Confectionately Yours #3: Sugar and Spice (10 page)

“I
s it Thursday already?” I tease as I walk into the café. Mr. Malik’s usual Thursday bouquet is already installed by the cash register, and he and Gran are chatting over tea at one of the small tables near the front.

“I pride myself on my constancy,” Mr. Malik says, and he smiles over the rim of his teacup.

“A most overlooked virtue,” Gran agrees. “Especially these days. It’s as if everyone has Attention Deficit Disorder.”

“Gran!” I say.

“Well, everyone’s checking their little devices and tapping away with their thumbs,” Gran says with a sniff. She frowns at a nearby girl with a lip ring, who is texting madly.

“Ah, but this is how people communicate,” Mr. Malik says. “This is the new talking.”

“I prefer the old talking.”

“As do I, when it is with you, my dear Mrs. Wilson.” Mr. Malik’s mustache twitches into a smile, and my grandmother laughs.

Mom is behind the counter as I tuck my book bag into a small cupboard and then go to wash my hands. When I get back, Marco is sitting on a stool, eating the last peppermint-patty cupcake.

“Hey!” I feel unreasonably happy to see him.

Marco smiles, but he can’t talk because he’s chewing.

“Hayley, sweetheart, I don’t know if you were planning to make more cupcakes,” Mom begins, and I hold up a hand.

“On it,” I tell her.

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Okay with you if I go check our supplies in the back? The monthly order is due today.”

“Sure, Mom. I’m here. And Gran’s right there, if I need help.” I nod over at Gran and Mr. Malik’s table, where they are laughing heartily, probably over some obscure literary reference.

Mom heads toward the back, and I pull out the mixing bowls and sugar, flour, butter, and cocoa.

“Refill on the chocolate cupcakes?” Marco asks as he pulls out his video camera.

“They ain’t gonna bake themselves,” I reply. “Marco, you aren’t going to put this up on YouTube or something, are you?”

“Why — are you scared I’ll reveal your secret ingredients?” Marco asks, breaking off another piece of cupcake and popping it into his mouth. He doesn’t stop filming, though. “So how’s the talent show going?” he asks.

“What’s this about a talent show?” Mr. Malik asks, tuning in from his table.

“Hayley and her good friend are organizing the whole event,” Gran boasts. She really seems proud. It’s so cute.

Mr. Malik is, of course, the perfect audience for her bragging. He looks genuinely impressed. “Organizing the whole thing?” he repeats. “That’s a big project! And will you be in the show?”

I laugh a little. “I don’t have any talents.”

“Cupcakes are your talent,” Marco says.

I measure out the flour. “Well,” I say as I sift it into a bowl, “Artie doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“So what?” Marco demands.

“So — I don’t want to embarrass Artie.” I realize as I say this that I’m still hoping she’ll help us with the show. She’s the one who knows the most about theater, after all.

“I’m not getting this. Cupcakes are your life.” Marco smashes a few chocolate crumbs with his finger and then pops them into his mouth.

“Yeah … but performing isn’t my life.” The mixer makes a low bumblebee hum as I cream the sugar and butter. “And it
is
Artie’s life. I don’t want to screw it up for her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s my friend, Marco!” My voice is louder than I intended, but Marco just nods. He turns off the camera. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I say.

“You didn’t,” Marco replies. He pushes away his empty plate. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Tanisha.”

“Another movie?” It makes me a little sick to ask.

“Math homework,” Marco explains. “See you.”

Well, that was short. Still, it was better than nothing. I work on the cupcakes a little longer, mixing in the flour and cocoa, then adding spices. I fill the cupcake liners and slide everything into the oven.

I’m wiping down the counter when Mr. Malik says good-bye, and Gran comes to join me. “What a pleasant afternoon,” she says with a soft sigh.

The bell over the door jingles as Mr. Malik makes his way out into the cold winter air, back to his flower shop.

“But you don’t look happy, my dear,” Gran says. She peers at me closely, as if she can see through my skin, right down deep into the center of me.

“It’s hard to be around Artie sometimes,” I confess.

“Ah, Artie.” Gran frowns.

“I thought we were becoming friends again, but …” I shake my head. “Ever since she stabbed me in the back, I don’t know what to think.”

Gran nods. “Well, sometimes you just need to … reevaluate.”

“What?”

“Artie used to be your best friend. Then, for a while, she was your enemy.” Gran wipes away some coffee grounds, thoughtful. “Perhaps she isn’t quite either.”

“What is she, then? My frenemy?”

“I have no idea what that means,” Gran says. “I think she’s just your friend … with flaws.”

“Yeah.” I think about that. I think of Marco, who once used me to cheat on a test. I think about Meghan, who has a bossy streak a mile wide. “They kind of all have flaws.”

Gran reaches out and pulls me into a hug. She smells of cinnamon and vanilla. Like my Reassurance Cupcakes. “We all do,” she whispers into my hair. “The trick is learning to live with them.”

“The friends?” I ask. “Or the flaws?”

“Oh, whichever,” Gran says. The timer rings, and I have to pull away to rescue my cupcakes from the oven. “Those look lovely.”

“Thanks.”

“Perhaps you should take one to Uzma,” Gran suggests.

“What made you think of that?”

Gran chuckles. “Oh … friends with flaws, I suppose.”

I breathe in the thick scent of pistachio and rosewater. Friends with flaws? Hmm. Maybe I
should
give one of these to Uzma. An Acceptance Cupcake.

Maybe I should give one to Artie, too.

“Ah, good, you’re both here,” Mom says as she returns from the back room. Gran loosens her hug, but still keeps
one arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Mother, Denise just called.”

“How’s California?”

“Great. She’s editing a trailer for the new Clooney movie. But she wants to come for a visit.”

Yes, just in case you missed it: That’s George Clooney. My aunt is a film editor. She does trailers, which means she gets to watch all kinds of cool movies before everyone else does. Denise lives in a gorgeous house and has the world’s cutest pug, General Tzo, and basically has the best life on earth. Also, she is crazy cool and I love her. “When?”

“Next week,” Mom announces. “She’s got a little break coming up and was wondering if it would be convenient.”

“Convenient?” Gran repeats. “It would be delightful!”

“That’s what I said,” Mom says. “She said she’d get a hotel, but I told her we could share a room.”

“Even more delightful!” Gran is beaming.

“I can’t wait!” I do a little dance behind the counter, which is totally not the kind of thing I normally do. But this is the best news I’ve had all week.

“She’ll be here for the talent show,” Mom says, which makes me so excited that I let out a little squeal. “I was thinking that maybe we’d have a little dinner party while she’s here. We can invite some friends. Mr. Malik and Uzma?”

“Certainly. That sounds wonderful,” Gran says, which is nice of her. I mean, do we really want to include Uzma? Probably not. But that would be rude.

“Maybe Ramon,” Mom adds.

“By all means,” Gran agrees.

Mom looks at me. “Sure,” I say. I don’t really want to share my aunt with anyone, but if Mr. Malik and Uzma are coming, I guess I don’t really mind. Besides, it was nice to see Ramon for dinner last weekend, and I’m sure Denise will like him. “Chloe will probably want to ask Rupert,” I suggest.

“Great idea,” Mom says. “Do you want to invite anyone, Hayley?”

I consider inviting Meghan but decide she’d probably take over the entire conversation. Besides, I have a better idea. “How about Marco?”

“Fantastic,” Mom says. “Okay, I’ll go over and see what days might work for Mr. Malik.” And she just dashes out into the cold, toward the flower shop.

“Oh, how exciting,” Gran says. “I’ll have to make roast beef — Denise’s favorite.”

“Denise has been a vegetarian for three years.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Gran waves a careless hand at me. “She’s never a vegetarian around my roast beef.”

I’m too excited to argue. I want to call Marco but remember that I’ll have to wait until later. He’s studying with Tanisha right now.

I look down at the counter and realize that Mom left her cell phone. She never even took it into the back room.

That’s weird
, I think.
Didn’t she say that Denise just called?

So — wait. Why would she lie?

I think about the big dinner party, everyone inviting a special friend.

I think about Denise coming into town suddenly.

I think about Ramon.

Then I think about this:
I have a wedding to plan.

Through the window, I see Mom hurrying through the blustery darkness, on her way back from inviting Mr. Malik and his sister to dinner. Mom is smiling. She looks brilliant, like someone has just plugged her in.

I feel a little ill.

This doesn’t mean anything
, I tell myself.
Stop being paranoid.

But it’s not that easy, is it?

A
few days ago, I was in my mom’s room, looking for her red necklace. She lets me borrow it sometimes, and I was wearing a black shirt that I thought it would look great with. Anyway, you’re not really interested in the fashion recap, are you?

So I was in her room, looking through the rack of necklaces that she keeps on her bureau. I found the red one and was walking out the door when I spotted a magazine on Mom’s nightstand.
Contemporary Bride
. A Post-it note was stuck in it, and I couldn’t resist taking a look. I thought maybe she had marked a cool wedding cake, or fancy cupcakes, or something. But no. It was an article called, “Second Time Around: Tips for the Older Bride.”

I felt like I’d just broken through ice on a frozen pond, shivery and desperate. Tips for the older bride? Why is Mom reading about that?

Because she has a wedding to plan
, my brain whispered.

I closed the magazine and placed it back in its exact place.

How can Mom be marrying Ramon? She hardly even knows him! She’s not really acting like someone who’s crazy in love … not that I have any idea how someone who’s crazy in love acts. I mean, in movies they’re always buying flowers and running through the streets and stuff. Holding boom boxes over their heads in the rain. Mom has just been acting like … Mom.

It just feels so out of the blue. Like maybe my mom has this whole secret life that I don’t know about. Which I guess she does. I didn’t see the divorce coming, either.

I guess these huge, life-changing things can happen with absolutely no warning at all.

“H
ey, Dad.”

“Hayley! How are you? Ready to play some laser tag this Saturday?”

“Oh, right, I forgot we were doing that. Sure.”

“Well, it was Chloe’s turn to choose.”

“No — sorry. I mean, it’ll be fun.”

“You okay? You sound distracted.”

“Just … a lot of schoolwork and stuff.”

“Sure. It can get overwhelming.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Um, how’s everything else going, Hayley? Anything else new?”

“Oh, I’m — planning a talent show with Meghan.”

“That’s great! Are you going to be in it?”

“Just the genius behind the curtain.”

“Wow! I’m impressed.”

“We haven’t pulled it off yet.”

“I’m impressed that you’re trying.”

“Thanks.”

“So, when is this talent show?”

“Friday night. But, Dad, Aunt Denise is coming into town, and I think, um …”

“I completely understand. I’ll see you Saturday. Do you want to put your sister on the phone?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Hayley.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Would you tell me if you were going to get married again?”

“What?”

“Like, would you warn me —”

“I’m not getting married anytime soon.”

“Okay, but …”

“Hayley, I would never, ever propose without telling you first.”

“Really?”

“No way.”

“I’d know?”

“You’d know. It would affect you, too.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll get Chloe now.”

“Love you, Hayleycakes.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Pistachio-Rosewater Cupcakes

(makes approximately 12 cupcakes)

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a muffin pan with cupcake liners.
   
2. In a large bowl, whisk together the milk, yogurt, oil, sugar, and rosewater, and set aside.
   
3. In a separate bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, pistachio meal, and salt.
   
4. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet ones a little bit at a time, and combine using a whisk or handheld mixer until no lumps remain. Fold in the chopped pistachios.
   
5. Fill cupcake liners two-thirds of the way and bake for 20–22 minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack, and let cool completely before frosting.
   

Rosewater Frosting

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. In a large bowl, with an electric mixer, cream the margarine or butter until it’s a lighter color, about 2–3 minutes.
   
2. Slowly beat in the confectioners’ sugar in 1/2-cup batches, adding a little bit of milk whenever the frosting becomes too thick. Add the rosewater and continue mixing on high speed for about 3–7 minutes, until the frosting is light and fluffy.
   
3. OPTIONAL: Make the frosting a rosy shade of pink by adding a couple drops of red food coloring along with the rosewater.