“It’s the same thing if you ask me.” Maggie shrugged. A breeze blew through the window of her car and deliciously assaulted her nose. Even after spending all her time in the bakery working with the cupcakes, she needed a cakey treat. No one would blame her. “Why are you calling me, Rich?”
“I wanted to hear about the success of your cupcakes. You never tweeted them.”
Limiting her social media in order to meet her father’s stipulations meant not taking pictures of her food. “I only use my tweets for good now.”
Richard chuckled. “Okay, whatever. So why didn’t they show up? Your big idea could have gotten you a full-time job at The Cupcakery.”
Caden Archibald happened, Maggie thought with a grumble. “Oh, well, um...” She debated how much to tell her brother. They were both grown. Rich had a daughter old enough to vote now, but somehow she didn’t feel comfortable discussing her previous sexcapades with her brother. Now if she were doing it for shock value for someone like their auntie Bren, that would be a different story. Auntie Bren deserved some torture.
“Uh-oh, I hear the wheels in your brain turning,” Richard teased. “You’re trying to come up with a lie.”
“Not a lie, just how much I want to tell you.”
“Save it,” he chuckled. “You’re six and oh with jobs.”
Since being thrown out of the nest, Maggie had wanted to try her hand at teaching, and the closest thing she could get without a degree was staffing an administrative desk. She quickly realized, though, that she didn’t have the temperament for working in a place where boys wore their pants below their butts and girls wore skirts just up to their tail and she wasn’t allowed to voice her opinion on this to their parents. A job at city hall with her brother-in-law, Ramon, didn’t pan out for her, either. For the sake of her relationship with her sister, Maggie had quit. Grits and Glam Gowns had also seemed the ideal place for Maggie to work since she adored the owner, Lexi Pendergrass-Reyes. But Lexi’s niece, Kimber, was doing such a great job there, Maggie didn’t want to step on any toes by pushing her trending ideas as a sales assistant, not a buyer. And as Lexi so eloquently put it, Southwood wasn’t ready for haute couture every day. There was also the time she tried to be the “hostess with the mostess” at Southwood’s upscale restaurant, Valencia’s, but was quickly let go after losing the former mayor and his cronies’ reservations six times.
It didn’t take a genius to acknowledge her losing streak. What concerned Maggie more right now was letting Vonna down. Getting that cupcake picture posted would have elevated The Cupcakery to a national status, brought more customers to town, won the food truck prize offered by the website and, of course, earned her a full-time job. In fact, Maggie should have won Southwood’s citizen of the year award. She made a mental note to get Ramon Torres to set that in motion.
“You can always work with the family,” Richard offered.
Maggie gripped the steering wheel tighter. Little lint-size leather pieces formed under her fingers. The idea of walking up and down the rows of pecan trees dressed in heavy denim and long-sleeved shirts to protect herself from the Southern mosquitoes did not sound appealing at all. She glanced down at her bare skin showing above her powder-blue off-the-shoulder top, where a raised bump on her collarbone still remained bright red. She’d been attacked while taking a walk through the grounds with her brother when she went to pick up the pecans last week for her hummingbird cakes.
“Even though you can’t see me, I’m rolling my eyes at you.”
“So what is the plan now?” When Richard asked the question, Maggie couldn’t help but hear her father’s voice in him. Mitchell Swayne wanted his family to run the pecan farm like everyone else in his family before him. Richard seemed to be the only one interested in carrying on the family legacy. “You still plan on paying your own way to Auntie Bren’s wedding in New Orleans?”
Dread washed over Maggie. She needed that money. There was no way her car was going to make it, and everyone else in her family planned on spending a few days in the French Quarter before the wedding. “The plan now is to head over to Erin’s place and drop off these cupcakes for Auntie Bren’s wedding shower.”
“That’s nice of you. Have I mentioned how glad I am you’re getting along with everyone?”
“I,” Maggie began, pressing her hand to her chest, “wasn’t the one with the problem. Talk to Kenzie about that.” At least Maggie was sure Kenzie’s smiles at their cousin were fake. She recognized them immediately and saw them more often now that Erin lived in town. Kenzie and Erin’s dislike for each other stemmed all the way back to their childhood. Maggie thought once they became adults, they’d set their differences aside, but so far it was wishful thinking.
A huff of annoyed air gave a crinkle of static over the line. “The lies you tell,” Richard said.
“I may not have been as friendly to her as I should, but that’s only because my loyalties lie with Kenzie. Much like Eliza and Angelica Schuyler.”
The Hamilton reference triggered an annoyed sigh from her brother. The girls had gotten Bailey ho
oked on the soundtrack, and whenever the chance arrived, they wove the play and its music into the conversation.
“Whatever. So what is the next job?”
“I’ve got the fair starting tomorrow.” Maggie pulled up to a red light on Main Street. “I’m working it for Vonna.”
“Are you judging the pageant?”
Ah, the pageant, she thought with fond memory. The Peach Harvest Queen was the first pageant she’d won as a kid. She’d been unstoppable up until the Southern Style Glitz pageant. The next thought made her frown, not just because it reminded her of Caden but the time she missed out on being crowned Miss Southern Style Glitz.
“I doubt it. You know I don’t do pageants anymore.”
“You came to Bailey’s last year.”
The sweet-faced image appeared in Maggie’s mind. “That’s because she is my flesh and blood. Unless you want to have another child and enter her into the pageant...”
“No, thanks,” Richard said quickly.
“Then that’s a no for me on judging.”