Spoonful of Christmas (6 page)

He thought about going over and saying “hey” to Jake, but . . . the guy was too busy tossing snowballs back and forth with Mia’s mom. Maybe some other time.

He sliced another snowball with his drumstick, then turned his head toward the raised voice of a mean, fat kid from his class at school.

The boy, Toby Pittenger, better known as Toby the Pit Bull, was arguing with some little kid over a sled. Max edged closer to listen in.

“You’re in the way!” Toby shouted. “Get off the hill, or I’ll break your sled in two.”

“That’s my sled,” a small voice whined. “Give it back.”

Toby turned sideways, and Max sucked in his breath when he saw the kid being bullied was Mia.

“Give her back her sled,” Max said, closing the distance between them.

“Who are you, the kid’s brother or something?”

Max stuck out his chin. “That sled isn’t yours. Give it back.
Now
.”

“Like I would listen to you.”

Max growled and raised his drumstick, ready to strike.

“I was just foolin’ around,” Toby said, throwing the saucer sled at Mia’s feet. “Since when do
you
care, anyway?”

Max didn’t lower his arm until Toby was a safe distance. Then he took Mia’s hand and pulled her back up on her feet.

“Thanks, Max.”

“No problem.” He held the sled steady while Mia climbed on. “No one should treat you like that. No one. If that kid bothers you again, I want to hear about it.”

“Okay, Max,” she said, a smile back on her face. “Do you want to sled with me?”

“Maybe later.” He glanced over at Jake, who caught sight of him and waved. “There’s someone I need to talk to.”

Jake might be the first person he’d met who could help. He must have connections—know people—from working at the
Astoria Sun.
Maybe he could write up an ad to find his mom, let her know he still waited for her, let her know he’d been placed in foster care.

And if Jake couldn’t help, he’d find her himself, because he was through putting up with the Tobys of this world. Just like he was through with bad foster parents who took the money meant to supply him with food and clothes and used it to buy lottery tickets. Once he found his mom, everything would be great. He’d never be in foster care ever again.

Later that night, Max returned from a scavenger trek around town to find Jake on his doorstep, speaking with Garth Gilmore, his current foster care provider. No way! What was he doing here? When he talked with Jake earlier, he didn’t tell him his last name or where he lived.

He dove behind the bushes next to the front steps before anyone could see him.

“My wife isn’t here right now,” Garth said cheerfully. “She must have run to the store to buy some groceries.”

Yeah, right,
Max thought. Paula had moved out a month before, and their refrigerator had remained bare ever since.

“So you and your wife live together?” Jake asked. “You aren’t getting a divorce?”

“No, no divorce. Did Max tell you that?” Garth laughed as if amused. “Max Holloway is very disturbed. We treat Max like gold, but he lies, steals, cheats. Seems like we’re always pulling him out of some kind of trouble.”

Max clenched his drumstick, wishing he could beat it on something. After this, Jake would never treat him like a friend, never invite him to jam with him at the music store, never buy him anything else to eat.

“Maybe I can help,” Jake told Garth. “I’m part-owner of Creative Cupcakes, and my wife is gathering donated gifts from local businesses to distribute to foster kids this weekend. Can I put Max’s name on the list?”

“Go ahead,” Garth said, “and when you publish your article about me, remember to spell my last name with an
e
on the end. Oh, and make sure you include my quote about how hard we work as foster parents and how we only want what’s best for the child.”

“I will,” Jake promised and snapped his notepad shut.

The sound made Max jump, and Jake turned his head. He saw him. But to his surprise, Jake didn’t rat him out. Instead, he gave a final nod to Garth, got in his shiny blue Mazda Miata, and drove away.

Max slumped against the wall of the house and squeezed his eyes shut. Jake wouldn’t come back. He had his news story, his fancy car, his merry little family . . . and a holly-jolly cupcake shop decked out for Christmas with lights, bows, tinsel, cranberries, and popcorn strings.

What would he want with
him
?

S
ATURDAY AFTERNOON
A
NDI
stacked the brightly colored wrapped packages in the back party room for Mike to load into the Cupcake Mobile and argued with the next-door neighbor.

“Guy,” she pleaded. “I’m not asking to pull your other tooth out. All I want is a donation for the foster kids.”

The tattoo artist grinned in response, revealing his missing left canine. “Pulling a tooth would be easier for me than turning into Santa. At least I’d have a matched pair.”

“Do you want to be naughty or nice?” she demanded. “How would you feel if you were a kid and didn’t get a gift on Christmas?”

Guy scowled. “There’s been many times when I didn’t.”

“So you
do
know how it feels,” Andi said, her hands on her hips. “The Pig ’N’ Pancake, Maritime Museum, Coastguard, the Captain’s Port, and Safeway grocery have all donated.”

“So what do you need me to give up my hard-earned money for?” he protested.

Rachel brought another gift in to add to the pile. “A kiss under the mistletoe might soften him up.”

“I’m too old for mistletoe,” Guy hissed.

Rachel’s mom, Sarah, also carried in a gift. “Guess what, Andi? I got a loan to open a bridal shop.”

“Congratulations!” Andi said. “You’ve done a wonderful job sewing all our dresses.”

The glow on Sarah’s face lit her eyes. “Watching you three girls go after your dream to open a cupcake shop inspired me to go after my own dream.”

Andi thought of Jake’s job offer in Washington and how badly he wanted it. “Yes,” she said and swallowed hard. “Everyone should have the opportunity to pursue a dream.”

“People can’t just pursue their dreams,” Rachel amended. “They need to
fight
for them. And Astoria is known as the ‘home of the fighting fishermen.’ ”

“But you’re not fishermen; you’re cupcake shop owners,” Guy reminded her.

Rachel shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“You have inspired me, too, Guy,” Sarah told him. “I admire the way you left the space here in the back room and expanded your business in the building next door.”

Guy grinned. “You were inspired by
me
?”

“I was just telling Guy how he should be inspired to donate gifts for the foster children,” Andi said, giving Sarah a wink.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” Sarah agreed. “You
will
donate a few gifts, won’t you, Guy?”

Guy looked at Sarah, and his grin turned into a full-fledged smile. “Okay, I’ll do it for the kids.”

When Andi returned to the front of the shop, Rachel introduced her cousin. “This is Stacey McIntyre from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.”

“Nice to meet you,” Andi said, shaking her hand. “Rachel tells me you’re willing to work while you’re here for the wedding.”

The young woman wore one red sock and one green. Andi tried not to stare at her feet, but couldn’t help herself—and Stacey noticed.

“When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t find a match,” Stacey explained.

“That’s okay,” Andi assured her. “Your socks are a perfect match for our red aprons and the green bandanas we wear over our hair.”

Rachel opened the Cupcake Diary and read off their latest plans. “Today we started our ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ theme. We’re serving pear cupcakes topped with a tiny partridge made of multicolored piped icing. Tomorrow we serve twin turtle doves on our eggnog-flavored cupcakes. On the third day—”

“Three French hens?” Stacey asked with a giggle.

“You got it,” Andi said, nodding. “On the fourth day we serve up cupcakes with plastic bird whistles for ‘four calling birds,’ and on the fifth day we decorate the cupcakes with five golden rings.”

“Five!” Kim called out. “I can’t even get one!”

Andi looked across the room to the table where her sister was creating a Santa sleigh and reindeer out of cupcakes. She’d used red string licorice for the reins, pretzels for antlers, and a red gumdrop for Rudolph’s nose.

“I didn’t know you wanted Nathaniel to propose,” she said, glancing at Rachel to see if she knew.

Rachel shook her head, her mouth open in surprise.

“I thought for sure he’d propose when he took me to the Flavel House two nights ago for plum pudding,” Kim said, poking another reindeer cupcake with a chocolate chip nose. “You know I did research on Swedish traditions, and when someone finds an almond in a special rice porridge, it’s supposed to mean they’ll get married in the coming year. I figured plum pudding was kind of like rice porridge, but did I get an almond? No! No almond. No proposal.
Nothing.
”

Andi gasped at her sister’s unaccustomed show of emotion. “Do you want me to give him a hint?”

Kim shook her head. “Don’t you dare!”

Andi would have liked to learn more about this new development, but the phone rang, and she was the closest one to answer it. “Hello, Creative Cupcakes.”

She hoped the caller on the other end might be Jake, but it was that dreaded businessman Preston Pennyworth again.

“I’m willing to make you a new offer,” he informed her. “I’ll tack on another two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“One point four five million bucks?” Andi glanced at the wood hutch in the dining area where they had placed all the cupcake-shaped gifts their loyal customers had brought in to give to them: candles, cards, piggy banks, picture frames, salt-and-pepper shakers, plates, bowls, and candy. She let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money. I’ll have to think about it.”

“When will you know?” he persisted.

“Well, I’ll have to talk it over with my partners.”

“Can you do it tonight?”

She looked around the shop, filled with customers coming in and out, employees running back and forth, the gifts for the foster kids stacked and ready to go. “No, I’m busy.”

“Then when can I expect an answer?”

Mia ran past her with a stocking that had glitter flying off onto the floor.

Andi placed her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Mia, look what you’re doing!”

Mia held up the stocking, and Andi read the name she’d written on it with glue and gold glitter.
Max.

“You made a stocking for your imaginary friend?” Andi asked, shaking her head.

“He’s
real
, Mom!” Mia argued.

“Andi, did you hear what I said?”

Mr. Pennyworth’s voice drew her attention back to the phone. “Yes, I heard you.”

“I need an answer within the next three days. I want to give Creative Cupcakes to my daughter for Christmas.”

Give Creative Cupcakes away as a Christmas gift? The company she’d worked her sweet bum off to make a success? This was
her
dream,
her
inspiration, and she wasn’t about to just let it go to the likes of him.

“You know what? I don’t have to wait another minute. You want an answer? The answer is
no
.”

As she hung up the phone, Rachel asked, “Who was that?”

Guilt shot through Andi as she realized she’d made another rash decision without consulting her lifelong pals. But her answer to the guy would have been the same.

“Phone solicitor,” she replied.

Rachel scowled. “They’re always asking for money around the holidays.”

“Just like you’re asking for donated gifts?” Ian Lockwell teased, carrying an armload of presents. “These were donated by our division for the foster kids. Where do you want them?”

Andi pointed to the party room. “Mike’s loading up the Cupcake Mobile tonight so we can deliver the gifts first thing in the morning.”

“Hope you lock the truck up tight,” Ian warned. “There’s always a lot of theft this time of year.”

“Don’t worry,” Andi said, giving him a big smile. “We’ve got the best locks on our truck and our shop doors, we now have an indoor
and
an outdoor security camera, and I’ve set up a neighborhood watch. I’m not going to let anyone steal away our Christmas!”

A
NDI ROSE AT
the crack of dawn and rushed to the grocery store for some extra food coloring, candy canes, sugar sprinkles, and cinnamon red-hots. Next, she rushed to the post office to mail her Christmas cards, only to remember it was Sunday, and the post office wasn’t open. Then she rushed to the variety shop on the corner to pick up a few last-minute gifts to add to the ones in the Cupcake Mobile.

She was beginning to see why Guy thought Christmas was the season of stress with all the shopping, buying, wrapping, decorating, baking, not enough time in the day, rush, rush, rush. To add to the craziness, someone backed into her in the parking lot and dented her car.
How cliché.

She and the other driver exchanged phone numbers and insurance information, but the experience took her out of her “Joy to the World” mood.

“Merry Christmas!” Andi muttered under her breath, as her car’s assailant drove away.

Beside her, Mia put her hands together in a
clap—clap, clap, clap—clap
rhythm and chanted, “Who let the Grinch out? Who! Who!”

Andi recognized the tune, although the words had been changed. “Are you implying I sound like a Grinch?”

Mia nodded, and Andi resolved to change her attitude. If she and Jake decided to move, she didn’t want to remember this Christmas in a negative way. No, she wanted to hear the “resounding joy” as the children opened their packages and see the look of wonder on their angelic faces.

However, “angelic” would not be the word she’d use to describe the expressions of Mike, Rachel, Stacey, Jake, and Kim when she drove up to the Cupcake Mobile. They were all there.

But the gifts were not.

Chapter Seven

Christmas is a time when you get homesick—even when you’re home.