Joe wasn’t nearby listening to this. “But now, I know
it’s you.”
    “Me? I don’t think so.” She widened her
eyes, obviously startled by my praise.
    “Sure... you supply their pastries, right?
That
has
to be the draw.” I expected at least a smile at
my blatant flattery.
    Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest
and scowled. “I need to close. Did you want to buy something?”
    Her terseness took me off guard. “Uh...
I...”
    “If not...” She waved her hand toward the
door.
    I snapped to attention. “Of course...
cupcakes.”
    She grabbed a piece of wax paper and slid
open the case. “How many?”
    There were two full shelves of cupcakes.
Even I couldn’t eat that many before they went stale, but the more
I bought, the longer I had to turn the conversation to my real
purpose.
    “All of them!” I declared.
    She blinked again. “All of them? Even the
ones in the back?”
    I swallowed. “How many do you have in the
back?”
    “Sixty four. I had a retirement party
cancel.”
    Eek. Maybe I could do some kind of
promotion, free cupcake with purchase, or donate them somewhere.
Phyllis was always trying to get me to do some kind of charitable
work. What was more charitable than free cupcakes?
    “There is one thing,” Cindy added.
    I waited.
    “The ones in the back have a kind of
distinct theme.”
    o0o
    Twenty minutes later, Cindy came through the
door from the kitchen holding four white cardboard boxes.
    A smile stuck on my face like half–chewed
taffy on a malamute’s coat, I waited as she lifted the lid off the
top box. There was an assortment of cupcakes inside, with a variety
of decorations, everything from smiling suns to tiny coffee
cups.
    “Cute,” I said, trying to look
appreciative.
    I must have pulled it off. She warmed. “But
these others are the ones I’m most proud of.” She pulled the top
off another box.
    “Oh,” I exclaimed, unsure how I was supposed
to react. “They’re...”
    Cindy completed my sentence. “Piles of
poop.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied the tiny
“specimens.” “I usually do a full sized cake with the flies on
it...” She waved her hand toward the cupcakes. I noticed there were
indeed tiny flies dotting each one.
    “Marzipan,” she explained.