How to Eat a Cupcake (28 page)

Authors: Meg Donohue

BOOK: How to Eat a Cupcake

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I shrugged. “I think he likes me best in an apron.”

Now it was Julia's turn to roll her eyes. “Farmers.”

There was a light rap on the door and then Lolly herself was peeking her head into the room. “Julia St. Clair!” she rasped. “Why on earth aren't you dressed? The guests are already seated!”

“Well, they're not going to start without her, are they?” I said, striding over to take Julia's gown off its hanger.

“They might,” Lolly warned. She clicked the door shut behind her. “This will
not
be one of those weddings that starts twenty minutes late. I've already informed the wedding coordinator in no uncertain terms that we will be sticking to a strict schedule. âSt. Clairs are schedulers!' I told her just this morning. We are! Aren't we?” She was, I realized, looking at both of us when she asked this.

Julia and I glanced at each other, communicating a thousand things in one arched brow, one hint of a smile, and then burst into a fit of laughter.

Chapter 32

Julia

I
took a deep breath as Annie and my mother helped me into my wedding gown and shoes. This was the very moment I'd been so anxious about all year, but now that it was here I felt exactly how I'd always wanted to feel on my wedding day: calm and confident. I watched in the armoire's mirror as my mother slid the veil's diamond-studded comb into the crown of my blond hair.

“Oh, Julia,” she said, stepping back for a moment. “You are absolutely stunning.” She looked back and forth between Annie and me, her cool blue eyes glistening. “
Both
of you girls look beautiful.”

“I'm a bride,” I said. I heard the dreamy softness in my voice and didn't cringe. I was beginning to see the benefit of allowing a little candor, a little vulnerability into my life.

My mother walked up beside me, looked for a long moment into my eyes through the mirror, and took my hand in hers. Ever since the Curtis incident, things between us had been warmer. We seemed to be on the same learning curve of figuring out how to express our emotions more freely. When I'd finally told her about the miscarriage, she'd begun to cry immediately.

“I don't ever want you to go through anything like that again!” she'd said, nearly growling with rage. Her eyes had glimmered angrily through her tearsâanger directed not at me, but at a world that dared to do something like this to her daughter. “But if you do, I want to be by your side. Promise me you'll let me.” I'd never seen her look so ferocious, and I'd nodded, struck mute by her reaction.

Someday
, I'd told myself with a searing burst of faith,
I will love my own child this much, too.

It was moments like those that made me realize just how much Wes's unflagging optimism had worn off on me. My old confidence was blooming again under the warmth of his support; even in the weeks following the terrifying hours when Curtis had held me captive in his house, I'd felt buffered from the possibility of sleepless nights by Wes's attentiveness and concern. Of course, I still couldn't see exactly what the future held for us, but I now felt certain we were each better off facing that uncertain future together.

Interestingly, in the weeks after the fire, my mother had seemed to take cues from Wes's relationship playbook. Before I even had a chance to worry too deeply about how Curtis's betrayal and subsequent absence would affect my father, my mother had started eschewing her morning power walk in favor of joining us at the breakfast table. There, she'd pestered my dad for sections of the paper, loaded up his plate with three slices of melon for each slice of coffee cake, and one day had even shocked us all by expressing interest in finally learning how to play golf. The grin on my father's face when she'd continued to appear at the table morning after morning was priceless. I'd watched my mother's efforts with admiration and relief and as I'd packed my things and prepared to leave the family home for good, I'd taken comfort in knowing that I left each of my parents in good company.

Now, the grandfather clock in Woodstone's hall began to chime loudly. “Showtime!” my mother rasped. “I'm going to duck outside and check that your father is ready for the big walk. Annie, you'll make sure the two of you are on the other side of that door in thirty seconds?”

“Aye, aye!” Annie said, snapping her silver heels together.

As soon as my mother shut the door, I threw my arms around Annie, nearly smothering her with my veil.

“Death by bride!” she mumbled through a mouthful of tulle. “After this year, I probably should have seen this coming.”

“Thank you for being here,” I said, still hugging her.

She pulled back and looked at me, jutting her chin into the air. “Where else do you think I would be?” She gripped my arms gently before releasing me. “Now let's get out of here. There's a scary mother to obey.”

“And a handsome man to marry,” I said. My gown rustled elegantly as I made my way across the room.

“And cupcakes to eat!” Annie added, pulling open the door.

“Yes.” My mouth watered a bit at the thought. “Always.”

Acknowledgments

I am eternally grateful to my wise editor and dear friend, Jeanette Perez, who has made a dream come true. It is both a comfort and a luxury to have such an insightful editor ready and willing to flip on her flashlight when darkness falls on the writing path. My heartfelt thanks to all at Harper who have helped along the way, including, but not limited to, Carrie Kania, Brittany Hamblin, Jennifer Hart, Mary Sasso, Eleanor Mikucki, Dalma De Leon, and Elizabeth Thompson. Thank you also to my wonderful agent, Elisabeth Weed, for taking me under her wing, and to the talented Alyce Shields, for giving me insight into life as a pastry chef.

Thank you to my parents, whose generosity, voracious love of learning, and enthusiasm for life will always inspire me.

Above all, thank you to my husband Philâmy happily ever after, my voice of reason, and my first readerâand to our children, for giving me the gift of knowing infinite love.

About
the Author

M
EG
D
ONOHUE
has an MFA in creative writing from
Columbia University and a BA in comparative literature from Dartmouth College.
Born and raised in Philadelphia, she lives in San Francisco with her husband,
two young daughters, and dog. This is her first novel.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive
information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Advance praise for Meg Donohue and
How to Eat a Cupcake

“
How to Eat a Cupcake
is a sparkling, witty story about an unlikely, yet redemptive, friendship. Donohue's voice is lovely, intelligent, and alluring. Grab one of these for your best friend and read it togetherâpreferably with a plate of Meyer Lemon cupcakes nearby.”

âKatie Crouch, bestselling author of
Girls in Trucks
and
Men and Dogs

“Beautifully written and quietly wise, Meg Donohue's
How to Eat a Cupcake
is an achingly honest portrayal of the many layers of friendshipâa story so vividly told, you can (almost) taste the buttercream.”

âSarah Jio, author of
The Violets of March
and
The Bungalow

“A heartwarming and unpredictable tale of friendship, family, and frosting.”

âZoe Fishman, author of
Balancing Acts

“An irresistible blend of sweet and tart, this book is truly a treat to be savored.”

âBeth Kendrick, author of
The Bake-Off
and
Second Time Around

“Deliciously engaging. Donohue writes with charm and grace. What could be better than friendship and cupcakes?”

âRebecca Rasmussen, author of
The Bird Sisters

“Donohue's sweet debut is a clever exploration of how a West Coast mean girl grows up and gives in to friendship, love, and dozens of delicious cupcakes. .Â .Â . Donohue's culinary romantic thriller will keep readers hungry for more.”

â
Publishers Weekly

Credits

Cover design by Robin Bilardello

Cover photograph Â© Edward Simons/Alamy; Â© Art Kowalsky/Alamy

This book is a work of fiction. The
characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

HOW TO EAT A
CUPCAKE
. Copyright Â© 2012 by Meg Donohue. All rights reserved under
International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required
fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be
reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored
in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form
or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter
invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST
EDITION

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-0-06-206928-3

EPub Edition Â© MARCH 2012 ISBN:
9780062069290

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

About the Publisher

Australia

HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.

Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia

http://www.harpercollins.com.au/ebooks

Canada