Confectionately Yours #4: Something New (14 page)

“T
hose are pretty,” Chloe says as I frost a white flower at the top of a vanilla cupcake.

“I’ve been practicing the flowers,” I explain. “So that I’ll be ready for the wedding.”

“If there is one.” Chloe sounds gloomy, and Rupert pats her hand. It’s so funny how he’s like a little old man, sometimes.

“Where will you put them?” Rupert asks, bending his head to peer into the display case. “It looks pretty full in there.”

“Gran says it’s a special order,” I tell him.

“Is that why the Tea Room is closed this morning?” Chloe asks. “I’ve already seen a few sad-eyed college students peeking in the window. I feel bad for them.”

“There are plenty of places to get a latte in this town,” I tell her. It’s a cloudy, cold Saturday, and a few late spring snow flurries are drifting across the sky. I’m tired of the cold, but I always feel a thrill when I see snow falling. Even when it isn’t welcome.

Mr. Malik taps at the door, and Chloe rushes to unlock it. “Good morning!” he greets us, and his whole face is one enormous smile.

“You’re drowning in flowers!” Chloe says. He really is — he has one large bouquet and several smaller ones. “Where did you get them?”

“From the wholesaler!” Mr. Malik says. “It was a marvelous deal, and I couldn’t resist brightening the café a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“We love it!” Chloe says.

“And yellow roses are Gran’s favorite,” I tell him.

“Are they, really?” Mr. Malik says with the twinkliest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Hello, my dears!” Gran sings as she bustles in from the back office. “My dear Mr. Malik, how well you look today!”

“And you are simply lovely,” Mr. Malik tells her as they hold each other’s hands.

“You two do look nice,” Chloe says.

“Yeah — what’s up?” I ask. Gran is wearing her lavender suit, and Mr. Malik has on his blue one, with a lavender tie. “Did you guys call each other so that you could be all matchy-matchy?” I joke.

“Hayley, darling, there’s no need to put those cupcakes in a box,” Gran tells me. “Just place them on a plate.”

At that moment, there’s another knock at the locked door, and Rupert rushes to let in Uzma and a cheerful-looking woman with spiky hair. In her brown flowy dress, she looks a little bit like a pinecone.

“Hello!” I say to the pinecone lady. “Are these cupcakes for you?”

“I hope so,” the woman replies. “At least one of them.”

Uzma gives Rupert an affectionate kiss, and he smiles and looks at the floor, embarrassed. She just loves clucking over him.

“What’s going on?” Mom asks as she walks in. “Oh — Mr. Malik! Did you bring the flowers? They’re beautiful!”

He takes a medium-sized bouquet and gives it to my mother. “For you, my dear,” he tells her.

“Let me just get a vase,” Mom says, starting back toward the office.

“No need of that,” Gran tells her. “Just hold them a moment yet.” Then she strides over to the door and flips the lock closed. She gestures to the pinecone lady. “My dears, I would like to introduce you all to the Reverend Janet Bliss. Mr. Malik and I are getting married.”

Chloe lets out a gasp.

“Now?”
I ask.

Mr. Malik hands me a small but very beautiful bouquet of yellow and white roses. “Now, my dear.” He gives another small bouquet to Chloe, and a larger one to Uzma, who is teary-eyed and smiling.

“What?” Mom cries. “Here? In the Tea Room?”

“Yes, of course, dear,” Gran says. “This is where we have spent many happy hours, and neither one of us wants a fuss.”

“Wait! Do you mean these cupcakes are for your wedding?” I cry. “But I wanted to make you a real cake!”

“Well, dear, keep practicing,” Gran says. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance someday. There’s always Chloe.”

Mom sits down heavily on a chair. “But — but — what about Denise? You wouldn’t just get married without your other daughter, would you?”

And at that very moment, someone taps on the door. It’s Officer Ramon … and my aunt Denise.

Chloe and Rupert rush to let them in, and then there’s hugging and smiling and kissing, and my aunt even picks me up and swings me around. She works out.

And finally, we’ve all settled down, and Mr. Malik has given Aunt Denise a really lovely bouquet, and we all gather in a circle while Officer Ramon flips the lock again.

Gran turns to my mother. “I hope you aren’t too disappointed,” she says gently.

My mother’s eyes are brilliant with tears, and she takes a few breaths before she can speak. “Mother — this is your wedding, not mine,” she says, although I can see it isn’t easy for her to talk. “All that matters is that you’re happy.”

“I’m happy.” Gran’s face looks like — well, even though there are clouds outside, and a bit of snow falling, Gran’s face looks like the sun. Like it’s giving off its own light. “I’m very, very happy!”

“We all are!” I say, and as I look around the room, I realize it’s true. Everyone is beaming.

“And that is the best way to begin a wedding that I can think of,” says the Reverend Janet Bliss.

And so we do.

T
wo years ago, I went to my mother’s cousin’s wedding. There were three hundred people there. Cousin Caroline was marrying a super-rich guy, and her gown was made of French lace, beautifully cut into a mermaid tail and train. And the reception afterward was at this huge hotel. The flower arrangements were as tall as I was. Seriously. And there were two ice sculptures carved into swans.

It was like a fairy tale.

But that wedding was nothing compared to Gran’s. Gran and Mr. Malik had written their own vows, and when they said them, we all blubbed our eyes out — even Officer Ramon.

And afterward, there was tea and cupcakes, and cappuccinos for Mom and Aunt Denise. Mr. Malik and Gran made
an even bigger announcement — they’re going to tear down the wall between the Tea Room and the flower shop, and make something new. It will be a Tea Room and bookstore.

“That way,” Gran explained, “we can read poetry and sip tea whenever we like.”

When she said that, I remembered the line from the poem she loves so much:

A world awaits.

I know my mom thinks it’s a jinx not to have a proper wedding. But I think this was proper, all right.

Very proper.

White-Chocolate Almond Wedding Cupcakes

(makes approximately 8 regular cupcakes and 8 mini cupcakes)

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a regular muffin pan with cupcake liners and spray a mini muffin pan with vegetable oil cooking spray.
   
2. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, almond meal, baking powder, and salt.
   
3. In a small bowl, stir together the milk and apple cider vinegar, and let curdle for a few minutes. While the milk is curdling, break apart the almond paste into small pieces. Then place them in a food processor along with the sugar. Process the two together until the mixture resembles wet sand. Add the oil, curdled milk, vanilla extract, and almond extract, and combine completely.
   
4. With your handheld mixer, add the wet ingredients to the dry ones in small batches,
   stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl a few times, and mix until no lumps remain.
   
5. Fill the regular cupcake liners and mini muffin tin spaces two-thirds of the way (you may have additional batter, so make as many pairs of regular and mini as you can, then use up the additional in a leftover cupcake). Bake for 20–22 minutes, or when a toothpick inserted in the center of each cupcake comes out clean. Transfer to a cooling rack, and let cool completely before frosting.
   

TO ASSEMBLE THE CUPCAKES:

1. With a small paring knife, flatten the rounded tops of the mini cupcakes by cutting them off. You can also cut around the sides to make them straight and not angled, but that’s up to you. Then cut off the tops of the regular-sized cupcakes to make them flat.
   
2. Frost each regular-sized cupcake and make it smooth. Set the mini cupcake on top of the
   regular cupcake and carefully frost the sides, then top, so that the completed cupcake resembles a two-tiered mini wedding cake. Continue with all cupcakes until assembled, and then decorate as you would a wedding cake, with sprinkles and piped frosting, or keep it simple and delicious!
   

White-Chocolate Buttercream Frosting

INGREDIENTS:

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. In a large bowl, with an electric mixer, cream the 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 vanilla extract and melted white chocolate, and mix on high speed for about 3–7 minutes, until the frosting is light and fluffy.
   

“Y
ou look really pretty,” Marco tells me as we walk across the grass toward the covered shed.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. I’m wearing a long skirt and tall boots, and a chunky sweater. The snow has completely melted away, and the evening is cool, but not cold. Smoke rises from the grills, and big outdoor heaters have been set up in the corners of the shed. I’m holding a large cupcake carrier, but I have a free arm. “Can I help you with that?”

“I’ve got it.” Marco is pulling along a chest full of ice. Luckily, the cooler has wheels — I’m sure it’s heavy. It took both Marco and Mom working together to get it out of the car. “Where do you think I should put it?”

“Let’s ask the expert,” I say.

Meghan is in the far corner, arranging some streamers. And she’s not alone.

“Hey, Omar,” Marco says as we walk up. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make sure that Meg doesn’t break her neck,” Omar explains. He’s holding a stepladder.

“How am I supposed to get down?” Meghan wails.

“Why did you go up there in the first place?” I demand. “You’re afraid of ladders!”

“Because I had to put up the streamers!” Meghan insists.

“Why don’t you think for a minute before you just climb up on something?” I ask her.

“Because I usually think of it afterward!” Meghan replies. “Isn’t someone going to help me?”

“Just take one step at a time,” Omar tells her. “Or jump! You’re only a couple of feet off the ground.”

“Jump? Are you insane? I’ll fracture a limb! I’ll break my n —” And she screams and flails as Omar grabs her, throws her over his shoulder, and plants her on the ground.

Bug-eyed, Meghan just stands there hyperventilating for a minute. “Gah! What! Was! That! Are! You! Nuts!” She gives him a whack with each word.

Omar holds up his arms as she smacks him. But I don’t think he’s hurt, as he can’t stop laughing. “Meghan! You’re going to have to learn to trust me if we’re going to work together!”

Meghan stops her flailing and stands there, still breathing hard.

“You two are going to work together?” I ask.

“Oh, boy,” Marco says.

“I’ve decided not to run for class president,” Omar explains.

I’m surprised. “Oh.”

“He’s going to run for vice president, instead,” Meghan announces. “I spoke to the school office, and they’ll change the ballots in time for Tuesday’s election.”

“Wow!” Marco says. “That’s great!”

“But won’t you two kill each other?” I ask, then wince. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that out loud.

But Meghan just laughs. “Give me a little credit, Hayley,” she says, as Artie walks over.

“It looks great!” Artie gushes. “Brilliant move to get the heaters!”

“And it was brilliant of you to do all the centerpieces!” Meghan gestures to the piles of cute stuffed animals — frogs,
ducks, and turtles — arranged on the tables. “They’re adorbs!”

“We’re donating them to the family shelter after the party,” Artie explains. “Along with some other baby and little kid supplies. Diapers and stuff. We raised a lot of money from ticket sales, and we got Salamander Café to donate all the food. Except for the cupcakes, of course,” she adds, nodding to my carrier.

“Thanks to Artie!” Meghan says. She and Artie smile at each other, but I don’t feel jealous. Not really. They may get along — but I know that Meghan is my real friend. And I don’t think she’ll ever like Artie more than she likes me.

“Where do you want this, by the way?” Marco asks, gesturing to the cooler.

“Oh, could you and Hayley go set up the drinks table?” Meghan says. “Out in front.”

Marco and I walk over to where cups have already been laid out. I lay out the cupcakes, and then help Marco put bottles into the cooler.

“Artie’s grown up a lot lately,” he says slowly, “hasn’t she? She isn’t so full of herself.”

“I think she just needed to figure things out,” I say. “You
know — Marco …” I hesitate, unsure whether to say anything. After all, if Artie wanted him to know, she would have said something herself. But in the end, I think Marco should know. “Marco, I never sent that Islip information to your mom,” I say. “I think Artie did.”

“Oh.” Marco stares down at one of the bottles. “I thought you did it.”

He looks up at me.

“She … cares about you,” I say. I don’t think it’s too much. I hope not.

“Don’t you?” he asks.

“Not …” It’s like wrestling something huge — something terrifying — to say it. But I have to. “Not the same way.” I’m hot all over — hot the way I was the night of the fire.

For a long time, Marco just stands there, watching me burn.

“Okay,” he says at last.

I wish I could say something that would make it all better. “You’re one of the most important people in the world to me, Marco,” I whisper. I think about the time he took a break from our friendship. That felt like walking around without an arm, with part of myself missing. I don’t want to go through that again.

“You’re important to me, too, Hayley.” Marco’s eyes are as deep as the ocean. “You always will be.”

“Come on, you guys!” Meghan calls, gesturing from the food line. “Get a plate before it’s all gone!”

The spell between me and Marco is broken, disappearing on the air. He gives me a lopsided smile, and I wave at Meghan. “Save us a seat!” I call.

“You coming?” I ask Marco. He has a faraway look on his face.

“I think I just want to do something first,” he says. “I’ll be there in a second.” Then he leans over and kisses me. On the forehead. It’s a gentle, brotherly kiss, and the feel of his lips linger for a moment.

“What’s that for?” I ask.

“For being a good friend,” he says. “And for being honest.” Then he walks away, toward the table where Artie is sitting with Omar and Meghan.

I stand there with a fluttering heart for a few moments. Finally, I manage to walk over to the food line. Emma Sawyer, Allison Beale, and Noelle Sanchez get in line behind me. Then comes Kyle, so I let the others go ahead. “Hey, Kyle,” I say.

“Oh — hey, Hayley! Hey. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” I explain about Meghan and Omar — how they’ve finally made peace. Sort of. We talk as we move slowly past the buffet. I put some chicken onto my plate, then some onto his. I know it’s hard for him to do that stuff for himself. Then I tell him about Gran’s wedding.

“Got any leftover cupcakes?” Kyle jokes.

“I made some for dessert.” I start toward Meghan’s table, and turn back suddenly. “Who are you sitting with?” I ask. “Do you want to come sit with me and my friends?”

Kyle is pale-skinned, and when he blushes, he turns a beautiful shade of pink. “Aren’t you — aren’t you sitting with Marco?”

“I’m sitting with lots of people,” I tell him.

“I don’t want to just — wedge myself in,” he says carefully.

“It’s not like that at all,” I say. “I
want
to sit with you.”

Yes — I said that. That’s the kind of thing I can say to Kyle. I don’t know why, but it’s easy to be honest with him.

And he smiles the most wonderful smile. “Okay,” he says.

So I lead him to the table where Artie and Marco are laughing over something. Artie looks at me and smiles shyly.
She and Marco used to be good friends. I don’t know if there will ever be any romance between them, but I’m glad to see they’re talking again. No matter what, the three of us grew up together. Our childhoods overlap.

We’re almost like family.

Meghan pulls up an extra chair for Kyle, not even pausing in her argument with Omar. It’s something about how they might organize a book drive. They don’t sound angry, though. It’s more like they’re really enjoying it. Kyle sits down beside me.

“I can’t believe the school year is almost over,” Kyle says. “Just a few more weeks, and then seventh grade will be over.”

“But a lot of new stuff is beginning,” I say.

Kyle smiles and nods, and a blond curl spills over his large gray eyes. “I hope so,” he says.

I give him a playful nudge against the shoulder. But he doesn’t move away. Instead, we just sit there, letting our shoulders touch lightly as we talk some more, ignoring our dinners.

Who knew that a barbecue could be one of life’s greatest moments?

But it can.

Trust me — it can.