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CHAPTER24
Beneath a light drizzle,Lauren slipped out of her jeep. She adjusted the black baseball cap on her head, hoping it would keep the little bit of eye makeup she’d worn from smearing.
With a broad smile, Lauren started for the tents growing out of the sand and standing against the hazy, gray sky. With her creations nestled in the wagon she pulled behind her, she scanned the scattered group of vendors for Sylvie as she approached.
Lauren figured there was a fifty-fifty chance that Sylvie had changed her mind about bringing someone to help her. Knowing her, she’d spent the night figuring Lauren was coming up with some elaborate ruse to steal her cheese pastelito recipe. There was probably something with a cork board and multi-colored string.
As she approached the booths, Lauren’s heart soared. The curvy blonde woman working the King of Pastries booth was not Sylvie. She hadn’t changed her mind.
Her excitement evaporated as she considered another possibility. Sylvie wasn’t there. She hadn’t sent this woman to assist her, she’d sent her to replace her.
“Buenos dias,” the woman greeted.
Lauren slid between two tables forming the back wall of her booth. “Buenos dias,” she replied with a small wave. It took a few seconds to recognize her from the softball games.
The woman stopped filling the espresso machine and approached the side of her booth connected to Lauren’s. “You’re the Machado girl, right?”
“Lauren.” She forced a smile even if she couldn’t read the intent behind the question. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Regina. I’m Sylvia’s godmother.” She glanced around before leaning over the table. “She called me at midnight and asked me to come,” she whispered not un-conspiratorially. “It’s something to do with you, isn’t it?”
Lauren bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. What she wouldn’t give to know what Sylvie said to her godmother last night. After a beat, Lauren nodded.
Regina smiled, her plump cheeks brightening. “I’m rooting for you.”
Lauren’s grin broke through her defensives. “You think we’ve got a chance?”
“This old family stuff is so stupid.” She waved as if shooing the past away. “Don’t give up. Don’t let my goddaughter get in her own way. She’s a good girl. She’s just a little—”
“What kind of conspiracy is happening here?” Sylvie neared the back of the booth carrying two plastic water jugs.
Regina stepped away from the boundary, her hands up by her chest. “I was just introducing myself.”
Sylvie, her hair in two French braids and wearing a white King of Pastries tank and black leggings, tried and failed to look suspicious.
“No to this,” Sylvie said as she pointed between Lauren and Regina. “No alliance between you two.”
“I’m Switzerland,” Regina replied innocently before shooting Lauren a wink.
“Yeah, and I’m the king of England,” Sylvie replied, her honey eyes gleaming. She turned to Lauren. “Where’s your backup?” She scanned Lauren’s booth as if someone might be hiding behind a cooler or inside her cart. “Did you realize how wrong you are and quit before you could embarrass yourself?”
Lauren glanced at her watch. “She should be here in fifteen minutes.”
Sylvie replied by sticking her upturned nose in the air and shrugging. Regina, however, was openly amused. When Sylvie turned away, Regina shot Lauren a covert thumbs up.
As soon as Lauren’s help arrived, she hurried to orient her to the booth. When she was confident she wasn’t throwing her to the wolves, Lauren tucked her phone into the back pocket of her denim shorts and sauntered over to Sylvie who was pressing a sandwich.
“Ready?”
Sylvie turned toward the line of people waiting to be served. “I’m swamped.”
Lauren raised a brow. “Are you backing out right now Campos?”
“Go, go. I’ve got this.” Regina returned a customer’s credit card and tucked an empanada into a white paper bag.
“Madrina—”
“Go,” Regina demanded. “I’ve been slinging croquetas since before you were born. I can handle this for a couple of hours. Go and bring me back something delicious.”
