The Cupcake Diaries Read Online Free Page A

the next fifty years. And there was a ten to fifteen percent chance the entire region would rupture within that same time frame, which could produce waves eighty to one hundred feet high.
    “Ten to fifteen percent is slim,” Kim pointed out. “Besides, Cannon Beach has a siren to alert people to get off the beach in case anything ever did happen.”
    Stacey still wasn’t comforted. What if a giant wave crashed over the beach? Would her cupcake stand float? How long would she have to get away? She wasn’t a strong swimmer. Maybe she’d buy a life preserver or a rubber raft to keep in the back of the Volkswagen bus—just in case.
    She could turn the vehicle around, let one of the shop’s college-aged employees—Heather, Theresa, or Eric—take her place. But in the event of a tsunami, the Astoria shop, located next to the Columbia River, wouldn’t be much safer. She thought of her debt to her Idaho roommate and her dream of owning a home—preferably with a large underground bunker to house all her emergency supplies.
    Kate Jones wouldn’t run. A quiet voice rose unbidden in Stacey’s mind, challenging her fear. In her books the heroine braved shark-infested waters, escaped a collapsed mine filled with snakes, and survived a harrowing trek through the Yucatán jungle. Oh, how she longed for even just a quarter of Kate’s courage! Kate refused to let fear dictate her life. Maybe, just maybe, she could learn to do the same.
    She could start by keeping her promise to run the cupcake stand on the beach. She might still buy an emergency floatation device, but if a tsunami washed her away, so be it. She had to prove she could do this and not be a coward.
    Stacey pulled the Volkswagen bus to a stop toward the west end of Second Street. The town had given Creative Cupcakes permission to park near the beach entrance, but there was another vendor, a white ice cream truck, in her spot.
    She held her breath as her gaze drifted over the slew of customers lined up on the sidewalk. Could Dave Wright be one of them? The yard sale where they’d met wasn’t far from here. Was it possible she might see him again today?
    A horn honked behind her, making her jump in her seat and grip the steering wheel. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she realized she had a line of her own—a line of cars behind her waiting for her to get out of the way. She couldn’t park in the middle of the street, and the ice cream truck hadn’t left room for her to squeeze in next to the curb. Circling around and driving out the way she’d come, she parked around the corner.
    When she walked back toward the ice cream truck and tried to pass the people waiting to place an order, a stern-faced woman twice her width stuck out an arm and blocked her.
    “Hey,” the lady complained with a toss of her head. “The line is back there. No cutting.”
    Stacey tensed. “I’m not cutting. I—I don’t want ice cream. I just have a question.”
    “You can still wait your turn at the back of the line.”
    Stacey’s set-up time had already been compromised. She couldn’t wait another twenty minutes for the vendor’s customers to be served. She had to speak to the owner of the ice cream truck now.
    “This is important,” she said, and pivoting around the woman’s reach, she stepped toward the service window.
    The customer first in line must not have seen her, because after he received his vanilla ice cream he turned and bumped straight into her.
    “Oh, no!” Stacey sprang back, but it was too late. His cone took a nosedive straight for the sandy sidewalk. “I’m so sorry. Please let me buy you another one.”
    “Sure, if you say so,” the guy said with a laid-back grin.
    Technically, Stacey didn’t have to make the offer. He ran into her, after all. But she’d been in his way and would feel guilty all day long if she didn’t try to make amends.
    She dug in her purse for some change and placed it in his outstretched hand. He looked like a surfer with his