by Coco Simon
“Can everyone get together at my house today?” asked Katie. “We need to get cracking!”
We all agreed and stood to go. I’d have to grab a sandwich on our way out and eat it on the way to English, but it was worth it.
Alexis was all dreamy and said, “Can you imagine the exposure for the Cupcake Club? What if we’re mentioned in Celebrity magazine? You know how they always feature those big celebrity parties?”
We laughed because Alexis was always about the business and our exposure and growth. Then we parted ways, eager to reconvene after school and get cracking, as Katie said. I just hoped I could keep my mouth shut about my other cupcake job. Gulp.
We walked from school to Katie’s, brainstorming all the way. It was an unusually gorgeous day—warm and blue-skied, everything smelling great—and it made me happy just to be outside.
“Oh, I hope the weather stays like this for—” OMG. I almost said for Romaine’s wedding! Luckily, no one caught my hesitation.
“I know,” agreed Katie. “Even though the theater is inside the mall, Romaine would still have to run from her house to the car, so if it rained, it would ruin her hair.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, digging my palm with my nails to keep myself from saying any more. Thank goodness Katie had thought I was talking about the premiere.
At Katie’s, we gathered around the computer at her mom’s desk in the kitchen.
“Okay, the movie, One Sweet Summer, is about a woman who owns a candy store and falls in love with this politician who’s all about making people eat healthier and wants to make all these new health laws and close down her store,” said Alexis as she read from the movie’s website. She clicked on the button to watch the trailer and the music started up. Then Romaine came onscreen looking radiant, her blond hair cut shoulder length and swingy. She was dressed in white jeans and a red-and-white–striped sailor’s T-shirt—fresh and cute.
“Awww!” said my friends. I smiled, almost proudly.
The trailer went on to show how the handsome but strict politician wanted to shut down Romaine because her store was next to a school and the kids all came in and bought candy every day, and he thought it was making them unhealthy. But then it turned out she was helping kids with homework and giving good life advice and employing some of them and generally being an all-around good anchor for the neighborhood. And, as it turns out, none of the kids spent enough money to be unhealthy because they’re all poor; Romaine’s candy store is barely staying in business. So the handsome politician turns sweet and falls in love with her, and together they get the kids into eating healthier—I almost had to laugh because it’s what my mom says: You can eat treats, but it’s all about moderation—and it all ends well.
The trailer finished, and we all sighed happily.
“I can’t wait to see it!” said Katie, and we agreed.
“Will we get to see the movie on Friday?” asked Alexis.
“She didn’t say anything about that,” I said.
“That’s okay,” said Katie. “We still get to do the cupcakes!”
“So should we do candy-themed cupcakes?” I asked.
“That could be cute,” said Mia thoughtfully.
“Or should we focus on the premiere and do something movie-ish?” Katie wondered. “I saw something somewhere. . . .” She typed something into a search engine and pulled up some cute cupcakes with “popcorn” on top, wrapped in retro-striped popcorn bucket papers.
“Oooh!” We all loved them.
“Would they be hard to do?” I asked, leaning over Katie’s shoulder and squinting at the screen. “What are they made out of?”
“You take mini marshmallows and snip Xs into them, twist them into kernel shapes, and then mist them with yellow food coloring, so they look buttery.”
“And how about the popcorn bucket papers? Is that hard? ’Cause they kind of make it,” said Mia.
“These look like a lot of work. I liked Emma’s idea—candy-themed cupcakes. Maybe just make some traditional white cupcakes with white frosting and put colorful candies on top?” said Alexis sensibly.
“No, but that will look so amateur!” protested Katie. “What would Celebrity magazine say?”
Well, that got Alexis.
“We do need to put our best work forward,” she admitted.
“How hard could they be?” asked Mia.
“Do you have any mini marshmallows we could practice with?” I asked.
“No. Why don’t I get some supplies tonight with my mom, and we can do a trial baking session tomorrow, back here?”
We agreed that was a good idea.
“It’s really just printing out the templates for the wrappers and trimming them, and figuring out how to make the marshmallow popcorn look real,” Katie said.
“Right,” said Alexis.
“Ten dozen times,” I added. Just like the wedding cupcakes . . .
“Once we get the hang of it, it will be really easy,” said Mia confidently.
“Okay,” we agreed.
We did a little homework, had a snack, and then headed home for the evening. I felt much better about being able to share at least some Romaine info with my friends, but I was still carrying a big secret around with me. And it was about to get worse.
At home, my mom had just come in from work, and she was listening to the voice mail messages. I waved, and she waved back and kept on writing down who she needed to call back. And then there was one for me. It was Mona.
“Hello, darlings. It’s Mona!” she trilled on the voice mail. “I’d like to request the help of lovely Emma for Tuesday night. I apologize for the short notice, but we’ve got final fittings for our friend’s bridal party, and I would love Emma’s assistance. Please call me back! Hope you can make it, Emma! Kiss, kiss!”
That was the final message. My mom and I smiled at each other.
“Fun!” said my mom.
“I know! But oh! Bummer. I have a Cupcake Club meeting. And guess what?” I relayed the exciting news about the premiere cupcakes.
“Oh, that is so thoughtful of Romaine!” said my mom. “But it doesn’t really solve the issue of you baking all those cakes for Saturday by yourself, does it?”
I pursed my lips grimly. “Nuh-uh,” I said, shaking my head.
“Well, maybe the boys will help,” said my mom. We stared at each other silently for a moment.
Then we both laughed hysterically.
When we finished, we wiped our eyes, and I said, “I guess I’d better tell my friends about tomorrow. Maybe we can push the meeting to Wednesday.”
“Okay. Homework?”
“Not much. I did some already.”
“Great. Steak on the grill for dinner,” said my mom.
“Yum.”
Upstairs, I dashed off an e-mail to the gang, telling them I had to help Mona tomorrow night and if we could possibly postpone the meeting until Wednesday. Alexis quickly wrote back that it was fine, but perhaps we ought to start printing and trimming the wrappers in the meantime, which I thought was brilliant. She also asked Katie to send her pricing and quantity estimates, so she could work up a proposal for Romaine that would cover our costs. Katie readily agreed. Phew!
I was glad my friends were so flexible. I called Mona back and told her I could come tomorrow, and she said she’d come by my house and pick me up.
“Hey, have you been bothered by the press?” I asked before we hung up.
“Honey, you have no idea!” said Mona. “They’re like bees to honey over here. But I haven’t said a peep, and neither has anyone else.”
I told her about the guy from Celebrity magazine, and she was proud of me for not saying anything. “Those guys are tough,” she said. “We’ll make sure someone walks you to and from the car next time. You were smart to stay mum.”
“It’s easy staying mum with a stranger. It’s with my friends that are the tough part!”
“I know. It’s been hard for me too. Especially because it’s pretty excitin
g for The Special Day!”
It was true. I thought about how excited we were in the cafeteria today and how I was bursting to tell the others about the wedding cupcakes too. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be if I owned my own store and had such an exciting client. It would be impossible to stay quiet.
We hung up with promises to keep silent and said we were looking forward to the next day. I practiced my flute for a little while to use up some energy, then checked my e-mail one last time before I headed back downstairs to help with dinner. There was only one new e-mail. It was from Olivia, and it said, “Can I help with the cupcakes for the premiere?”
Of all the nerve! I groaned and shut off my computer without replying. I needed some steak for energy before tackling this one.
CHAPTER 6
Home Sweet Home
The next morning I checked my e-mail after I’d woken up. Alexis had sent a message with a schedule that said:
Hi, all—
How’s this:
Weds.: Sample session
Thurs.: Bake
Fri.: Assemble premiere cupcakes & bake minis for Mona
—A
I wrote back that it looked great and that as soon as she had an estimate, I would forward it to Romaine. “BTW,” I added, “Olivia Allen wants to help ”
It took only a second for Alexis to reply: “NO WAY!!!!!!!!!” The others quickly followed in the same vein. Oh boy. I sighed. I did not look forward to telling Olivia no.
Later at school, I thought I had avoided Olivia entirely, and as I was leaving school, I was sure I’d made a clean getaway. But then I heard my name being called, and I turned to find her running toward me, a few of her hangers-on following behind her. She came right up to my side and linked her arm though mine, saying, “Are we all set for Friday?”
“Uh . . . um . . .,” I stammered.
Olivia flipped her hair and smiled her boldest smile, looking at her friends who had caught up with us. “Wait, more important, what are you wearing?” she asked.
My stomach dropped. Did she know about the fitting tonight? But how could she? “For what?” I mustered.
Olivia laughed a twinkling fake laugh and swatted me. “The premiere, silly!”
“Oh . . . I . . . We don’t get to go to the premiere. We’re just baking cupcakes for it. It’s not like we’re invited.”
Olivia’s smile dropped instantly, and she unlinked her arm from mine. “Wait, I thought we were all going to the premiere!”
I shook my head and looked at her like she was crazy. “We, the Cupcake Club, are baking cupcakes, dropping them off, and going home. That’s all. We were never attending the actual event.”
Olivia scowled at me. “Then what were you all so excited for?”
“For our business to get recognition and from that, more clients!”
“OMG, that is so lame. Seriously?”
“Uh . . . yeah! Hello? We’ve worked really hard on the Cupcake Club, and it’s a big deal for us. Maybe our company’s name will be in the press.”
“What about your names? And photos?”
I shrugged. “I don’t care about that.” I was about to point out that as a local model, I see my photo in newspapers and magazines plenty, but that would be bragging, and I don’t like to do that. (Unfortunately, Olivia often brings out the braggy side of me, which I hate.)
“Wow. That is so lame,” Olivia said again, shaking her head as if she were disappointed with me.
“Sorry!” I said, hating myself for apologizing. But inside I was jumping for joy that Olivia had no interest in the event if she wouldn’t get to attend it herself. I hadn’t even had to tell her no! “Bye,” I added, and started to walk away.
“Hey!” called Olivia. I turned back. “How did you get this job, anyway?”
I grinned. “Romaine asked me to do it,” I said.
Then I turned again and walked quickly away, giggling as Olivia stood rooted to the spot.
Unlike my usual The Special Day routine, today Mona picked me up at my house rather than my mom dropping me off at the store. Mona was in an unmarked white van, and she looked kind of hilarious behind the wheel—so glamorous and decked out, but driving this big van.
She tooted the horn twice, and I kissed my mom good-bye and ran out. I had eaten a PB&J, so I wouldn’t get hungry while I worked, and I was dressed neatly but casually in white jeans, a pale blue T-shirt, and a cute rope belt, with blue-and-white–striped shoes.
Patricia hopped out of the front seat (“You look fabulous!” she said) and slid open the side door, so I could I clamber in and perch on the one bench seats in the back. Behind me was a cargo area with a rolling rack of dresses on it, all pastel colored except for Romaine’s big white, puffy one and the junior bridesmaid’s simple white one.
“Love the cute outfit! Buckle up, darling!” called Mona as she piloted the big van out of my driveway. Soon we were underway and headed to the far side of town. As we drew into Romaine’s neighborhood, the pieces of land got bigger, and the houses were farther apart. It was also hillier, as opposed to the flat area where my friends and I live.
We reached the bottom of a driveway with a white gate, and there was a little call box. I’d driven by here dozens of times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Romaine, but I’d never seen her outside, and you can’t see any part of the house from the road. (I’ve tried.) I was excited to see what it looked like. I knew it would be a huge mansion—maybe with an indoor and outdoor swimming pool and a six-car garage!
Mona pushed the call button, and a voice said, “Hello?”
Mona said, “Special delivery from The Special Day bridal salon!”
Then the voice said, “Hi! Come on up!” The white gates slowly began to swing open. Patricia looked back at me with wide, excited eyes, and I grinned like a maniac.
We started up the hill, and I held my breath until the mansion came into sight. After a curve or two in the driveway, we came to . . . a medium-size white house. It was very pretty, but honestly it didn’t look all that different from my house.
“This must be the guest house,” I said knowledgably.
“Actually . . .,” Mona began.
The front door flew open, and Romaine was there waving, with buttery yellow light spilling out from behind her and illuminating the porch, where a white wooden swing hung from chains and some white wicker furniture was casually arranged around a coffee table.
Mona eased the van up the hill and into the parking area by the back door where a basketball net stood over the blacktop play area next to a garage. There was an old blue SUV parked there, with all kinds of hockey and lacrosse stickers plastered across the back. I recognized the logo from one of Sam’s teams on one of the stickers. I craned my neck to see the rest of the house from out of the car’s window.
“Wait, this is it?” I asked incredulously. “It isn’t a mansion?”
“Well, it’s a beautiful house!” declared Mona.
“A lovely family home,” agreed Patricia.
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Oh. I thought . . .”
Romaine came bounding over to the van in sneakers and work-out clothes. “Not what you were expecting, I bet, after that security gate!” She laughed. “This is where I grew up. My parents refuse to move! We had to get the gate because of the press. Sorry.”
“I wouldn’t move either, darling,” said Mona smoothly. “It’s divine. Just divine.”
Romaine giggled. “Yeah, with my brothers’ and sisters’ height chart on the kitchen’s doorframe, and the front door scratched up from our puppy, who’s now six, and bunk beds in the attic guest room . . .”
“It’s home,” said Patricia definitively.
“And a beautiful home it is,” added Mona.
Romaine sighed, and for the first time I saw that she might be nervous or embarrassed to have us at her house, just like anyone would be. “It’s true. For better or for worse.” Then she giggled again. “Listen to me, I’m already in wedding mode! C
ome on in!”
Mona, Patricia, and I unloaded the van and began ferrying the dresses, shoes, and accessories into Romaine’s family room. Florence helped us, and it was done in no time flat. Mrs. Ford offered us drinks and cookies, but we declined and got down to business. It was time to talk about the wedding.
“Now let me show you how this all will work,” began Mona as she gestured to the items for Mrs. Ford, Romaine, and Florence. “Everyone has a color, and it is all coded on this chart.” She handed a laminated sheet to Mrs. Ford. “Each person’s shoes, dress, and any other accessories—like the veil, in your case, Romaine—are color coded with a sticker on the outside of their box or dress bag. See?” She gestured to Florence’s dress, with its pale green sticker, then to a nearby shoe box, again with the pale green sticker, and finally to a clear plastic tub that held a hair clip and the green sticker on the outside. “The number of items per person are noted next to her name and color. For example, you can see Florence only has three items and here they all are.”
“Wow,” Romaine said breathlessly.
“This is so fabulous. Just amazing. I am very impressed,” said Mrs. Ford, looking up with a big smile. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you so much!” said Romaine.
Mona beamed proudly, and Patricia and I joined in.
Mona continued, “Now, the morning of the wedding, I will be here at nine a.m. sharp and will help everyone into their dresses. I will be at your disposal for any last-minute alterations and Patricia will be here with our store’s car, and she can dash anywhere we need to pick up anything. We will have extra stockings, no-slip pads for the shoes, hankies, stain remover—our usual emergency kit. Not that there will be any emergencies, of course! Just know we are prepared for anything.”
“Great,” said Romaine. “The wedding starts at twelve thirty, so they want us dressed for photos by eleven. Hair and makeup are coming at . . . ugh . . . seven thirty, so they can do everyone.”
“And, of course, the caterers will be crawling all over, setting things up, and the tent . . .,” added Mrs. Ford.
