It's Raining Cupcakes (5 page)

By now the two men had set their newspapers down. They each took a cupcake and thanked me.

The dad standing next to his son took two. “I'll hold Phillip's until he's done.”

“Well, land sakes,” I heard from behind me. “This is one doggone good cupcake. You make these, miss?”

I turned around. One of the men was wiping frosting from his top lip, using his finger. I realized I should have brought napkins. Cupcakes can be messy.

“No. My mom. She's opening up a cupcake shop next door. The grand opening is August fifteenth. You should stop by. It's going to be really great.”

“Delicious,” the other man said. “Give your mother our compliments.”

I felt my heart flutter in my chest. They liked
them! They liked the cupcakes. I couldn't wait to tell her. That'd give her a good boost of confidence.

Stan unsnapped the cape around the kid's neck, and the kid jumped out of the chair. “Can I have mine now?”

I started to warn him that it was carrot. He might be disappointed. But I didn't say anything, just bit my bottom lip and waited. Maybe the kid liked carrot cake. Maybe it was his absolute favorite. Yeah, right, and every kid begs to eat their brussels spouts.

He bit into it, looked up at his dad, and said, with a mouthful of cupcake, “Mmmmmm. That's good.”

“I know,” agreed his dad. He looked at me. “They really are delicious. Thanks for sharing.”

I smiled. “You're welcome.”

Stan walked over and took two from the plate I was holding. “I'll take these home with me when I'm done here. The perfect dessert after supper tonight. Judy'll be thrilled.”

“Good. Hey, when do you leave for your trip?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We'll be back in a couple of weeks.”

“Take lots of pictures. And don't forget to send me a postcard!”

“Okay, I will. See you when we get back.”

I waved to everyone as I started to walk out.

Behind me, I heard Stan say, “Knock-knock.”

The kid answered. “Who's there?”

“Phillip.”

“Phillip who?”

“Phillip the gas tank, I'm running low.”

I heard the boy laughing as the door closed behind me.

Back upstairs, Grandma had the kitchen just about cleaned up. Dad was standing there, talking to her. I handed him the plate, only half full now. “I took them down to the barber shop and passed them out. They loved them. I want to tell Mom.”

Dad took hold of my arm as I started to leave, a nervous smile on his face. “Isabel, I just went in to see her. Please, don't say anything to upset her. This is a really hectic time for her.”

Like he needed to tell me that. While I walked down the hall toward her room, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. What would she say when I told
her they liked the cupcakes? Would she even believe me? What if she brought up the contest again? Would I have to lie and tell her I would make cupcakes when I wasn't sure what I was going to make?

I took a quick right, went into my room, and shut the door. I'd tell her later. Or maybe it wasn't that big of a deal after all. Maybe I didn't even need to mention it.

I thought of Stan getting ready to go to England, and how I would have loved to be getting ready to go on a trip right about now.

Getting a postcard means

someone is thinking about you.

It's also like getting a little piece

of the place the person is visiting.

I love getting postcards.

When I travel someday,

I will send lots and lots

of postcards.

—IB

F
or the next couple of weeks, I spent most of my time either babysitting the twins or reading travel books in the library. And I thought about the baking contest. A lot. I couldn't figure out what to do. I didn't
want
to make cupcakes. But nothing else seemed quite right either. A pie sounded too difficult. Cookies
were too ordinary. A cake was hardly different from cupcakes. I didn't know what to do.

It was fun to get a postcard from Stan in the mail. He sent me one with Durham Castle on the front. On the back he wrote:

Dear Isabel,

We're having a jolly good time here. The weather's
been truly grand. I miss everyone back home, however.
Hope the cupcake shop is coming along splendidly.
It's sure to be a smashing success.

Cheerio, Stan

I took it along with me to show the twins. They weren't impressed. “We want to swim!” Lucas said.

“We want to swim, we want to swim, we want to swim!” they chanted, marching around the family room.

We went outside to the backyard, only to find the kiddie pool completely empty.

“If I fill it up, the water's going to be
really cold
.”

Lucas nodded his head hard, his blond curly hair flopping in his eyes. Those curls were my ticket to telling them apart. Logan didn't have nearly as many.

While Lucas nodded, Logan clapped his hands, like he'd never heard anything so exciting.
Really
cold water? Yay!

I dragged the hose over, stuck it in the swimming pool, and turned the faucet on. “Let's go inside and read books until it's full.”

They didn't move.

“Come on, boys. It's going to take awhile.”

They still didn't move.

“Please? If we're going to be sitting out here all afternoon, I want a book to look at.” I had spotted a beautiful book about Colorado on their bookshelf the other day that I was dying to read.

The boys stood there, hypnotized by the water running from the hose into the pool. For once they weren't climbing something, spilling something, or tearing something apart.

“Okay, you stay here,” I told them. “I'll be back in a second. But listen to me. Do not get into that pool. Do you understand me? If you get in, I'm throwing it away. You'll never, ever be able to swim again. You got that? DO NOT GET INTO THAT POOL.”

“Okay,” Logan said. Lucas nodded in agreement.

I ducked inside, kicked my flip-flops off, and ran to the front of the house where the living room was, all the while wondering how mothers of young children ever got anything accomplished. It seemed amazing that they weren't all walking around completely filthy from not having showered for months. Unless they were waking up at four a.m. every day and showering then. Maybe that was their trick.

I snatched up the book about Colorado, but as I did, my eyes couldn't help but scan for others. There were a lot. I took one called
50 Amazing Things to Do in
Chicago
, and another one about Ireland, then hurried to the backyard.

When I got there, Mrs. Canova, or Sue as she insisted I call her, was standing there, arms crossed in that “I'm so appalled with you” way, as two completely dressed boys walked around inside the pool, kicking and splashing water at each other.

“Isabel?” Her eyes pierced mine.

I gulped. “Yes?”

“Did you leave them out here by themselves with a pool of water?”

“Well, it was filling up and—”

Her eyes narrowed even more as she stepped closer to me. “Did you, or did you not, leave them unattended with a pool of water?”

I looked down at my toes, the red nail polish I'd put on a month ago starting to chip away. Obviously, she already knew the answer to that question. She had found them outside, and I wasn't anywhere around.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I'm sorry.”

The boys' laughter filled the air. I listened to it, trying to make myself breathe. But I couldn't. It was like someone was standing on my chest, pressing harder and harder.

She reached over and took the books from my hands, then walked toward the sliding glass door. “I'm sure you understand, I can't have someone watching my children who displays such a lack of judgment. Do you know an accident can happen just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “I'm going to get my checkbook and pay you for the past five days. Please, stay here and watch them for another minute. And then your services will no longer be needed here.”

After she left, I went over to the pool. I wanted
to cry, but I didn't want them to see me like that. I didn't want
her
to see me like that.

“Bye, boys. I have to go now.”

“You throw it away now?” Lucas asked.

It made me smile. He asked like it was no big deal. Like it wouldn't matter to them one bit. Maybe they didn't even know what it meant.

“No. I'm the one being thrown away. I'll see you guys later. Be good for your mommy, okay?”

Sue came back and handed me my check. I apologized again, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her eyes said it all.

I knew I had to tell my parents. Not just tell them I wasn't working for Mrs. Canova anymore, but tell them
why
. If I made something up, like I quit or something, word would get back to them that I'd lied. Mom knew a lot of people in Willow, and she'd eventually find out, whether I told her or not.

Still, I didn't go home right away. I rode my bike to the library, the hot air stinging my eyes, making them water.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the hot air.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't go to the travel section when I got to the library. I went to the cookbook section instead. It was time to come up with an idea. No more excuses.

“Isabel?” said a familiar voice as I was sitting at a table, looking at a lemon torte recipe.

I looked up.

“Mr. Nelson,” I said, louder than I should have. “What are you doing here?”

Okay, stupid question. He was holding a stack of books. “Oh, you know, summer vacation is for reading, right?”

“Right.” I smiled.

It was weird seeing my social studies teacher in shorts and a T-shirt. He looked different. Not like a teacher at all. More like an ordinary guy.

“Cookbooks?” he asked. “Taking up a new hobby?”

I shut the book. “I guess. I'm entering a baking contest. The finalists get to travel to New York City for a bake-off. Figured it might be my only chance to fly on an airplane and go somewhere interesting.”

He sat down across from me. “Sounds like fun. My wife and I had a layover there on our way to Germany
last summer. Stayed a couple of days so we could take in a Broadway play. It's an amazing city. All the people there? I don't think there's any place like it.” His eyes smiled at me. “You'd probably love it there, Isabel. Seems to me you're quite the people person.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that. “What part of Germany did you go to?” I asked as I picked at an annoying hangnail on my thumb.

“Frankfurt, Berlin, Hamburg, Heidelberg. We went all over. It's a beautiful country. Didn't care for the food much. But everything else was fantastic.”

“Where are you going this summer?” I asked.

He leaned back in his chair, tipping it off the floor a little. It was funny to see an adult do that. I always got in trouble for it at home. “We're going to Washington, D.C., in a couple of weeks.”

I sighed. “I'd love to go there. I'd see the Capitol Building, the Washington Monument, and the National Museum of Natural History for sure.”

He laughed. “Yep. We'll see all of those.”

“You're so lucky. Sometimes I feel like I'll be stuck in Willow forever.”

Mr. Nelson tilted his head a little and looked at
me kind of funny. “Is everything all right at home, Isabel? Your parents doing okay?”

“Yeah. Just busy. We're getting ready to open a cupcake shop. You know where the Bleachorama used to be? The building is now the future home of It's Raining Cupcakes.”