“Two dollars and fifty cents!” Stan slapped his knee and laughed. “Can you believe that craziness?”
“Is he going to keep it or sell it?” I asked.
“Ahhh, see, you’re like me. You want to know more. And to me? That’s the most important part of the story. Sure, finding a treasure is exciting, but what are you going to do with the treasure?”
“Well?” I asked. “What did he do?”
Stan started laughing again. I liked his laugh. When he laughed, it was like his whole body laughed, not just his mouth. Like he felt the happiness in every bone of his body.
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. “Well, he said he’s going to keep it. Because just looking at it and thinking about it, like where it’s been and how it’s survived this long, is an amazing thing. He said he can always sell it if he needs the money someday. But for now, the treasure makes him happy.”
I nodded as I thought about that. Owning the sword made him feel good. And that was enough.
“Stan!” I said, jumping up. “That’s it! We need to get my mom to understand that it’s not about the money or success or any of that. It’s about the treasure. It’s about having a cupcake shop and sharing with the people who visit every day. Who cares if Beatrice’s Brownies sells more than we do? It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
He smiled. “I think you’re right, Isabel. I may not be living in a mansion, and I’m sure there are plenty more successful barber shops than mine. But who cares? Mine is perfect for me.”
“Can I borrow your phone? That’s why I came here, actually. I need to call my grandma, to tell her to meet me downstairs in the morning. I didn’t want my parents to hear, because it’s a surprise.”
He pointed toward the kitchen. “Help yourself. Have another cookie if you’d like too.”
As I walked toward the kitchen, he said, “Knock-knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Sherwood.”
“Sherwood who?”
“Sherwood like to have a cupcake shop downstairs!”
“Me too,” I told Stan. “Me too.”
I talked to Grandma, and she agreed to come over at nine o’clock, bringing something with her that I needed. I asked Stan to be there too and to bring a little something as well.
When I left and went back home, I knew I had done everything I could.
Now it was up to Mom.
I bet it’s scary sometimes,
traveling in a new place.
But you take along maps
and a cell phone,
and you know help is there
if you need it.
—IB
Chapter 18
grandma’s applesauce cupcakes
TASTE JUST LIKE HOME
The next morning I woke up early. Like six a.m. early. I got dressed, then grabbed my keys and the envelope of babysitting money I’d been saving. I reached inside the envelope and pulled out the small pile of bills, fanning it the way I’d seen thieves do it on TV. Except I wasn’t a thief. I’d worked hard for that money, hoping to see something besides the sidewalks of Willow, Oregon. I felt a little twinge of pain about giving it up, but a little voice inside me told me I would travel someday. Just not today.
Besides, I’d been thinking it was just like Stan said. Maybe it wasn’t really going places and seeing things that mattered. Maybe it was just doing your best to enjoy the people around you. Like that day with Lucas and Logan. While the pool filled with water, I should have taken my shoes off and gotten in the pool with them. I should have splashed and laughed and stopped thinking about those books and what I didn’t have, and instead just been glad for what I did have.
I tiptoed out the front door and down the stairs and went around to the front door of the cupcake shop.
What I saw when I walked inside the shop made me smile so big, my cheeks felt like they were going to crack to pieces.
All night long Lana had stayed up, painting a mural on one of the walls to look like a rolling countryside with green hills, a big tree in the corner, and a bright blue sky. No matter how rainy it might be outside, people would feel like they were sitting next to a sunny countryside inside our little shop. It was perfect.
“Lana,” I squealed. “It’s so beautiful.”
She wiped her hands on her overalls and carefully walked down the ladder. “The tree isn’t finished yet.” She looked at her watch. “I should have it done by nine, though.”
I couldn’t stop looking at it. “Beatrice’s Brownies might have Dixie cups full of milk, but they have nothing like this.” I turned and looked at her. “You must be so tired. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome, Isabel. I hope your mom likes it. I hope it makes her excited to be in the cupcake business.”
I handed Lana the envelope of money. “I know you probably get paid a lot more than this. But it’s all I have.”
“No worries,” she said, taking the envelope. “I’m happy to help you guys out. And you can pay me the rest in cupcakes, how’s that?”
I reached out my hand. “Deal.”
I sat and watched Lana paint for a while. But I didn’t want to make her nervous, so I went back upstairs and put on the coffee. While it dripped into the pot, I wrote in my passport book:
People travel to see beautiful things.
But really, beauty is everywhere,
isn’t it?
—IB
Dad came out, and I’m pretty sure I was still smiling like a chimpanzee, because he asked me, “What are you up to, young lady?”
“You’ll see,” I said. “Do you think she’s going to show up?”
He went in the kitchen and pulled a mug out of the cupboard. “I don’t know, honey. I hope so.”
I went downstairs to wait. Lana was cleaning up, so I helped her carry the paint back upstairs to her apartment. It was good to have something to keep me busy.
At 8:50 Grandma showed up with the pink ribbon and the thumbtacks like I had asked her to. She was dressed in pink from head to toe for the occasion. Literally. Pink suit, pink hat, and pink shoes.
When she walked in and saw the mural, her hand flew to her mouth as she let out a big gasp. “Oh, Izzy, it’s incredible.”
“I know,” I said, stepping back to admire it again with her. “Lana, our neighbor, did it for us. Do you think Mom will like it?”
She came and gave me a hug. “She’s going to love it. That was so sweet of you.”
We strung the pretty ribbon from one end of the store to the other, straight across, about waist high.
I looked at my watch. Nine o’clock.
“You want me to go check on her?” Grandma asked.
I shook my head. “She has to do it on her own.”
9:05. 9:10.
Grandma paced the floor, her heels clicking on the parquet floor as she walked.
I heard the door open and quickly turned around.
“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Stan said, with Judy next to him. “Is she here yet?”
I shook my head. “Not yet.” My shoulders slumped. “Maybe she’s not coming. Why should today be different from any other day? I’m so stupid. Just because I go in there, hand her some books, and tell her I have a surprise for her, I think that’s going to make a difference?”
Grandma came over and put her arm around me. “Why should today be any different? Because, my dear Izzy, you just never know. Maybe reaching out to her yesterday, in the special way that only you can, is just what she needed. Why, I remember one time, I was feeling down about the state of the economy and worried about your grandfather’s business in the worst way. And about that time, I got the nicest letter from Patricia Nixon. You know, President Nixon’s wife? I had written her a letter because I wanted her to know I was thinking about her while her husband was going through a terrible time. Well, she wrote me back, and that letter did wonders for my spirits. It was a simple gesture. But it meant so much.”
I heard a noise and looked up. The door opened slowly, Mom’s face visible through the glass at the top of the door. I held my breath, waiting for her to see the wall behind me.
Dad came in right after her. When she walked in, she looked at me, and then I watched as she noticed the rolling hills and the blue sky. I moved to the side so she could take it all in. Just like Grandma, her hand flew to her mouth in shock. Then her eyes got crinkly and tears started to form.
I ran to her and gently grabbed her elbow. “Mom, don’t cry. Don’t you like it?”
“Oh, Isabel, I think it’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You did this for me?”
I looked around the room. “Well, I think I did it for all of us.”
She nodded and turned to give me a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m working on an attitude adjustment, I promise.”
When she pulled away, she looked around the room. “Thanks for being here, everyone.”
Stan walked toward Mom with a pair of scissors in his hand. “Caroline, these have been very lucky for me over the years. Not once have I cut off an ear or scratched a cheek.” We laughed. “Will you please do the honors and cut your ribbon? This shop is your little treasure. Cherish it. Share it. Love it. And I promise, when you do that, others will love it too.”
“Thanks, Stan,” she said as she took the scissors from his hand. She looked over at me. “And thank you, Isabel. Thanks for continuing to stir to make something wonderful when I couldn’t do it. You’re the best.”
She looked around the room one last time. And then, without any hesitation, she cut the ribbon.
And we all clapped for a really, really long time.
Chapter 19
lucky lemon-lime cupcakes
BETTER THAN A FOUR-LEAF CLOVER
To say we were busy the first couple of weeks doesn’t even begin to describe it. We were slammed. But of course, it was all good, and Mom’s confidence grew, thank goodness.
A storm blew through, and it rained the first few days we were open, which meant that all the moms who would normally take their kids to play in the fountain in the park brought them to our place to have cupcakes instead. Mom said it was entirely appropriate that it rained on the day It’s Raining Cupcakes opened.
Everyone we knew, plus many more we didn’t, showed up the first day. I couldn’t believe how many teachers from the middle school came. I think Mr. Nelson must have sent them all a note or something. He stopped by too and brought some cool pictures of Washington, D.C., with him.
Sue Canova brought her twin boys by for a cupcake, and when she saw me, she gave me a hug and told me there were no hard feelings. At least I think that’s what she said. The boys were jumping up and down and yelling, “Cupcakes, cupcakes, CUPCAKES!” so it was a little hard to hear.
But the best surprise was having Aunt Christy drop by. She came right from the airport, still dressed in her flight attendant uniform. She gave me a bag of goodies from different places she’d visited in the past couple of months. My favorite souvenir was a miniature Statue of Liberty. I’d been checking the mail every day, expecting to hear about the baking contest, one way or the other. But so far I hadn’t heard a thing.
Christy couldn’t stay long, as she had another flight that evening, to Chicago. We sent her on her way with a belly full of cupcakes, which she said was icing on the cupcake after visiting with us for a while.
As she left, she told us she would tell all the people traveling to Oregon to make sure they stopped in at It’s Raining Cupcakes. I know Mom appreciated that a lot.
The first day, we opened at noon and ran out of cupcakes by three. People were really nice, though, and sat at the little pink tables drinking coffee or tea and talking about how they’d just have to come back the next day and get some cupcakes.
The next morning Grandma, Mom, and I tripled the number of cupcakes we made. This time, we had enough to get us through our regular closing time, five o’clock.
Mom had decided that for all our sakes, the shop would be open five days a week, Tuesday through Saturday, and only in the afternoons. “We don’t want to work ourselves to death,” she’d said.
Beatrice’s Brownies had a great opening weekend, of course. We got in line with everyone else to check it out. The brownies were good, but their chocolaty goodness didn’t make any of us cry in despair or anything. By then Mom knew her cupcake shop was special in and of itself.
The day after Labor Day, Dad and I had to go back to school. Grandma and Mom said they’d be fine without us and not to worry. Still, I did—just a little.
Sophie and I ended up with three classes together, which made us extremely happy. She came home with me after school, so we could talk about our first day.
“I miss Kyle so much,” she said, as we sat at the kitchen table, drinking some iced tea before we went downstairs to see how Mom and Grandma were doing.
“Has he written you back yet?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I thought we had something special, you know? But that reminds me. Guess what I did get in the mail?”
“What?”
“A letter telling me I didn’t place in the baking contest. I’m so bummed. Did you get one?”
I shook my head. “Maybe I should run down and check the mail right now.” I started to get up and find the mail key when the phone rang. I thought it might be Mom calling from downstairs to ask why we hadn’t come to see her yet.
“Hello?” I said.
“May I speak to Isabel Browning?” a woman on the other end said.
“This is she.”
“Isabel, this is Julia from Baker’s Best magazine. I’m so glad you answered the phone. I’m calling to let you know that you are one of our finalists for the baking contest you entered last month. Congratulations!”
I backed up against the counter and grabbed onto it to keep myself steady. “Are you serious?”
She chuckled. “I’m very serious. We loved your recipe. It was so different from anything else submitted. Very original.”
Sophie came over with a puzzled look on her face. Who is it? she mouthed.
I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and whispered, “The baking contest.”
“Isabel, is everything all right?” Julia asked.
“Yes, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m really a finalist!”
By now Sophie was clapping her hands together really fast, although quietly, and jumping up and down.
“Isabel, we look forward to seeing you in New York in November. You’ll get a packet in the mail in the next week with all the information. Please give it to your parent or guardian who will be accompanying you on the trip, so it can be completed and mailed back to us right away.”
“Okay, I will. Thank you very much.”
“Congratulations again, Isabel. Bye.”
When I hung up, Sophie grabbed my hands and pulled me around in circles. “You get to go to New York, you get to go to New York!”
I laughed as we spun around and around. When we stopped, we stood there, holding hands. I squeezed hers and said, “I’m so sorry, Soph. You didn’t place.”
She reached out and hugged me. “It’s okay! You get to go on a trip, just like you wanted. That’s more than enough to make me happy.”
“Thanks, Soph.”
“Come on. We have to tell your mom and your grandma. They are going to die when they hear!”
I gulped. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” But she pulled me along, smiling like there wasn’t a thing to worry about.
As we walked downstairs, I said, “Sophie, what did you want the thousand dollars for, anyway? You never really told me.”
She stopped before we went through the door and closed one eye, like she was thinking. “I’m not sure I want to tell you.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What? What do you mean? Come on. You have to tell me.”
“Okay, fine. But you can’t tell anyone. Promise?”
<
br /> “Promise.”
“I want to take acting lessons. And singing lessons too.” She smiled. “You know how much I loved those theater camps. My mom found some more for next year that I can do with other teens. But when she talked to the camp director, he said a lot of the kids take professional lessons throughout the year. And if I want to get better, so I can be a professional actress someday—”
“Oh, Sophie Bird,” I said, “you will make a maahvelous actress someday. I can just see you on the big screen. When you move to Hollywood, can I come and visit?”
She laughed. “Absolutely, Chickarita. Just be prepared. I don’t think it’s anything like Willow.”
We kept giggling and talking as we made our way to the cupcake shop. Lana was sitting at a table with a cup of tea, reading a book. I waved at her, and she waved back. The other tables were filled with people I didn’t recognize. That was a good sign. It meant people were coming because they’d heard the cupcakes were good, not because they knew us.
We walked back into the kitchen. It smelled yummy, like always. A mix of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate all rolled into one. Grandma greeted me with a hug. Mom had bought each of them official cupcake “uniforms” to force Grandma to stop wearing fancy dresses to work. I almost hadn’t recognized her the first day she showed up in khaki pants and a pink T-shirt with the words IT’S RAINING CUPCAKES printed on the front.
She’d said, “Now I’ll have to style my hair every day. That’s the real reason I wear hats, you know. Nothing like a hat to fix a bad hair day.” It made me laugh, because I knew about that trick!
When I saw Mom, my insides felt like someone had taken a mixer to them. She walked over and put her hand on my forehead. “You don’t look very good, Isabel. Is everything all right?”
“Mom,” I said, my voice shaking just a little, “remember that baking contest?”
“Of course I remember.”
“Well, they called to say that I’m one of the finalists.”
She squealed and clapped her hands together. “Isabel, that’s wonderful!”
I gulped. “You know the bake-off is in New York, right? An adult has to go with me. Do you think Dad can get some time off work in November to take me?”
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