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Assault and Batter(14)

By:Jessica Beck


“Are we still talking about donuts?” I asked. What did she do, sit around and dream these things up? Well, I had nobody to blame but myself. I’d asked.

“Fillings, actually,” she said. “For example, we take two raised donuts, fry them like usual, and then add a little fried pineapple and ham in between. We make a sandwich out of it, like they did with a hamburger patty at the state fair. I’ll bet it would be delicious.”

“Maybe so, but do we really want to open ourselves up for more scorn from the diet-conscious folks?”

“They don’t have to come in here, but if they do, you usually offer them something they can eat.”

It was true that I tried to come up with at least a few recipes that wouldn’t spike the glucose levels of my customers, but it hadn’t been as easy as I’d hoped. Besides, most of them weren’t very good sellers. It turned out that most of the people who came into Donut Hearts wanted some comfort food that actually tasted like it was decadent. If there was a way to do that in a healthy manner, I hadn’t found it yet. “Tell you what. Pick out your favorite, and we’ll try it soon.”

“That’s going to be tough to narrow it down,” she said.

“Do your best,” I said with a grin as I put the last cake donuts on a tray and slid the whole thing onto a rolling rack we used to move the finished donuts up front.

“Okay, but I’m not ready to commit to anything yet.”

“Take your time,” I said as I flipped the pages of my recipe book to my basic glazed donut dough entry. I could put that one together in my sleep, but I got a lot of reassurance out of the fact that I could read it right out of the book. My copy had been stolen and then burned on my front porch, but fortunately, Emma’s mother had made one for herself when she worked in the shop while I’d been away. She’d had a copy that I hadn’t known about, and all had been saved. I couldn’t very well say no to Emma about trying new things after her mother had safeguarded all of my old recipes, and who knew? Maybe she’d come up with a real winner, though I had no idea how things would turn out, given the list she’d read off to me. After I got all of the ingredients together in the mixer and turned it on, I started doing a little cleanup of my own so I’d be ready for the next phase of donut making. The timer went off, and I removed the mixing paddle and covered the bowl with plastic wrap. While we gave the dough time to rise, Emma and I could take a break of our own.

I only had one caveat this morning, though. “I’d love to go outside for our break, but I don’t want to talk about Jude Williams. Is that okay with you?”

She nodded, even though I could tell that she was a little disappointed by my request. “That’s fine. Would you like to talk about Emily’s wedding instead?”

It wasn’t my favorite topic in the world, but I had to give her credit; it was still better than murder. “Sure, why not?”

“Suzanne, you’re so lucky to be her maid of honor,” Emma said as we walked outside.

“I hated to do it, on your account. Emma, we both know that you should be standing up there beside her. After all, the two of you are best friends.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Emma said with a broad smile. “Emily explained it all to me, and who could disagree? If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t even be a wedding.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that? They would have found a way to work it out if it was meant to be, Emma.”

“Like you and Jake have?” she asked. I must have flinched at my boyfriend’s name, because she quickly asked, “Is there something going on between the two of you? He is coming to the wedding, isn’t he?”

That was the least of my worries, but I didn’t want to go into that with Emma. “It’s hard to say at this point. He was coming to April Springs when he was called back to Raleigh at the last second.”

“It must be great being with such an important man,” she said.

“It has its moments,” I said. I had to change the subject again, and I was beginning to wonder if there was anything safe that Emma and I could talk about these days. “How’s your love life?” I asked her.

“You don’t want to know,” she said with a sigh. “Why is it that boys my age are all still boys? Aren’t they growing any men these days?”

I laughed. “Are you having trouble with young men in general, or is there one particular one that’s driving you a little crazy?”

“Just in general at the moment,” she said. “I’m seriously thinking about going after an older man the next time.”