Sugar Lump

By Megan Gaudino

Seventeen-year-old travel blogger CC is stuck on a never-ending road trip with her wanderlust-addicted father. When her dad lands the job of his dreams in Sugar Lump—wedding capital of the world—CC finally finds a place to call home. Complete with two quirky best friends and a quixotic guy to crush on, Sugar Lump is more shades of perfect than she can possibly count.

But when CC accidentally overhears the mayor complaining that she has to “take out” a rogue employee for not fulfilling the terms of his contract, the idyllic town’s facade crumbles. Devastated by the possibility of having to move yet again, CC discovers everyone has been keeping a massive secret from her—including her own father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Teen
• Release date: Jan 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781773395210

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Published by Evernight Teen ® at Smashwords

www.evernightteen.com

Copyright© 2017 Megan Gaudino

ISBN: 978-1-77339-521-0

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For all the girls with wild hair and wanderlust.

SUGAR LUMP

Megan Gaudino

Copyright © 2017

Chapter One

We drove four hundred miles on the worst road trip ever to move into a gingerbread house. Everything from the rustic wooden siding, to the intricate white trim, and to the half crescent windows led me to believe that if I licked my new home, it’d taste like the spiced cookie. My dad, the baker, thought it was the best thing he’d ever seen while I, the grump, did not.

Dad, I yelled after I brought in the last box I was strong enough to carry. Which room’s mine?

Dad, the eternal optimist, didn’t let my heavy sighs and eye rolls dampen his mood. He carried moving boxes out of the rental truck and into the house with the efficiency of a pack mule while I worked like I had rocks in my pockets.

I’d learned long ago the art of living light, but Dad still had some trouble. There were a lot of possible reasons, but it was most likely because Dad always believed we’d stay put. I didn’t. Seventeen years and all I had to show for my life were three cardboard boxes marked, CC’s crap.

We didn’t need the whole truck for a grand total of nine boxes. No, we needed a truck for my dad’s plants. I wasn’t even going to pretend to know what kinds they were, but they moved everywhere we did with their heavy decorative pots, endless fronds, and dozens of shades of green. Raising me wasn’t enough—apparently he had to grow seedlings too. They needed him more and probably put up less of a fight when he fed and watered them.

One of my boxes technically wasn’t even mine. It contained pieces of our life together. Things we thought were worth keeping like magnets, ornaments, bottles of sand, and pictures.

Pictures were my thing, my only thing. So much so that I ran a travel blog that had over three million followers. Dad printed out his favorite pictures and oh-so-lovingly stored them in a shoe box.

The house was narrow enough to see the backyard from where I waited in the front doorway. Dad stood in the middle of the neatly fenced-in backyard with rounded topiaries and stepping stone paths. I watched silently on the cement slab, my bare feet cold against the surface.

Dad, I called again, getting his attention.

Isn’t this great, Cupcake? After ten years, five houses, and four states, we finally have a yard all to ourselves. And it’s even bigger than a postage stamp.

You’re still blocking out Canada.

He scratched his needed-to-be-trimmed dark waves. Oh, right. Maybe I am. But this yard!

It’s really nice.

Dad hugged his arms around my shoulders and pulled me up to his side. We stood there in complete silence like we were saying a prayer while I tried to follow his intent gaze. There wasn’t much behind the house besides tall, slender trees and grass so long and wispy it looked like hair. On the left of us was a cookie-cutter house and, surprise, surprise, on the right was another cookie-cutter house. In fact, every house on the block looked the same. Good thing our house was the only one with a purple glitter mailbox or I’d never find it.

This is it, Cupcake. When you go away to college, this is where you’ll leave me. And when you come home for Christmas break, this is where you’ll come home to. Sugar Lump. Home sweet home.

Despite the fact that Sugar Lump sounded like a town in the Deep South, it wasn’t. We were smack dab in the middle of the Midwest. Sugar Lump was world famous though, and the wedding capital of the country, if not the world. Dad had been telling me about this magical place for as long as I could remember. There was a long history of couples getting married in Sugar Lump and never divorcing.

I wasn’t as clued in to my new home’s history as I probably should’ve been, but it all started a couple hundred years ago with prosperous families settling in the town and leading charmed lives. The sleepy little hamlet had the reputation of spewing out more happily-ever-afters than Disney, and my dad was going to serve as head baker in the town’s most popular bakery.

It was a dream job, or so he told me. Every move, every position he had up until this point was just practice until he got called up to Sugar Lump, where he could make wedding cakes until his fingers fell off. I was happy for him. I just wasn’t so sure this dream would stick—no matter how much I wanted it to.  

Yeah, sure. Sounds great. I pivoted out of his hug. Which room is mine?

Take whichever room you’d like.

I didn’t know why I even bothered asking anymore. He’d always given me the same answer and I’d always picked the smaller room. Then I would unpack a few things, mostly clothes because that was all I had, and he’d come in, say I should have the biggest room, and we’d switch.

Okay. I’ll go check them out.

I will join you.

Dad followed me into the house where we were greeted by a strange woman standing in our empty living room.

Oh, hi! The pale blonde had a smile plastered across her face. I’m sorry to barge in like this but the door was open, and I was carrying that casserole dish all the way from my house. And lasagna noodles get pretty heavy, especially when you use extra sauce. So I came in and set it on the counter over there, and then I was going to look for you but before I could come find you … I’m rambling. I’m a rambling fool. Someone stop me. My name’s Macy Mercer. I live across the street and three houses down.

She pointed to her right while Dad and I followed her neatly painted, mauve fingernail with our eyes.

Thank you, Dad said, finally able to speak. That was very nice of you. I’m Ted Baxter and this is my daughter CC.

I know who you are. Macy walked back around to the L-shaped kitchen counter, making herself at home. The reflection of the white tile on her porcelain skin made her look spectral. Her legs were long and thin and ended at the highest pair of heels I’d ever seen off a runway, super weird choice for walking down the block.

I work at the bakery too. She rolled back the tinfoil on the lasagna, freeing a stream of garlic-scented steam. Where are your plates?

We moved in seven seconds ago. We don’t know where anything is.

CC. Dad turned his back to Macy and winked at me with a grin on his face. That wasn’t very nice. Macy brought us dinner.

You’re right, Dad. I poked my head to the side, leaning past him to face Macy. I’m sorry, Mrs. Mercer. Thank you for dinner.

Her black tank was precariously low cut and even slightly opaque but it somehow looked classy on her. It was probably her lack of a chest, but she was dressed to impress.

Oh God, call me Macy. And it’s fine. And I’m not married. And I can run home and bring over plates and forks.

I only called her that because I wanted to see how she’d answer. Her reply was what I expected from a woman bringing over dinner our first night in town. Now Dad knew she wasn’t married too, which was probably exactly what she wanted.

One of these boxes is kitchen stuff. Dad shifted around all the things we’d abandoned by the wide-open front door. We’ll find something to eat off.

So, CC, Macy called, halting my escape to look for dishes with Dad. We didn’t have any. Dishes were too hard to move and always ended up broken. Plus, neither of us wanted to wash them, so we just bought a couple, literally two, and kept using them. Are you in high school?

For a little longer.

You’re a junior?

Macy’s fingers fluttered over the lasagna like she had to pay attention to it or it would die. She didn’t look like someone who knew how to cook, but if she worked in the bakery she had to know something. Dad didn’t look like he knew how to bake. Or wash clothes.

Yes. Sensing the conversation wasn’t going to die, I joined Macy at the counter.

Sixteen?

Seventeen.

She nodded like she approved, like it was something I chose.

You and your dad look a lot alike. But not in a creepy way, in a sweet way. Same big hazel eyes, same defined cheekbones, same curly black hair. If he’d grow his hair out more you’d look so similar. But he’s attractive for a man and you’re attractive for a girl. Even though she was standing still, Macy swayed from side to side in a slow, almost graceful movement as she spoke.

Thanks? I took a seat on one of the gold-topped stools. It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard I looked like him before. I did. A lot. But no one had ever put it that way.

I couldn’t find the plates, Dad said as he came up behind me, but look. Muffin tins and forks. I even found a spoon. It’ll be like we each have our own little bowl.

Macy took one of the mismatched forks from my dad’s hand, along with the spoon, and scooped the noodles, meat, and cheese into three different spaces on the muffin tin. If she thought it was a weird way for three people to eat dinner, she did a good job of hiding it.

Here. Sit. Dad guided Macy to the empty stool next to mine and sat her down before going back around to the opposite side of the counter. Macy was like a work of art. I had to see her up close to appreciate her. Mauve must’ve been her color. Her eyelids were dusted with it, and her lips were lined with it. It looked good on her.

Bon appétit. Macy dug in and made an mmmm sound after her first bite.

This is really good, Dad said around his own mouthful.

He was right. It was.

Yeah, it’s the best thing I know how to cook, but it is kind of like baking, so maybe that’s why. She cocked her head to one side, letting her blonde hair swing free like she was really thinking about it. Anyway, there isn’t a good way to cook lasagna for one. I live alone, single, you know, so I don’t make it often. That’s why I’m joining you for dinner instead of doing the right thing and leaving you two alone to settle. But I’m really strong so I can help you with the rest of your boxes and give you the low-down on how things work here in Sugar Lump.

Dad and I both sat there wide-eyed. Her rambling couldn’t possibly have been because she was nervous. She was as cool as Mr. Freeze. No, Macy’s rambling was just her. I either loved it or hated it—I couldn’t tell yet.

These are all our boxes. I pointed to the stack. All that’s left in the van are a couple houseplants that probably weigh three times as much as you.

Dad looked at me like he didn’t know why I was being such a dick, and I didn’t know why either. The first night in a new house was always exciting, and Macy was butting in. On the other hand, she brought free food. Free good food.

CC is right. We travel on the lighter side these days.  

Okay then. Macy scooped some more lasagna into each of our tins. On to the dirt. Where to begin? Where to begin? She forked another heaping bite into her mouth while she seemed to think about that. Theresa Abano works at the bakery too. She’s our resident flavor combo inventor and has the fastest hands in the business.

Macy wasn’t done speaking, but Dad interrupted her anyway. I know Theresa. I spent time with her when I came down for my initial interview. I was here for almost two whole weeks. I’m surprised I didn’t meet you.

Oh yeah, Macy said. I think that was during my trip to Cozumel. But Theresa’s daughter goes to Sugar Lump High. Her name is Luna, and I’ll have her look out for you, CC, on your first day. She is a trip, that girl, and a senior this year. I remember when they first moved here and she was just a kid. Time flies. Are you starting Monday?

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand since we didn’t have any napkins. No. I’m enrolled in cyber school to finish out this year. Then we’ll reconsider public school for my senior year.

Cyber school? Sugar Lump doesn’t offer any cyber classes. She tapped her fork against her lips.

Sure it does. You signed me up already. Right? Dad?

The whole going to public school for my senior year thing was just a line to put off the conversation. I was tired of switching schools. I was tired of being the new kid. I was tired of being lonely surrounded by people. I was tired of getting used to teachers and cliques and schedules and building layouts. I just wanted to be done. Dad didn’t see it that way though, and had apparently been lying to me.

No. Not right. He let his fork clatter to the counter like I’d been badgering him for hours. I was going to whip up some crème brûlée tonight and break the news to you gently, but you’re enrolled in the high school. They’re expecting you Monday.

He winced away from me like he was bracing himself for my wrath while Macy’s cool blue gaze darted back and forth between the two of us.

Okay. I tried to remain calm because I still saw a way out of this predicament and betrayal, but my toes tapped against the leg of the stool. He lied to me. When did he start doing that? Then let’s just enroll me in one of those privately run online school deals.

Dad’s gaze flickered to Macy before landing back on mine. I’m sure he would’ve preferred to have the conversation in private, but I had a feeling Macy wouldn’t take the hint and I didn’t care if she listened anyway. I wasn’t the one who lied to his kid.

You have enough different schools on your transcript as it is. I don’t want to add some completely unheard of online school to represent your last two years before you go to college. His fists flew to his hips like that would punctuate his point.

But we discussed this and you agreed. I pushed back from my stool and stood in a classic power move. He didn’t scare me. He upset me, but he didn’t scare me.

No. You discussed it and you agreed. I said I’d think about it. We both know you aren’t … self-motivated enough for online school, Cupcake.

I groaned like a crotchety old grandpa but stomped my feet like a two-year-old. He was right and that irritated me. I could’ve probably made it through the last couple months, but I’d never make it through my senior year without teachers.

Fine. But you’re buying me new school clothes. I sat back down in surrender.

Dad pressed forward on the counter, making the veins in his forearms pop out. Macy leaned closer too, like the display was for her and not because I was pissing him off. Maybe it was.

One outfit.

Two shirts, two pairs of pants, a dress, and a pair of shoes. I didn’t break eye contact. He betrayed me and he needed to suffer for it.

Two shirts, one pair of pants, and either a dress or a pair of shoes.

I chewed my bottom lip while I mulled that over. I didn’t have a choice in the matter—at all. I’d worked way too hard to bring up my grades at my last school to quit. I had no marketable skills besides taking pictures of everything remotely interesting and posting them to my blog. And even if I wasn’t still seventeen, I was way too uncoordinated to become a stripper.

Deal.

Deal. Dad loosened his stance, stuck out his hand, and we shook on it.

You two are incredible, Macy said. I wish I could communicate that well with my father. Well, maybe not now since he’s dead and I’m terrified of ghosts. Even if it would be my dad as a ghost, I’d still be scared. But when he was alive that would’ve been really helpful because we weren’t so close.

And with that, I decided I liked Macy Mercer very much. Ghost dads. The woman was hilarious. So Macy most likely only came over to hit on Dad, at least she was genuine, and genuine was hard to come by.

Where’s a good place to shop around here, Macy?

Chapter Two

April in Sugar Lump is breathtaking. Flowers of every color imaginable coated everything. Of course the ground, but massive baskets full of flowers hung from each streetlight. They even climbed the sides of the white brick buildings and snaked through trellises.

Town was a lot busier than I imagined it would be, with sidewalks full of people brunching at the café tables, and clusters of shoppers carrying around new purchases. I took in the sights with my head hanging out the rental truck window like a dog. Dad drove down the wide main street with Nirvana, the only band we agreed on, blaring through the speakers.

The first couple days in a new town were always my favorite. Before I knew anyone, before I found out the town was actually as boring as C-SPAN, I could pretend it was anything I wanted it to be. My favorite fantasy, my only fantasy, was to fall effortlessly into an already established friend group.

But that never happened. Not even close.

Hey. There’s the turn for the mall. I pointed as we drove past.

He clicked the volume of the radio down a few notches. We’re not going to the mall.

I know Macy said we should shop at the boutiques, but I’m trying to do you a favor. Do you know how much more expensive those places will be than the mall?

He gave me his Dad look. I should’ve just given you a dollar limit instead of an article of clothing limit.

With a slight nudge of my elbow, I closed the window, chasing away the lingering scents of something sweet I couldn’t place. Where are we going?

Layers and Tiers. He took his eyes off the road long enough to give me an apologetic glance he probably didn’t mean. He wasn’t sorry he was getting his way.

Why are you dragging me to the bakery?

Because I’ve dragged you this far. I might as well show you why we’re here, Cupcake.

You aren’t dragging me, I came willingly. I wouldn’t mind dragging you to the mall though.

Later. I promise. Bakery first.

For how long? I put my window back down and stuck my head out. How could a whole town smell like cinnamon rolls?

Twenty minutes, tops.

Lies, I shouted out the open window. Only a few heads turned.

I want you to see it. He tugged on my shoulder, causing the truck to swerve, to get me back in the truck and then waited for me to get my wild curls back into place. When I said I’m staying here, I meant it. This is where I’ll be forever.

That was still debatable, but I nodded along anyway. He’d never made such a concrete promise before. Ted Baxter had plenty of his own fantasies, and working at Layers and Tiers was one of them—I’d heard it all my life—but old habits die hard and his were deeply rooted.

Then I’ll stay here too.

We talked about this. You’re going away for college.

You’ve talked about this. I’m staying with you. Especially if you’re staying in one place. And especially if the place is as pretty as this. I gestured to the window.

You need your own adventure, and I know how much you loved being back east. Find a school out there on the coast somewhere, and we’ll visit each other all the time.

Dad—

I was distracted by an abrupt left turn into a packed parking lot. To be fair, it only took five or six cars to fill the lot, but there were three times as many people waiting in a line to get through the door, and the same number of cars circling to get a spot. Dad bypassed the madness, steered to the back of the quaint, white brick building, and pulled into the first empty spot.

It had a gold plaque with his name engraved in it.

Wow. They do really want you here. Clearly this is the place to be.

Yes. He smiled like he couldn’t believe it himself.

Then I want to be here too.

That made his smile falter and consequently mine too. Dad turned the truck off and unbuckled but made no effort to make eye contact before he began speaking.

I want you to have a normal, happy life from here on out, and that includes going away to college.

But all I want is to stay in one place. That’s it. I want to stay still. I threw off my own seatbelt, leaned forward to try to get Dad’s attention, and tucked my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. We hadn’t had this conversation often, but more frequently since he announced our move to Sugar Lump, and his opinion on the matter was baffling.

And you can do that for four years while away at school.

He still wouldn’t make eye contact so I twirled a curl between my fingers.

True. But I could go to a local school and stay with you.

You’re more ambitious than that.

No. I don’t think he knew how much he was hurting me. "You’re more ambitious than that. I’m ready to grow roots. And who says there aren’t any good