Cookies to Crumbles

By Shannon Yseult

All it takes is cooking a few muffins for Carlos to meet the most beautiful man.

All it takes is eating a single muffin for Steve to cry about his last lost love.

All it takes is cooking a single Danish for Carlos to disastrously land it on the most beautiful man's shirt. For him to invite the most beautiful man back to his apartment.

All it takes is one Danish to the shirt for Steve to find out that despite all of the awful in the world, he can help one person.

All it takes is one cookie to show that they care.

But, will they be able to make it, when everything around them is turning to crumbles?

• Language: English
• Publisher: 518 Publishing Co. LLC
• Release date: Feb 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215471272

Book preview

Cookies to Crumbles

By

Shannon Yseult

This book, ‘Cookies to Crumbles’ is fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and events are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to any actual events, works, persons, dead or living, is coincidental, and is beyond the intent of the author.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reversed engineered, stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system in any form, whether it be electronic or mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without consent of 518 Publishing Company, LLC.

Text copyright © 2024 by 518 Publishing Company LLC

This book is dedicated to my number one beta reader Katie. Without her support and feedback throughout my entire writing journey this book would not be in front of you today.

Katie, thank you.

Thank you for reading every single piece of drivel I’ve written.

Thank you for your constant excellent feedback, even when it’s hard for me to take.

Thank you for always making the time to read my work as soon as I ask.

Thank you for being there through every step of this journey as I’ve grown from a writer to an author.

Thank you for the encouragement to continue to write more.

Katie, thank you for being you.

Table of Contents

*** CHAPTER 1 ***

*** CHAPTER 2 ***

*** CHAPTER 3 ***

*** CHAPTER 4 ***

*** CHAPTER 5 ***

*** CHAPTER 6 ***

*** CHAPTER 7 ***

*** CHAPTER 8 ***

About Us

*** CHAPTER 1 ***

Sweet scents filled the kitchen as Carlos whisked together the liquids for the fifth type of pumpkin chocolate chip muffins. This batch would be perfect.

Placing the bowl down he listened for the rhythmic sound of his mother’s oxygen machine. Sure as clockwork, it was there and working; his shoulders relaxed. She was at her safest when she was on the machine and gave Carlos a few hours to himself.

He started to hum as he mixed the liquid half into the dry part of the muffin mix. This was the best part of the baking, seeing it all come together. You could see how everything was going to work together and turn into something delicious; all it needed now was a little heat.

Carlos quickly doled the mix into the blue muffin cups, making sure not to overwork it, and then put them in the oven. He put a timer to buzz on his phone twenty-five minutes later.

He looked around the small kitchen, trying to decide what to do next. There were four mixing bowls sitting in the sink full of water, yet he didn’t want to wash dishes. Three plates full of the previous, inferior, muffins taking over the left counter. He’d have to gift those to someone, but not while the final batch was cooking.

The right counter was full of his mother’s medicine in five distinct groups, one for each time of the day. The colorful medicine bottles took up way too much room, but they needed to stay where mom would re-read the instructions to remind herself to take them.

There was only one thing to do: he went to the living room and turned on the TV.

Carlos’s phone buzzed. Probably Zuri getting out of work, he thought, continuing to watch Queer Eye in the living room. Then he sniffed and smelled roasted pumpkin. It was the timer he'd set. The muffins were done!

He rushed from the living room couch to the kitchen. Baking was the only time he was thankful there were only two rooms to the apartment.

Opening the oven, he was pleasantly overwhelmed with the aroma of pumpkin and spices mixed with warm chocolate. The moisture fogged his glasses.

Putting them on the cutting board he had placed over the sink, he took in a deep breath. They even smelled perfect. These were going to be the ones.

The rhythmic sound of the ventilator had stopped.

He jumped towards the bedroom, throwing open the door and taking the three steps to her twin sized bed surrounded by medical equipment. Mom, are you awake?

The oxygen mask was off again and her breathing was too shallow. Mom, you gotta wake up. He touched her shoulder, shaking gently.

Mom! His hands were starting to sweat. He’d never get used to this.

She lurched forward, eyes wide open, then fell back into her pillows. Carlos waited.

Blinking a couple times, she looked at nothing, then her head moved, following the nothing in the air like a cat. As she looked past his face she slowly realized that there was someone there, someone she recognized. She started to grin, Carlos! It’s so good to see you! She held her arms out as wide as she could manage with the long-term IV lines attached to her port.

Why’d she scare him so much, then love him so much?

Hi, mom. He leaned over and gave her a long hug, the smell of pumpkin spice mixed with that of disinfectant. It’s nice to see you.

How long has it been?

He never knew how to answer that. How was her memory right now?

How long do you think it’s been?

…yesterday I was at the grocery store and got a turkey for Thanksgiving… the rest is a bit fuzzy.

It was going to be one of those afternoons.

What is that amazing smell? Don’t tell me you were baking instead of saying hello to me. She had such a grin on her face, happy to see her son.

Well, actually there are muffins that I just got out of the oven.

Bring them over, we gotta try them. She waved towards the kitchen.

Sure thing, mom. I made more than one batch, so you need to tell me which you like more. He grabbed one from each batch, placed them on a plate, put the plate on the silver platter that came with his tea set, and brought them back. Except for the different colored paper wrappers, they looked the same.

These are the samplers. Carlos presented the platter like a professional butler, bowing low and flourishing out his other arm, then looking up just enough to see her reaction.

Her eyes went wide, and her hand covered her mouth. How many different batches did you make?

Five.

Well, we should share the wealth. Bring some down to the community center. They always have meetings for those in need.

Alright, mom, as soon as your personal care aide Zuri gets here.

She nodded, then picked up the muffin with the blue wrapper and had a bite.

Delicious, she said through a mouthful.

Carlos smiled and knew that that one would be it.

***

What about you, Steve? Would you like to share? the woman asked.

Steve had been trying to forget that he was in the water-stained backroom of the community center, surrounded by the wet eyes of those he had been in high school with last year. People who couldn’t get over their losses, including himself.

Not today. He crossed his arms and looked down.

Steve, it’s hard to share, but we’re here to listen, not to judge. The leader of the group counseling, was her name Emily? She tried to cajole him into spilling his secrets, things that they wouldn’t really understand.

I know. I’ll share when I’m ready. He’d never be ready, but they didn’t need to know that.

Emily nodded. If you ever feel the need, you can call, too. She turned a bit to the left, Madeline, you’re next.

Madeline’s lower lip was already quivering, The day started like any other. I got up early to do my hair and makeup.

Steve vaguely remembered her with long hair, always in soft curls, a wicked smile and nothing nice to say. Today her hair was in a messy ponytail and she was wearing sweatpants with a t-shirt showing a band he didn’t recognize.

Mom dropped me off at school. I was angry at her for not buying me the new purse I wanted. Ugh, what a stupid thing. She was shaking and everyone else was silent as the tissues made their way around the circle to her.

So I, I slammed the door and walked to my locker. When I did, I saw Gordon and because I was angry I flung my bag over my shoulder, right into him. I knew that I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t say sorry or anything, just ‘didn’t see you there.’ She took a moment to blow her nose.

And then he… he… he- The tears started flowing free, and Emily walked over to give Madeline a hug. It’s okay, you got further this time. I’m proud of you.

When all the hugging and crying was finally over the meeting finished with a short prayer. It wasn’t supposed to be religious, but it was part of the format Emily liked and she was the therapist. Then they made their way out into the foyer for socializing with basically half of them waiting for their parents while the other half drove off in their own cars. Steve was sure there would be no social hour when everyone could drive, if they even attended at all.

He fished for the keys in his pocket to the beat up red Honda and glanced at the snacks. Piles of store-bought things that tasted like generic sweetness and commercial despair. Not worth staying. He carefully determined the best way to the door, making sure to avoid anyone who wanted to start a conversation, particularly Emily.

The double doors opened with the crisp fall wind blowing into the ante room. Framed in the doors was a young Latino man in a slightly too small brown leather coat. The fact that it couldn’t button in the middle showed off the muscles in his chest that much more. In each hand he had a plate covered in plastic wrap.

Ah, hello. I didn’t mean to interrupt, he said to the room in general. Emily took charge.

Not a problem, we just finished. Please come in. Can I carry one of those for you?

Yeah, please. I didn’t think it would be such a problem, but there are so many doors without handicap accessibility. It was quite the balancing act. He handed over the platter in his left hand.

Muffins? Emily asked while guiding him to the table of goods. Steve hadn’t moved from his judging spot, instead leaning on the wall next to the table.

Pumpkin spiced chocolate chip muffins, the man said, nodding.

She placed down the plate and unwrapped it to reveal a dozen orange muffins with sparkling chocolate chips in red paper cups.

They look amazing, Emily said, mirroring what was on Steve’s mind. Thank you so much for bringing this.

The man put his hand behind his head, bashful. My mom suggested it. I started baking muffins this morning and didn’t stop.

Before Steve could think he put his keys back into his pocket, walked forward, putting one hand on the man’s shoulder as he leaned forward and took a muffin.

Thanks, he whispered. As he turned around and walked out his heart dropped. These weren’t feelings he was supposed to have again, not after what happened. Tears dropped on his hand as he put the key into the Honda’s door, and he had his first real cry since the funeral.

***

Carlos walked back into the apartment with a smile on his face. He loved it when his baking made a difference in a person’s life, even a single smile. As he remembered the whisper in his ear, he shivered. Emily had said that it was the first time that man had even taken a good from the table, let alone said a word after the meeting.

If Carlos could help him heal, he’d be happy to bring more baked goods to share.