The Cupcake Diaries by Darlene Panzera Read Free Book Online

false.”
    “Should I call Jake?”
    “No, he’s already at the beach. His editor wants him to write a feature article on the master sculptors for the front page of the Astoria Sun. ”
    Andi’s three children carried more cupcake boxes to them from the kitchen, and Stacey loaded them into the back of the Volkswagen bus outside.
    She envied the way Andi and Jake had brought all the kids together to form a family. Andi’s seven-year-old daughter, Mia, came from her first marriage. Jake’s daughter, Taylor, the same age, came from his. And together they adopted thirteen-year-old Max, a boy formerly in foster care, just this past Christmas. Andi and Jake’s new baby would make child number four.
    But what really brought out the green monster in Stacey was seeing how close they were to one another, much closer, she thought, than she was to her tornado-torn family.
    Andi’s pain must have subsided because she gave Stacey a devious smile. “You know, Caleb, one of the photographers at the newspaper, will also be at the competition. You might consider asking him to escort you to Kim’s wedding reception.”
    “Caleb’s got a girlfriend,” Mia told them.
    Andi frowned. “How would you know?”
    Max nudged Mia and teased, “Mia’s a big know-it-all.”
    “She is,” Taylor agreed. “She also knows what Aunt Trish and Uncle Oliver were arguing about on Sunday.”
    “Don’t worry, Stacey,” Mia said, looking up at her with big blue eyes. “Uncle Oliver wants to go to a motocross event the same day as Kim’s wedding, and just like you, Aunt Trish might have to go alone. You could sit with her.”
    Well, that was . . . um, comforting? Stacey knew Mia meant well, but the fact that she didn’t have anyone to accompany her to the wedding niggled at her more than ever. Maybe she should make “getting a date” her second goal for the day. Maybe she could charm a cute sand-carving artist. Maybe.
    Martha Slater, the coordinator for the state cupcake competition, drove up, parked her car next to the Volkswagen bus, and blocked her in.
    “I have to leave,” Stacey told her, closing the back doors of the vehicle. “Can you please move your car forward so I can get out?”
    “I’m sure you can wait a few minutes,” Ms. Slater said, her tone icy cold. “Especially since I’m here to deliver the official registrant documents and contestant number.”
    Didn’t the woman know how to email? Why deliver the documents in person? Stacey followed her through the front door of the shop and wondered if she were some kind of competition spy.
    Once Ms. Slater left, Rachel threw her arms in the air and twirled around. “Once we win the state title, we’ll compete in regionals, then nationals. New York, here we come!”
    Stacey nodded, hoping at the end of summer there would still be a “we.”
    A N HOUR LATER, Stacey and Rachel opened the cupcake stand for business and watched the competing master teams take positions inside each of their thirty-by-thirty-foot designated roped-off sandy squares.
    “I wonder if the cupcake competition will be anything like this,” Stacey mused.
    “Both competitions will be timed,” Rachel told her. “The sand castle builders start early when the tide is out. They’ll have only about five hours. Then the teams will stop around noon, and their creations will be judged before the incoming high tide washes them away. Like the cupcake competitions, the winners receive trophies, ribbons, and bragging rights.”
    Stacey glanced back and forth as the team members carried buckets of water from a deep-dug water basin near the surf to the sand sculptures. Mermaids, dragons, the sharp chiseled faces of sea captains, and, of course, tall, turreted castles slowly took shape, decorated only with natural items like sticks and stones, seaweed and shells.
    She sighed. “My new apartment will be my castle.”
    Beside her, Rachel craned her curly red head over the counter and glanced to the right for the