by Coco Simon
“And the cupcakes will be arriving!” Romaine said, smiling in my direction.
I smiled back, nodding, but I gulped nervously at the same time. Now that I was in the middle of it, I was feeling like maybe it hadn’t been so smart to accept this big-league job, and all on my own, too. But it was too late to back out now. The wedding was only four days away! Oh boy. I felt nauseated all of a sudden. What had I gotten myself into?
I caught Mona’s eye and saw her looking at me with a concerned look on her face. Her brows were knitted together with worry. But then she quickly smoothed away the expression and looked happily and expectantly at Mrs. Ford.
Mrs. Ford said, “Why don’t I show you around, so you have the lay of the land. That way you won’t need me on Saturday morning, since I’ll be running around like a chicken with my head cut off!”
We followed Mrs. Ford on a tour of the house. It was very pretty and very comfortable. It was larger than my house or those of my friends, and it had bigger rooms and was more “decorated,” but not over-the-top at all. The living room and family room had coordinated upholstery on the furniture, with pretty printed fabric and coordinating throw pillows. There was bright lighting everywhere, which created a nice homey feel. The kitchen had new appliances and was all crisp and white and clean. She showed us the backyard and the long sweep of grass where the tent was being put up tomorrow and the tree with the swing where Liam had proposed to Romaine. The garden had hot-pink peonies in bloom, and the pale purple lilacs along the back of the house perfumed the air with a gorgeous, sweet scent. I looked at the yard and thought it was the perfect spot to get married.
Romaine still shared a room with her sister upstairs, and they still had their awards from camp and cheerleading all around, plus a poster from her school play when Romaine was the star. Eat your heart out, Celebrity magazine! I wanted to yell. And How do you like this, Olivia Allen? But of course I didn’t. I just stayed quiet as Mrs. Ford explained where the bridal party would be getting dressed (in Romaine’s other sister’s room) and where Romaine would be getting ready (in the master bedroom), and she and Mona discussed in what order and timing they should do it all.
“I can’t believe this is all really happening!” Romaine said to me, girlish and sweet as the “adults” took care of the details. “I’ve been looking forward to it for so long. I can’t believe I’ll get to be Mrs. Liam Carey after this weekend! It’s so amazing!”
“When does your fiancé get here?” I asked. I didn’t want to pry, but I felt like I could reveal at least a small amount of my huge enthusiasm for the event.
Romaine sighed happily. “Tomorrow. We’re going to sneak over to Green Lake for a private dinner at his friend’s restaurant. Just the two of us! I hope we can pull it off.”
I winced, thinking of the reporter stalking little old me. “I hope so too. That would be a nice start to the weekend.”
“It’s going to be so wild having his family here, and our closest friends, all together in one place—the people we love the most! This is why I wanted to do a backyard wedding, with a sit-down lunch. Having it here made the choices obvious because the numbers had to be small. That’s why we’re only having a hundred guests for the lunch.”
A hundred people still sounded like a lot to me. Especially if you were making cupcakes for all of them. “I totally get it,” I said. “It’s going to be great. What are you serving for the meal?”
Romaine described a luncheon that included Liam’s favorite (chicken curry with rice and chutney) and hers (filet of beef with horseradish cream sauce on the side); green salad; skinny green beans; roasted potatoes with shallots; amazing rolls and breads with a cheese platter; and the cupcakes (my cupcakes!), with small platters of handmade chocolates shipped in from her cousin’s sweets store in Portland, Oregon.
“Yum! That sounds soooo delicious!” I said. My mouth was watering. “I think I’d like to have lunch in my backyard for my wedding too.”
Romaine nodded happily. “It’s perfect. We might have a big blowout at some nightclub when we get back to LA, invite all the people we have to, let the press in. But this Saturday will just be for us.”
“Fun,” I said, and we smiled happily at each other.
“Now you understand why I need your silence,” she said.
“I always understood,” I replied. It was true.
“Thanks,” said Romaine. “I really appreciate it.”
And I knew she did. I just hadn’t known how hard it would be to actually follow.
CHAPTER 7
Never Enough Hours in the Day
We were at the Fords’ for about an hour and a half—Mona did a final fitting on Romaine’s dress on the spot—and then it was time to go. We left everything neatly organized but out of the way, and Mona and Patricia promised they were on call until the event.
“See you Friday with the movie cupcakes,” said Romaine. “And I’ll see you some time Saturday morning, right?” said Romaine.
“Yup! Can’t wait!” I agreed.
Once we were safely in the van and out of the Fords’ driveway, Mona looked at me in the rearview mirror and said, “Okay, tell the truth: What’s up with the cupcakes for Saturday?”
“I . . . What . . . Wait . . .” I was speechless.
Mona grinned. “I knew it! I could tell by that funny look you got on your face when Romaine mentioned the cupcakes that something was up. Tell me everything.”
I figured it’d be okay to tell Mona and Patricia about the cupcakes since they already knew about the wedding. So I took a deep breath and explained to them as we drove back to my house about the ten dozen pastel-colored cupcakes Romaine expected for Saturday and how I’d have to bake, frost, and box them all on my own late on Friday night and on Saturday morning and how I couldn’t tell any of my friends and I felt dishonest doing business as the Cupcake Club when it was just me and how we now had these premiere cupcakes to do too, and so on and so on. By the time I finished, we’d been sitting in my driveway for five minutes and my mom had come out to make sure everything was okay. I’d waved her back in and said I’d be right along.
At the end of the telling, I sighed, and so did Mona and Patricia.
“Well, that is complicated,” agreed Patricia.
“Let me think about this overnight. I bet we can come up with a plan to help you,” said Mona.
“Thanks,” I said. “I think I can do it, but it’s just a lot. And I hate keeping secrets from my friends. Also, I don’t want to do a bad job, you know?”
“Running a business is very complicated; as much as I enjoy being on my own, it helps to have confidantes and coworkers to bounce things off. I can’t imagine doing it alone. Listen, I’ll call you in the morning. You’re not alone. And thanks for your help tonight,” said Mona, sliding a white envelope from The Special Day to me.
“Mona! I didn’t do anything! You can’t pay me to take a tour of Romaine Ford’s childhood home. I should be paying you!”
“Stop this silliness. I’ve never met anyone like you. You never want any of my money. Come on. Take it!” She flapped the envelope at me.
Patricia nodded. “Go on.”
I sighed heavily and took the envelope.
“That’s my girl!” said Mona with a cackle. “Never forget you’re a businesswoman! Don’t sell yourself short!”
“Thanks. And thank you for taking me. It was a really fun night and a major privilege. I was proud to be there with you two.”
“We were proud to have you, darling!” said Mona, and then to Patricia, “Isn’t she divine?”
“Just divine.” Patricia smiled, and I got out of the van.
The next morning I had an e-mail from Mona. “Call me, darling. I have a brilliant idea!”
I could hardly resist from calling, but it was only six thirty, so it would have to wait until at least lunchtime.
At our lockers that morning, Katie told me she had all the supplies for the premiere samples and we should meet at the bik
e rack after school to go to Alexis’s house for our baking session. She was so excited and happy and nice about it. My tongue hurt where I had to bite it, so I wouldn’t tell her about my evening at Romaine Ford’s house. It was eating me up inside to keep all this incredible news a secret from my best friends. I felt like a traitor—like someone I didn’t even know. How could I be doing this?
At lunch I snuck into the girls’ bathroom and managed a call to Mona.
“Emma, darling! Why do you sound like you’re calling me from the train station?”
I laughed. “I’m in the bathroom at school!”
“Then I’ll make this quick. Tell your friends I need ten dozen cupcakes for an event Saturday morning. We can route the billing through me—everything. Just follow the specifications Romaine gave to you, and you can even deliver them here if you’d like, early though, because we’ll be leaving by eight thirty to go to the Fords’.”
“Oh, Mona!” I breathed a huge sigh of relief. “That is a perfect idea.”
“I realize you still can’t tell your friends the complete truth, but this is better than nothing, yes?”
“Yes! Thank you! I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you soon!”
I was flooded with relief at the idea of sharing this new cover story with the Cupcakers. Now they could help me and I wouldn’t have to do it all alone or risk coming up with some dumb lie.
I left the stall and who was standing there but Olivia Allen, slowly washing her hands and looking at me in the mirror.
“Good news?” she asked finally.
Frantically, I replayed my end of the conversation in my mind. Had I given anything away? I didn’t think so. Oh boy. I decided I’d better wash my hands too, which I did quickly and without making any more eye contact with Olivia.
But still, as I left, Olivia said, “Good luck,” (not that nicely, by the way) and began applying clear lip gloss. The whole encounter left me rattled.
And yet again I found myself at lunch with big news to deliver to the Cupcake Club.
“Ready?” I began.
“Oh boy,” joked Mia. “What’s next? Romaine Ford’s wedding cake?”
“Ha-ha.” I laughed weakly. OMG. How did she guess that right off the bat? “No, just a big job from Mona. Very exciting. Great exposure,” I added meaningfully as I looked at Alexis. She nodded like an executive waiting at a boardroom table for the underling to begin her presentation, which is what I felt like.
“So what is it?” asked Katie excitedly.
I plastered a smile on my face. “Instead of her usual order of mini cupcakes, Mona needs ten dozen regular cupcakes Saturday morning for a huge bridal event she’s having. Easy, breezy: white cake, pastel frosting, a few with mild flavorings, like lemon or raspberry. Great, right?”
But everyone just stared at me blankly.
Finally, Alexis said, “Well, you explained we can’t do it, right? And why, of course?”
“Why did Mona wait until the eleventh hour to ask us this?” asked Katie in confusion. “She’s usually so organized.”
“Uh . . . I,” I said. “I think it was kind of a spontaneous thing. . . . It just . . . came together.”
“Ten dozen cupcakes doesn’t sound spontaneous!” said Mia. “Do you think we might have been her backup? Like someone else fell through?”
I turned back to Alexis. “Wait, what do you mean we can’t do it?” I said.
“There’s no way we can get all that work done—not if we want fresh cupcakes . . .,” said Alexis.
“Or pretty ones!” added Katie
“I’m sure we could charge whatever we need to, uh, get the job done?” I asked.
“That’s not the point,” said Alexis slowly. “We still have to go to school on Friday. There’s just not enough hours in the day.”
“But Mona’s our best client!” I protested. Now I was starting to feel panicky. If the Cupcake Club didn’t agree to do this baking with me, I was back to doing it all alone—and in defiance of the club’s decision to decline the job!
“I know, but she’s not really playing by the rules,” said Alexis, cool as a cucumber. I wanted to throttle her right then, even if she is my best friend.
“Listen, I have a good relationship with Mona, and I don’t want to ruin it. We were going to have to do her minis for this week, anyway. This is just a slightly larger order. What if . . . what if I come up with a plan, a larger workforce, to help us get this done? Would you agree to that? We could do it at my house.”
The other three looked at one another and shrugged.
“I guess?” said Mia. “How many people could you possibly pull in?”
“And when?” asked Alexis.
“Just trust me. Let me see what I can organize tonight,” I said grimly.
“We’ll still meet up for the after-school baking session today in the meantime,” said Katie.
“Right,” we all agreed, and we headed our separate ways to class.
At Alexis’s house, no one made mention of the cupcakes for Mona. It was like they definitely weren’t happening unless I figured out a way to make everything work. It made me really mad. After all, here I was, dropping this movie premiere job in everyone’s lap . . . I was the one who got us this job, after all, and it was a concession, anyway! We wouldn’t even be doing it if I hadn’t agreed to bake the wedding cupcakes! They had the chance to bake the wedding cupcakes themselves, and they were too stubborn or lazy to do it. Granted, they didn’t know what they were turning down, but why should I have to tell them? Mona was our best and more regular client. If there was anyone we should be doing a favor for, it was her!
I mostly stayed silent as Katie demonstrated how to twist and pull the mini marshmallows together to form lumpy-looking popcorn. Mia, meanwhile, sprayed the lumps with the yellow food coloring, and Alexis was trimming the striped popcorn bag papers. None of it was that hard; it was just time-consuming. And the truth was, it didn’t look as amazing as it had in the photos. I didn’t dare say anything, but I wondered if the others were thinking it too.
After about an hour of work had only produced a stack of around fifteen papers and ten lumps of “popcorn,” I said, “Are we sure we want to do this design? It seems slow going.”
Everyone turned to look at me.
“Well, we’re doing the prep now. We’ll have time. We can store the marshmallows in Tupperware and just assemble the cupcakes on Friday afternoon,” said Katie.
“When are we baking them?” I asked.
“It will have to be tomorrow, after school,” she replied.
Alexis smacked her forehead. “I need to do a run to the bake shop and get some more bulk sugar and flour tonight. Oh, I hope my mom can take me.”
“Make sure you get enough for . . .” I almost said “Romaine’s cupcakes.” I caught myself in time. “Mona’s . . .”
Alexis sighed. “I don’t know if we’re even doing those, and you know I don’t like to carry such a big inventory of dry goods; they get stale so fast. We just don’t need that much flour sitting around if we’re not sure we’re doing the job, you know?” She looked at me kind of defiantly.
“We’re doing it,” I said firmly.
The others exchanged uneasy looks.
“Look, Em, why don’t you walk us through the timeline? How do you could see us doing this?” Alexis asked.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, we do the popcorn and paper trimming tonight. As much as we can, I guess. Then tomorrow night we bake; at my house would be easiest, since we’ll keep everything in one place for assembly and delivery. Friday afternoon we assemble the popcorn cupcakes and start to bake . . . Mona’s cupcakes. Friday night after the premiere we finish baking Mona’s cupcakes. Then Saturday morning we frost and deliver.”
“And we deliver to the premiere when?” asked Alexis.
“Six o’clock on Friday.”
“And when do we make the pastel-colored frostings?” asked Katie, her face scrunched up. At least she looked like she
was trying to make it work rather than catch me in some harebrained scheme, which was what Alexis was doing.
“Look, I’m not an idiot! We’ve been in tight spots before. We can do this. We won’t have a lot of time to hang around the premiere. We’ll need to get home to keep working but . . .” I caught the girls exchanging uneasy looks. “Wait . . .,” I said. “Is this all because you want to go to the premiere? Seriously? We’re not even invited!”
Mia burst in, wailing, “I know! But we want to at least look great and watch all the stars file in!”
“It’s such an opportunity! We could bring our cameras! Get autographs!” agreed Katie.
I looked at Alexis. She shrugged and looked away, like she was embarrassed to admit it. “Guys,” I said. “We’re going to the premiere as professionals. Sure, we can linger for a little bit and see who’s there, but we’ve got to get back to work. Come on. Alexis, you of all people should understand!”
“But Trent Channing will be there!” she cried.
“OMG,” I said, and I put my head in my hands and shook it from side to side. I can’t compete with Trent Channing. But maybe there was someone who could. . . .
CHAPTER 8
All Hands on Deck
Matt, I am not kidding. I will literally pay you. I will do anything! I’ll give you whatever you want! Seriously! Please!”
Matt was looking at me with a glint in his eye as his feet rested on my desk. He was tipped back in my chair, with his hands locked behind his head, and as he surveyed my room, I knew what was coming next.
“This,” he said finally.
“Oh, Matt.”
I’m the only one with a good bedroom. Matt and Sam share, and it drives them both crazy. (Sam is a slob and Matt is neat. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I can never tell. It always looks gross in there to me.) Jake sleeps in a former tiny closet that my mom keeps saying is going to stunt his growth. Since I’m the only girl, I have a glorious bedroom redone by my mom and me, and everyone in the house wants it.
“What? You said anything!” He thunked the chair legs back down to the floor and stood up to leave. “I guess you weren’t serious!”
