

The Great Brownie Taste-off

(The Yolanda's Yummery Series, Book 1)

By

Lisa Maliga

Copyright © 2014, 2015

http://www.lisamaliga.com

Newsletter http://eepurl.com/UZbE9

All Rights Reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Includes the winning brownie recipe!

The Great Brownie Taste-off is also available in a paperback edition!

The Yolanda's Yummery Series

The Great Brownie Taste-off, Book 1

Magical Cakes of Love, Book 2

The Aroma of Love, Book 3

Macarons of Love, Book 4 [Spring 2015]

Other Works of Fiction

Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

Hollywood After Dark: 3 Tales of Terror

I WANT YOU: Seduction Emails from a Narcissist

Love Me, Need Me: A Narcissist's Tale

The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story

North of Sunset

Notes from Nadir

Out of the Blue

Satan's Casting Call

South of Sunset

Sweet Dreams

The Wilkes House Haunting

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

The Winning Brownie Recipe

About the Author

Introduction

It all began with An Author's Nightmare. I merged two genres, chick lit and horror, but my story was too dark and it was removed from all online bookstores.

When I rethought my story, I did far more than rename it Sweet Dreams. I found myself drawn further into the world of bakeries, sweets, suspense, and romance. Best of all, the far lighter tale had nicer characters and I had a blast writing and researching the story! On the cover, you'll see two stacks of brightly colored macarons. After they were photographed, guess who had to eat them?

I didn't plan to write a series of romantic tales. In fact, if it hadn't been for Jennifer Donoghue, a book reviewer at the wonderful A Life Bound by Books blog, I probably wouldn't have. Upon reviewing my novella, she wrote, "Brenda Nevins is the renowned best selling author of the 'Yolanda's Yummery' series. I would love to read more about Yolanda's Yummery. After reading about it in Sweet Dreams I would love to read more and I wonder if the author has considered making it a series of its own."

I was pleased with Jennifer's review and especially with her interest in the yummery books. When writing Sweet Dreams, I had a vague idea about what the story behind each of the yummery titles entailed.

Which brings me to The Great Brownie Taste-off. It's one thing to want to own a bakery, but quite another to actually open one up, especially considering all the time and costs that are involved. Owning and operating a successful bakery, especially for someone so young, is a very daunting task. How did Yolanda Carter ever manage to get the yummery she has dreamed about for so long? Read on and find out!

CHAPTER 1

Yolanda Carter took a bite of the Red Velvet cupcake. The sweet swirl of cream cheese frosting dissolved first in her mouth, followed by the rich chocolaty goodness of the cupcake. Yes, this batch was just fine, but a smattering of red or blue sugar pearl sprinkles would help the cupcakes stand out even more. Sprinkles were always good to have when bringing in cupcakes for Fun Food Friday. Employees and volunteers loved the tradition of sharing different types of food every week. It had been going on at the Crown Street Cat Shelter for years, and Yolanda was always happy to bring in her freshly baked cupcakes, layer cakes, or brownies.

Since it was February, but an appropriately gorgeous sunny day with temperatures promising to soar into the mid-80s, she thought that cool turquoise sprinkles would be a nice touch. She reached up into the wooden spice rack that sat on her counter and found the sprinkles, which she gently shook on top of each swirled cupcake top. She loved that the triple level rack contained only decorations and her most used and loved vanilla extracts, rather than the twenty-four herbs and spices that came with the housewarming present from her parents. Yolanda baked far more than she cooked and while she still had the standard spices, they were kept in a cupboard next to the stove.

For a second she admired the array of cupcakes sporting their perky blue buttons of sugar. A glance at the chalet-style cuckoo clock above the back door indicated that she was running late. She gulped down the rest of the cupcake and carefully placed the decorated cupcakes in the plastic carrier. Shouldn't have this much sugar in the morning, she thought, knowing she'd have to be careful with what she ate the rest of the day. Picking up the carrier, she held it in front of her as she left the kitchen and hurried through the small living room and over to the front hall table.

Yolanda was of average height and had an extra ten pounds on her hips that wouldn't go away, even if she went for daylong canyon hikes or rode her bike countless miles along the beachside bike trails. She had warm hazel eyes and long straight chestnut brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore old baggy jeans she'd bought at the Buffalo Exchange resale shop, pairing it up with an oversized purple batik shirt made by her artsy mother. Dressing casually and comfortably was her daily working attire.

She thought about her upcoming day. Missy Wakefield, her boss, would be there, as would Sid, the new college student along with a couple of volunteers. Tomorrow would be another Cat Adoption Day so there was more work than usual. She had to make sure there were plenty of adoption forms and copies of the kitten and cat tips booklet. Yolanda was proud of the fact that she had helped her boss write and take cute photos of some cats and kittens to enhance the booklet. After all, she had grown up with adopted cats and dogs and last year had adopted Miss Chef her classic tuxedo cat with the white stripe down her face and a perpetually curved white smile. Her dainty white paws were always kept clean and the white stripe along the front of her body was groomed several times a day. Her official name was Miss Pastry Chef, due to Yolanda's dream occupation, but sometimes her name was shortened to Mischief. Once, Yolanda had left a cupcake on the coffee table in the living room as she was going to have a snack while she watched Cupcake Wars. The cat jumped up and devoured the vanilla buttercream cupcake. She learned never to leave any cupcake or cake or anything edible unattended after that.

While she loved her job, especially being around a cast of approximately 170 cats and kittens every weekday, she knew that earning just over nine dollars an hour wasn't going to get her the bakery that she envisioned. Not even if she scrimped and saved every dollar she earned. Start up fees for a tiny bakery in Los Angeles County were very high—even if she opted for a location in Whittier or somewhere less expensive than Sherman Oaks.

She picked up her bright pink and purple batik tote bag that was always filled with cat toys and packets of healthy homemade cat treats. The four-legged residents staying at the shelter enjoyed eating her signature tuna or chicken treats.

Inside the detached garage, she unlocked her car and put the cupcake carrier in the back seat of her old silver Ford Focus hatchback. It was good for hauling things and occasionally visiting the gas station. It was also a source of embarrassment for her boyfriend, Zac Field, who called himself a "ragtop man" as he favored convertibles.

The cottage was painted pastel yellow and had white gingerbread trim. A low white picket fence was set off from the sidewalk. Her yard boasted a variety of vegetation, much of it native to the area like cactus, chaparral, yucca, and sage. A trio of spiny leaved aloe vera plants bloomed beneath the back windows. The tall orange tree was in full bloom. At the corner of the property loomed some royal palm trees and shade from the fifteen-foot high wall of bamboo. Such was the view that Yolanda saw when she went into her backyard of the house on the corner of Dove Drive and Willowbrook Street.

There wasn't a stoplight on the intersection of Willowbrook that fed into Ventura Boulevard, a fact she usually appreciated as it invited less traffic in the neighborhood. Backing out of the driveway, she made a turn down a side street and took an alley a block away until she was at the main east-west artery of Ventura that ran eighteen miles through the San Fernando Valley. She rolled down her window, as the temperature wasn't scorching enough for her to switch on the temperamental air conditioning. Catching the green light, Yolanda switched on her left turn signal and joined the steady stream of traffic until she opted for another side street to save time.

Within ten minutes, she was approaching the small gray prefabricated building with a pot-holed parking lot behind it. She could tell who was there by the show of vehicles: her boss's Toyota SUV and the Harley favored by part timer Sid, along with Tatiana's ancient white BMW and Julio's newish red minivan. A vintage sky blue Schwinn bicycle with shiny chrome fenders was locked in the small bike rack, Laura's ride.

On the other side of Crown Street, she noticed a pair of men in dark shirts and slacks talking to each other. The man with a wispy fringe of hair was peering through a late model camcorder as he focused on filming something behind her. The other man with gray hair and a matching beard was clutching a minuscule point and shoot digital camera. He stood on the sidewalk taking photos of what looked like the shelter or the small warehouse next to it. He happened to notice her and quickly turned and headed further down the block.

As she reached into her car to grab her stuff, she saw them scurry over to a white four-door sedan and get inside. It took off in the opposite direction and turned down Warren Street, disappearing from view. That's odd, she thought.

She balanced her tote bag in one hand and the cupcake carrier in the other, and opened the back door of the cat shelter. The smell hit the instant she stepped inside, the ripe stench of dozens of cats invaded her delicate nostrils. She wasn't able to wear her favorite perfume, as some of the cats were allergic to what was considered a harsh aroma, even though it smelled like freshly baked sugar cookies. So she had to close her nose and concentrate on her adored little charges. The meow-chorus greeted her as a group of cats made it evident that they knew she was there and had special treats for them. Even as she walked up to the back entrance, she could hear the kitty cat glee club as some of her diehard fans called out.

Resembling the Pied Piper of cats, Yolanda rushed to the closed door with the NO CATS/EMPLOYEES ONLY sign prominently displayed. On cue, it opened for her. She gratefully stepped inside, the size twelve track shoe of Sid gently nudging the large calico leader aside.

"So sorry I'm late," she said as Sid shut the door behind her. In the hallway, the meowers redoubled their efforts, underscoring the ruckus with their frantic claws scratching the door.

Gangly young Sid, who wore his usual black jeans and T-shirt, looked in the direction of the noise and laughed. "Reminds me of zombies," he said.

"I know what you mean!" she laughed as she placed the cupcake carrier on the scratched former dining room table in the center of the room. In the shelter, the break room also served as a conference room. She plunked her tote bag next to it. The cinder block walled room painted in gaudy neons like a sunset on steroids always made her eyes hurt for a few seconds. "I have Red Velvet cupcakes."

Missy walked in and kept the strident cats at bay with her fast entrance. The older woman had hip-length black hair with reddish brown roots. Baggy cargo pants sported bulges of telltale cat treats in the multitude of pockets, and a bulky navy sweatshirt attempted to hide her girth. "Hey Yolanda," she said, observing the younger woman removing the lid from the carrier. "You brought my favorite cupcakes!"

"You always say that, Missy."

"It's always true. Good news! This time we have plates and napkins." Missy went over to the small table that held a Mr. Coffee maker with a fresh pot that was almost full. "Discount store sale so we got the pretty ones!"

She walked over to the table and was pleased to see a stack of pink and brown patterned cupcake-motif plates. "Excellent – great design!"

Sid ambled over, poured himself a cup of coffee, and plated a cupcake. In one bite, he managed to remove all the frosting. A second large bite and the cupcake was gone. "I'm a frosting first kinda guy."

Yolanda laughed. "Just like my dad!" She touched her nose, seeing a smidge of frosting on the tip of his nose. Sid smiled and wiped it away. "I love any cupcake with cream cheese frosting. Or chocolate. But yours are always the best."

She beamed. "Thanks, Sid."

Another clamor of cats trying to catch their attention as the door opened a crack. A flash of wavy golden-brown hair and an angular face of the morning volunteer, Laura, was seen as she peeked in and waved. "Missy, you have a call on line two."

"Hey Laura, have a cupcake," Yolanda said.

"I'm doing gluten-free," she replied and closed the door as she left. There was a yelp from a cat that almost got their tail caught in the door.

Yolanda took a cupcake for herself, foregoing the coffee in favor of a bottle of water from the mini fridge. This'll be my last cupcake today, she thought. Opening the bottle and taking a sip, she closed it and quickly finished her cupcake. A longing glance at the remaining cupcakes tempted her to stay longer and indulge her sugar craving. Her next job was anything but sweet. She mentally braced herself for the dreaded duty of litter box cleanup. Putting her tote bag in her locker, she removed a packet of the tuna treats and put them in her back pocket. Then it was time to face the feline hordes in the sunroom where they roamed free.

She tentatively pulled the door open a crack to see if there were any nearby cats. Fortunately, there weren't any and she was able to leave the break room without having to fend any off. Sometimes she had to resort to throwing spare treats in the hallway about ten yards to the right so she could leave unscathed and not have to chase any strays around the room.

The large sunroom was where dozens of cats hung out on a daily basis. All sorts of carpeted climbing and sleeping towers kept them off the floor. Secondhand couches and chairs served as beds for several of them, as did donated and cheaply bought cushions. The wooden floor was also home to lounging cats and small carpets and rugs were occupied. Three strategically placed litter boxes were in dire need of waste disposal and Yolanda stopped off at the supply closet to don a pair of latex gloves, grab a clean plastic scoop, and take a wheeled garbage can with her. Just as she approached the first litter box, a young tabby leapt out of it, leaving behind an uncovered mess. Worse than that was the diarrhea deposit about a yard away from the box. Sid walked in carrying a young tiger cat and noticed the situation. "I guess Doc couldn't make it to the box in time."

Yolanda shook her head. "At least two or three times a day he goes there. I think someone was being sarcastic when they named him Doc."

After she finished cleaning out the plastic boxes and refilling them with generic brand cat litter, she sprinkled in some baking soda. That gesture wasn't appreciated as she was almost shoved aside by a couple of eager cats. Returning her cleaning supplies, she walked down the hallway and saw Laura putting a large calico cat into their cage. "This is the fourth time Buffy's been passed over for adoption," she said, stroking the cat.

Petting the cat, Yolanda saw the animal's sadness, reached into her back pocket, and pulled out a couple of squares of the cat treat. Buffy eagerly ate them and purred. "Don't worry Buffy, you'll find a good home."

Looking at the other cages, she made sure all the occupants got a couple of the homemade tuna bits. Cage number 23 was now home to a muscular shorthaired black cat with a single white whisker amidst his black whiskers. Upon seeing Yolanda, he rubbed up against the bars. She handed him a few of the treats and he gobbled them loudly. He stuck his paw between the bars and she stroked it. "When did he get here?"

"Mr. Whisker got here this morning. He was sitting on the back doorstep looking like he was waiting to be let inside."

"Another drop off," Yolanda said. "Seems like it's every day now."

Laura nodded. "It does."

She sighed and handed out treats to every cat behind bars. She felt like they were little prisoners in the cages. They always had enough food and water. They were taken out for exercise, but all of them were in need of a real home, what most people involved with the shelter called a forever home.

Missy stopped by as Laura returned to the reception desk in the front of the shelter. "I think you should be selling those cat treats."

"Well, uh, I don't add preservatives to them and I don't have a commercial kitchen. I just like to bake cat treats on the side."

While she enjoyed baking cat treats, they weren't nearly as fun and exciting as coming up with a new cake or cupcake recipe. It wasn't like determining if a chocolate caramel pecan cookie needed to be crisp or soft. Cats and dogs couldn't consume chocolate and for Yolanda that was an ingredient she used most of the time. A cat couldn't walk into a bakery café and order a cuppa java and a Mocha Latte cupcake. But humans could, and she envisioned her bakery was something more than a bakery café – it was called Yolanda's Yummery and it would star only the finest personal sized cakes and cupcakes and cookies she would bake. She'd have a commercial kitchen with all the best appliances and she would bake everything herself from scratch. Walking down the hall to fill the food bowls, a brown and gray Siamese mix ran out of the reception area followed closely by Julio.

After the cat was captured and returned to the smaller room, she looked at her watch and saw she still had another hour until her shift ended. It was time to report to front office duty and deal with Ozzie the office manager. Inside the small office, she went to the desk where the elderly computer was housed, decorated with colorful Post-Its along the monitor's edges. The screensaver showed a fluffy white Persian cat. The chair featured a huge marmalade tabby that was curled up and snoring/purring. Ozzie the office manager weighed nearly thirty pounds and his general duties consisted of eating, sleeping, shuffling over to his private litter box in the corner, and returning to slumberland in his favorite chair. Working with Ozzie meant that he had to sit in the employee's lap while they used the computer. For the next twenty minutes, Yolanda helped compose the email newsletter and add more names to the contact list. Ozzie noticed her once, sniffed her hand, and resumed his extended sleeping schedule.

Finally, quitting time rolled around. She would have to work on Saturday, but she was very much looked forward to having Sunday off.

CHAPTER 2

Miss Chef jumped on Yolanda's bed just after sunrise and began purring loudly. Through the crack in the curtains, she saw the pale light of dawn and groaned, wanting to return to sleep. The chubby cat saw there wasn't any movement so she jumped on top of Yolanda and continued to purr and started kneading the light wool blanket. Grumbling, she sat up and the cat meowed and rubbed against her.

"Okay, I'm awake." She pushed the bedding aside and swung her legs over the bedside. Standing up, she plunged her feet into her slippers and shuffled past the distressed moss green and white wooden dresser and almost tripped over the rose patterned tasseled carpet which covered the original pine floors of what was once her grandparent's bedroom. Although she remembered her grandfather who died when she was in fifth grade, her grandmother was very close to her until her death four years ago. Grandmother Ingrid had kindly remembered her in the will and left her the two-bedroom one bathroom bungalow that was built in 1932. Yolanda thought of it as a cottage and was doing her best to furnish it in her favorite shabby chic décor.

Almost hugging her ankles as she walked down the carpeted hallway, Miss Chef jumped over her feet just as they entered the kitchen. The cat ran towards the empty lapis blue glass food bowl handcrafted by Yolanda's father, Frederick Carter. It was a one of a kind hand blown glass creation. Formerly a top selling realtor, he now supported himself and her mother with his artistry. The swirled pattern of primary colors of each glass knob on her white cabinets looked elegant, thanks to his craftsmanship. The disappointed cat looked at the empty dish, not caring that it was created just for her; it was empty and that caused her to meow loudly and repeatedly.

"I'm getting your breakfast," Yolanda said as she went to the farthest cabinet from the stove and opened it. Pulling out a bag of healthy mix dry cat food in the preferred chicken and cheese flavors, she poured some into the bowl. She knew her cat was hungry by the way she gobbled it down and soon there was a look that said I want seconds. "Later, Miss Chef," Yolanda said to the cat who cleaned her paws as though that display might elicit more food.

The sun was shining into her favorite room of the house highlighting the stainless steel appliances. A small kitchen island topped with white and green granite that resembled marble held her precious chrome KitchenAid stand mixer. Two of the wooden sides of the island contained much of her baking ware and the other two had shelves containing her cookbook collection. Padded kitchen matting had been added to the area in front of the stove and oven: appliances that were used frequently. Since it was Sunday, why not give Miss Chef a special treat? She opened a drawer where she had samples of cat food and found a new product that wasn't on the market yet but thought her cat would like it as it contained chunks of various types of poultry. As the cat was scraping the floor with her front paw, it was a great way to get a few minutes of peace and quiet or else let the cat outside. She tore open the packet and poured the gloppy looking beige and brown stuff into the bowl. Miss Chef tentatively sniffed it before giving it a taste. It must have passed muster because the devouring began.

Breakfast consisted of cream of wheat topped with pure maple syrup, a slice of cinnamon raisin toast, and a small glass of freshly squeezed orange juice right from the tree in her backyard. She was reading an old cookies recipe book and decided to make one of the recipes for Brazilian Coffee Cookies. Adding enough cinnamon would make them even warmer. She made a note to change the white flour to rice flour, altering them to gluten free cookies for her mother who swore off most "glutenish products" and maintained her size four jeans' size. That's why they were often mistaken for sisters plus the fact that Abby Carter practiced and taught yoga as well as made batik and tie-dye bags and clothing. Yolanda had a collection of customized batik-print aprons in all her favorite colors.

While the cookies were baking, she decided to check her voicemail. She pulled her cell phone and iPad from a kitchen drawer and set them down on the counter. Playing her messages, she got one from Zac Field, her boyfriend of ten months. He wanted to stop by. He must have known she would be home baking and on cue the cuckoo clock chirped twelve times. Unable to hear the rest of the hourly cuckoo show because it was drowned out by the noise of an amplified supercharged turbo deluxe engine in a certain muscle car made by Chevrolet. She glanced out the window and saw the black Camaro convertible stop just outside her garage, the engine idling, as he wanted to hear the last electric guitar riff from some 1980s heavy metal song. The noise abated and his engine was switched off, filling the area with silence. When he emerged, she saw he wore his usual white golfing shirt with the oval Green Palms Mini Golf Course logo on his chest. On the back in prominent black letters it read GOLF PROFESSIONAL. He wore a golf cap and khakis along with new black Nikes. He slid his chrome and black Oakley sunglasses onto his hat. She opened the door for him and he smiled and kissed her quickly.

He sniffed the air. "Hey Yolanda, whatcha been baking?"

Yolanda glanced at the clock above them and rushed back to the oven, switching on the light and looking through the glass window at the baking cookies. She grabbed her oven mitts, put them on, opened the door, and felt the rush of heat and the aroma of buttery sweet coffee. The two dozen cookies were at that golden stage and she removed the sheet and placed it on top of a waiting towel. She smelled them once more, shut the oven door with her foot, and took a thin pancake turner and moved them one by one to a wire rack. Zac stood near the other side of the island and watched intently. After the last cookie was transferred, he reached over to grab one but she gently slapped his hand.

"They need to cool off for about five minutes before you can..."

He picked up a soft cookie and put it in his mouth, cringing. "This is hot."

"That's why I said you need to wait."

"But it's good. What kind is it?"

"These are Brazilian Coffee Cookies."

"Nice." He was about to reach for another one but she moved the rack. "So, you think about working at a bakery?"

"I'm thinking about owning my own bakery, you know. But I've decided not to call it a bakery; it'll be known as Yolanda's Yummery."

He shook his head. "Yolanda's whatery?"

"Yolanda's Yummery. Because I'm going to bake everything there myself and it'll be yummy. Cookies, cakes, cupcakes and brownies to start with."

"I've never heard of a yummery before." He noticed her iPad sitting on the counter near the oven and went over and picked it up. "Let me see about a yummery in..." he typed in the word and waited. Scrolling down the screen with his eyes following his fingers, he shook his head. "Nothing. No yummery. Yum. Yummy...but not yummery. People won't know what it is. They'll walk in and go are we supposed to say yum?"

She giggled as she went over to him and he handed her the tablet. "See? Nothing listed."

"That's good. I'll be creating my own brand."

"If you want to bake so badly why don't you work at Costco or Ralphs? They have good bakeries."

"Have you tasted their cookies? They use margarine or canola oil. They add preservatives. The cookies are still good past their expiration date. "

"What's wrong with that?"

"Cookies shouldn't last that long. You wouldn't drink sour milk would you?"

He shook his head. "Starting your own business takes lots of money and time. There's no job security or benefits. Most businesses fail within the first year. Work at a big bakery and you get salary and benefits. I know Jay who manages the Ralphs over on Woodman because he takes his sons golfing... I can put in a good word for you and you can get hired."

She felt a cold shiver race down her spine at the suggestion. "Zac, you know how creative I am and how I care about the quality of everything I bake. I care about every ingredient that goes into my desserts—you know that." She reached over, took a cookie off the rack, and bit into it. "This is how I want to serve them to people – warm and freshly made."

"They won't stay that way." He reached for another one and she gently pushed his hand away.

"I'll sell them as fast as I make them. And these are for my parents. My Mom wants to stay away from wheat and dairy products."

"That sucks. I like my pizza to have extra cheese."

"I know—so do I."

"I'm working till seven tonight so if you want to meet me at the Burbank AMC we can see a movie tonight."

"Okay, I'll let you know when I leave my parents' place but I should be able to make it by then."

He glanced at the cuckoo clock above the door, kissed her, and quickly left. She watched as he got into his car and an instant later the engine rumbled to life and was gunned twice. The car raced down the short driveway and onto the street. Yolanda cringed at the thought of someone on the sidewalk or a hapless bicyclist in the area as they would've been flattened by his careless driving. Fortunately, she didn't hear any discordant noises and Miss Chef was in the living room so the cat was safe.

She pulled out another handcrafted piece of glasswork by her dad: a blue and yellow striped cookie jar and saw there were only a few double chocolate chip cookies left. Adding a few of the coffee cookies, she put the rest of them in a new plastic container that she would take with her that afternoon and give to her parents. The phone rang and she answered it, surprised to see Teagan Mishkin's name on the screen. She answered after the second ring. "Hey Teagan, how's it going?"

"Yo, I'm doing great! You home?"

"I'm here but I'm going down to visit my parents soon."

"That's okay, I just wanted to tell you about my new job and thought you might be interested in earning $900 a night."

"Nine hundred a night? Is it legal?"

"Of course it's legal. I'll tell you about it in person. I'll be there around one or one thirty."

"Sure, okay," Yolanda tentatively said as the phone went dead. She set it on the counter and walked back into her bedroom. Miss Chef approached from behind and rushed into her room, jumping atop the bed. Yolanda sat down next to the cat and stroked her back. "I wonder what kind of job pays that much money? Something tells me it's not in a bakery baking cookies." The cat rubbed against her knee. "Well, time to clean up and get dressed and hear what mischief Teagan's up to!" She kissed the cat on top of her head.

She went over to her closet and pulled open the accordion door and after flipping hangers past her, she settled on a purple batik blouse that was given to her by her mother last Christmas. The lavender capri pants came from a discount store and she opted for black ballet flats. After showering and getting dressed, she returned to the kitchen to wait for her friend.

A shiny red Mercedes convertible drove up to the garage door, almost hitting it. In the early afternoon sunlight, the new car sparkled and shone like a precious ruby. Yolanda opened up her door and stepped outside to see the vehicle. Who was driving such a luxurious car? The car door opened and a model thin young woman with a mass of bleached blonde curls piled on top of her head stepped out. A tight black strapless minidress clung to her frame leaving little to the imagination. She wore designer heels covered with rhinestones and carried a matching handbag that twinkled as ostentatiously as her car and shoes. "Hey girlfriend!" Teagan waved her hand and the obvious orange talons had tiny rhinestones affixed to the tips.

Teagan scurried over across the concrete driveway, her heels clicking with each step. "You like my new car? It's safe here I don't have to lock it do I?"

"No Teagan, you know this is a very quiet and safe neighborhood. My grandparents moved here back in the fifties."

"That's so way last century!"

"I know and everything's changed so much since then. But there's a good neighborhood watch program and..."

"Listen, I have some awesome news for you." She was jumping from one sparkly stiletto to the other.

"Come on in, Teagan," she said, gesturing for her friend to follow her into the kitchen. "I have some Brazilian Coffee Cookies and I made some fresh iced tea."

Teagan patted her flat stomach, sucking it in even more to emphasize the washboard abs. "I have to watch my weight, but thanks."

"You're really skinny," she said to the young woman she'd known since they'd sat next to each other in tenth grade English class.

"Well, I'm rich now too! And now you can be. I know you don't want to work at that cat place and want to have your own bakery. If you work where I do then you can earn as much as me – maybe even more!"

"How do you earn $900 a night? I'm almost afraid to ask..."

"I'm just a cocktail waitress. As long as I show some cleavage and smile a lot, I get tips. Of course, I have to serve the drinks, don't spill 'em and not mix up the orders. I have to work really fast and wear a sexy outfit like this." She did a spin, holding up her hands and giggling. "Oh, and sometimes I dance. I don't have any downtime at work, and the clientele are men, professional men. Working men but some of them are super loaded. And really rich men. The best of all the men are the rich men that are really hot."

"Where is this place?" Yolanda was warming up to the concept of earning three digits a night even if she would have to wear little clothing and hustle drinks.

"Near the edge of Beverly Hills in West L.A." She pulled out her iPhone in a bedazzling magenta case and pressed a button. A single push of a button meant that person was highly ranked in Teagan's cell phone world. "Rocky, I have my friend Yolanda Carter here and if you can...what?" She paused. "Yeah. I know. I've known her since high school. She's the same age as me." She nodded, looking down at the floor. "Right, I'll tell her." She disconnected and put her phone back into her bag. "Rocky says he can see you anytime before five."

"What do I wear for the interview?"

"You're fine. You don't even need to bring a resume. Just go to 11236 Marina del Mar Street. It's still too new to have a Google presence but it's near the 405. If you don't find any street parking there's a valet out back. Tell him you're there for an interview and you can park for free."

Yolanda keyed in the address on her iPad. She looked at her friend and smiled. "I want my bakery and if this will get it..."

An hour later Yolanda was circling the block looking for a parking space, finding one in front of a martial arts school next door to the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club. When she got out of the car she saw the meter still had forty minutes on it, but the sight of a "gentlemen's club" was perplexing. At first, she thought it was something from the Victorian era but she didn't think Teagan was interested in history as she had barely passed the class in their junior year. The two-story building was an innocuous shade of beige. A white awning with the address printed on it corresponded with the one her friend had given her.

Reluctantly she headed up the sidewalk and into the building. Inside she walked down a long and dark hallway. To her left she heard the muffled sound of heavy bass. At the end of the hall was a box office like in a movie theatre. Prominently displayed were NO SMOKING and MUST BE OVER 21 signs. A cashier wearing oblong red glasses pointed to the sign that showed the prices. "I know you're a chick but admission's still not free."

"I'm here to see Rocky about a job," she explained to the young cashier who was reading a current issue of "Cosmopolitan" magazine. The cashier nodded, picked up the phone, and punched in a speed dial number. "What's your name?" she asked.

"My name's Yolanda."

"Good name. Rocky, a Yolanda's here to see you."

The cashier pushed her eyeglasses on the bridge of her narrow nose, and resumed reading the magazine. "He'll be right down."

"Um, thanks," Yolanda said as she moved to the entrance between the hallway and the club. The music was a little louder.

A short Hispanic man opened the door and stepped into the hallway, as the door slammed shut behind him. He gave her a smile as he appraised Yolanda from her natural brunette hair pulled into a ponytail down to her simple black leather flats. In between his scouting expedition, he'd lingered on her salable assets noting her average cleavage and the hips she was self-conscious about. His narrow eyes brightened and his flushed round face grew redder beneath the overhead chandelier.

"You're Yolanda... Teagan's friend?" he asked, reaching out to shake her hand, the blue sharkskin jacket's sleeve showing too much patterned cuff. He pronounced it as TEE-gan when in actuality it was always pronounced TAY-gan. She nodded and shook his hand, feeling the sweaty heat as she longed to wipe her hand on her pants, but he was intently observing her so she did nothing other than stand there at the edge of the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club.

"Teagan's really good," Rocky said, as he continued staring at Yolanda. "Follow me," he said, opening the door for her, and watched as she walked into the club. He noted the lack of an engagement ring or a wedding ring. He grinned. "Teagan will do anything to keep our customers happy. She keeps them happy, she keeps the employees happy and most of all she keeps me happy." He winked and licked his already wet lips. "You and Teagan are good friends?"

"Um yeah, we've known each other since high school, so about ten years." She looked around at the club. It wasn't as tacky as she'd initially thought when she first drove up and saw the place. There were many tiny round tables with black tablecloths, plush looking burgundy booths along the outer walls, and a soft gray-carpeted floor. Plenty of spotlights shone above the horseshoe shaped stage. Techno music pulsated and her ears began aching at the noise level. Did she really want to work in a place like this? A few men and couples gawked at the onstage entertainment. Wrapping herself around the pole like a doughnut was a petite Asian woman with long hair that touched the stage floor. She arched her back and scissored her legs in various positions. All she wore was a tiny spangled black bikini bottom and an equally skimpy top.

Yolanda spotted a scowling suited gorilla-looking bouncer with an ear mic. "Come Yolanda," Rocky said. "I audition you now." He hurried over to a door beneath a stairwell. "Here, I get you a costume." He opened up the door and reached into a closet, pulling out something black and shiny. "Here it is," he extended a tiny piece of spangled fabric to her and she accepted it. "Now, you go to the dressing room and put it on and meet me at the stage. Go upstairs, last door on the left."

He scurried away before she had a chance to say anything. She looked at the flimsy bikini bottom and wondered if it would fit her. There was no bikini top. She went upstairs and walked down a burgundy-carpeted hallway with closed wooden doors on both sides. All were numbered like in a hotel. Passing the first door, she overheard loud thumping disco music but it didn't mask the sounds of shouts and moans. She scurried along, not wanting to hear anything else. "Think about the yummery," she said softly, "think about being my own boss and baking..."

Outside of the last closed door, she knocked hesitantly. Was she supposed to go in there? No music emanated from the room. Putting her hand on the doorknob, the door suddenly opened and a tall raven-haired young woman in a short sundress stood there. "Yes?"

"My name's Yolanda and Rocky told me to change into this..." She held out the tiny bit of fabric and the woman laughed.

"My name's Cherie and I don't think that would fit you. I don't think that would fit my three-year-old." She held it up and pulled at one of the straps, which broke. "There, now you don't have to wear it." She tossed it back to Yolanda and shut the door, her laughter even louder than before.

Yolanda stood there for a few seconds before turning around and hurrying down the hallway. She headed downstairs to the stage. She held the bikini in one hand and her purse in the other and she thought she'd leave the costume with the cashier and just go to her parent's house. But Rocky strode over to her. "Where is your costume?"

She held out the torn bikini bottom. "The strap on it broke before I could even try it on."

Rocky sighed and glanced at his flashy gold watch. "Okay, okay, you go up there and dance and take off your clothes. That's good."

Nine hundred dollars a night, Yolanda. She suddenly smiled at the man, keeping that thought floating through her mind. This wasn't a forever job. It wasn't a long-term job. It was a temporary job that would have huge benefits. Approaching the stage, she was puzzled as to how she'd get up there until she saw a small staircase at the side. Tentatively she walked up the steps and stood near the side of the stage. Rocky stood near the DJ, a tall black man wearing sunglasses and a tank top that showed off his muscular tattooed arms. "Give it up for Yolanda who's auditioning as one of the Wicked Fun Wanton Women! She'll be dancing to a 1970s classic, 'I Will Survive.'"

The song began playing and she saw some customers, mostly men, move over to the stage and bar area nearby. All attention was focused on her as she stood there blindly staring straight ahead, the overhead lights too bright.

"Move those hips!" shouted a bearded man.

"Take off your shirt!" This from the Asian woman who had moved aside, giving Yolanda the spotlight.

Rocky lifted up his arms and waved them. "Use the pole!"

Startled, she looked at her potential boss, then at the shiny chrome pole that she almost walked into. What the previous "wanton woman" had been doing on it in her minimal attire wasn't something that she really wanted to contemplate. All she'd seen was what the acrobatic woman had been up to and her skills in that area were nonexistent. She had some upper body strength due to lifting lots of cats in and out of cages and carrying food and litterbags around the shelter. Baking wasn't for the weak either, as it entailed lots of stirring, pouring and lifting and moving – sometimes very quickly to avoid anything being burned in the oven.

As Gloria Gaynor sang the theme song for two generations of women who'd endured heartbreak, Yolanda Carter was trying to figure out how to navigate a 12-foot pole. She figured if she grabbed it and swung around it like a playground ride in a park maybe that would suffice. She had to take off her clothing and pilot herself around some slender immovable object and it seemed like a loser take the prize situation. The music played as she contemplated her next move. Projecting her personality to the audience: zero percent. Likelihood of obtaining the job: also zero percent.

The real exotic dancer returned, followed by the haughty Cherie who shoved her aside and began climbing up the pole flashing her shiny black and silver bikini.

Rocky walked over to the steps and signaled to Yolanda. "I don't think this is the job for you." He shook his head. "My mother was beautiful when she was young but she couldn't do it. My wife was also beautiful, and still is, but no, she couldn't do it. You see, men don't want you to be shy. They want you to be sexy like your friend Teagan and just dance and show off her beautiful body. And she must be an excellent cocktail waitress also."

Yolanda stepped down to ground level and still was taller than Rocky. "You're right. I've done office work and..."

"You type letters like a secretary?" he asked.

"Of course I can type."

"Good, I can pay you real good. I give you a typing test and if you type a lotta words you get the job. No taking off your clothes." He turned and headed for the back of the club.

She followed him through the club and past a svelte woman sporting a red spangled bikini. Her pale skin was enhanced with glitter dust and it was also sprayed in her bushy light brown hair. A shorter dark skinned woman walked closely behind and sneered at Yolanda.

Inside his large office was a disarray of files and papers on his glass desk and a neighboring table across from it. On a corner of the table sat a new laptop. A sectional tan leather couch ran along one side of the office. Framed photos and posters of skimpily clad pole hugging exotic dancers covered the walls. Yolanda thought that he'd have to pay way more than the $9.25 an hour she earned at the shelter to get her interested in his place. She knew the salary wouldn't come close to $900 per night but the thought of leaving her clothing on was appealing.

"Now if this doesn't work we got a kitchen. We make good bar food... burgers, fries, chicken strips, chicken wings. Sometimes one of the cooks don't show up. Can you cook?"

Totally taken aback, Yolanda just nodded.

"But first let's see about the secretary, no, administrative assistant job."

He leaned over his desk and grabbed a piece of paper, handing it to her. She saw that it was a letter and he told her to type it and he'd be back in two minutes. He glanced at his watch and walked out. She sat down and saw an icon-covered main screen. Hurriedly, she found the word processing program, clicked it open, and began typing the contents of the letter.

Mr. Rocky Montoya  
Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club  
11236 Marina Del Mar Street  
Los Angeles, CA 90064

Dear Mr. Montoya:

Subject: Acquiring the Crown Street Cat Shelter - 12049 S. Crown Street, Van Nuys, CA 91401

We have thoroughly explored the options of leasing this property and/or other nearby properties for the purposes of acquiring the building now housing the Crown Street Cat Shelter.

As agents of the corporation known as Freeze N Bake Corporation, Inc. [formerly Montoya Enterprises], headquartered in Altadena, California, we have thoroughly investigated properties throughout the San Fernando Valley and have chosen the site at 12049 S. Crown Street as it meets all our agents' needs to have a facility that can adequately house the storage required for a regional warehousing unit for the Freeze N Bake Corporation.

It would be of great interest to have the current residents of both humans and the feline creatures to be moved out no later than July 31 of this year. It would make absolutely no difference to the agents or the owners of Freeze N Bake Corporation, Inc. how this is resolved as animals may be relocated anywhere other than the current address. Stepping up adoption programs would be one way and another would involve more aggressive measures, but that is not our interest. Our interest is in being able to adequately and completely reconstruct the premises so they may conform to our usual high quality and hard line controlled facilities in which to store our fine fresh frozen products. We consider it of utmost importance that we will be fully functional by November 1 of this year at the Crown Street location.

We have outlined the terms in our enclosed contract which you may have your lawyer scrutinize.

We expect to hear from you shortly.

Sincerely yours,

W. E. Thurston, Esq.

Just as she typed the period, Rocky returned. She looked at him but didn't see him. The cat shelter was being bought out and shut down? The cats would be moved? Where? More aggressive measures... what did that mean? Where would her coworkers go? Did they even know about it? Did Missy know about it? If she did, why didn't she mention anything? After all, Missy had been there the longest.

"So, you just print out the document and I look at it," Rocky said.

She nodded, hitting the print button and saw the paper shoot out of a portable printer behind his desk. He sat down and looked at it. "My secretary left me on Friday. I need to..." the phone on his desk rang and he paused, realizing it wasn't in front of him but buried beneath the contents strewn across the glass surface. He knocked over a sheaf of papers and then found his tiny cell phone. He flipped it open, looking at the screen. "What is it?"

There was a pause, and she overheard a high-pitched voice of either a woman or a child. Yolanda looked around the room and then down at her lap. The contents she'd just typed were numbing in their portent.

"Yes, right. I be right there." He clicked his phone shut and shoved it into his suit coat pocket. "I have to go. My wife needs... maybe you come back here tomorrow?" He glanced at his watch. "Yes come here Monday at six and we'll talk more. I offer a great salary."

She got up, too surprised to say anything other than nod her head. She followed him out the door of his office, which he shut behind him, checking the lock. A brassy blonde-haired woman with a pageboy rushed up the stairs, holding a black garment bag. "Hey Rocky I'm gonna kill it tonight – got a posse of homies comin' in more ways than one!"

Yolanda stopped and stared at her for an instant and quickly walked downstairs. She was still reeling with the news of the shelter's impending closure. Was it legal? Could she contact the media about it? A strip club associated with a place that made crappy stuff that you microwaved into dessert and thought you were actually baking? She stumbled over to her car, not seeing the new Mercedes shooting out of the parking lot. It was the same make and model that Teagan drove.

CHAPTER 3

Yolanda took the usual series of freeways that led to her parents' house in Laguna Beach. She unrolled the window all the way down and enjoyed the ocean breeze blowing into the car. Usually, being near the ocean helped her troubles disappear and her mind and body relax. But not today, not with what she'd witnessed on a computer inside that strip joint office. How could she tell her parents that she'd even considered working in such a place?

She drove up Sunny Glen Drive to the white two story red Spanish stucco roofed house on a hilltop overlooking the ocean. Yolanda smiled when she saw it and parked on one side of the curved driveway, using her parking brake. The cookie tin with the Santa Claus motif sat on the floor in the back of the car covered with a striped kitchen towel. She retrieved the tin of cookies, shut the car door and hurried up the driveway and over to the front door.

Whenever her parents were expecting her, they left the front door unlocked. She stepped inside the large foyer with an expanse of patterned Terrazzo floor sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. The abundance of windows, none covered with curtains or blinds on the lower level, let in the sunlight.

At the base of the dramatic curved stairway, she looked up and saw her mother heading down it, lightly touching the pale wooden banister. Her long curly hair only had a few silvery streaks contrasting with the natural auburn color. She wore a turquoise and white shorts outfit that showed off her slender figure. Although in her late forties, Abby Carter looked much younger due to being a part time yoga instructor. Rushing downstairs, she greeted her daughter with a hug.

"Hi sweetheart. Glad you could make it."

Yolanda smiled and returned the hug. "Hi Mom, missed you but..."

She slipped off her shoes and her bare feet touched the cooling stone floor of the hallway.

"No buts, you're here now." Abby said as she made a right turn. Following her mother into the kitchen, the bright yellow ceramic floor was clean and covered the breakfast nook area. She envied her parents' spacious French country kitchen with all the cookery amenities such as a Sub Zero fridge tucked behind the sage green wood cabinetry, the Viking six-burner range, and new stainless steel double ovens along the north wall. The green and black island housed the dishwasher, a warming drawer, and other cabinets. Just like Yolanda's kitchen island, on either end the shelves were stuffed with cookbooks. Four ladder backed rush seat counter stools gave it a homey touch.

Along the southwest corner sat the U-shaped breakfast nook. Plush plaid green and yellow seats contrasted with the sizable square reclaimed cherry wood table. The floor to ceiling French doors revealed a spectacular sea view. Sundown was in a couple of hours and the blue sky was already showing hints of orange that would be the main color along the coastline. Yolanda always loved the warm sunset glow.

Abby set the cookie container on the table and opened it. "Oh my, I can smell the coffee and the butter."

"Brazilian Coffee Cookies, Mom."

"They smell delicious, as usual." Abby said as she bent over to fully appreciate the aroma.

"Do I hear my favorite daughter?" In strode a stocky blond man wearing a red and navy batik shirt and baggy tan shorts. Frederick Carter's blue eyes brightened upon seeing her and he embraced Yolanda in a bear hug. "Always glad to see the best baker in America." He smiled and spotted the new addition on the table. They pulled away and went over to sit down on the soft fabric surface, both looking at the open container.

Abby bustled into the kitchen and over to the cabinet next to the sink where she pulled three small red porcelain plates from the shelf above her. "Let's only have one each so we don't ruin our appetite."

"What's for dinner, Mom?"

"Vegetarian burritos with my special corn salsa and baked blue corn tostada chips and..."

"And a pot roast!" Frederick winked.

"Very funny, dear. What kind of tea do you want, honey?"

"Whatever you're having, honey," replied Frederick.

"I'm asking our daughter."

"What Dad said."

A couple of minutes later, Abby placed three mugs bearing the colorful Abby's Batik Creations logo on a round tray along with the trio of empty plates. She set the tray on the table and soon they all had their mugs by their sides and cookies on the plates. Abby was the first to bite into the hours-old cookie and slowly chewed a tiny piece, closing her eyes as she did so. "Dear, this is very flavorful."

Frederick bit into half of his and nodded. "Our girl can bake no question about that." He finished his cookie and looked at the container and reached for it. "That was kind of on the small side, I need another one."

Abby giggled as she pulled the cookie tin away from him. "Oh no you don't, Frederick."

Yolanda snapped hers in half and then in half again. "Glad you like 'em so much!" She ate a quarter of it and sighed. "I wish I could bake full time in my own yummery. And I'm so worried about the shelter."

"What does that have to do with baking, dear?" her mother asked.

Yolanda glanced at the ocean and then back at her parents who sat across from her. Even though they had been married for twenty-eight years, they still sat close together, as they were touchy-feely sorts.

"Well, I just found out that some company wants to shut the shelter down this summer."

"What are you saying, dear? What company?"

"Freeze N Bake."

Frederick took a sip of tea and set his mug down. "Freeze N Bake? Isn't that frozen cookie dough that you buy in the supermarket and microwave it so it looks like a real cookie but tastes like crap?"

"Who microwaves cookies?" Abby asked.

"You'd be surprised, dear."

"I'm puzzled, why would they want to buy a cat shelter?"

"Probably the cost. It's in the Valley in an industrial area." He had a swig of tea. "How did you find this out? From your boss?"

Yolanda shook her head. How was she going to tell her parents that she'd been applying for a job in a strip club? Well, that she was too shy for that and she'd still been considering working at one in an office. They knew Teagan was far more adventurous than she was, so it wouldn't be a huge surprise when she told them of her high school friend's current occupation. Her parents listened as she revealed her recent adventure in the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club. Afterwards, Frederick put his arm around his wife and daughter. "The way I see it you have two choices, Yolanda."

Using her name meant he was being serious. She looked at his roundish face with the blondish gray beard.

Carson rushed into the room chasing a bug. The young male orange tabby leapt up onto Abby's lap and began purring.

"See, this is a conundrum. Not a condominium, of which I used to sell and lease a lot of them especially in Orange County, but a genuine conundrum. You wouldn't be happy working there even if it pays double what you're getting at the shelter. Maybe no scheiss to clean up but the types of situations you'd be seeing isn't for the likes of you. But if you can get a copy of that letter you can go to the press and make a huge stink about it. You say they don't care about the cats and how they get farmed out?"

"Yeah, they said something in the letter about 'aggressive measures.' That doesn't sound good."

Her parents shook their heads in unison. "Definitely not," said Abby. "And not just the cats – what about your boss who's been working there for how many years?"

"She's been there six years—ever since the shelter opened. And she's adopted seventeen cats."

"Seventeen? Living with one is enough, right Carson?" She stroked the sleeping cat who lazily twitched an ear in response.

"Point number two is to go for the interview tomorrow and see what happens. Don't let on that you work at the shelter or even know anything about it." Frederick said. "Because the cat shelter can't close down without having a place to send the cats: namely another shelter. Plus there are laws that prevent this kind of takeover."

"I know. I also feel bad for the other workers and the volunteers who take such wonderful care of the cats."

Although the cat shelter was sixty-two miles away up in Los Angeles County, it seemed like it was in another state. The sense of peace Yolanda got from sitting in the kitchen watching the seagulls wheeling through the sky and the palm trees caressed by the gentle breeze separated her from her daily reality.

It was February, the end of July wasn't that far away, and the welfare of all the animals was at stake.

"You know, dear, I was thinking about those cat treats you make..."

"Oh no, I forgot to bring Carson some. I was in such a hurry because of the interview!"

"That's okay, he's a chubby boy, and he gets plenty of treats, although he does love yours. But I was thinking about maybe you can make them and sell them."

Abby reminded her of the nicely remodeled kitchen she had and how she could bake cat treats and sell them at pet stores and maybe market them to dogs and sell them at dog boutiques and bakeries. Yolanda knew her mother had the best intentions but even if she wanted to she couldn't. "Mom, I'd need a commercial kitchen and FDA approval. I couldn't do it at home."

Abby smiled. "Dear, I read an article in the paper about renting a commercial kitchen."

Yolanda shook her head. "It's a great idea but it's not me. You know my dream. I've always envisioned a yummery maybe even with a café. It'll be a place where people come in and the amazing ambiance changes them – if only for a few minutes. The place is perfect from the pastel striped wallpaper to the large windows with frilly white curtains that are always open to the crystal chandeliers and the cute little old-fashioned ice cream parlor tables and chairs. I'll have cookies, brownies, cupcakes and mini cakes and the boxes will be pink with yellow and green satin ribbons. Everything will be so good at Yolanda's Yummery. Super friendly employees that will treat everyone with respect...unlike that bakery where I used to work."

***

Yolanda's first job at Hubert's Bakery was a trial forged by the gas flames of a pair of rickety old commercial ovens. Only twenty at the time, she was initially happy to work at the small Studio City bakery owned by Hubert Collins. He was born and raised in Reseda but acted as if he'd lived his entire fifty-three years in France and Italy. Yolanda was his only full-time employee/apprentice. On her first day, he told her there was only one decorating tip to use on the cakes and cupcakes and that was the star tip. That's what looked good, it's what his customers wanted and that's what they got. One afternoon when he was down the street at the bank to get change for the cash register, she discovered a bag of various sized and shaped metal tips at the back of the supply area. She used a large round tip and the cupcakes all had a plain yet elegantly thick topping that looked more sophisticated than that of the ruffles created by the star tip. All the cupcakes sold out before closing time.

"They would've sold out anyway," Hubert stated. "But I'll have you know that the customers prefer the ruffles."

"As a decorating experiment," he grudgingly allowed her to decorate them the following day minus the ruffles. Again, the cupcakes sold out before six o'clock. "Well, it's a Saturday and they always sell out anyway," Hubert said, much to her annoyance. The previous Saturday they had to throw out ten cupcakes and two cakes. He found the bag of tips and took them home with him. He wouldn't allow his sweets to be upstaged by a youngster.

For the two years and one month that she worked there, she never received a raise. Nor did he ever increase his prices, as he was afraid of losing business. One sweltering Friday in July she arrived at her usual start time only to be told that it was her last day as he was going out of business. At day's end, she received her paycheck, a week's severance pay, and a list of bakeries in the area including the bakery departments at Costco, Ralphs, and Vons. It taught her how not to run a bakery.

***

After the vegan supper and more discussion with her parents about her problem, she left for her two-hour drive back up to Sherman Oaks. There wasn't enough time for her to meet Zac at the movie theater. She looked at her watch and shook her head, recalling the first time she'd met Zac Field.

Last April her high school friend Teagan Mishkin had just broken up with her boyfriend and decided that a game of miniature golf might work out her aggression. She phoned Yolanda and invited her to the Green Palms Mini Golf Course in Toluca Lake. "You know the one you can see from the 134?"

That first Saturday in April, Yolanda had been resting from a long week at the shelter. Her mother's birthday was on Sunday so she made a batch of her mother's preferred dessert, chocolate ganache frosted cupcakes. She used a gluten-free recipe to meet her mother's dietary needs but they weren't vegan as they contained eggs. Abby was fine with having eggs occasionally. At least the cupcakes didn't taste much different than her usual gluten-filled desserts.

Yolanda drove to the mini golf course and waited for almost a half hour until Teagan showed up. Although the weather was overcast and the temperature in the low sixties, her friend wore abbreviated black shorts, a tight lime green tank top, and matching flip-flops. "I see you're on the market, Teagan."

Back then, Teagan drove a black VW Beetle. She stepped out of her car and slammed the door shut. "Bill was such a jerk he wanted his house key back. Like what was I gonna do with it?"

They chatted about her ex-boyfriend for the duration of their brief wait to buy tickets and pick up the bright orange putters and golf balls. The thought of spending an afternoon with her friend and the endless whining that was going on since they'd met, made Yolanda wish she was in her kitchen concocting something new. She'd run across an old recipe in one of her grandmother's cookbooks for Deutsche Marmorkuchen, which translated as German Marble Cake.

Just as Teagan set her orange ball down on the emerald green Astroturf to navigate a pair of dwarf palm trees, a handsome young man wearing the white polo shirt of an employee strolled over. "Hello ladies," he said, staring at Teagan's long, uncovered legs, noticing the tight shorts and scanning up to her tank top that showed off her rather ample chest.

But as he was noticing her friend, Yolanda was noticing the man. Bold GOLF PROFESSIONAL lettering on the back of his shirt hinted that he knew a thing or two about miniature golf. He wore a white golf cap and new khakis. The white Nikes were spotless. She noticed the black Oakley sunglasses and a natural grin as he cheerfully offered his expertise.

For the next forty minutes, he followed the pair around either offering assistance or just being in their vicinity. Around the tenth hole, Teagan looked up to see him standing near the quaint windmill and grimaced. "Talk about a stalker," she said quietly to her friend. Yolanda turned and looked at him. He lifted up his shades for a second and winked at her. She giggled.

"He's kinda cute," Yolanda said.

Teagan resumed trying to bank the ball against an ivy-covered pillar. "I bet he doesn't earn more than ten bucks an hour. Looks like a loser to me. I wouldn't be interested no matter how cute because he doesn't have enough money."

While Teagan was a better golfer and won, Yolanda had acquired Zac Field's business card and the promise of a fun date at Burbank's Pickwick Bowl on Monday night.

CHAPTER 4

Yolanda rose before dawn in order to replenish the cat treats, this time opting for the poultry lovers and cheese special. The thought of making such stinky things day in and day out wasn't appealing to her and the twice-weekly batches were enough to keep the shelter residents happy. The biggest problem lay with the impending job interview that afternoon. She couldn't reveal her almost three years of cat shelter experience—especially the cat shelter that was going to be liquidated that summer. Along with all the poor cats that weren't able to get adopted...

That Monday morning she walked inside the shelter and even as the stench of cats hit her nose, the thought of the place being turned into a Freeze N Bake storage facility was unimaginable. A few of the cats surrounded her with their greetings and she knew that they knew about the treats that were stashed in her tote bag.

Instead of taking care of the cats, that was left to Laura, the only other employee to show up that hectic day. Front office duties beckoned and between answering the phone, emails and keeping track of potential adoptees, she had no time for even a ten-minute lunch break. She was almost hungry enough to have a poultry treat or two. Missy neglected to phone in her whereabouts, so at noon she gave her boss a call. She wondered if the woman was in a car accident or hospitalized. After the forth ring Missy answered.

"Hello?" asked a groggy voice.

"Hey Missy, just wondering if you're coming in today?"

Missy cleared her throat loudly. "Huh? I mean, what time is it?"

"It's noon," Yolanda said.

There was a loud clattering noise. "Noon! Oh, I'm so sorry, Yolanda. I'm getting up right..."

"It's okay, Missy."

"No it's not. I've never overslept this long before. I'll explain as soon as I get there."

Missy showed up an hour later so that Yolanda was able to get treats doled out to the caged felines and spent an hour adding food to bowls and water to dishes and cleaning out putrid litter boxes. Whenever she did that task, the thought of being a bakery owner really sounded appealing as the only aromas would be that of sweets punctuated with coffee, tea and hot chocolate. But the thoughts of bakery bliss weren't long lasting as she had to be on the west side of town by six o'clock for her interview with Rocky. What would she do about her experience at the cat shelter? Maybe replace it with freelance baking for the past year or two? Or an intern at a bakery? No, that wouldn't be any good although she didn't know what Teagan told him about her. Suppose her friend let on that she did work at the shelter and it was some sort of trick? Unlikely. Teagan usually only thought about one person: herself.

Holding down the fort and foregoing lunch break would allow Yolanda to leave at five instead of six especially as Missy had missed more than half a day. Missy explained what had happened on Sunday night with newbie Prancer, the eighteenth cat to join the Wakefield household.

Missy rambled on about the incident and the gist of it was that the cat was allowed to sleep in her bedroom as her husband, Roger, was out of town on a long-haul trucking run to Atlanta. Roger wouldn't have allowed it. The door was closed as usual to keep the other cats out. Prancer played the game of let's pretend I want to go out into the kitchen and have a meal. As soon as he meowed and scratched at the door, Missy was awakened. She got up to open the door, and mischievous Prancer shot underneath the bed. Evidently, the cat didn't want to leave, so she shut the bedroom door and returned to sleep. As soon as she dropped off to sleep, the charade was repeated again. Missy lost count of how many times it went on. He absolutely refused to leave the bedroom and join the other cats. Finally, around sunrise, he relented and she was at last able to return to sleep for several more hours.

Having one cat was fine with Yolanda. The thought of having to deal with eighteen different personalities was daunting. She also knew that Missy's house smelled similar to the shelter and having to live with that aroma all the time would have been Yolanda's undoing.

Just before she was about to leave, Yolanda went into the bathroom and changed into a pair of beige pants and a dark brown blouse. She'd leave her tote bag in the car and only take her tan purse. She thoroughly washed her hands with the bar of lavender smelling soap that was part of the private soap collection made by her friend Heather Hathaway. The floral aroma rid her hands of any smell affiliated with cats. She left at five o'clock and was tense as she drove along the Sepulveda Pass through rush hour traffic. Fortunately, she was able to find a parking space only a block away from the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club and was on time for the interview. The same cashier sat at her station reading the free Westside Weekly magazine. She adjusted her red glasses and wordlessly picked up the phone and punched in Rocky's extension. After a minute, she got through to her boss. "Rocky—your six o'clock interview is here." She nodded.

"He said to go up to his office. You know where it is." The competent cashier reached over to the wall and pressed a switch. The sound of the door buzzer alerted her and she thanked the cashier and proceeded into the club. It was more hectic than yesterday and there were two dancers onstage. The same techno music was blaring over the speakers. Working the main room was her friend Teagan, clad only in a tiny white corset that showed off her upper assets and barely there bikini bottoms. As she bent over to serve a large mojito swimming in lime slices and mint leaves, an elderly bald man with a blotchy red complexion stared up at her. He fanned out several twenty-dollar bills and shakily shoved them in her top. Yolanda waved at her friend but saw that the old fart with the money was what Teagan focused on.

But all she cared about was somehow preventing the cat shelter from being shut down.

Once upstairs, she saw the door was open and Rocky was sitting behind his paper-strewn desk. In front of him was a plate piled high with brownie squares. The chocolaty smell was strong enough for her to smell standing in the doorway. Amidst the noise of the music and the smell of Rocky's strong cologne, she was able to detect that hyper-scent of chocolate flavoring. Did Rocky know that whatever was on that plate was masquerading as brownies? Rocky had just finished eating a brownie; crumbs dotted a small napkin in front of him. Or had he had more than one? "Hey, Yolanda, glad you're here on time. I like punctuality in my employees."

"Hey Rocky, thanks. I always try to be punctual."

He smiled at her revealing chocolate covered teeth. She hid a grimace and thought about how punctual she'd been working at the shelter. The place that would end up stocking those highly preserved brownies.

"I'm testing these delicious brownies. Would you like to have one?"

She nodded as she felt her stomach growl. Right around now she'd be having dinner in her dining room or sitting on the couch watching TV, using the coffee table to hold her dishes. "Thanks, I love brownies."

Yolanda walked over to the desk and saw about a dozen smallish brownies neatly stacked on a plate. She reached for the top one and took a large bite, as she was hungry. But her taste buds told her what she knew already: it was a processed brownie. There wasn't a smidgeon of butter in that batch and the chocolate flavoring, which she sniffed from across the room, nearly made her gag. It overcompensated for the fakery of the dessert.

"I can bake better brownies from scratch."

His thick eyebrows arched in surprise. "You can?"

She nodded, sniffing the square, observing it with all her senses. "First, mine contain real butter, not hydrogenated oils." She took a smaller bite and swallowed. "Mine don't have a chalky aftertaste, either. Using semisweet chocolate prevents that."

"How do you know this?"

"I love to bake. I also love cats. How can you sell out a cat shelter so you can store processed baked goods?"

"You know this how...?" Rocky paused and looked down at his desk at the stack of files pertaining to Freeze N Bake. "Oh, the letter you type for the test yesterday." He shook his head. "You with PETA?"

"Nope. I work at the Crown Street Cat Shelter. I've been there for almost three years."

He glanced up at her as she finished the last bite. "So you don't want that shelter to close. And you don't want the agents of Freeze N Bake to buy it. You don't want to give more people jobs? You don't want to tear down that building and build a bigger newer one that will give back to the community excellent fresh frozen products?"

"Hell no!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Neither would any of the employees or volunteers. And especially not all 175 cats. Where will they go?"

Rocky shrugged and shifted in his oversized leather executive chair. "I don't know. I'm a businessman." He raised his hands. "I own this fine establishment and I also want to help my family improve a potential major corporation like Freeze N Bake. Get rid of cats and get rid of cat crap, is what I say. Who cares about a few stray cats?"

"I do. And I'm sure there are many more people. Especially if I go to the media. I recall typing something about how Freeze N Bake doesn't care how the cats are gotten rid of. People who love cats and animals might object to that."

There was silence as they stared at each other. She then looked down at the little stack of brownies. "I have an idea, Rocky."

He looked at her, then at the chocolate brownies, which were her focal point. "What kind of idea?"

She began pacing back and forth. It was now nighttime and the windows reflected back her image as she walked and told the man about how she'd challenge Freeze N Bake in a public place with her brownies versus their brownies. Let the public decide who baked better brownies.

"So, you want to have my customers taste test brownies?" He laughed. "This is a gentlemen's club not a cooking show."

"I want anyone who loves desserts and cats and animals to taste my brownies-–and compare them to Freeze N Bakes. We should have it at a public place."

He smiled. "I know...we can have it at Planet Coffee Café over on Wilshire."

For the next fifteen minutes, they made arrangements. The event would be held next Saturday and they'd both do their utmost to promote the Great Brownie Taste-off.

CHAPTER 5

Yolanda's hectic day began right after dawn and she was going through all the dessert cookbooks her grandmother had left behind. She not only needed the perfect brownie recipe, she needed to be able to make 400 of them on Friday—the day before the Great Brownie Taste-off. They had to be as fresh as possible, so she would make some trial batches in order to decide which was the best tasting as well as the least time-consuming. Going through her bake ware, she decided to buy a few more silicone pans and baking sheets to support them. She inventoried her ingredients and saw that she needed more baking chocolate. To save the cats, she had to bake the finest brownies imaginable so she'd spend a few extra dollars. Her preferred brand of Valrhona, the Grand Cru Dark Baking Chocolate Guanaja 70% wasn't sold just anywhere. Instead of the round morsel shapes, they were small oval coin shaped bits, called feves, and worked best for melting. She knew that the type of chocolate she used was essential if she wanted to win the taste-off.

After entering the items she needed on her iPad, she pulled out her stash of cat treats and packaged them up for daily distribution.

Everyone showed up at work on time and Missy had even gotten enough sleep as Prancer was adjusting to sleeping on the living room couch along with several other feline companions with more seniority.

Just before lunchtime, Yolanda managed to talk to Missy in her office. Her boss's tiny desk was cluttered with paperwork and a few boxes and cans of cat food. Five banged up cat carriers were stacked on top of each other in the corner.

A second after Yolanda sat down in the folding chair, Ozzie the office manager walked into the room and hoisted himself up on her lap. As she caressed his head and back, she rolled her eyes. "I don't think the office manager's losing any weight," Yolanda commented.

Missy grinned and pulled out a packet of diet cat treats. "Well, I guess pea protein, cranberries, and flaxseed aren't too high on his list of likes. And calling this Whittle Your Waistline is ridiculous. Cats don't have waistlines." She shook a few of the little green squares onto the edge of her desk. Had he felt compelled to eat any then he could have reached over and had a snack. All he did was glance at them, and then up at Missy.

"I think he's telling me that I must be joking." Missy chuckled and put them back into the packet. "Cats are like people – they know what kind of food they like and what they don't. Like me and cooked carrots."

"That's how I feel about cauliflower." She cringed. "I can give him some of my treats but I can't reach them with him on my lap."

"I think he can wait for a treat until later this afternoon. So, how have you been doing? I'm really sorry about being so late yesterday. Can't remember the last time that happened."

"I'm fine, Missy, I understand. I'm fine but well, do you know if anyone's going to buy this building?"

"Buy this building? No, why?"

"Well, I've learned that by the end of July this place will be closed and turned into a Freeze N Bake facility."

Missy scowled and sat straighter in her wobbly armchair. "Why on earth would... what are you saying?"

"Look, it's something I've just learned when I was, well, I went for a job interview on Sunday. My friend said I could earn $900 a day. You know how much I want to own my own bakery. I mean yummery."

"Yeah, so what does all this have to do with closing the shelter?"

"Turns out the job was at a gentlemen's club in West L.A. I couldn't strip but the owner thought I looked like a secretary and gave me a typing test. That's when I saw the letter about closing the shelter by July 31 and getting rid of the cats." She rubbed the cat's back and he looked up at her questioningly.

Missy's mouth was open and she gripped the armrests. "You're saying that this Freeze N Bake wants to get rid of the cats and open a facility here...of all places?"

"That's what I read and what Rocky told me."

"Rocky who? Balboa?"

"No, Rocky Montoya." She didn't get the Rocky Balboa reference. "He owns the gentlemen's club and is also part of the family that owns Freeze N Bake."

Missy looked down at her desk and slid the chair forward, pulling out a manila folder. Opening it, she leafed through the papers. "I remember how a guy came here last month—or was it in December? No, I think it was in January. He was really interested in looking around. Not in volunteering. Not in adopting a cat. He wanted to see..." she continued paging through the papers until she got to the last one. She shut the file and put it back where she found it. "No, I guess he didn't leave an invoice or any paperwork. But he said he worked for the county and he had to inspect the shelter for a code. He gave me a long string of numbers, letters, said some jargon, and he seemed like an inspector or county worker. I can't remember his name. He wore a uniform—a gray uniform. Or was it tan? So maybe he was casing us out?"

"Sure sounds like it, Missy. And it reminds me of what happened last Friday. Just after I got here, I saw two men taking pictures. One had a camera the other a camcorder. They were across the street, that's why I didn't say anything because they weren't on the property. Then I thought that maybe they were taking pictures of the warehouse next door. But it seemed weird. So I wonder if they're involved..."

She nodded. "Maybe. Wow, this really sucks. We can't lose the shelter."

"We won't. I've got a plan." Yolanda scooted her chair forward a little. Ozzie jerked and meowed at the sudden movement. "I want to tell you all about it so we can start getting people aware of it and donate heavily. And eat brownies."

After discussing the Great Brownie Taste-off, Yolanda worked in the office and spent the rest of the day cleaning and feeding the shelter's inhabitants. As she was thinking of the places she'd go after work, namely a jaunt to the Farmers Market where she'd be within walking distance of both Whole Foods and Sur la Table, she went to the caged area in order to distribute cat treats. Up in cage number 23, Mr. Whisker watched her intently, rubbing his sleek body against the bars and purring loudly. She approached him and stroked his body through the bars, then opened the cage to reach in and pet him. He purred even more and meowed softly as he nuzzled her hand. She gave him a few of the treats and he gobbled them down.

She left work a few minutes early to get a head start on her culinary shopping spree over the hill in the Fairfax district by CBS Studios. She bought more silicone baking pans along with another bottle of vanilla extract and two bags of King Arthur flour. The chocolate was in bar form so she bought one and then would order the feves online that night.

At 7:30, she finally was able to park in the garage, unload her baking goods and her just-picked up takeout bag containing a Baja burrito and chips from her favorite Mexican restaurant. She returned home to see Miss Chef sitting in the darkened kitchen waiting for her. The food and water bowls were empty and the way that cat sat there with her tail wrapped around her body made Yolanda feel guilty.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Chef. I was delayed. Let me get you a special treat."

First, she filled up the water bowl with some bottled water from the fridge. Then she went over to the cupboard and pulled out an unopened box of premium organic cat food that she only served occasionally so as not to spoil the cat. As soon as the pellets hit the bowl, Miss Chef was over there hungrily eating the late dinner.

She left her bags on the island and went to the sink to wash her hands. She hurried back into her bedroom to change her clothing to something not scented in eau de cat. After putting on a comfortable old sweatshirt and warm-up pants, she went back to the kitchen for her dinner. Flopping down on the couch, she put her tray on her faux Shabby Chic coffee table. Time to eat and watch a rerun of Ace of Cakes.

Before bedtime, she'd baked two batches of brownies and when she tasted them, she wasn't sure which recipe to use, although she was leaning toward the one that contained brown sugar instead of the brown and white sugar blend. Tomorrow at work there would be some overly sugared and caffeinated testers.

It was time to go to bed and the clock chimed twelve times. The clock was another reminder of her grandparents who had lived in the house since 1952. It was a house that was well cared for and a house that was bought and paid for with Easter eggs. Yolanda loved her artisan family, a glassblower father, an artist mother and her grandparents had made wooden Easter egg trees. Mostly her grandfather, Lukas. Her grandmother, Ingrid, decorated real eggs. She also loved to string colorful plastic eggs in an array of pastel colors that brightened up the trees and bushes on the corner property. As a little girl, she loved visiting her grandparents between Lent and Easter when the trees were adorned with the multi-colored eggs. An ornate hand carved tree was always on the front porch and it served as an advertisement for Lukas Carter's craftsmanship. Lukas and Ingrid were the proud owners of Sunshine Easter Eggs, Inc.

The gift of her grandparents' house was something that Yolanda always appreciated. Lukas died before his wife did, and during the last years of her life, Ingrid wasn't as vibrant as she was when he was alive. Honoring her grandparents, Yolanda kept as much of the furniture as she could and the only room that had been renovated was the kitchen. It had been renovated back in the 1970s and the harvest gold appliances were on the verge of breaking down. It was the one room that she had to update so she could bake in it. Fortunately, her parents were able to loan her the money in order to remodel, as they knew that one day she would be able to pay them back. She looked around the kitchen before shutting off the light. Her grandparents had left Germany to have freedom from the Nazis and initially moved to New York where the ship docked. They found the liberty they sought and after enduring the harsh winters and humid Bronx summers, they moved to Sherman Oaks and found the lovely cottage that they were able to will to their granddaughter.

CHAPTER 6

Yolanda set her alarm for seven, as she didn't have to get up before daybreak and bake anything. First, she'd test the brownies on her coworkers, and then she'd go to her parents and have them offer their valued opinions.

She was aware of being asleep in her four-poster bed. It was still dark outside and she was lying on her side, her back to the clock on the night table. There was no light in her bedroom other than the glowing clock face. She always left her iPad in a kitchen drawer so she wouldn't be disturbed.

A pair of liver spotted arthritic hands pushed a cookie laden baking sheet into the oven. "Hurry up, old lady, hurry up. Those cookies have to sell, hurry it up." The voice was haranguing. She turned and shuffled over to the long stainless steel worktable and scooped more cookie dough onto the baking sheets. She put the margarine, flour, sugar, and synthetic flavorings into the endless maw of the steel mixing bowl and felt the revulsion of the sameness of each batch. "Hurry up and be glad you can make cookies for us and increase our profit." There were clanging noises and other white uniformed employees, all old and hunched over, shuffled about the huge kitchen. An emaciated man who dripped sweat pushed a stainless steel rack. The back of his wet shirt sported a large red and blue Freeze N Bake logo.

A red light flashed and a siren punctuated the noise of the kitchen. "Oven three is overheating!" said the annoying voice. "Oven three needs attention now!"

She rushed over to the oven as fast as her orthopedic shoes would take her, the black smoke curled towards her, and she began to cough. She managed to insert her hands into the bulky oven mitts hanging from a nearby hook and pulled out a tray of burnt cookies. The invisible supervisor's voice said, "Put cherry red icing on those, they can sell. Cherry red icing will cover up the burnt black cookies."

Then she was back in her room, still in her bed, still only twenty-six years old, yet her heart raced with the hellish vision of her nightmare. Yolanda's heart rate gradually slowed down, and she became calmer. She fell asleep.

That was when she saw the handsome black cat with the single white whisker. He sat on a pale green satiny cushion and not in a cage. There were two items on the cushion next to him: a lottery ticket and a small green glass bottle. She couldn't see the bottle's contents. The cat nudged it with his head and started to purr. "Yolanda," he said. "All you do is add a tiny pinch to each recipe. Anything you bake will taste magical. Anyone who eats your baked goods will feel love and happiness." He touched the bottle with his paw. "No matter what you do, you must keep this secret ingredient a secret. If you do, it'll always stay full and won't run out." He gently tapped the gold lid a few times. "You must get to it by seven o'clock or it'll be gone. It's in your spice cupboard." He winked and vanished.

Suddenly sitting up in bed, she looked at the clock to her right. 6:56. She pushed back the covers and didn't even bother shoving her feet into her fuzzy warm slippers. No time for that, she bolted across the room, yanked open the door and ran down the hall, sliding around the corner into the kitchen. Switching on the light, she focused on the spice cabinet next to the stove and saw that the door to it was open. She hadn't left it open last night. Yolanda always cleaned up after baking – even if she was exhausted.

In front of the cabinet she stood and looked inside at the large array of spices, all arranged in alphabetical order. Many were used for baking, like allspice, ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg. She saw no green jars or bottles. Reaching up, she pulled out a handful of jars and placed them on the counter, one of them almost rolled off but she pressed herself against the counter to prevent anything from falling.

Straining to reach the back of the deep cupboard, at the very rear, was the unlabeled jade green bottle. The lid was gold in color. She held the bottle. Whatever was inside didn't weigh much. Shaking it, there was no sound. Was it empty? Removing the lid, she gazed at the contents. Nope, not empty. Immediately she tightened the lid and put the bottle back where she found it. She returned the other jars to their rightful places. When her chocolate arrived on Friday, she'd use the magic spice in that batch. First, she had to decide which recipe to use. As she stood in front of the still-open spice cabinet, Yolanda realized that the cat in the dream was sitting on a familiar looking cushion. She shut the door and rushed into the living room. There on the sage green couch were two green pillows: one that matched and another in a contrasting cobalt blue. They always were propped against one of the arms. But she saw that the green pillow now sat in the middle of the couch. How odd, she thought. How on earth was the cat doing such things? She knew every bottle of spice in the cabinet and not only were they in alphabetical order, they were all on the right hand side of the cabinet. The other side was full of jars of jams, jellies, peanut butter, and packages of an assortment of whole and chopped nuts.

She pulled the two pans of brownies out of the cabinet and was tempted to taste them but knew not to have that amount of sugar and caffeine as a breakfast treat. Avoiding her oatmeal topped with sliced banana breakfast and substituting it with a chocolate jolt meant she'd crave sweets for the rest of the day. She quickly placed the cut brownies into separate containers with different colored lids so she'd know which had the brown sugar and which had the brown and white sugar. Now it was time for a leisurely breakfast and mug of green tea with a generous spoonful of local orange blossom honey.

As soon as she went into the break room bearing the two containers, the cats were kept outside while Missy, Sid and Tatiana and Julio followed her closely. "Obviously not cat treats – human treats!" Yolanda announced cheerily. "Only the daring need apply! I seek testers!"

Missy peered at the frosted plastic containers. "Those don't look like cupcakes."

"They're not. But I need people with picky palates! Pick your preference! I have two types of brownies here..." She reached over and set each container on the table. "Red lid, blue lid."

Everyone gathered in front of the brownies and looked at them. One batch was slightly darker than the other. "What's the difference?" Missy asked.

"Taste them and find out. I know they look almost the same."

Julio was the first to grab one from the blue side, only because he was standing closer to them. He took a large bite and sighed. "Perfecto!"

"Thank you!"

He nodded, and gulped down the rest of the brownie. "Muy perfecto."

"Okay, now tell me what you think of the other batch," Yolanda said.

He reached over and took one from the red side. Julio bit into it and concentrated as he chewed the sweet chocolate. He smiled and finished the brownie. "Perfecto."

Everyone laughed, Yolanda the hardest. "Thanks Julio, that really helps me."

Sid took the brownie test, starting with the blue side. He took smaller bites and closed his eyes as he focused on the tasting. Taking a sip from his water bottle, he declared. "I'm clearing my palate now. Okay, time for the red brownie." With an equal amount of deliberation, he ate that brownie. Finally, he pointed to the blue container. "We have a winner. I don't know what's different, it just tastes richer."

Tatiana and Missy tasted both and one chose the red and the other opted for the blue.

"Okay, I'll tell you what the difference is. Red side is white and brown sugar, blue side is brown sugar."

"I wish I had time to bake," Missy said.

Yolanda laughed. "I wish I had more time to bake."

She covered the containers and stacked them on top of each other. "I'm going to store these in the cabinet below the coffee maker till I go home. Then I have to test them out on one more person, so if you have any that's fine, just leave about two or three of them."

"We will, Yolanda." Tatiana smiled. "I like both red and blue but maybe red a little better."

"Thanks, Tatiana."

Yolanda's morning consisted of working in the office uploading photos of new cats. The rest of the time was spent taking care of adoptions. A man wearing a gray uniform sidled up to her and smiled. "I'm looking for a male black cat."

"We have a few of those. Let me show you."

She led him back to the caged area and saw that all the cages were full except for number 23. The black cat she had dreamt about was gone! He'd been there this morning when she walked by on her way to the office. "Oh, yes, in number 15 we have Jackson and he's only two years old and used to live with a family until the mother was diagnosed with allergies."

The man looked at the cat for an instant. "Nah, too scrawny. I need me a big cat. A muscular cat. I like 'em big." He smiled even more as he scrutinized her from head to toe lingering on her chest for several seconds. Licking his thin lips, he repeated himself. "Yep, I like 'em big."

She looked at his chest and saw the name Leo on his red and white badge. "Well, Leo, these are our current adoptable cats. We update our website daily with new arrivals."

Leo nodded and looked at the rest of the cats with a cursory glance. "Nope, none of these will do. I like 'em big and black, if you know what I mean." He sidled up closer to her. "You like cats?"

"No, I prefer iguanas, that's why I work at a cat shelter."

Just then, Sid made his six-foot plus presence known. "Hey Yolanda, I was told that our staff meeting begins in five minutes and you gotta attend. Maybe I can help this gentleman?"

The man looked up at Sid and saw the scowl on his young face. "Um, no thanks, that's okay. I'll check out your website tomorrow..." he turned and almost ran down the hallway and out the front door.

"Sid, thank you so much! That skeezy slimeball was really freaking me out. I don't ever want to be around him again. And make sure that he never adopts a cat from here. Tell Missy about him."

"Done." He saluted.

"You were kidding about a meeting, right?"

"Yeah...not till tomorrow."

"Okay, fine. Have you seen the cat that was in number 23?"

They both look up at the cage. The muscular black cat was sitting on his haunches and cleaning a front paw. Yolanda turned and stared at Sid. "I guess I missed him..."

Sid nodded. "Yeah, he's a little small and hard to miss." He burst out laughing and walked away. "April Fool's Day is in two months."

The cat winked at her. "Okay, I can take a hint. You're coming home with me."

That evening, instead of unloading her two almost empty brownie containers from the car, Yolanda had an even larger receptacle – a borrowed cat carrier. Miss Chef was sitting in the kitchen doorway awaiting her arrival—something she usually did when the cat knew a special kind of food was imminent. Only this special arrival would also demand food. Yolanda pulled out the carrier, gently setting it down on the garage floor. Mr. Whisker meowed softly. "It's okay. I want to welcome you to your new home properly. I'm going to unload my bag and brownies first and set up a food and water bowl just for you. Then you'll meet Miss Chef, your new roommate. She's looking forward to meeting you."

Once inside, Yolanda checked the tux's food and water bowls and filled them up. She found two clean bowls and added a combination of standard cat chow mixed with some of her homemade poultry and cheese treats. Handing some treats to Miss Chef, the cat eagerly gulped them down. She poured cold water from the fridge into the second bowl.

Returning to the garage, she picked up the carrier, closed the garage door, and went inside. By now, there was a lot of loud meowing emanating from the carrier. Miss Chef stopped eating, went over to the strange new resident, and growled.

"Miss Chef, this is Mr. Whisker. Please don't growl at him. He needs a new home. I told him you're very friendly."

Miss Chef growled at the newcomer. Yolanda thought, oh crap, not working out the way I imagined it would. "Okay, Miss Chef, let's go in my room. Mr. Whisker, I'll be right with you."

The irritated tux stared at Yolanda with her big jade green eyes then went back to looking at the feline trespasser and growled with gusto. She edged closer and began batting at the male with her right paw.

"Now Miss Chef, I thought you had better manners." Yolanda picked up the irritated tux and carried the cat into her bedroom, depositing a few treats on the rim of exposed hardwood floor in front of her closet. The cat went for them, an instant later the door was closed, and Yolanda returned to the kitchen. She unlatched the carrier's door and Mr. Whisker stepped out. He looked larger when he wasn't in a cage and he rubbed himself against her legs and purred. She reached down to stroke his head and then picked him up, hugging him. "Welcome home, Mr. Whisker."

There was a loud knock at the back door and she put the cat down. She went over and opened it, seeing Zac standing there in his golfing attire. Yolanda stepped aside for him and they greeted each other with a kiss and hug. Zac walked in, closing the door behind him, and looked around. "Hey babe, what's for dinner?"

Mr. Whisker suddenly left the kitchen and Yolanda noticed he went right for the couch. Soon she'd have to show him the location of the litter box.

"Hey Zac, I have some lemon chicken that just needs to go into the oven. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Crap, I'm really hungry. I had to deal with so many idiots today you wouldn't believe it. "Some Tiger Woods wannabe takes a swing at the ball on the 14th hole, you know the one with 20-foot waterfall? So anyway, this guy takes his putter and swings it like a baseball bat. I mean who does he think he is? So he ends up almost hitting my boss. I mean, it just misses Eddie's head."

"Wow, he's lucky he didn't get hit."

"Nah, he's always lucky like that. We also had a group of a dozen idiots who were like doing some sorta business meeting and were wearing suits and trying to pretend like it was a PGA tour or something. One of the guys kept saying he wanted to bring his golf bag with him. Then he wanted to know where the golf carts were."

She smiled as she went over to the fridge and took out the casserole dish. She put it in the oven and set the temperature and time. "You always have funny customers."

"I know. I should write down the stories of weirdoes I've met at Green Palms Mini Golf Course. It'd be a best seller."

Smiling, she pointed out the two different brownie containers. "I bet it would be. Would you like to compare two brownies for the Great Brownie Taste-off?"

"What's the Great Brownie Taste-off?"

"Well, I'm raising money to save the cat shelter from being bought out by Freeze N Bake. I'm baking brownies and the people who own Freeze N Bake are baking brownies. Whoever has the best brownies wins and if we win we keep the shelter."

He goes over to the red-topped container. "And if they win?"

"No more cat shelter. But they won't win."

"Well that sucks. You'll be out of a job."

"I can find another job. I'm worried about the cats finding homes."

Zac bit into his brownie. "Freeze N Bake brownies are pretty good...."

The scowl she gave him caused him to swallow quickly. "But not as good as yours. With brownies like these you'll win." He finished it and went over to the fridge to pull out the milk container taking a quick swing. He paused and put it back fast, letting the door close. "What the hell kind of milk is that?"

"Coconut milk. I like it because it has a longer shelf life and it's easier to digest. I have real milk behind it."

He opened the door and looked inside, finding the regular whole milk and taking a swing. "Thanks, that's better."

"So, did you like the brownie?"

"Sure I do. I like whatever you bake."

"Thanks. Now try the other brownie." She offered him one from the blue-topped container.

He gulped it down in one bite. "It's good."

She put her hands on her hips. "Zac, you can't taste anything different from the first brownie?"

He shook his head and went back to the fridge. She cut in front of him, grabbed the milk bottle, and set it down on the island. "Here, I'll get you a glass." She walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a beautiful clear square glass edged with frosted blue—one of her father's unique creations. She poured the milk into it and set it down, sliding the full glass over to him. Zac downed most of the contents.

"Darn, I didn't realize how thirsty I was. I like both brownies. I can't taste a difference."

She returned the milk container to the refrigerator and let the door close behind her. "Well, I thought you might detect something in the flavor..."

"They're both winners." He finished his milk.

The cuckoo clock chimed seven times. Zac jumped, startled by the sudden interruption. He watched the cuckoo peeking in and out of the small door, announcing the hour along with accompanying gong sounds. When the little bird was done and returned behind the door, on the platform below, two pairs of dancers wearing dirndls and lederhosen spun around and around to the tinny rendition of "Edelweiss." He rolled his eyes after the top of the hour show ended. "That's so lame. By the way, when is the Taste-off?"

"Next Saturday from one to three."

"You're joking."

"No, why?"

He folded his arms and glared at her. "Why? Its only the biggest day of the year for me. The 25th Annual Green Palms Mini Golf Tournament—the one I win every year ever since I was nineteen years old? You know, the biggest event..."

"Oh Zac, I'm so sorry, how could I have forgotten?"

"I guess you don't care if I win or lose, not that I'll lose. I thought my girlfriend would be there to cheer me on."

"What time does it start?"

"It's from ten to five."

"I'm sure I can make it by four o'clock." Yolanda said as she moved closer to him.

He shook his head. "Not the way I planned it. I want my girlfriend wearing a sexy outfit and being there the entire time to cheer me on. I want you to kiss my putter for good luck. I want..."

Suddenly, there was the sound of frantic scratching and yowling noises coming from her bedroom. She raced out of the kitchen and into her room followed closely by Zac. "I hope Miss Chef's all right," she said as she dashed inside. The cat was rolled up in one of the sheer bed drapes. "Hold it, Miss Chef, I'll get you!" She knelt down and first touched the lumpy area where the cat was frantically rolling and scratching. After a minute, the cat calmed down and began purring, though still stuck in the jumble of lightweight fabric. Yolanda carefully removed the claws and soon untangled the cat. "Looks like we're having a dining companion." Looking at the fallen drape, she noted the amount of damage was minimal as there was only a few small tears.

When they returned to the kitchen, Mr. Whisker was sitting in front of the oven staring at the glass door. Yolanda said, "I think we'll be having two dinner companions tonight."

"I'm not hungry," Zac said as he stomped towards for the door. "And you're stupid because you're missing your chance to be on TV—especially with me."

CHAPTER 7

The Great Brownie Taste-off was a week away. It was decided that she had to bake 400 brownies and as she was a perfectionist, those 400 brownies would be baked the day before the event so they would be fresh, and because the representatives from Freeze N Bake would also bake their brownies on Friday.

Yolanda received her chocolate feves and they had shipped perfectly, not a melted one in the bag. The temptation to start making the brownies was strong but all she could do was make sure she wrote out the recipe and had modified the amounts of ingredients correctly.

Mr. Whisker was adapting nicely to being a house cat and Miss Chef was spending her days outside and her evenings in the living room or in Yolanda's bedroom. Mr. Whisker enjoyed sitting on the couch and napping or watching cooking shows. She knew he didn't miss being stuck inside a cage all the time. He also enjoyed sitting on the windowsill in the living room and watching the activity outside.

Tonight she was meeting her good friend Heather Hathaway in her new Larchmont area home. Yolanda phoned in the order for takeout dinner just as she exited the Hollywood Freeway. Driving south on La Brea Boulevard and at the intersection of Melrose Avenue she was tempted to make a right turn and hit the trendy boutiques and shops. She thought of the ones she frequented: Notorious, Posers, Bliss, Chantell and further down at the corner of Crescent Heights--Fred Segal.

Yolanda swung by the Wok Master across from the New Beverly Cinema which was playing Mulholland Drive and Twin Peaks. Once inside the small restaurant with a full view of the kitchen, she was pleased to pick up her order without waiting. She left a generous tip in the inevitable tips jar next to the cash register. She also touched the gold lucky cat with the raised right paw statue next to it. I need all the good luck I can get; she thought and thanked the young cashier.

A few minutes later, she drove up the driveway in front of a two-story Spanish-Mediterranean villa that was three times larger than hers was, but at least a decade older. Just as she and the two plastic bags emerged from the car, a young strawberry blonde woman wearing an elegant ivory suit and kitten-heeled aqua shoes appeared. Her hair was rolled into a sleek sock bun so she resembled a ballerina, an affect enhanced with her slender figure. She rushed up to Yolanda and hugged her.

"Hey, Yo, I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Heather. I've got some great news but first I wanna hear all about it."

They pulled away and Heather looked at the bags. "Thanks so much for getting dinner. I'll pay you for it."

"No, it's my treat. I can't wait to hear about your Maine vacation. I've always wanted to go there."

Yolanda followed her friend up the flagstone walkway and into the house. "I hope you do. Look, I need to change out of this costume. I'll be right back. Help yourself to anything to drink."

The palatial Hancock Park home that Heather and her husband, Barry, had recently moved into was a foreclosure. The previous occupants were involved in shady dealings that landed them in ultramodern secured housing units courtesy of the state of California. One of the kingpins was rumored to be in the witness protection program. But the house they left behind wasn't on the market more than a day when investment broker Barry Hathaway finagled a deal and with Heather's combined income, they were barely able to keep up with the mortgage payments.

She noticed the gleaming hardwood floors and each room was entered beneath wide arched doorways. The sparsely furnished living room only had one colorful Mexican rug. A fresh bundle of logs sat on the grate in the fireplace.

One of the selling points was the chef's kitchen with the six-burner Wolf range. Heather could make scrumptious omelets and was adept at boiling water for Ramen noodles, but the reason she needed a deluxe stovetop concerned her business: Heather Hathaway's Lotions & More. Heather made body lotions and creams from scratch, a feat that struck Yolanda as marvelous. What she did with baking Heather did with oils, nut butters, and plant essences. She was always a willing tester and couldn't remember the last time she had to go to the drugstore to buy a conventional brand of lotion or even a bar of soap. Heather often did recon missions at department stores or bath and body shops as a way of checking out the large-scale competition. Heather Hathaway longed to become synonymous with luxurious lotions with ingredients from around the globe. She experimented with oils from around Africa, South America, Europe, Asia, and locally as the climate in Los Angeles allowed tropical plants to flourish.

Among the containers and jars of oils and lotions, Yolanda located two bottled mineral waters. She placed them on the dining room table along with the bags of food. Arched windows were covered with modest curtains courtesy of Heather's weekly jaunts to thrift shops.

Heather hurried downstairs and into the dining room. Her hair fell in loose waves midway down her back and the faded jeans were baggy as was the black sweatshirt. "I'll get the dinnerware," she called out as she dashed into the kitchen. She returned bearing two cobalt blue plates. "Vintage Fiestaware! I got it at a moving sale in West Hollywood last month. It's amazing what you can find if you know what to look for. The whole dinner set was like ten bucks!"

She set the plates down on the simple wooden table. "Yeah, I know, I need to find a real dining table that matches this place. But for now..."

"It's fine, I like it."

"Nah, the wood looks cheap and doesn't match at all. I have to resort to using tablecloths when we have business dinners. But the good news is that next week we'll be renting out the apartment above the garage so that'll help with the bills."

"So it's completely self-contained back there?"

"Yeah, there's even a washer and dryer in there so we'll never even have to see whoever moves in. We'll pay for water and electricity and considering the size of the place it won't be a lot. No sense in having it just sit there unused."

Heather pulled out the containers and smiled. "I just love how Chinese food smells!" She opened the containers and passed one to Yolanda along with the chopsticks and extra soy sauce.

Yolanda emptied half of the contents onto the plate. "I usually eat this as is but I must try out your new plate."

"Everything tastes better on it. But then with this orange chicken it'd taste great on a paper plate." She laughed. "It rhymes I need to make a wish." She paused and then dove into her meal, expertly stabbing chunks of chicken with the bamboo chopsticks.

Yolanda speared a chunk of shrimp and a bit of scrambled egg and ate quickly. "Heather, I wanna hear all about your vacation."

"Well, it was so wonderful to not see any smog but it was so cold! I didn't even pack a winter coat so I had to buy one there. But it was cool 'cause I got to go to LL Bean."

"I'm jealous," Yolanda said, scooping up some rice with her chopsticks and wished she had a fork instead.

"The best part of it is, I mean aside from spending time alone with Barry for almost five whole days and nights, was the idea I came up with for my fall product line. Get this – Nautical Nor'easter! It'll be a line of lotions with a tangy ocean scent and with the added antioxidant blueberry seed oil. It's like acai--only local. Well local to Maine. I've already found an organic source."

"Sounds like a working vacation, Heather."

She laughed. "Is there any other kind? Even Barry met a potential new client while we were walking along the beach."

"That's great. So, what are you doing next Saturday?"

"Probably making more lotion samples, why?"

"Would you like to attend the Great Brownie Taste-off?"

Yolanda told her friend about the forthcoming event and Heather immediately took to the idea. She brought out her laptop and a few clicks later and she was on her website's control panel. "Let me add it to my site and help promote it." She entered in some words and paused. "Wait, I'll need some brownie photos from you."

"Not a problem. I have some test brownies left over and as soon as I get back home I can take pictures and send them to you."

Yolanda looked at the leftover shrimp fried rice on her plate and scraped it back into the carton. "I never can finish the whole thing," she said, closing the lid.

"I know what you mean, but I know Barry will devour it when he gets back later." She returned her orange chicken to the container and then looked in the bag. "We forgot the egg rolls and the fortune cookies!"

"Keep 'em," Yolanda said.

"You sure?" Her friend reached into the bag and pulled out three fortune cookies. "No, I think you should have a fortune cookie—there's one for me and you and Barry." She handed her one.

"Okay, thanks."

"Thank you. I'm just so happy about the Great Brownie Taste-off. I think it'll be a huge success. Especially for such a worthy cause."

Yolanda tore open the plastic wrapper. Cracking open the cookie, she pulled out the slip of paper. "Heather, it says 'Among the lucky, you are the chosen one.' Yeah, right!" On the reverse side were six numbers: 06 23 29 32 39 42. Suddenly she saw a vision of Mr. Whisker winking at her. She shook her head and looked at the numbers again. She was born on June 23—maybe that was a good sign. She pocketed the fortune and quickly ate the cookie. "What does yours say, Heather?"

Heather opened hers and laughed. "It says the same thing—we're both the chosen one!"

"Or two. Whatever. Well, I gotta go home and take some pics."

CHAPTER 8

The day before the big event, Yolanda didn't bring in treats to work as she was taking Friday off in order to bake 400 brownies for the Great Brownie Taste-off.

She calculated the number of batches she had to make and before sunrise, she was in the kitchen along with her two kitty cat helpers. Donning her apron, she tied it neatly behind her and felt like it was official: a morning of baking awaited her. It sure beats cleaning out cages and litter boxes, she thought.

After she had mixed all the ingredients together and was about to pour the batter into the pans, Mr. Whisker jumped on the counter within an inch of the mixing bowl and began meowing loudly. He was just below the spice cabinet, reaching up, and clawing at it. Picking him up and returning him to the floor, Yolanda took the hint and opened up the cabinet. "Okay, Mr. Whisker, thank you for reminding me!" She reached inside and carefully pulled the green bottle out. She opened it to add the magical pinch of the mystery ingredient. She mixed the batter once more, then sealed the lid and returned the bottle to the cabinet. Time to bake the first batch of the day.

Twenty-five minutes later, she pulled the pans out of the oven and set them down on the cast iron trivets. The trivets were older than she was as her grandmother had bought them at an antiques shop when vacationing in Berlin back in the 1990s.

The morning was spent baking and it was a task she loved and doing it by herself meant that she was honestly participating in the taste-off. Only her two cat friends were assisting by sleeping on the nearby couch. After the first batch was done, they got bored and retreated into the living room. She scored the brownies before cutting them, and then set out all the lidded plastic containers that she had in the cupboards. The brownies would be transported in them. At the event, they would be transferred to the glass covered pedestal cake stands that her father had made.

Carefully recounting the brownies as she sliced them and put them into the containers, she discovered an extra dozen. In between batches, she breakfasted on a banana and a slice of whole-wheat toast, so she was only mildly hungry as she bit into one of her freshly baked brownies. It was still warm from the oven and intense buttery chocolate hit her taste buds with an explosion of flavors. Not only the complexity of the imported chocolate, yes, that was evident. The overwhelmingly positive reaction had something to do with the secret ingredient that was added just before the batter was poured. A sense of well-being engulfed Yolanda.

At first, it was a decent home baked brownie. But the more she chewed, the textures and flavors flowing in her mouth, the less she wanted to swallow it. She'd heard the term "like a party in my mouth" on numerous cooking shows and always laughed at the saying. Yet to her, that was what the brownie was doing as she savored it. She didn't want to drink milk or water or anything to drive away the intense flavor and the goodliness that pervaded her as she took another bite. As she slowly relished the brownie, she stared at the refrigerator and was pulled into a vision where she was on the beach. To her left was a pier—Santa Monica? Malibu? She wasn't sure but she saw a young man wearing red swim trunks emphasizing his tanned skin and his muscular chest. Dark brown with natural golden highlights wavy hair emphasized his classical features. His piercing dark eyes caught her attention. Behind him, the surf crashed against the shoreline and the seagulls soared overhead. There was no one else on the beach, it was only the two of them, both magnetized to each other... their eyes focused on one another... and then she was standing in her kitchen looking at the refrigerator. That's strange, she thought.

Picking up each cat, she kissed them on their furry heads and hugged them. She went over to the cabinet and pulled out two cans of tuna fish. Mr. Whisker winked at her and his green eye emanated brilliant sparks of light for an instant. She shook her head and the sparks disappeared. All she saw was a muscular black cat devouring a treat.

Checking her phone, she saw there were two missed calls: her mother and a hang up. She'd call her mother later as she decided to drive to the Planet Coffee Café to check out the situation there. It was something she'd planned to do but kept getting sidetracked. Stacking all the brownie-filled containers in the top shelf of a cupboard, she went to her room to change into something more suitable than her apron and old sweats.

She opened her closet door and peered inside. Waves of joy from the magic brownies coursed through her and she wondered how long the euphoria would last. Flipping the hangers past her from left to right she coordinated an ensemble of a violet and black patterned cotton sweater and a slim skirt paired up with sensible sandals as the day was warm and bright.

After a quick shower, she finished the contents of a bottle of tropical coconut and lime scented lotion. She caressed it on her skin like a layer of sheer silk. The perky aroma enhanced her blissful state of mind brought on by the brownies. She knew they'd be a featured item on her yummery menu.

Traffic on the Sepulveda Pass was typically only a bit faster than the 405. Since it was a bright Friday afternoon, she noticed more convertibles. Zac would be happily out and about the mini golf course training for his big event. His Camaro would be roofless today. She wondered when he'd call her back as he hadn't returned her message of four days ago.

For once, she found Doris Day parking right in front of the Planet Coffee Café. To her delight, thirty minutes remained on the parking meter. As she approached the front door, she was pleased to see a sign advertising the Great Brownie Taste-off from 1 – 3 PM on Saturday. Seeing the words Donations will go to help save the Crown Street Cat Shelter made her grin with relief. Until she saw that Freeze N Bake was also supporting animals. Donations will go to help build the Ventura County Dog Shelter in Ojai, California.

Inside the sleek concrete floored café, the aroma of perking coffee awakened her nose along with the happy accompanying scents of cinnamon, chocolate, sweet sugar and earthy spices. The grating of coffee beans and mixing of beverages ebbed and flowed above the sounds of conversation from the active place. Music consisted of intermittent parrot and monkey calls along with a steady backbeat of drumming and rainfall noises; an imitation of the rainforest. Vivid colored macramé holders supported an array of hanging plants, which gave off a 1970s touch. Potted palm trees and coffee bushes enhanced the natural greenery. She thought the foliage of the coffee plants was clever—highlighting where the popular beverage originated. A large skylight let in the afternoon sunshine. Booths outlined the perimeter of the place. In the center area, the little tables and chairs were mostly occupied. Along one side of the café was the heart of the action--the coffee bar complete with several stools and the busy baristas were preparing the beverages and serving them. The women baristas wore red tank tops and either black shorts or miniskirts. To her delight, the male employees also showed off their upper bodies with skimpier tops. Yolanda sighed when seeing a broad-shouldered spiky haired man of barely legal drinking age with café au lait colored skin glowing with radiant health. His natural color, she thought, not something earned by parking himself on a tanning bed or being airbrushed with tanning spray. She made her way between the little tables crowded with a variety of ultra cool caffeine addicts.

She thought the barista's smile revealed impossibly white teeth and his whole body should have been photographed wearing nothing but briefs and then his image should have adorned billboards throughout the city.

The only place where the taste-off could be held was near the bar area, unless the tables were moved to another area – or outside. Yolanda went to the other side of the café to see if there was a patio or courtyard or another room. She saw nothing to indicate that and went to the coffee bar to scope out the action. Sitting on a padded stool, she studied the chalkboard menu that spanned the width of space above the bar. She wondered how often it was changed and admired the neat printing. Enough sugar and caffeine coursed through her system so she decided to get something neutral. Noticing a dessert section on the menu, she got up and went over to the large glass case filled with a tempting array of cookies, doughnuts, pastries, croissants and brownies.

Hmmmn, brownies, looked like the time to do a little taste test, she thought as she went back over to the stool and sat down.

"Hey, how're you doing?" She greeted the sexy young barista.

He leaned closer to the countertop and gave her the twice over—slowly and sensuously. She reveled in the feeling of being studied by him and stifled a giggle. Warmth spread from him to her and intensified when he spoke. "You're looking very thirsty."

The way he said the cheesy line was accurate. Then again, if she weren't thirsty she wouldn't be there. "I'd like a mineral water with a twist of lemon and a plain brownie," she said.

He beamed back at her. "Hmmmm, you seem like the type who'd like a steamy hot chocolate topped with whipped cream because you want to mix hot and cold?"

She giggled. "Maybe you're right."

He nodded. "And maybe you'd like a cherry on top of the cream?" He licked his lips and she noticed his bright pink tongue and the sexy full lips that curved in a knowing smile.

"That's okay, I..."

"You know I'm not just a barista. I've been accepted at UCLA's Anderson School of Management. But that doesn't mean I'm no fun." He leaned closer to her and she smelled his intoxicating citrusy and woodsy cologne.

"I've gotta warn you, I'm a good girl."

His smile broadened. "Yeah but all bad girls start out as good girls."

"That may be true. But I still prefer to have a mineral water with my brownie." She smiled sweetly at the flirtatious man.

"Of course. I'll be right back." He nodded and scurried off and returned a moment later with an iced glass filled with the sparkly water and a sliver of lemon floated on the surface. He stuck a straw in the glass and presented it to her and before she could thank him, he hurried over to the pastry section, took a sheet of wax tissue paper, and grabbed a plain brownie, putting it on a small plate.

When he returned, her smile was still there and she wished her sweater was cut lower and she'd bought it in a smaller size. "Um, thanks. But I was wondering..." She looked at the plain brownie and gently touched it. Too dry, ugh, how old was it? "Do you bake these here?"

His high wattage smile dimmed. "I'm afraid not, miss. They bake them in El Monte and send them to us."

"Oh, I see," Yolanda said, looking at him and then back at the perfectly square brownie.

He handed her a fork and a napkin.

"You know, the company, Freeze N Bake is sponsoring a taste-off tomorrow right here from one to three."

She ran the fork across the top, hearing a scraping sound. "Oh cool, I saw the sign for it."

He nodded. "Yeah, Freeze N Bake makes really great brownies. And their cookies are almost as good as, um, romance, if you know what I mean..." The wattage in his smile was back.

Yolanda knew not to show her amusement mixed with the derision for the Freeze N Bake line of products. "I've never tried one," she said, trying to push the memory of that one she'd eaten up in Rocky Montoya's office.

"Bradley, you've got a call on line three!" A young barista said as she hoisted two large cups onto a tray.

"Excuse me," he said and rushed off to the other end of the café.

She continued studying the Freeze N Bake brownie. Cutting off a small corner took a bit of effort. How old was the thing? A quick sniff revealed a cloying aroma of artificial flavoring instead of genuine chocolate. Reluctantly, she took a small bite and the lack of butter was immediately apparent as hydrogenated oils were used to extend the shelf life. It tasted just like a commercial brownie that had been left on the supermarket shelf far too long. She looked up and saw the price on the menu and shook her head. Far too much money for such a synthetic dessert. She swallowed the piece, not wanting to savor it; not wanting it to eliminate the taste of her own carefully crafted brownie creation, not something mass-produced with inferior ingredients.

A slight thump to her right caused her to look up. She saw a laptop being placed upon the stone countertop. A thin long nosed man with shoulder length hair the color of caramel with a slightly darker goatee, sat down next to her. She couldn't help noticing the fact that his aquamarine eyes matched his T-shirt. He gave her a quick once over as though trying not to be obvious, and then focused on the brownie in front of her. "You like brownies?"

"Sure." She was about to tell them that she adored the dessert and had been baking them since receiving her first Easy-Bake Oven twenty years ago. Yolanda just laughed. "Actually, I love brownies and cookies and cakes..."

He chuckled. "You've got a real sweet tooth."

She nodded. "I've always loved sweets. When I was a kid, I'd be rewarded whenever I got an A in school. So I made sure I got all A's so I got more sweets that way."

The young man wasn't even looking at his computer as he was staring at her intently. "My name's Patrick Stewart..." he began.

Laughing so hard, she leaned forward and covered her mouth for a few seconds. "No you're not," she commented when she resumed breathing normally. "You've got hair and you're American."

"I know." He flipped up the lid of his widescreen laptop; she saw a bold burgundy and black header that read The Other Patrick Stewart. A caricature of the guy sitting next to her emphasized the fact that it was indeed his blog.

"I see you like to blog. But are you an actor, Patrick Stewart?" she asked, appreciating the way his very faded jeans clung to his legs.

"Not anymore."

"You used to act?"

"When I was a child. I had what you call a stage mother. A very ambitious stage mother. And my last name had to be spelled differently because of SAG rules, meaning there could only be one Patrick Stewart so my last name was spelled Stuart. I only did minor TV roles and bit movie parts. I remember my last part the most: a commercial for Bucket Chicken Wings. I spit out the chicken wing at my costar and walked off the set. After the seventy-eighth take I decided that was way too much and left. I realized how much I hated commercials. And chicken."

A young barista with flaming crimson hair that matched her top hurried over to Patrick. "Hey, Pat, how's it goin'?"

He offered her an even longer appraisal, focusing mainly on her abundant cleavage as he smiled exclusively at her. "Now that you're here it's goin' beautifully, babe..."

That was Yolanda's cue to leave a nice tip for her cute barista and book it back to her place. Zac was her boyfriend. Her steady boyfriend of almost one year. Why was she suddenly flirting with other men? Was it those magical brownies?

With only six minutes left on the parking meter, she pulled out and drove onto a side street that led to Olympic Boulevard. A few blocks later, she saw a 7-Eleven food store and went inside to buy the lottery ticket and to fill out the numbers that she'd found on the back of the fortune. She shoved the lottery ticket into a smaller compartment in her wallet and returned it to her purse. Even though the other brownies didn't taste as fresh as hers, what if people didn't care and decided to vote for the Freeze N Bake team anyway? Would it come down to a battle of the cat shelter versus the dog shelter? Didn't more people prefer dogs?

CHAPTER 9

Yolanda sat on a folding chair behind a rickety table that looked like it was about to collapse. The people at the Planet Coffee Café were ignoring the small pink plates containing her brownies. The other table was festooned with red velvet and staffed by bikini-clad women, including Teagan. Only a few brownies sat on the blue plates. Men were hanging around stuffing bills into the bikinis and the women were strutting about in their towering stilettos and handing out plates of brownies in exchange for twenty-dollar bills. One of the raven-haired women was sitting on the lap of an old man gyrating to loud music and he was showering her with twenties. A large donations box was brimming with so much money that a second one had been added, placed there by Bradley, the handsome young barista who had served Yolanda yesterday.

Zac strolled into the café and started dancing with a perky golden blonde exotic dancer and tucking twenties into her bikini bottom. He was handed a brownie by another nubile employee of the gentlemen's club and she fed him the brownie as she danced behind him. Zac boogied with the exotic dancers and enjoyed a Freeze N Bake brownie as he doled out money to them.

The small shoebox that she had hoped to fill was almost empty. Neat rows of booklets, brochures, and business cards were untouched. Beneath the table sat her unopened plastic containers still filled with the brownies. Her parents were hanging out on the other side of the café and her dad was chasing after a stripper while her mother stuffed herself with the Freeze N Bake brownies, declaring them to be delicious. Heather Hathaway had set up a lotion and soap display and several people lined up to try samples and buy her products.

The front doors to Planet Coffee Café crashed open and dozens of cats raced inside followed by men in grey uniforms. Mr. Whisker was cornered and yowled when a man tried shoving him into a small metal cage.

Yolanda awoke from her nightmare to the sight of Mr. Whisker and Miss Chef wrestling with each other at the bottom of her bed. She sat up, her heart pounding hard, her nightgown sweaty from the dreadful dream. The two cavorting cats set her at ease—at least they were safe. But what if that was a sign of impending failure? What would happen to all the cats? She couldn't adopt any more nor could Missy, her boss. Sid wasn't allowed to have any pets in his apartment. Tatiana loved cats but her cranky German shepherd was the king of the household. Julio already had five and his wife wouldn't let him adopt another or she'd leave him.

It was eight o'clock and she had to leave no later than 11:30 if she wanted to get everything set up in time. The main event of saving the cat shelter was top priority. She could also help her parents with their coordinating efforts: her father's glass cake stands and her mother's batik T-shirts and tank tops with cat designs. Until the small hours of the morning, she stayed up creating a photomontage showing sweet little kittens with gigantic eyes to some of the shelter's older and mangier residents. She packed up dozens of brochures, business cards, adoption forms, and her booklet of kitten and cat tips.

Yolanda chose a bohemian splendor outfit that was similar to the one she'd worn on her first day at the shelter. It consisted of a full ankle-length cotton patterned skirt in pink and yellow, topped with a flowing sleeved aqua blouse. The wide silk headband matched the skirt. Instead of shoes, she put on shocking pink gladiator sandals. Unlike her first fateful Monday morning at the Crown Street Cat Shelter, she didn't know that her unwritten job description was that of a human sized cat toy. Her skirt was torn within the first five minutes in the main room. By day's end; every cat had swung from it or her sleeves or had almost choked her numerous times with her scarf, which was worn around her neck instead of her head. The cats delighted in the colorful clothing circus parading around the shelter. Instead of wearing sandals, she opted for sneakers. When she was on litter box duty, she slid on a pile of vomit and was catapulted into the litter box. The ripped and soiled skirt was doomed to the Dumpster.

Yolanda peeked in a full-length door mirror and did a quick spin. Her feline roommates admired her and if they thought about using her as a climbing tower, it didn't develop into action as she was soon out of the house and into the garage.

She pulled the car up in front of the back door so it would be easier to load. The most fragile items were the hand blown glass cake stands that had to be wrapped in bubble wrap and blankets and boxed separately. They were delicate and heavy but she knew the addition of them on any kind of table would enhance the class factor. A pastel Easter egg quilt her grandmother had made would cover the table, as she wanted to have subtle colors.

Missy and her husband would be in charge of the pet adoption area outside Planet Coffee Café. A dozen cats and kittens would be on the premises for immediate adoption.

Heather arrived in time to help finish loading the car and the last items to go into the car were the four brownie-filled containers.

She learned more about Heather's Maine vacation, how they'd almost been stuck at the airport as a snowstorm was howling down on Bangor, and they caught the last flight back to LAX.

"How're things going with Zac?"

"I haven't heard from him in almost a week. Of course since it's his big mini golf tournament he's mad that I haven't shown up to cheer him on. Yeah, cheer him on are his words."

"I've always said you can do better than him."

"Heather, I'm starting to think you're right. I think that even if it wasn't his mini golf tournament he still wouldn't show up, as he'd be too busy working. My parents will be there, and you're being super awesome. Plus, at least two other people from the shelter promised to show up. So will Missy and her husband. Zac can't even leave a message."

Their arrival time was less than thirty minutes but they had to circle the block in search of a parking spot. Heather emerged from the car and went into the café, returning a few minutes later with a big smile. "Dwight the manager says you can park in the loading zone while we get everything out of the car."

Emerging into Planet Coffee Café and seeing the vacant area in the back reserved for the taste off made her grin. Freeze N Bake's GREAT BROWNIE TASTE-OFF read the appropriately chocolate brown and sky blue banner above the two long tables. She noticed they were regular folding tables and neither of them looked rickety and even if they did, she was prepared. A trio of plain chairs sat behind each of the tables. Looking around, she noticed that she was the first participant to arrive. Maybe Freeze N Bake and Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club wouldn't bother showing up and she'd win by default.

Heather wore her jaunty navy and white sailor top and capri jeans. She moved quickly back and forth between the car and the table. The quilt nicely covered the table and one of the customers went over and studied it. "I'm a quilting instructor," the chubby bespectacled woman with a mass of black curls said, as a way of introduction. "This is superior artisanship. Did you make it?"

"No, I'm afraid not. My grandmother did. She loved anything to do with Easter eggs – she co-owned Sunshine Easter Eggs. "

The woman nodded. "Well, I always appreciate such beauty of color and the stitching is perfect."

"Thank you so much!" Yolanda said, touched that her grandmother had a fan of her work.

Heather hurried across the café with a large box and was followed by Frederick and Abby Carter who were also bearing bulky boxes.

They began unpacking the glass pedestal cake stands. The skylight emitted sunshine and the glassware sparkled. Abby took a towel and polished them so there were no smudge marks anywhere. She lined the bottom of each one with a round pink paper doily.

Outside on the sidewalk, Missy and Roger Wakefield along with Sid and Laura had finished loading the cages showing off the cutest dozen cats and kittens. A small crowd had gathered and a young couple was admiring a half-grown brown and beige tabby.

Everything on Yolanda's side of the café was ready for the start of the Great Brownie Taste-off. Brownies were neatly arranged inside each of the cake stands, some of clear glass, others with swirls of bright colors. Stacks of pink paper plates and matching napkins sat next to each of the four displays. In the center was the donations box covered in kitty cat wrapping paper and above it featured the poster board showing many of the adoptable felines. On the other side of the donations box was a line of booklets informing the public about the Crown Street Cat Shelter. Folded multicolored batik T-shirts and tank tops with cat and kitten designs were offered. A "FREE WITH $20 DONATION" placard sat next to them.

The other table had been moved farther away and it was covered with a zebra striped plastic tablecloth. A sign announced the Rocky Montoya Dog Rescue Mission in garish red letters. The 21187 Sierra Madre Lane address, along with a phone number and email address was shown. Besides the donations box was a pixilated photo of a gray and brown mutt with its head cocked to one side and a smaller picture of a bulldog. "YOUR DONATIONS WILL SUPPORT THIS VERY NOBLE CAUSE."

Melanie, a petite blonde tank top wearing employee, carried out a small table and set it between the competitors' tables. On top of it was a large cardboard VOTE! box with a slot cut into the top. Two stacks of pink and blue squares of paper were set out. The job of the young employee would entail adding a color-coded paper that corresponded with the brownie that the entrant preferred. As soon as she saw the setup, Yolanda hoped that many pink squares would go into the box.

A somberly suited Rocky Montoya swiftly entered and went to the table to oversee the set up. A pair of short men wearing white lab coats with the rectangular blue and red Freeze N Bake logo marched in carrying covered trays of brownies. The skinnier man went up to Rocky and announced, "We are the creative brownie baking team."

Decked out in a bulky I LOVE CATS sweatshirt and jeans, Missy rushed over to the men. She pointed at the one who had just addressed Rocky. "You, you were the one who was at the shelter spying on us."

The man looked at her with a smile that didn't reach his cold gray eyes. "I did no such thing."

"Yes, you did," Missy said, staring at the man. "That shelter won't ever be yours." She turned and strode out of the building.

Rocky shrugged his shoulders. "I apologize. I don't know what that's about. But please, put your brownies over here." The men placed their trays on the table. Rocky looked at the doorway. He waved and rushed over to the main entrance and escorted three of his scantily clad employees into the café amidst many whistles, catcalls, and admiring stares. Teagan brought up the rear of the line. Her rhinestone stilettos glitter as she strutted towards the table, aware of being watched by lots of spectators.

"This is a coffee shop not a strip club," commented a pouffed haired middle-aged woman to her overweight friend who nodded vigorously in agreement.

At Yolanda's table, Fred was staring at the exotic dancers. He was in a majority going by some of the slack-jawed patrons of various ages.

The café was getting more crowded. Dwight, the stocky manager in a crimson polo shirt, walked up to the middle table promptly at one o'clock. The atmospheric jungle music stopped. A cordless microphone was sitting on the table and he picked it up, tapping it gently. "Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to Planet Coffee Café's first ever Great Brownie Taste-off sponsored by the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club and Freeze N Bake!"

There was applause from the gathering of employees and customers in the café. The sound increased as the exotic dancers in their low-cut black tank tops, featuring a glittery white silhouette of a stripper on a pole, sashayed up to the podium and stood next to Dwight. He grinned as the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club employees surrounded him. He snuck a glance down the top of a particularly buxom woman. Melanie, the barista, had been shoved aside. She glared at her boss. Rocky stepped over and stood on the other side of his girls.

Yolanda stood near her brownie display with her mouth open. "Mom, they didn't even mention the cat shelter!" Abby nudged her and Yolanda went over to the gathering near the center table.

Dwight smiled as he raised and lowered his hands and the noise of the crowd diminished.

"This unique Great Brownie Taste-off will help support two charities that are dedicated to helping animals in need!"

Audience applause increased and it was Yolanda's turn to step up to the center table.

"I'm going to hand the mic over to Yolanda Carter a dedicated employee of the Crown Street Cat Shelter and the baker of her brownies."

Yolanda nervously accepted the mic and looked around at the large gathering of people. "Um, hi, my name's Yolanda Carter and..." a burst of loud audio feedback crackled over the speakers and she stopped talking. She looked over at Dwight and he mimed holding the mic closer to her mouth. She thought he was making a dirty gesture and almost dropped it. The sudden downward movement caused more howling noises. Several audience members held their ears.

"Hold the mic closer to your mouth," Dwight said loudly

There was a lot of laughter. Yolanda's face reddened, but she obeyed and held the mic closer to her mouth. "Um, I work at the Crown Street Cat Shelter." She tried to keep the shakiness from her voice.

There was a smattering of applause from the supporters at her table.

"I'm here to help save the shelter from being sold to the Freeze N Bake Corporation." She cleared her throat and looked around anxiously. "Um, I baked these brownies to raise funds to help save..."

"Where's your tank top?" asked a shaggy haired young man sporting two large black earrings and a snake tattoo on his neck.

"Yeah, you're wearing too many clothes," said his equally pierced and tattooed friend.

"I'm here to help raise money to save the cat shelter. The more you donate the more you can help save cats and kittens from being homeless. And if you want to adopt a cat today we have a few outside the cafe that need forever homes."

Her parents and friends applaud, as do a small number of the more compassionate people in the audience. "I've baked these brownies to help our furry friends. If you like the brownies, please vote by adding a pink piece of paper to the voting box."

Dwight picked up the box and held it up over his head. There was some laughter emanating from the audience. Yolanda returned the mic to Dwight after he replaced the voting box on the table.

"You hear that, people? Vote for Yolanda's brownies and donate generously to help save the Crown Street Cat Shelter. And now, Mr. Rocky Montoya, owner of the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club has brought along this trio of lovely ladies to help you try the magnificent brownies from Freeze N Bake! And don't forget this is all to help raise funds to support the building of his Rocky Montoya Dog Rescue Mission! Now take it away, Rocky!" Dwight gave Rocky the mic.

Rocky accepted it and relished being in front of the crowd as his posture straightened and his smile was genuine. "People, Freeze N Bake makes great brownies! In fact, the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club is teaming up with them because of that. We'll be serving them in our club. Or should I say, the Wicked Fun Wanton Women will be!"

Many of the attendees began applauding and cheering.

Rocky held up his free hand so the noise could abate. "But the most important thing, besides the great brownies, is the homeless dogs that need a home. Everyone knows that dogs are man's best friend!"

Barks and applause fill the air. Several of the people laughed at the noise of barking.

Rocky held up his free again and the barking ceased. "And I, Rocky Montoya, will see that your donations for the Rocky Montoya Dog Rescue Mission will be well spent!"

Hearty applause and cheers fill the air along with the loud barking sounds. The skimpily clad dancers bounced up and down and were shimmying about, increasing the noise as they played to the audience. Suddenly, they linked arms, stepped in front of their boss, and did some chorus line kicks in time to the barking and laughter.

Yolanda stood there, staring at the sudden outburst of dancing, too astonished to make a sound.

Rocky waved the mic back and forth, as he barked along with the pumped up crowd. Dwight stepped over and reached for the mic. Rocky stopped barking and paused, reluctantly returning it. Then he stepped over to the dancing girls and made a quick stop gesture by jerking his hand in front of his throat. His smile disappeared.

The dancing abruptly stopped. Dwight went to the side of the table and pointed to the box. "Okay, people, it's time to chow down on some delicious brownies. On one side is the easy to make and easier to love Freeze N Bake's brownies. Vote the blue square if you choose them. Remember, by eating them you support a fine company and help save the dogs." He picked up a blue square of paper and held it up.

Applause and barks resounded around the café. Dwight smiled and cleared his throat. "Okay, on the other side, the girly pink side, is the brownies baked by Yolanda Carter of the Crown Street Cat Shelter. If you like hers, vote pink and save the pussy... cats!" He went to the box and picked up a pink square amidst the applause and laughter.

Teagan and her coworkers set out brownies on the blue plates and a line of eager testers immediately formed. Abby went over to the line to buy a brownie and returned to the table with it. Yolanda took a bite and was surprised to taste a homemade type of brownie—it wasn't made with artificial flavoring and hydrogenated cottonseed or canola oils, it was made with butter. It didn't taste like the other two Freeze N Bake brownies she'd sampled.

Patrick Stewart approached Yolanda's table and was joined by Louie, his videographer. The wiry teen dressed in baggy black clothing tried to concentrate on shooting Patrick and not observe the nearby exotic dancers.

"Fans, this is the Other Patrick Stewart and I've just arrived at the Planet Coffee Café for the first ever Great Brownie Taste-off. I'm here to have fun and sample some brownies. I understand you're the talented young lady who baked all these brownies to save the shelter? What's your name?"

"I'm Yolanda Carter and I want you to meet my parents Frederick and Abby Carter. I also have my best friend Heather Hathaway here to support saving the Crown Street Cat Shelter. And my boss, Missy Wakefield, is outside with a few adorable cats and kittens that can be adopted today!"

She reached down to pick up a plate and hand it to Patrick. "I use only free range local eggs and the butter comes from a dairy farm in Pomona. I use French chocolate and the brownies are my own recipe."

He nodded. "I've just tasted Freeze N Bake's and they're quite good." Patrick glanced over at the people crowding the other table. "I see they're getting tasted a lot." He winked.

Yolanda grinned and watched as he bit into one of her brownies. "I've noticed."

"Very nice," Patrick mumbled, as his mouth was still full. He paused and took another bite. He chewed and closed his eyes. He continued chewing, his face relaxed and he almost dropped his mic. He then turned to admire Yolanda. He plopped the remaining brownie into his mouth as he grinned, standing there motionless, only his mouth moving as he tasted the magnificent dessert. Patrick stepped closer to her as he noticed a twinkling aura of pinks and purples surrounding the pretty young baker. The attraction between them was powerful. But he was on camera and he couldn't move in to kiss her like he wanted to. He stopped himself, straightened up, and looked away from her and at the camera's unblinking red eye.

"I'm back at Planet Coffee Café with Yolanda Carter who works at the Crown Street Cat Shelter and also bakes the most amazingly awesome brownies I've ever tasted. When I was chewing it, I never wanted to stop. Even now, I don't want to drink coffee or milk or even water because that would detract from the taste. In fact, I've got like a chocolate buzz going on that I don't want to stop!" He extended the mic near Yolanda. "Please tell me your secret to these incredible brownies!"

Yolanda smiled radiantly at the handsome young reporter. "Fresh ingredients for one. And I believe in the total love and magic of baking."

"Well, you have some magical brownies. The best I've ever tasted."

The reporter's glowing praise of Yolanda's brownies had brought over several curious people. Money was pushed into the gift wrapped donations box as the pink plates topped with the magical brownies were distributed by her parents and friend. Yolanda kept the lid off one of the cake stands as she carefully plated each baked chocolate goodie using a clear plastic glove to protect them.

A bewigged senior citizen stood over to the side admiring the cake stands. "I've been looking for a new cake stand," she said. She fell into a conversation with Frederick as she munched on a brownie and listened to Frederick discuss his glassware. "It's hand blown Borosilicate glass, which is the same type that's used for a major brand of cookware and bake ware. I prefer to use this type of glass because it's not so heavy and it's even dishwasher safe." Perhaps that sentence sealed the deal because the woman ordered two pedestal cake stands and felt quite obligated to donate twenty dollars to save the shelter. She beamed when she was told to select a T-shirt or tank top.

Rocky and his sexy employees still had a few spectators including a man wearing a brown leather jacket who kept staring at Teagan. However, Yolanda's brownies were captivating the customers.

Holding hands, a young sunglass-wearing couple radiated confidence and familiarity; they were hip and hot singers with a top ten song on the charts. The one hundred-dollar bill they stuck into the box caused a wave of happiness among Yolanda's crew. Abby thanked them and offered the couple the choice of either a batik T-shirt or a tank top. They received their brownies and ate them at warp speed. The blonde cornrow-wearing woman stood for a full minute staring at a dome shaped cake stand and admired the brownies it contained. "It's not that I don't want a second brownie because I do, but I don't feel the need to have another one. This one is perfect the way it is—it's filling enough. And I don't want the wonderful flavor to go away."

That was the common sentiment. Heather enjoyed the attention her friend's dessert was garnering. She encouraged everyone within earshot to eat a brownie and donate generously.

A man with a graying comb over stood next to the table after sampling a brownie and opened his cell phone. "Gotta call Tammy and tell her why I broke up with her last year," he said to himself as he hunted for the phone number in his directory.

Two women sporting platinum blonde helmets of hair and wearing black yoga attire sat at a table drinking coffee and eating Yolanda's brownies. One of them burst into a fit of giggles. "Bryan saw me at the Westside Pavilion yesterday and couldn't get over how good I looked since I lost forty-seven pounds. Now he wants to get back together with me. I don't trust him after he cheated on me. But the main thing is, I've met Alan and he's my soul mate."

Slipping a pink square into the box, a tall black man in dress slacks and shirt ambled over to donate to save the cat shelter. As he reached for his wallet, he addressed Yolanda. "Best brownie I ever ate," he said.

"Thank you so much, I'm glad you liked it."

He shook his head and fumbled into his billfold for money. "But the darndest thing happened to me. I've been mad all week. Now I'm not. And I can't even remember why I was so mad!" He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and put it into the box. "Maybe you should call this brownie therapy!"

"Thank you so much for your donation, sir. Would you like a T-shirt or a tank top?" Abby asked.

He looked at the few remaining brightly colored T-shirts and pointed to a pink one. "My daughter loves anything pink."

Abby smiled. "So does mine." She handed him a T-shirt and he thanked her, gathered it in his hand, and walked out of the café with a big smile.

Missy and her husband dashed in at two o'clock saying that all the cats had been adopted and asking for more brochures and flyers to distribute. Yolanda gave Missy and Roger each a brownie and they hungrily devoured them and left hand in hand.

Yolanda's brownies were all gone fifteen minutes before the bake-off officially ended. The last to be served was a five-year-old boy who wore a backwards baseball cap and a baggy shorts outfit. He lifted the black fabric to show his cut and swollen knee. "I fell off my bike," he said. "It's a big two wheeler."

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry to hear that." She handed him a brownie. "This'll make you feel better."

He accepted the brownie and eagerly ate it, licking his fingers after he finished it. "Thanks, I feel fine now!" He quickly raised his knee. The cut looked smaller, and the swelling had almost disappeared. "Look mommy!" he said, as the matronly woman approached, holding the hand of a boisterous little girl. "I wanna brownie," the little girl shrieked.

"I wish we still had some brownies, sweetheart, but we just ran out. I think they have some left over there." She pointed to the other table where a few dozen plastic wrapped brownies sat on blue plates.

"Mommy my knee's all better," the boy said, and the mother glanced at it. "That's nice, Tim. Let's go over there and get your sister a brownie."

A bearded man wearing a white and navy yacht cap and captain's jacket staggered inside and over to Yolanda's table. Noticing the cat pictures, he pointed a beefy finger at the donations box. "Too many cats I say! They've taken over the Internet. Soon they'll take over the world."

Yolanda smiled. "Rocky and his friends are trying to build a dog shelter. Maybe you can help them out."

The man stopped, looked over to his right, and noticed the gentlemen's club employees and the plates of brownies. He weaved over to the table and waved his arms above his head like a captain aboard a ship spotting land. "Strippers and cupcakes – wow wee!"

At three o'clock, Dwight stepped up to the mic and announced, "The Great Brownie Taste-off is officially over. I want to thank everyone for making this such an enjoyable and extremely tasty event! We will now count the entries and announce a winner within the next few minutes."

He picked up the box and carried it off to his office behind the coffee bar. Melanie followed him. Yolanda and Rocky grabbed their respective donation boxes and walked over to the manager's office behind the bar so that the tallies and donations could be counted.

Yolanda looked around the cramped office and stayed near the doorway just after Dwight closed it. "I want to thank everyone for their participation," Dwight said. "What I'd like to do is count the pink and blue votes to see who the winner is. Please watch as me and Melanie do this. Then, you can count your money as soon as we're done so that we can announce the winners and the total amount raised for the charities."

Melanie and Dwight opened the box and start pulling out each square of pink and blue paper. "I'm going to tabulate each blue one and Melanie will count each pink one. We'll use our own calculators."

Yolanda and Rocky were silent as they watched the counting. They stared anxiously as the seated Planet Coffee Café employees quickly removed each piece of paper. Blue, blue, pink, two more blue, the squares of "boy and girl" colored paper slipped from hand to table. Yolanda leaned forward to see the small calculator's numbers but wasn't able to as they were held closely by each user. She counted every bit of pastel pink that traveled from box to desktop and that color looked like it was in the majority until a flurry of sky blue ones appeared. The last dozen seemed to alternate pinks and blues. Dwight and Melanie posted the final two and there was a long pause as they totaled the amounts.

Dwight and Melanie wheeled their chairs close together and peered at each other's calculators. He wrote the numbers down on a sheet of paper and studied his again, as though affirming the number to himself. "We definitely have a winner. We'll announce it to everyone along with the money totals. You'll each need to count your money."

"Who won?" Yolanda asked.

"Yeah, I'd like to know before everyone else," Rocky said.

The red-shirted duo exchanged lingering glances. Dwight smiled, as did Melanie a second later. "I understand. But as soon as you've completed counting your money then we can go out and announce the winnings."

"Okay," Yolanda said, lifting the lid off the cat motif wrapped box. She began sorting out the bills by denomination. She paused, seeing so much money, genuinely pleased that people were supporting the cats and her baking. The faster she counted, the sooner the results would be known.

Rocky didn't reflect on anything other than the fact that he was seeing a lot of green bills and they needed to be counted pronto. It was something he'd been doing for years. Five minutes later and he had his total. "You want me to tell you how much is here now?"

"You mean as opposed to later?" Dwight chuckled. "Just kidding, man. Yeah, let us know."

Rocky's face reddened and he scowled. "I'm sure I'm the winner. We made $10,337.82."

Yolanda nodded. "You won. We made less than you did. We made $9,124.65."

Rocky smiled and shook her hand. "Congratulations, well done."

"Thank you and congratulations." Yolanda said.

Dwight was the first to stand up. "All right, we have the numbers and we have the results. Let's not make anyone wait any longer."

Yolanda giggled. "I agree!"

"So do I," Rocky said, as he allowed Dwight and the ladies to go ahead of him.

Dwight was holding the box and two stacks of colored paper squares along with his sheet of paper where the totals were written. He led the way back to the main room of the café, stepped behind the small table and set the box down on it. The drumming music that was playing during the counting intermission stopped. Interested parties at both tables focused on the manager. The spectators ceased talking. A barista quickly served a customer and then stood aside and focused on her boss.

Patrick and his cameraperson stood front and center and recorded the event. Dwight cleared his throat. "Now that the Great Brownie Taste-off is officially over, I again want to thank the Crown Street Cat Shelter, Freeze N Bake, and the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club..."

A loud chorus of applause and hoots interrupted the speech. Teagan was standing front and center and her jumping up and down caused a stir among many of the men. Rocky was grinning at her and applauding at her enthusiasm.

Dwight was captivated by the floorshow for a few seconds, and then resumed his duties. "And I think the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club has some very fun ladies working there. I'm happy to announce that they have raised $10,337.82 to help finance the building of the Ventura County Dog Shelter in Ojai, California."

More applause from the audience, especially fans of the strip club.

Yolanda politely clapped but she kept looking over at her parents and supporters. She nervously clutched the money box and waited for Dwight to announce her total.

"Coming in a close second, you have all contributed $9,124.65 to help the Crown Street Cat Shelter."

A swell of clapping and cheering from the cat lovers and supporters in attendance. All affiliated with the shelter and her parents stood in a close-knit group next to their table.

Dwight nodded and held up his hand for silence. The big moment that everyone was awaiting involved the taste-off – who had the better brownies? Yolanda clutched the box harder and watched the red-shirted emcee. He studied the numbers on the paper in front of him. "We have a definite winner with a large lead, showing that people prefer the home baked brownies of Yolanda Carter! The final score is Yolanda and the Crown Street Cat Shelter is 322, Freeze N Bake and the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club is 293. Congratulations goes to the winner!"

Shouts and cheers filled the room and Yolanda's parents rush up and hug her so she disappeared from view. Heather and Yolanda's coworkers gathered around and the emotion soared. Yolanda hugged her parents and cried, blubbering, "My brownies were good enough...I didn't think they would be. I was so scared we'd lose the shelter." She began crying and Abby was wiping away her own tears as was Frederick.

"I'm so happy for you," Heather said.

Yolanda sobbed with relief, Missy went over and congratulated her, and she looked up to see Patrick the interviewer approaching her.

"Congratulations on winning the Great Brownie Taste-off, Yolanda!" Patrick stated. "Can you tell the viewers what this means to you?"

Yolanda wiped away a tear and nodded. "It means that we've saved the Crown Street Cat Shelter from being bought out by Freeze N Bake."

"It means she makes the best darn brownies in the world," Abby announced loudly. "My girl has always been a great baker and now this proves it."

"She's an awesome pastry chef," Heather chimed in. "Her cakes are awesome and then some!"

"Thank you so much, Heather. I appreciate all your support."

The three exotic dancers were no longer animatedly bopping around. Teagan looked nervously at her boss, as did the other two women.

Rocky stepped closer to Yolanda and as she felt the sensation of winning engulfing her, he stepped over and shook her hand. The exuberant showman she'd seen at the start of the taste-off had vanished, replaced by a man with a chilly demeanor. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "We know the shelter's barely getting by. If it goes out of business I won't be violating any laws if we buy out the property." Rocky bared his teeth and his eyes were flat and cold. An acrid tang emanated from him—like cheap cologne gone bad.

Nodding, she pulled away from the club owner. Patrick had seen the exchange and furrowed his brow as her expression changed from elated to worried.

***

Around dusk, Yolanda drove into her garage and unloaded the car. Her two feline friends were eagerly awaiting her return, she received many figure eights wending around her ankles, and the purr meters on both of them registered in the upper volume level. "Hi Miss Chef. Hi Mr. Whisker. Hope you were well behaved today. We raised enough money for your shelter friends." The approving purrs were revved up along with some enthusiastic meows."

She went to the cabinet to get their food and decided they both needed hard and soft dinners mixed up with her homemade cheddar cheese and chicken treats.

Yolanda set her purse on the counter, removed her cell phone, and checked for messages. Zac still hadn't called her. No emails, texts, or voicemails. He'd known about the Taste-off but she knew he was more concerned about his tournament, which lasted until five o'clock. She hit his stored number and got his standard voicemail message. "Hey Zac, I hope you won the tournament today. Good news...I won the taste-off and raised over $9,100. Call me."

She went out to the garage to get her cake stands and containers that needed washing. Her father was right about the glass stands being dishwasher-safe. But only two were able to go in there and the others had to be hand washed along with the plastic storage containers. Looking into the fridge, she didn't feel like cooking or even warming anything up. She saw a magnet for Antonio's Pizzeria and decided to order a pizza and some garlic breadsticks. After placing her order, her phone rang and when she answered it she saw the screen read CALLER UNKNOWN. She went into the living room, sat down on the couch next to her two now-sleeping cats, and pondered her future.

The donations the shelter had received today would temporarily help, that was true. But she knew there would always be more cats and kittens arriving at the shelter. She'd won the taste-off but would she have to do it again? If so, would she win? What about her job there? Inputting cat descriptions on the website and cleaning litter boxes wasn't what she longed to do with her life. Neither was earning a barely livable wage. Working at a strip club office paid more as would just about any other office career but it was just as far from baking as her current job. What about working at another bakery? Having to be told what ingredients to use? Making the same cookies and cakes every day?

The doorbell rang and she grabbed a twenty-dollar bill from the drawer in the coffee table where she kept some money reserved for food deliveries.

Yolanda rushed over to the front door and looked out the peephole before opening it. Bathed in the bright porch light wasn't the expected uniformed pizza delivery person. Wearing his polo shirt and baggy khakis stood Zac. He held a single red rose wrapped in cellophane in one hand and in the other was a large gold trophy cup. She smiled and yanked open the door.

"Yo, sorry I wasn't there to see you win. I was on my way over here and just got your text and want to congratulate you. I want you to know that I won the 25th Annual Green Palms Mini Golf Tournament today." Zac proudly brandished the trophy with a golf figure in mid-putt posed on top of it.

"Congratulations, Zac!" She moved aside to let him enter the living room. He set the trophy down on the front hall table. As soon as she shut the door behind them, he swooped in for a kiss and she responded. He pulled her closer to him and in the foyer; they stood kissing passionately. His free hand began wandering to places where it wasn't supposed to travel when the doorbell rang. They quickly broke apart. "Ooops, I guess that's the pizza!" She was still holding the money, he was still holding the flower, and they both chuckled.

Yolanda opened the door and there stood a teenager wearing the requisite green and white T-shirt with the emblazoned cartoon pizza logo and a matching green baseball cap. "Small margherita pizza and garlic breadsticks order for Yolanda Carter?"

"That's me!" She eagerly offered him the money in exchange for the cardboard box that he held.

"Great. That'll be $16.50."

She happily accepted her dinner and as he reached into his pocket, she shook her head. "Thanks for being so speedy. Keep the change."

"Awesome! Thanks dude!" He turned and ran down the walkway back to his waiting car.

"Hey dude, can I get a piece?" Zac asked her.

"Maybe." She went into the kitchen and he followed closely behind.

"Your flower, mademoiselle," he offered the wrapped rose.

"Thank you, monsieur." She smiled and took a whiff. "It smells beautiful." She admired it for a few seconds. "Now I must put it in water." She went to the end of the hallway where a carved wooden white plant stand decorated the alcove outside her bedroom. An elongated emerald green vase that held a fake orchid was picked up. Taking it back to the kitchen, she removed the orchid and put it on top of the refrigerator. Adding water to the vase, she peeled away the cellophane and stuck the dethorned red rose into the vase. "Okay, you can serve the pizza though if I'd known you were coming over I would have ordered a large pepperoni and sausage."

Against the dining room wall stood the eight-foot tall breakfront china cabinet that displayed some Wedgwood plates and Easter egg ornaments along with her father's more colorful plates and glasses, all highlighted by soft lighting and the mirrored back. There were three drawers below the shelving and on each side were two small doors. Yolanda sat on the floor while opening one of the doors as her grandparent's small wine collection was kept there. She pulled out a bottle of Chianti that she had used in a beef recipe she prepared around Christmastime. After a wild and crazy twenty-first birthday fiasco where she was given several free drinks in several different bars and bistros, she had spent the next day regretting each bottle and glass of booze she imbibed. Yolanda preferred soft drinks. Especially with pizza – what went better than a bottle of cold root beer?

She pulled two blue Willow Ware plates out of the cabinet and placed them on the white linen covered table. A pair of hand blown wine glasses rimmed with jade green on the top and the base enhanced the beauty of the cozy setting. Zac placed his shiny trophy on the table as a centerpiece. As they sat down to dinner, Mr. Whisker amused himself by sharpening his claws on Zac's pants and then sat on his lap and purred. As soon as Zac placed the cat on the floor, he jumped back onto the man's lap. Yolanda allowed it to happen twice and then took Mr. Whisker into her bedroom and closed the door. "He either likes me a lot or he's guarding you," Zac said as he dunked a breadstick into a container of marinara sauce.

Miss Chef sat on the dining room chair to Yolanda's right and was so well behaved that the cat fell asleep almost right away. Zac and Yolanda quickly ate and discussed the day's events.

The cuckoo clock called out once and Zac jumped. "Yikes, that thing always makes me jump." He looked at his watch. "Hey, it's 7:30 let's check out the sports segment. I was interviewed just after I won."

They moved over to the couch and she switched on the TV. Channel 12's local news was in progress and after a series of commercials, most of them offering bargains for juicy cheeseburgers or touting endless amounts of beer, the sports segment aired. The panning shot revealed the colorful Green Palms Mini Golf Course with the large white Dutch windmill, tall date palms, and quaint English Tudor style buildings. Shots of people holding neon orange golf clubs and wearing casual attire of T-shirts and shorts, hitting neon orange golf balls around water traps. Several scenes of balls driven into the mouth of a huge purple shark. A teenage girl in skimpy shorts and a crop top expertly hit a ball – and it landed with a plop onto a small sandy island.

"They're not showing the tournament. This is the usual TV commercial footage," Zac said.

A shot of Zac as he made a hole in one. Behind him, the windmill churned. The sportscaster was an older man with an orangey-red toupee that revealed sparse silver hair fluttering around his ears in the wind. He clutched his mic and began his patter. "Good afternoon, channel 12 viewers. This is Vern Hess filling in for Mike Griffith. I'm here at the Green Palms Mini Golf Course in Toluca Lake and we're here to..." He suddenly noticed a spectator standing very close to him. A goateed teen in a brown T-shirt advertising OneRepublic stared at him. "Whoa dude, that a bird's nest on your head?"

Zac and Yolanda burst out laughing.

"You're a putz," Vern said and walked over to Zac. "Tell me young man, isn't a putt putt golf tournament a joke?"

Zac straightened up and stared at the sportscaster. "It's miniature golf—not putt putt."

The sportscaster chuckled. "Where I'm from, viewers, it's called putt putt." He pointed to the windmill and the camera operator zoomed in on it. "You don't see windmills at Augusta or Pebble Beach."

Quickly the image on the screen changed and there stood Zac holding the large trophy above his head and grinning. Suddenly a young ponytailed blonde woman in a tiny black shirt and miniskirt went up to him and wrapped herself around him, kissing him aggressively. They were liplocked and neither looked like they wanted to stop anytime soon.

"Hey kids, there's a Motel 6 down the street," Vern quipped.

Yolanda picked up the remote control and turned off the TV. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Yo, I didn't even know the bimbo. She just came up to me and... she attacked me!"

"Yeah, right. I think I've seen enough." Yolanda stood up and glared at him. She got up, went over to the dining room table, and picked up the expensive plates, stacking them on top of each other.

"Okay, okay I can take a hint. But I didn't do anything. It was just a joke."

Yolanda carried the plates into the kitchen and put them in the sink. "If that's a joke it's not funny. Not funny at all." She pulled up the chrome sprayer attachment on the sink and flipped on the water. As he approached her, Yolanda directed the stream of water at his chest, soaking his golf shirt.

Zac stood there with his hands in front of him, the water wetting them in the process. "Stop it!"

"Just trying to cool you off, Zac. Maybe you should go back to your bimbo. Good bye." She turned off the water and put the sprayer back in place.

"You mean, good night."

"No, I mean good bye." She said.

He quickly departed and she slammed the door behind him. Just as she was about to get the glasses from the dining room table, she heard loud pounding on the back door. She turned and went over to see Zac in the driveway and he yelled, "Hey, I need my trophy!"

CHAPTER 10

The image of Zac kissing that bimbo haunted her as she slept restlessly that night. Both cats kept her company and she wished she could sleep as soundly as they did. Just before sunrise, she finally fell asleep and awakened a few hours later as groggily as if she hadn't gotten any rest.

She got up and fed the cats, letting Miss Chef go outdoors and watching as Mr. Whisker strolled over to the living room window to watch the action. Yolanda wanted to sleep the day away. Instead, she made herself a cup of rooibos tea and some instant oatmeal. After a quick shower, she got dressed in jeans and a sweater as it was a sunless Sunday and the temperature had dropped twenty degrees overnight.

As she got into her car, she flipped on the radio to distract herself from thinking. Driving to the 405, she merged on and was able to go the speed limit for a change. The pop song ended and a commercial came on and she switched the station. "The California Lottery is now at 348 million dollars. No one hit the six numbers. But there is a lucky person or persons who bought a ticket at a 7-Eleven in West L.A. who may have won almost two million dollars as they won five out of six numbers. The numbers are: 6 23 29 32 42 and 44 and 42."

Yolanda exited at Wilshire Boulevard and turned down the first side street she saw in order to pull over and find her lottery ticket. She yanked her purse onto her lap and shakily reached in to find her wallet. It was one of those multiple pocketed and zipped things and she couldn't remember which compartment she'd placed it. She checked the coin section and found some change. She looked at her checkbook, yanked it out, and turned it upside down. Nothing. In the money compartment, there were a few bills wedged in there, mostly singles. She counted sixteen dollars. Crap, a trip to the ATM would be necessary. She yanked them out and the ticket fluttered to the floor. Leaning down to pick it up, her head banged into the steering wheel and she saw stars and her nerves were jangled as she looked at the ticket upside down and then flipped it right side up. Now what the hell were the numbers?

The radio announcer was talking about the grand opening of a new family restaurant in Arcadia. She flipped through the dial and nothing about the lottery numbers was heard. iPhone! She switched it on, got a signal, found the lottery website, and saw the numbers. Comparing the numbers onscreen to those on her ticket, she read them three times before being convinced that she had indeed been the winner of five of them! Five numbers meant what--a million dollars? Two million dollars? What had the man said? She smiled and laughed and the pain in her forehead vanished. She laughed and pounded on the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. The realization of winning so much money and being able to save the shelter and finally, finally open up Yolanda's Yummery hit her with the most glorious dose of reality she'd ever experienced. "I won! I won!" she shouted. An elderly couple wearing matching coats shuffled to a halt, staring at her. In front of her car, an old Chrysler Sebring was backing into a parking space and hit the curb. The driver sat there staring into his rearview mirror as she laughed. "I'm rich!" she said. "I'm rich and now I can finally have my yummery!"

CHAPTER 11

ONE YEAR LATER

Yolanda Carter kept the knowledge that she had won $1,879,294.21 between herself and her family. That secret lasted for a few weeks until the obvious signs of spending became apparent.

Unfortunately, Zac was smart enough to figure out that she'd come into some money when the Crown Street Cat Shelter was renovated with another room and the staff's earnings increased. The big tip off was the lease of a large retail space in the brand new strip mall named Brentwood Grove Shoppes on San Vicente and Grove Street. Yolanda's Yummery found its home in a 3500 square foot end unit. The details she had to endure to make sure the yummery was up and running within a year were a crash course in business ownership.

In April, Zac approached Yolanda one night, as she was unloading groceries from her car. "Yolanda, wait!" He was spiffed up in a nice new dress shirt and black Diesel jeans so he didn't look like he'd spent a day at Green Palms. Holding a large bouquet of ruby red, blush pink and yellow gladiolas and roses showed some innovation so she let him inside as she thanked him for the flowers and put them in one of her father's newest line of creations: the whimsical elongated cat shaped vase with the tail now sprouting the bountiful array of springtime flowers.

"Look, Yo, I've been brainstorming with two investors about my own mini golf course that will be in a biodome out in Simi Valley. It'll be awesome, like completely one of a kind! It'll be open 24/7 and it doesn't matter what the weather's like it'll always be perfect for mini golf inside."

She nodded. "That's nice, Zac. Could you please hand me that jug of apple juice?"

"I'll call it Biodome Valley Mini Golf and I think it's the best idea ever. You know how much I love golf." He picked up the glass jug and put it in the cabinet for her. "And I think it's a win-win situation with the investors and it'll make lots of money and we'll be even richer."

"Uh huh," Yolanda picked up another bag of groceries and began removing some cans and bottles and placing them on the island.

"And you can sell your brownies at the concession stand."

"You'll let me? Geez, that's real nice of you, Zac."

"I know. I mean we've been going out for a year now so the way I look at it the money is at least mostly mine."

She finished unloading some mangos when the urge to throw them at him almost overwhelmed her. "Zac, let's talk about this some other time."

He was soon gone from the premises and she looked at her cats that had just ambled into the kitchen. "Gee whiz, kitties, what do you think of biodome mini golf? And for me to sell my brownies at a concession stand?" She laughed and shook her head as they stared at her. "Yeah, right, imagine me investing in an updated version of putt putt? I don't think so!"

***

In early September, life improved for her best friend, Heather Hathaway. The lotion and soap maker was able to open her plant in a Culver City warehouse park and the successful Nautical Nor'easter line shipped to over 250 locations nationwide. A small selection of her new bakery inspired themed lotions and soaps such as Chocolate Brownie, Red Velvet, and Vanilla Buttercream would be sold in the Gift Corner section of Yolanda's Yummery.

Intrepid online reporter and blogger known as The Other Patrick Stewart uncovered a fraud that really helped get him a larger audience.

Blogdate: 09-14.  
Topic: Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club Dogs Live High Life!  
By Patrick Stewart [click to watch full report]  
Readers,  
What do men and dogs have in common? Jacuzzis, mirrored ceilings, stripper poles, and infinity pools! The 10 bedroom, 9 (full) bathroom contemporary home on 13767 Woodland Canyon Road in Ojai was built in 1994 but is undergoing extensive renovation, thanks to Mr. Rocky Montoya owner of the Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club. Back in February of this year, (Mr. Montoya who is also a co-owner of Freeze N Bake), was a runner up in the Great Brownie Taste-off, generously sponsored by Planet Coffee Café. Yolanda Carter of the Crown Street Cat Shelter formed the event in order to raise funds to protect the Freeze N Bake Corporation from buying out the non-profit cat shelter. While Ms. Carter was the winner of the Taste-off, her donations were slightly less than Mr. Montoya's, which totaled $10,337.82. This amount was earmarked for helping to build the Ventura County Dog Shelter in Ojai, California.  
A recent journey to the site of the dog shelter revealed a private residence inside the prestigious Rancho Camarillo gated community. Further investigation revealed the 11,450 square foot home includes a gourmet kitchen, butler's pantry (handy for preparing all that dog food), a wet bar, wine cellar with tasting room, a Jacuzzi, koi pond and infinity pool. In one of the bedrooms, there's a stripper pole and mirrored ceilings and the others boast a stunning view of the Ojai Valley. Yes, we think there will be some happy dogs running around this "shelter" only they'll be the two-legged variety.  
Upon learning of the misuse of the donations, Montoya states that we are "barking up the wrong tree."

After Yolanda read the blog, she expelled a deep breath. It wasn't surprising yet it was. Lying about helping animals and appropriating the funds for oneself---that was down and dirty, she thought. When she went to her parents' house that night and told them the story, they agreed with her sentiments. Mostly the meeting revolved around the plans for Yolanda's Yummery and the completion of the logo, which incorporated the three colors: lemon yellow, sea foam green and pastel pink. The image was a large chocolate brown capital letter Y with a pink and yellow layer cake balanced on top of it surrounded by a brownie, a cookie, and a cupcake. The name was spelled out in a curlicue brown and green font. Working with her parents created a closer bond and their input into the bakery was based on their extensive business experience.

Abby designed the logo to fit on apparel that would sell in the yummery's store. Yolanda wanted to add chef's caps, jackets, and other apparel worn in bakeries, but Abby told her if she wanted to sell to the public, she couldn't have a huge selection. "Dear, the Gift Corner is only 200 square feet. We won't have room for everything!" So it was narrowed down to aprons, T-shirts and tank tops, tote bags, potholders and baseball caps.

Frederick's glass creations would be used throughout the yummery so they could be seen, and only a few cake stands would be put on the Gift Corner's glass shelves. Discreetly placed business cards and brochures would feature his most popular items geared towards sweets storage. Ever since the elongated cat vase designs were featured in Los Angeles magazine, orders for his glass creations had increased greatly.

Yolanda reflected on the vast amount of time and effort it took to engage in the Do-si-do of paperwork involved to launch a new business in Los Angeles County; particularly the neighborhood of Brentwood. Selecting the store's colors, flooring, wallpaper, shelving, display cases, light fixtures to the seating, along with the supplies and equipment needed to bake the yummy desserts was challenging. The instant she applied for her first business licenses ranging from food permits to filing a business name for Yolanda's Yummery, the money quickly departed from her bank account. What type of point of sale system would be installed? What brand of flour and sugar would she stock? How many employees would she hire and what about their salary and benefits? Buying expensive equipment like mixers, ovens, freezer and refrigeration units, tables, racks, and the list went on and on. Her parents were there to assist. They saved money by steering her into buying some items secondhand. Most of her ingredients were bought in bulk and she found which local companies offered the best deals along with those located online. Abby and Frederick negotiated for her at times because some vendors were quite willing to overcharge a young newcomer with no culinary school degree.

As the grand opening loomed ever closer, she grew increasingly anxious about what could be a cataclysmic failure. Most new businesses didn't succeed and that fact kept circulating around her head every night. Was the alarm system for the store adequate? Would there be enough parking for the customers? No, she wouldn't call them that, they would be called appreciated guests, because that's what they were. No matter if they walked in and bought a single cookie or a dozen gift wrapped brownies or the unique Magical Cakes of Love. How would she add her special ingredient to each batch without it being seen by another employee? How many fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar would she need to order? What about getting a deal on bulk chocolate and all the other ingredients she'd need?

In January, a month before the bakery opened, she dreamed that Mr. Whisker was suggesting a pinch went into each bag of flour and sugar—her staple ingredients. He showed her large rubber rolling bins with slide top lids where the dry ingredients could be added. When she woke up, she sighed with relief, knowing that problem was solved. Without the magical ingredient, her sweet treats wouldn't have the same impact on her appreciated guests.

In testing the Magical Cakes of Love, six-inch round personal size single and double layer cakes, Heather and Barry raved so much about them, as did her parents, and any of the other volunteers that tested the ten different flavors. As that was too many flavors to bake every day, she had to modify it down to four or five for the menu. And choosing what went on the menu was very complicated as she didn't want too many items nor too few. Patrick Stewart helpfully conducted a poll on his ever-popular blog. Many readers preferred cupcakes, brownies, cakes, cookies and cake pops. Others suggested pastries and breadstuffs like croissants, rolls and a variety of bread. She contemplated the selection from that poll along with others she was able to conduct.

Zac sometimes stopped by the yummery when she was there. He did nothing but get underfoot. Usually someone else was there to shoo him away. Then he'd stop by her house and pester her about the Biodome Valley Mini Golf idea. He'd suggested they get married in order to be better business partners. The idea of being Mrs. Biodome Valley Mini Golf, or more accurately, Mrs. Putt Putt, wasn't even on her agenda.

Driving home late one night, she recalled how romantic the notion of having one's own bakery seemed when she was working at that little Studio City bakery four years ago. The notion of baking dozens of cupcakes was preferable to clearing out pungent litter boxes; she recalled when she was shoveling cat crap into the garbage container. Now her visions of what owning a bakery entailed were somewhat different from her romantic and sugary daydreams.

***

On the last Saturday in February, at eight o'clock in the morning, Yolanda's Yummery was finally open for business. The crowd that gathered included her family and friends and many of the shelter workers and volunteers who weren't working at their adoption day event.

She wore a yellow Yolanda's Yummery T-shirt and jeans, and a pale pink logoed apron. Her hair was worn in an elegant French twist. Unable to sleep, she had arrived a little past midnight to bake all the goodies, most of them to be given away. A part time pastry chef and a full time food prep worker would begin work on Monday so she was the only one doing any baking. As for counter help, she hired four part-timers including Jeannie, a retired secretary who wanted to work at a bakery part time, because she "loved the environment." The tall brown and silver haired woman wore an aqua velvet headband. She had a small potbelly that was emphasized by the pink apron she tied on as soon as she clocked in for the day. Her sparkling blue eyes observed the splendor of the bakery that she'd seen change from a dark, empty storefront into Yolanda's Yummery. Every evening around five o'clock, or what used to be quitting time; Jeannie took her daily walk which led past the Brentwood Grove Shoppes.

Jeannie walked into Yolanda's Yummery on her first day of work, absorbing the new surroundings with a look of awe. To her left was the Gift Corner and she first noticed a spiral clothes rack featuring colorful aprons, T-shirts and tank tops bearing the cute logo sporting a layer cake and brownie above the bakery's name. The glass shelves behind the clothes rack boasted a half dozen colored and clear glass pedestal cake and cupcake stands with domed lids. Discreet business cards next to each item gave the name and a brief description of the work, the year it was created, and the price.

On the middle glass shelf sat four rows of bottles advertising Heather Hathaway's Lotions & More ~ The Yolanda's Yummery Collection. Each fragrance had a small tester size available. There were also some realistic looking cupcake shaped soaps in bakery aromas.

The walls had recently been papered with vertical stripes of pastel pink, sea foam green and daffodil yellow. Yolanda noticed and said, "It's vinyl wallpaper, not the cloth like I'd envisioned but I think it'll be easier to keep clean."

"I just love your color scheme. I've always been a huge fan of pastels. I'm a summer, you know."

"A summer? You were born in July or August?"

"No, you're too young to remember the four seasons color theory. Back in the 80s there was this book called Color Me Beautiful and the season you are is based on your skin tone and color of your hair and eyes along with how light or dark complected you are. Or something like that. I'm a summer because I have blue-gray eyes and am attracted to pastels and they look good on me supposedly. I look better in lavender than I would in dark purple."

Yolanda nodded. "I think my mom mentioned something about it. She's over there," she pointed to Abby who was handing a balloon to a little girl holding a doll. They were standing in front of the curved glass display case that housed the personal sized cakes, known as the Magical Cakes of Love, and the signature brownies. Atop each case sat three glass rectangular trays with gently domed lids. "We're serving LOADS of free samples today. We have brownie bites, mini cupcakes, and slices of the new Magical Cakes of Love."

Jeannie looked at Yolanda with a puzzled expression. "I've never heard of Magical Cakes of Love but I love the name."

Laughing, Yolanda pointed to the case displaying the smaller than normal sized single and double layer cakes. "They're personal sized cakes – I bake them in six-inch round molds. But I think calling them Magical Cakes of Love makes them sound way more romantic. And so far all my testers have loved them!" She lifted off the lid and picked out a sample. "Please try a slice."

"Certainly!" Jeannie took a pink cupcake liner filled with a rich red rectangle with two layers of white frosting. A mini plastic spoon was sitting on one side. After the first dainty spoonful, she smiled, enjoying the rush of sugar that was flooding her mouth, as though awakening it. After the next bite, she tasted more of the cream cheese frosting and a benevolent sensation filled her. The colors around her sharpened and the bakery was abuzz with such joie de vivre that she was almost moved to tears. It was an incredible sensation to be standing in the brand new Brentwood bakery and she was a part of it all. Unlike her secretarial job where she'd been moved into a back office, because the boss's son thought she was "an old fart who scared away the clients."

Abby hurried up to Jeannie and gave her a warm and welcoming hug. "I'm so happy you're here today, Jeannie! That's such a nice headband."

"Thank you so much. My daughter made it for me," Jeannie said.

"Yolanda's very creative—in the kitchen. For me it's about fiber art." Abby pointed to her brightly colored batik print T-shirt in neon pink, yellow, and green. "I love the art of batik and it took me a while to learn how to do it to my satisfaction. But once I learned there was no stopping me."

Abby noticed twin boys dressed in matching jeans and navy blue polo shirts. "Yoo hoo, boys, would you like a balloon?" She stepped over to a beribboned bundle tied to the back of one of the chairs and removed a pair of them in yellow.

"Your mother's so nice," Jeannie said.

"Yeah, most of the time." Yolanda chuckled and pointed to the case that ran opposite the door and extended almost to the back of the store. "Now this is where we'll be stocking all our cookies and cupcakes. We also want to offer samples throughout the day and it'll be easy to just cut a cookie in quarters and we're doing mini cupcakes but that won't be offered regularly except by the half dozen and dozen."

Jeannie nodded and looked at the colorful array of cookies, many of them wearing brilliant sanding sugar coats. "They're so beautiful," she said.

"Thank you. I managed to get them done just before the store officially opened. You know that starting on Monday we'll officially open at seven. Oh, by the way, make sure you give a free brownie to every customer who buys a Magical Cake of Love."

Her father was outfitted in beige surfer shorts and the logoed apparel of a light green apron over a matching T-shirt. He added a tray of chocolate cupcakes topped with multicolored sprinkles to the display case. "Jeannie, this is my father, Frederick." He grinned and stepped around the case to shake her hand.

"Oh my, are you the one who made all these gorgeous cake stands?"

Frederick reached for her hand and gave it a quick kiss. "Guilty as charged. So glad to have you aboard, Jeannie."

She beamed. "I read about you in Los Angeles magazine. I love your work."

He chuckled. "Most kind of you. But I'm just a simple glass blower, ma'am. We have lots of hot air in our lungs is all. My daughter's the one with all the talent. I swear I can't eat another cupcake right now yet I'm not stuffed too full. And let me tell you it's better than the first jolt of caffeine you get from a good cuppa joe. I think there's something magical about all her baked goods. Then again, I guess it's just the proud papa in me." He let go of Jeannie's hand and gave his daughter a warm embrace.

"Thanks Dad. By the way, I need to do something about the coffee and tea..."

"A cue for me to check the beverage invoices in the office and get it stocked." He gave a wave and trotted back to the kitchen area behind the cookies and cupcakes counter.

Yolanda led the way to a small glass-fronted stainless steel refrigerator unit that was at the back wall. It was loaded with small bottles of milk, iced tea, flavored and sparkling water, and soft drinks. "Here are the cold drinks and we also have free coffee, tea and hot chocolate today."

She turned around and pointed to the eight round white metal tables, each with four matching chairs around them. They lined the wall from back to front on the other side of the cookies and cupcakes display case. The pastel striped cushions were the same color as the wallpaper.

"Authentic vintage ice cream parlor tables and chairs from the sixties. The things I found online," Yolanda exclaimed.

"Those really make the bakery so warm and inviting," Jeannie noted.

A young Asian couple sat down, the mother holding an infant dressed entirely in pastel blue knitwear. They put down their paper cups of coffee and both had mini cupcake samples and each a full size brownie. The mother bit into the brownie and closed her eyes as she slowly chewed. Her husband inhaled the chocolate cupcake.

Yolanda cheerfully greeted the pair and soon learned they'd read about the Great Brownie Taste-off review and resulting press about the fake dog shelter on The Other Patrick Stewart's blog. Neither of them could wait to try the winning brownies once they learned that Yolanda's Yummery was opening up on the Westside of town. "We love these brownies so much we're going to buy a dozen and tell all our friends about this fantastic yummery," said the mother.

She thanked the woman and turned back to Jeannie, pointing up at the menu and how the special of the day would always be written in bright yellow chalk. By now, the crowds surging in kept all the counter help occupied. The high tech computerized point of sale system was versatile yet simple to use. The other two employees Yolanda had hired last week were local college students, Crystal and Nick.

Heather Hathaway and her husband Barry made a brief appearance. Barry was tall and large boned and the untucked in black polo shirt didn't hide his expanding waistline. He was enjoying the samples and after stuffing a mini brownie into his mouth, he hugged his slender wife. "Baby, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone." She returned the hug with equal fervor and Yolanda thought that maybe she'd have to get the fire extinguisher out of the kitchen when Heather gently pulled away.

"You're the best husband a woman could ever have." She gave him a quick kiss and pulled away, noticing a few people looking at them. "Now let's see about restocking the lotions and cupcake soaps."

The bearish man nodded, stroked her cheek once, and followed his wife over to the yummery's Gift Corner.

Patrick Stewart sauntered in and made a beeline for the Magical Cakes of Love sample tray. "Hey Yolanda, what time can you do the interview?"

Yolanda looked at the cupcake shaped wall clock above the front door. "How about in five minutes?"

Grabbing two Vanilla Buttercream slices, he handed one to Louie, his young cameraperson. "Sounds doable." He quickly scarfed down his piece and smiled. "Outstanding cake, Yolanda," he said, then winked at her. "I wonder why you call them Magical Cakes of Love!"

Just then, Teagan Mishkin strutted into the bakery wearing a snug French cut pink logoed T-shirt and a pair of tight white designer jeans. Her now darker blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail and instead of stilettos; she wore expensive white leather sneakers. Both Patrick and Louie stared at the new arrival. "Haven't I seen you at another event...wait, you were at the Great Brownie Taste-off..."

Teagan nodded and slowly sashayed to the back of the store. Three UCLA sweatshirt wearing young men studied her feminine walk and promptly sampled a couple of mini cupcakes apiece just to watch her disappear around the corner. Even as she pushed aside the pink and yellow striped curtain that concealed the kitchen, and was gone from view, they almost dislocated their necks trying to catch a glimpse.

Louie sampled a brownie and when he thought no one was looking, snatched a second piece. He switched on his camera before Patrick had a chance to pick up his mic but it was evident that he was filming the bakery. The camera was zooming around the room and focusing on the display cases, the samples, and the many appreciated guests. The tables were all filled and a few people had brought along their laptops to take advantage of the free Wi-Fi.

Yolanda and Teagan were back in the kitchen conversing about Teagan's upcoming shift. She pulled on a yellow apron and tied the strings tightly behind her to show off her svelte figure and adjusted the bib portion to make sure the male appreciated guests noticed her enhanced chest. "I'm working here part time 'cause I understand lots of producers and directors live around here."

Yolanda nodded and handed her a small paper menu. "I hope you memorize this by the next shift you work."

Teagan glanced at it. "I'll try." She giggled. "It looks better than the lap dance list and song count chart we had at Wicked Fun Gentlemen's Club. Ooh, I love carrot cake cupcakes."

"I'm glad. I know that Rocky's business is down after the hoopla surrounding the fake dog shelter."

"Tell me about it. No more $900 nights. I'm lucky to get maybe $400 or $500 on weekends so unless it gets even worse I can only work here 'til five on Saturday. It really sucks but the club still pays better than most places. What he did was so wrong, I thought he liked dogs but he doesn't even care about them. He just stole those dog pictures off the Internet."

"No, I don't see how he could and then pull a stunt like that. I'm glad to hear that he was forced to sell the Ojai house." Yolanda glanced at her watch. "Okay, I've got an interview. You just sell, sell, sell the sweets, Teagan."

She burst out laughing. "I'm real good at it."

"That's why I think you're going to do real well and I think the tips jar will be full whenever you work." She gave her friend a quick hug and rushed out into the bakery to give her very first interview in Yolanda's Yummery.

An hour later, Yolanda had wrapped up the interview. She'd allowed her employees to be interviewed along with her parents. Missy and Roger stopped by. The couple was delighted with the samples and made several purchases, and had gotten extra freebies thrown in including a chocolate Magical Cake of Love.

From out in the parking lot a bearded man wearing a white and navy yacht cap marched inside. "Free samples! Oh goody!" The chubby man wore an open navy captain's jacket revealing a soiled white undershirt. His baggy black trousers were held in place by white suspenders. The Captain looked around the busy bakery and spotted Teagan holding a tray of cookie samples. He scratched his graying beard and reached for a chocolate chip cookie. "You got a nice rack, dearie." He greedily grabbed two cookie halves and shoved them into his mouth. Chewing quickly, the smile widened and crumbs fell to his belly and the floor. "Yum, yum, yummy. Great cookies," he declared.

"Glad you like them, sir," Teagan said, turning away to offer cookies to some of the appreciated guests waiting in line to purchase sweets.

He aggressively followed her, reaching for the tray and snatched another handful. He barely glanced at the nutty oatmeal raisin cookies as he crammed them into his mouth. "Um, um," he grunted, not forming words, merely chewing and moaning in delight. Between the cookies and the gorgeous young sample server, the Captain was having a very happy Saturday afternoon. "Will you marry me, missy? I got a yacht at the marina and we can have a shipboard wedding."

Teagan grinned. "No thanks, I'm engaged."

Yolanda's father was in the process of wending his way over from the far side of the store. He held a yellow cellophane bag containing six cookies. It was tied with a matching ribbon and sported a colorful hangtag. "Here you go, sir, it's on the house." Frederick handed the cookies to the Captain.

"Why thank you, good sir. Ahoy mate to you." He saluted Frederick and stuffed the cookies inside his undershirt as he glanced longingly at Teagan. "You sure you can't get married?"

Teagan grinned and shook her head just as an old woman in a hot pink tracksuit wielding a cane hobbled over and grabbed a cookie sample. "I'm single, Mr. Captain!"

"Unsurprising," the Captain stated as he thrust out his chest and strode towards the front door.

The bustling bakery was busy all day even though it was overcast. Threats of rain didn't materialize so that also helped business. A few minutes before closing according to the cupcake clock, a handsome young man in a tan glen plaid suit and polished black Prada loafers strolled in. His brown with golden highlights wavy hair emphasized his classical features and piercing dark eyes caught Yolanda's attention at once. The man looked around the yummery. Few items remained in the cases. The trays containing samples were nearly empty.

"This yummery looks quite posh," he said to Yolanda who was standing near the door. "But then again, I've never been to a yummery before...even in Los Angeles."

For an instant, she was flummoxed, as he was the sensuous and smoldering man she'd seen in that vision on the beach. She hid her shock and resorted to her sensible business personality.

"I call it a yummery because everything I bake here is yummy. I've created my own brand."

"You're quite confident, aren't you?"

Yolanda nodded. "Yes I am. Would you like to sample a brownie?" She reached for the tray and extended it to him. "I'm sorry that we have so few samples left..."

"Please don't be. Obviously people are finding your products to be quite...yummy!" The handsome man with the English accent reached for a brownie chunk and tossed it in his mouth. There was a pause as his smirk turned into a close-mouthed smile and his dark eyes brightened. He nodded. "Indeed, I think this is yummy. Let me buy the rest of your stock."

There were only two brownies left. She smiled and went around the counter to put them in a bag. "No, since you're the last customer of the day I'll give you a 100% discount."

"That's more than kind of you." He watched her intently, bathed in a warm, luxurious feeling of contentment. It was as though he knew her, yet he'd never even seen her until he walked into the strangely named yummery.

Only the glass counter separated them as she was immersed in the attention of the highly appreciated guest. The annoying noise of a loud car horn followed by screeching brakes caused her to look up. She rolled her eyes when she saw where the noise came from.

A black Chevy Camaro roared into a nearby parking space. The driver rushed out of the car, and slammed the door shut with his foot. He wore a polo shirt and khakis. In his arms he held a big white teddy bear. "Yolanda!"

The man turned and watched as Zac rushed towards them and yanked open the door, dashing over to the counter. He clutched a white teddy bear with the grin on its plush face and a big red heart on its chest. Zac's breathing was ragged and he stood near the doorway, noticing the well-dressed gentleman leaning on the counter and Yolanda not leaning away.

He thumped the teddy bear down on the counter and stood next to the stranger. "Now who the heck are you and what are you doing talking like that to my fiancée?"

THE END.

The Yolanda's Yummery Series

The Great Brownie Taste-off, Book 1

Magical Cakes of Love, Book 2

The Aroma of Love, Book 3

Macarons of Love, Book 4 [Spring 2015]

The Winning Brownie Recipe

Okay, the magical ingredient isn't listed here because it won't be revealed until later on in the series. I'd like to make sure that everyone knows that it's not the magical ingredient of love. It's nice to add it but that's not the "mystery" that will be revealed now or later in the Yolanda Yummery's Series.

I recommend using Valrhona chocolate feves if you have them on hand or can get them easily enough. If not, use a Valrhona chocolate bar which costs less, or any type of high quality 70% cacao content chocolate.

This recipe is easy to make. For instance, I didn't use cocoa powder as it wasn't necessary so by eliminating that ingredient you've just saved some time and money.

Your butter should be a good quality and unsalted is recommended. You will taste the butter in this brownie recipe due to the amount used.

If possible, use free-range eggs, as they taste better.

For this recipe, I used an 8" x 8" glass baking dish. You can use a 9" x 9" glass or metal baking dish if you prefer but the brownies will be slightly flatter.

INGREDIENTS:

1/2 cup [1 stick] butter, melted and cooled

1 cup brown sugar

2 eggs [room temperature]

1/4 cup [2 ounces] dark chocolate, melted, cooled slightly

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

INSTRUCTIONS:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Grease your pan with either cooking spray or butter.

In a large bowl, beat butter and sugar until combined.

Add an egg, mix in well, then add the second egg and mix well.

Stir in melted chocolate and vanilla.

Gently fold in flour, until combined.

Pour mixture into pan and bake for 25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the brownies cool completely. Cut into squares. Enjoy.

NOTE: If you use part white sugar and part brown sugar, your brownies will be lighter in color and the top is more likely to crack.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa Maliga has been writing ever since she learned how to put crayon to paper back in kindergarten. Since then, she has learned to type and uses a laptop, citing it as way more convenient. She still makes and uses her own soapy creations, and she sometimes bakes brownies, cupcakes, and cookies. You'll find more about her work at:

http://www.lisamaliga.com

http://lisamaliga.wordpress.com/

http://pinterest.com/lisamaliga/

https://twitter.com/LisaMaliga

http://www.goodreads.com/LisaMaliga

Newsletter - http://eepurl.com/UZbE9

FICTION:

The Aroma of Love (The Yolanda's Yummery Series, Book 3) \- This novel centers around Yolanda's Yummery, Yolanda Carter's bakery in the trendy Los Angeles suburb of Brentwood. A cold case of a much-loved pie baker murdered in her home has turned up no leads until Detective Winston Churchill takes on the case, assisted by Yolanda.

Diary of a Hollywood Nobody \- Chris Yarborough is a Midwesterner as green as the corn back home in Ohio. This former bookstore employee moves out to Los Angeles to pursue a profitable career in screenwriting.

Hollywood After Dark: 3 Tales of Terror – [Paperback and eBook] This trio of horror novelettes takes place in Los Angeles and Hollywood. Titles include Satan's Casting Call, An Author's Nightmare, and Hollywood Starz Storage.

Magical Cakes of Love (The Yolanda's Yummery Series, Book 2) \- Yolanda's Yummery is off to a promising start with excellent reviews and many happy fans of the delicious desserts. An accompanying Beverage Bar will open in three weeks. Yolanda's involved in a budding romance with sophisticated British tea baron, Nigel Garvey. Life is sweet. Until a homeless customer disappears...and Yolanda becomes a suspect.

I WANT YOU: Seduction Emails from a Narcissist \- Arlen J. Stevenson is a narcissist who uses his scant literary accomplishments to entice his online victims. Meeting and seducing vulnerable women is what drives this Alabama-born man. [Paperback and eBook]

Love Me, Need Me: A Narcissist's Tale is about a bumbling sexual predator, narcissist, and author of three insipid zombie books. Middle-aged Arlen J. Stevenson hails from Alabama. His relentless and often hilarious pursuit of women online leads him to our other protagonist, Los Angeles-based writer of term papers, Helena Hoffman. [Paperback and eBook]

The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story \- Combined are the two narcissist novels: LOVE ME, NEED ME: A NARCISSIST'S TALE and I WANT YOU: SEDUCTION E-MAILS FROM A NARCISSIST.

North of Sunset \- It's 1996 and Hollywood is thriving in the era of indulgences. Sherman Lee is a volatile and successful action movie producer who seeks critical acceptance. Ever the partier, his excesses are starting to take their toll. He can't keep a personal assistant more than a few days until Emily Karelin is sent to fill the position. She's a temp with no showbiz background, one of the requirements Sherman demands. [Paperback and eBook]

Notes from Nadir \- A California writer returns to her Midwestern home due to financial difficulties. Moving in with Mom, she lands a job at an online auction site. She deals with wacky coworkers, unsympathetic relatives, health issues and the struggle with being in Nadir--the place and the state of mind. [Paperback and eBook]

Out of the Blue \- Sylvia Gardner is a naïve cashier who lives with her mother in Richport, Illinois. Upset with being dumped by her first boyfriend; she later falls in love with an English actor after watching him on a TV show. For two years, she researches Alexander Thorpe's life and career, saving her money to travel to his Cotswolds village, intent on meeting him. [Paperback and eBook]

Satan's Casting Call \- Duncan Smith-Holmes is a struggling young actor who is in desperate need of a paying gig or he has to leave Hollywood.

South of Sunset \- Such a world-renowned name conjures up images of movies, sunglass-wearing stars, palm trees, plastic surgery, drug habits, the proverbial overnight success... and the happy ending. In this collection of original short fiction, the author takes us into the minds of an assortment of losers, dreamers, successes, wannabes, and has-beens.

Sweet Dreams \- Brenda Nevins is a successful romance author with a movie deal, a reality TV show, and a forthcoming bakery. Complications arise whenever any communication she sends or receives turns into fragments of a fantasy story. Will she find whoever is responsible for hijacking her career, finances, and even her fiancé?

The Wilkes House Haunting \- Curtis Angeles moves from suburban Chicago to a rural Florida town in search of peace, quiet and privacy. Instead, he almost loses his life uncovering some deadly deceptions... [Paperback and eBook]

NONFICTION:

12 Easy Melt and Pour Soap Recipes \- Contains original recipes, 37 color photos, and several places to buy soap base, molds, fragrances and other necessary supplies. Learn how easy it is to craft your own melt and pour soap in less than one hour!

How to Make Handmade Shampoo Bars – Learn how easy it is to make natural handmade shampoo bars. This innovative eBook includes 25+ recipes for shampoo bars, hair rinses, and hair masques. Contains more than 50 color photos, step-by-step instructions, and a chapter on natural additives.

How to Make Handmade Shampoo Bars: The Budget Edition [Paperback only] – Same as above only with black and white photos.

Is the Long Island Medium the Real Deal? [Editor] - In this groundbreaking new book, author and demonologist Kirby Robinson examines Theresa Caputo's claims of mediumship and what's on The Other Side. [Paperback and eBook]

The Joy of Melt and Pour Soap Crafting is written by someone who learned how to work with crafting glycerin melt & pour soap the hard way -- with only a single page of instructions to follow! If you've always wanted to make your own soap, here's an opportunity to learn just how easy it really is! Contains 40 recipes and MUCH more!

Maple Sugar Melt & Pour Soap Recipe FREE at Smashwords. Learn how to make a fun fall melt and pour soap recipe starring pure maple syrup—a healthy addition.

Matcha Green Tea Melt & Pour Soap Recipe – Learn how easy it is to make this luxurious melt and pour soap starring Matcha Green Tea. This soap is wonderful for all skin types. It would make a great addition to any bath and body or tea lover's gift basket! FREE at Amazon.

Monoi de Tahiti: Spa in a Bottle \- What is Monoi de Tahiti and how will it benefit you? A bottle of this Polynesian beauty product has a variety of uses and will soothe your skin, hair, and nails. "Monoi de Tahiti: Spa in a Bottle" is a unique e-book focused on this fragrant and natural Tahitian beauty oil.

MORE Joy of Melt and Pour Soap Crafting \- Two eBooks in one! You get The Joy of Melt and Pour Soap Crafting and 12 Easy Melt and Pour Soap Recipes in one volume!

Nature's Beauty Oils: Monoi de Tahiti and Shea Butter – Two eBooks in one! Learn about nature's most versatile beauty oil and butter.

Never Mock God: An Unauthorized Investigation into Paranormal State's "I Am Six" Case - Paranormal State's "I Am Six" episode is a perfect American horror tale -- for all the wrong reasons. It stars the ambitious founder of the Paranormal Research Society, an attention-seeking client, a bumbling group of paranormal investigators, a psychic-medium in search of ratings, and a rogue exorcist. [Paperback and eBook]

Nuts About Shea Butter \- The reader will discover shea butter's benefits, its numerous applications, and how to get optimal use from this healthy and natural nut fat. Learn about the differences between East African and West African shea butter.

Paranormal State Exposed [Co-Author] - Explore the rumors of staged scenes, questionable evidence, misleading editing, and duped clients. As other paranormal programming comes along imitating this style of presentation, it's vital that the problems are investigated.

Paranormal State: The Comprehensive Investigation [Co-Author] - Includes the eBooks Paranormal State Exposed and Never Mock God: An Unauthorized Investigation into Paranormal State's "I Am Six" Case.

Paranormal Teachings: The Best of Shedding Some Light [Editor] - Kirby Robinson, the controversial demonologist, paranormal investigator and best-selling author, has compiled more than 200 blogs from his highly successful Shedding Some Light series.

The Prepper's Guide to Soap Crafting and Soap Storage \- Be the cleanest prepper around! Create your own lye-free soap or find the best type of soap to store in the coming years. Informative book shows the best ways to craft your own soap. You'll receive original recipes and valuable storage tips to get the most out of your soap.

The Soapmaker's Guide to Online Marketing – This handy eBook is packed with detailed information on designing, building, and promoting your website. Learn how to write a press release. Get loads of free promotional ideas. Learn easy search engine optimization techniques and much more.

Squirrels in the Hood \- When Sunshine the cat departs in 2006, the second story balcony she occupied is very empty. Now that birds can be fed, the author does so, also attracting an array of hungry squirrels.

