Page 2 of Tart
“Have you heard anything about the trial?” I asked, sliding the last box onto the rack we’d push out to the delivery van later.
She grimaced, and her eyes went to the ceiling. “Jury selection starts next week. She’s hired the best attorney in the state, so she’ll probably walk.”
“Where does she get the money to pay for that?” I asked, stymied. “She hasn’t worked a day in her pathetic thirty years of life.”
“Daddy,” Haylee said, her eyes rolling. “Daddy has always spoiled her. He’s the reason she’s the way she is now.”
“A murderer,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“Innocent until proven guilty, Amber,” she reminded me, and we both broke down into a fit of giggles.
“Hard to pretend you’re innocent when you leave the knife you stabbed someone with in your bathtub, and your DNA all over their body.”
“I’m sure she will find a way to twist it in her favor. She always does. Anyway, I think we’re done here.” She pointed at the cupcakes, but I knew she was talking about the discussion regarding Darla. She didn’t like to talk about it, not that I could blame her, so I nodded my head in agreement.
“We’re ready. Once Taylor comes in, I’ll have Brady help me load these, and I’ll deliver them. That way, you can finish your work.”
She slung her arm over my shoulders and squeezed me. “Thanks, bestie. I appreciate it. You’re better at schmoozing with people than I am anyway.”
“That’s what makes us a great team,” I said, throwing her a wink and heading to the front of the bakery to start the day.
THE LAKE PENDLE SCHOOLDistrict consisted of three schools in different areas of the town. Lake Pendle Elementary sat near the lake in a sprawling brick building that had been around for only a few decades. It was built new in the nineties to replace an old building past its prime and fire codes. The new building was a source of pride for the community, with windows in all the classrooms, interior computer labs, and a beautiful gymnasium. There was no doubt that the Lake Pendle Littles, as they’re referred to, get a state-of-the-art education. I don’t have kids, but I do know technology is more important than anything now that our world runs on it.
Today’s event was for the Lake Pendle Littles and their Bigs. The elementary and high school partner together in a program to offer mentoring, support, friendship, and encouragement between schools. A high school freshman is paired with a first-grader, and they spend the next four years together, culminating in a graduation ceremony at the elementary for the fourth graders going to the middle school and the high schoolers moving on to college or transitioning to work life. It was a favorite event of the community, and in a few more hours, this place was going to be packed. Luckily for me, at just a little past seven, it was quiet, other than staff preparing for the day. Thankfully, the storms had petered out and left us with just a few rain showers on this Friday morning. Delivering thirteen giant boxes of cupcakes was easier when it wasn’t raining, for obvious reasons.
I slammed the doors shut on the van and pushed the cart toward the side door of the elementary school, where deliveries were made to Cook Cramer. I swear Mrs. Cramer was timeless. She’d been cooking here since I was a kid, and since I’m thirty, that’s a lot of years. In truth, I went to school with her kids, so she’s not that old, but she is one of the most beloved figures in this school for both her fantastic food and her sweet nature. She didn’t have time to make forty dozen cupcakes, though.
“Oaf,” I said, nearly coming to a complete halt and grabbing boxes of cupcakes as they started to slide off the cart. “What the hell?” I exclaimed, standing with the last box before it hit the ground.
I stared into a face that was as surprised as mine was. “Sorry,” the guy said, taking the box from my shaking hands and sliding it back onto the cart. “I had my back turned and didn’t know you were coming.”
“You couldn’t hear the cart with the one rattling wheel coming up behind you?” I asked hotly. “I don’t think the kids are going to appreciate smashed cupcakes for graduation. You were probably on your phone.”
He held it up sheepishly, and I huffed. “I was, but in my defense, I was arguing with a teenager.” Before I could answer, he stuck his hand out. “Bishop Halla.”
I reluctantly shook his hand but didn’t smile. “Amber Larson. Halla. That’s?”
“Finnish,” he answered, hitting the doorbell by the kitchen door so Mrs. Cramer knew someone was waiting.
“I should have known since we are in Minnesota,” I said, chuckling. Another crack of thunder filled the air, and I jumped, sliding under the awning over the door while silently begging Cook Cramer to hurry up.
“That’s a long way away,” he said casually.
“I know. Are you here for a reason?” I asked, wondering why he was hanging around.
He pointed at the door. “I’m a teacher. I’ll go in this way, too.”
“If you’re a teacher here, don’t you have a key?”
The door opened, and Mrs. Cramer peeked her head out. “Oh, Amber!”
“Hi, Mrs. Cramer. The Fluffy Cupcake has arrived with your, well, fluffy cupcakes.”
She clapped excitedly and propped the door open. “You know it’s graduation day when the cupcakes show up! Hey, good morning, Mr. Halla,” she said, acknowledging the man standing next to me as she peered into a box. Her grin grew when she spotted all the penguins in their cuteness. “Adorable as always. Haylee is a cupcake goddess.”
“You know it! I have thirteen of these boxes.”
“I already made space. I’ll unload this cart while you get the next load. There’s another cart over there,” she said, pointing to a metal cart by the wall. “You have about twenty minutes before the buses arrive and the kids start streaming in.”
