While they bake, I make the frosting with the same precision I made the batter, and by the time they’re done and frosted, I am quite pleased with my first attempt at going this alone.
“Ready to taste?” I ask Holly.
“Sure!” she says, jumping off her stool. “Then we’ll decorate.”
I cut one of the spice cakes down the center and give half to Holly. We bite at the same time, and both nearly squeal with delight at how good it tastes. It’s almost like a chocolate covered Red Hot.
“Can, this is amazing!” Holly licks the frosting off her fingers. “How did you do it?”
“I don’t know!” I shrug nonchalantly, but I can’t stop the wide grin that comes to my lips. “I was just really careful, you know? I mean, I was so nervous—I wanted to make sure I got them just right.”
“Well, it paid off. Nice work.”
As the morning wears on, I relax into the job. We have lots of orders to fill on top of the regular flavors we put in the display. By the end of the day, I’ve made close to two hundred cupcakes and all I want to do is curl up in bed and watch reality TV.
But then Colin walks through the door to the kitchen, his smile wide, and I forget all about how tired I am.
“Hi, Colin,” I chirp. “How’s everything out front?”
“Great!” He crosses the room to plant a kiss on Holly’s cheek. “About ready?”
“Yep!” Holly finishes packing up her stuff and puts her apron on the hook. “See you tomorrow, Candy.”
And then they’re gone. I plop onto the nearest kitchen stool, feeling a little bit sorry for myself. Watching my sister come and go with the man I’m falling madly in love with is getting to be painful. Pure torture, really.
“Hey, Candace?”
I look up to see one of the high school girls from out front peeking at me around the door.
“What’s up, Caroline?”
“Um, there’s someone here to see you. Mrs. Shoemaker. She says it’s about her order.”
I cock my head like a confused puppy. “Really?”
“Yeah, she picked it up this morning, but…well, she says there was a problem with them.”
A problem? I know for sure those cupcakes were perfect. What kind of problem could there be? They were too good?
Either way, I have to talk to her. “Tell her I’ll be right out.”
Caroline looks out to the shop, then back at me. “Actually,” she says with a little trepidation in her voice. “She says it’s private. She’d like to speak with you back here.”
I’m not a big fan of letting customers into the kitchen. It’s not like we have roaches or anything, but still…
“She’s really insistent about it,” Caroline adds.
I give in. I’m too tired to argue. “Fine. Send her back.”
While I wait, I smooth out my apron and smooth down my hair, hoping to make a good “grown up” impression for my third grade teacher.
I’m slightly taken aback when Mrs. Shoemaker comes through the door. It’s been more than twenty years since I’ve seen her, but somehow I think she looks better now than she did then.
She stops short when she sees me. “Who are you?” she says, her brow furrowed.
I give her a big smile. “I’m Candace. Candace Cooper,” I say, just in case my first name doesn’t ring a bell.
“Where is Dottie?” Her tone has turned all teacher-y, as if she’s asking for me to procure an eraser she knows I’ve put up my nose.
“Um, probably halfway to Venezuela by now.”
Mrs. Shoemaker blinks. “What are you talking about?”
I shake my head. I need to spell this out for her, I think. “Dottie is my mom. She and my dad are gone—they’ve turned the bakery over to my sister and me so they can sail the world on a cruise ship.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Shoemaker says, her brow furrowing slightly. “I hadn’t realized—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence. “So, you baked my cupcakes today?”
I gulp. “Mmm-hmm.”
She takes a sharp breath through her nose and says, “Well, you did it wrong.”
I’m floored. Those cupcakes were perfect! “I-I don’t understand,” I say, getting all flustered and warm. “Holly and I tested them ourselves. They were delicious.”
“I didn’t say they didn’t taste good.”
I take a step back, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. “Well, then what could be the problem?”
Now Mrs. Shoemaker is turning red. I’m so confused. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about,” she says, lowering her voice a bit. “Especially with a young thing like you.”
I like the sound of “young thing.”
“But your mother always made the cupcakes for me with a certain…idea in mind.”
Oh, God. The spoon.
“And it’s never failed to work for us. My husband and I, I mean.” She moves a little closer to me. “Today was different, though. He was so focused but not in the right way, you see. He felt so pressured to do it properly that, well…he couldn’t perform.” She whispers this last part as if it will make it easier for me to digest.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the bile from rising into my throat. Are we really talking about what I think we’re talking about? Am I really talking to my third grade teacher about her sex life? “I’m sorry?” I offer, not quite sure what to say in this situation.
“Look, Candace. I had a very intimate relationship with your mother. I know what she’s capable of, so we needn’t beat around the bush. Do you have the same abilities as your mother?”
“Can you clarify abilities?” I ask, wondering if Mrs. Shoemaker knows more about all this than I do.
She moves a step closer to me. “Magical abilities.”
The word magical hangs in the air for a moment. Is she serious? Is that really what this is all about? The change? No, it can’t be.
“I don’t know,” I say, still trying to sort everything out in my head. “I knew something was supposed to happen to me on my twenty-ninth birthday, but my birthday has come and gone, and I don’t feel any differently.”
Mrs. Shoemaker is eyeing me warily. “Do you mean to say your mother left town without ever explaining what was happening to you?”
I shake my head. “No…I mean, yes. I mean, she told me there would be the change. She taught me to ‘focus my energy’ when mixing the batter. But she kept saying it would all be clearer when I turned twenty-nine.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Shoemaker’s brow is furrowed in genuine concern for me.
“So, are you trying to tell me that I’m…magical?” I ask, trying but failing to wrap my mind around the concept.
“Perhaps you should call your mother.” Mrs. Shoemaker squirms a bit. “Ask her to iron out the details. In the meantime, I’d like you to try my order again.”
“Okay,” I say, attempting to shift gears along with her.
“What were you thinking about when you made my order this morning?” she asks.
“Just…getting it right. It’s my first day going it alone, so I was very careful, very precise. I wanted them to be perfect.”
Mrs. Shoemaker raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to catch on.
“Oh, my God.”
“Exactly.”
“You mean, I…he…?” I can’t find the words.
“Yes,” she says. Clearly she knew what my mumbling meant, even though I didn’t. “Now, I would like for you to make me another batch of cupcakes, free of charge. This time, get it right.” With that, Mrs. Shoemaker pushes through the swinging kitchen door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Good God. I have the ability to affect people’s sex lives? No, no, no. This is way too much. I didn’t want this responsibility.
What am I saying, anyway? This is absurd! What am I? Sabrina the Almost-30-year-old Witch?
The kitchen door finally swings to a complete close, but I can’t take my eyes off of it. I’m too much in shock. Sure, Mom told me this would happen, just not in s
o many words.
Damn it! Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I take her seriously and ask more questions? Now she’s halfway around the world with no cell reception, and I’m on my own.
Fine. I can do this. I just have to…
I gulp. One thing I will not do is picture Mrs. and Mr. Shoemaker having sex. No, I’ll have to replace it with a positive sexual experience of my own. Ha! Last time I had one of those was—
Oh, God. As I wrack my brain, I realize I can’t come up with anything. Not a single, positive sexual encounter. Sure, I’ve dated and slept with a lot of men, but the sex has never been “Bake me into a cake” great. So what am I supposed to do?
I look around the room for inspiration, but among the mixing bowls and baking tins, I find nothing.
“Hey, Candy!”
“Colin?” I whirl around, surprised to see him back in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” Did you finally realize you’re madly in love with me and not my sister?
“Holly forgot her sweater,” he says as he pulls it off the hook at the other end of the room. “We’re gonna take a boat ride. Wouldn’t want her catching a chill.”
I give him a half smile, trying to hide my utter disappointment and jealousy. “No, of course not. Have fun!”
He waves as he pushes through the door, and then he’s gone.
“Well, I couldn’t have asked for better inspiration,” I say to myself, and then set to work on the new batch of cupcakes for Mrs. Shoemaker.
Thirteen
Apparently the Colin-infused cupcakes worked like a charm for Mrs. Shoemaker and her husband. She even sent a thank you note to tell me so. And since then, I’ve been a believer. Both in magic and in my abilities. It still isn’t easy to wrap my mind around, but I’m forced to accept it for the sake of our customers.
The custom orders have piled in every day, much to my amazement. is it possible this many people know about their magical qualities? And if they do, why haven’t I realized it before? I mean, I was raised by the former Cupcake Witch, wasn’t I?
Or maybe I wasn’t supposed to find out. Maybe Mom was putting spells on all my food when I was growing up so I wouldn’t catch on.
“Earth to Candy!”
I snap to attention and turn to my sister, my mouth agape.
“I think you burned the caramel.”
Surely enough, smoke was rising from the pot on the stove. “You didn’t want to help?” I run across the room, click off the burner and remove the pot from the heat.
“Sorry,” Holly says. “I’m knee-deep in fondant pumpkins over here.”
Right. For the most obscene cupcake we make: Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater. Colin was definitely working overtime in my mind while I stirred that batter.
Colin bursts through the door, and heat infuses my cheeks. What timing.
“Hey, honey,” he says to Holly, then he turns to me. “Candy.”
I smile. “Hi.”
“Listen,” Holly says, hopping off her stool. “I really appreciate this. You sure you feel comfortable?”
Colin brushes her off with a wave of his hand. “Of course. How hard can it be?”
I watch the two of them with a scowl in my brow. What are they talking about?
“Just make sure you put the right decoration on the right cupcake, all right?”
“Got it.” Colin kisses Holly on her lips—an action that has me turning away to stare intently at the Electromix. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Um, excuse me,” I say, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “What’s going on here?”
Holly grabs her bag and sweater, then turns to me. “Don’t you remember? I have a dentist appointment this afternoon. Colin is going to fill in for me.”
My jaw drops. “What do you mean? He doesn’t know how to mold fondant.”
Holly’s laugh grates on my nerves. “Wow, you really have been in La-La Land lately, haven’t you?” She crosses the room and puts an arm around my shoulder. “All the decorations are done. Colin is just going to put them on the cupcakes when they’re ready.”
“Oh.” I hate how sweaty my palms are and how short and spasmodic my breath is at the thought of spending the day alone with Colin. Sure, we’ll be working, but still…we’ll be alone.
Images of him sweeping all the fondant toppers to the floor, then throwing me onto the table and having his way with me fill my head. I can’t stop them.
“All right, see you later! You two behave yourselves!”
I practically snort with nervous laughter at that last warning. “We’ll try!” I yell back, feeling like a complete idiot.
“So, what do you need me to do?” Colin asks as I turn around. God, I hate how hot my cheeks feel.
“Um, well…I—” Come on, Candace, pull yourself together. “These!” I reach for a tin of Hakuna Matatas and slide them down the stainless steel table. “They get the little pineapples.”
“Great!”
Colin sets to work and I go back to the stove, determined not to let the caramel filling burn this time. As I stand over the pot, stirring the golden sugar, the silence starts to get to me. It shouldn’t. I mean, we’re working, after all. Conversation isn’t necessary. But it’s killing me.
“So,” I begin, my tone so cheerfully alarming that I make Colin jump on his stool. “Things are going well with Holly?”
If Colin wasn’t able to see me, I would slap my forehead for my stupidity. Why on earth would I bring up his relationship with my sister?
Okay, I know why. Half of me hopes he’ll admit things are going poorly and then I’ll have my chance. My chance to jump in and say something wise, like, “Life is too short to spend it with someone you’re not crazy about.”
“God, yeah,” he says, looking up from the tiny pineapples, a dreamy expression on his face. “She’s amazing. I swear I’ve never had such an easy time in a relationship.”
“Oh,” I say, and then realize that Oh sounded surprised, which it was, but I don’t want Colin to think I’m not supportive. So I repeat my, “Oh,” and add, “Well, that’s just awesome!”
Oh, God. Overkill, for sure. But Colin doesn’t seem to notice, drunk on love as he is.
“I mean, we hardly ever argue,” he continues, much to my personal dismay. “No fights over where to eat or what to watch on TV. I guess that’s what happens when you date someone you actually have something in common with.”
He laughs, and so I laugh with him. It’s totally forced—not at all genuine sounding. But I’m starting to feel desperate. Holly is sinking her talons deeper and deeper into Colin, and soon, he won’t even know I exist. I have to do something.
“Well,” I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Sometimes you can have too much in common, you know?” God, I’m diabolical.
Colin cocks his head and gives me a questioning grin. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “Oh, you know…it’s just that I dated this guy once and we literally had everything in common. It was like dating myself.” I laugh, desperate to lighten the mood now that I’ve planted a seed of doubt in Colin’s mind. “But really, there should only be one of me. Trust me. It didn’t end pretty.”
Colin nods thoughtfully. “I can see what you mean,” he says, topping another cupcake with a miniature pineapple. “But thankfully Holly and I don’t have everything in common. Just the stuff that matters. And it’s the mutual respect we have for the things we don’t have in common that probably matters more. Maybe that’s what was missing in your relationship.”
I look down at the bubbling caramel and roll my eyes. Great. Now he’s giving me advice on a fictional relationship. This conversation has gone way off course. “Yeah, probably,” I say, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.
“Hey, Candy!” Caroline bounds through the door of the kitchen, saving me from having to say anything else on the topic. “Another special order. She wants to know if you can have them done by six o’clock tonight.”
I loo
k at the pink order form. Fall for Me.
I glance at Colin. He’s hard at work topping the cupcakes, so he doesn’t see me studying him with my lust-glazed eyes. God, he’s gorgeous. His dark hair rests gently atop his perfect head, outlining his stunning features. Those eyes, that nose, those lips…
“Yeah,” I say, turning back to Caroline, while the most evil plan I’ve ever had formulates in my mind. “Six o’clock is fine.”
I know it’s wrong. I really know it is. But deep down, at the heart of me, I’m a ruthless, cunning businesswoman. At least I used to be. Surely I can conjure that side of me up again.
Besides, what good is it to have magical powers if you can’t use them for yourself?
Fourteen
As I help Colin put the finishing touches on the Fall for Me cupcakes, I watch his hands intently. They’re so strong, so sure as he nestles the abstract white chocolate drizzle into the frosting. I let my gaze trail up his arms to his face, his blue eyes so focused on getting the decorations just right. It’s time to put my plan to work—test my abilities. I put all my heart and soul into these cupcakes. If he doesn’t fall in love with me, I’ll know I’m just a hoax.
“Oh, man,” I say, knowing it must sound calculated, but acting was never my strong suit. “I made too many.”
Colin looks at me, but I keep my eyes on the cupcakes, staring confusedly at them. “You could probably just put them out front, couldn’t you?”
“Oh,” I say, caught slightly off guard. Of course I should put the extras on the floor…but I can’t. “I could…but why don’t you take some of them? It’s the least I can do for all your help today.”
“It was really no trouble.” He flashes me a smile so genuine I wonder if maybe just smelling my cupcakes has already done something to him.
“Still…” I smile back. “I’d love to send some home with you.”
I grab a box and put some cupcakes in, but Colin holds up a hand to stop me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Just one is fine.”
“Just one?” I echo. He can’t take just one. I need him to take several—I want to make sure this works.
The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy) Page 15
