Alexis and the Missing Ingredient (12 page)

I woke up about an hour later to hear Mr. Cruz and Mia talking quietly in the kitchen. Katie stirred too, and we laughed at ourselves for not being able to hack the NYC pace without a nap.

Mia heard us, and she and her dad came in to chat and make a dinner plan.

“Do you guys want to go out or order in tonight?” Mia offered.

“What's on the agenda?” I asked.

“Well, we were planning to stay here until seven”—she and Katie exchanged a look that I didn't understand—“but then we had been thinking of going out for pizza at this brick-oven place by the guy who started the Sullivan Street Bakery.”

“I could do that,” I said, shrugging.

“Alexis, is there anything on
your
agenda?” asked Mr. Cruz with a smile. “We've certainly heard a lot about Mia and Katie's agenda this weekend.”

I grinned. “Their agenda is my agenda. I am perfectly happy to leave all the planning to them. I organize us for business, they handle pleasure. But I'm learning, that's for sure.”

“O-kaaaaay . . . ,” said Mr. Cruz. “If you're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“If we ordered in instead of going out, what would we get?” asked Katie.

“Ooh, you've asked the million-dollar question around here.” Mr. Cruz went to a cabinet and took out a big accordion folder. “There are many choices, my friends. Sometimes Mia and I are craving different things, so we order from different places. I'll have Chinese and she'll have a burrito. Or I'll get lobster and she'll have ribs. It just depends.”

“Wow.”

He opened the folder and showed us dozens and dozens of take-out menus from all different kinds of places.

“How can you ever decide?” I asked.

“Sometimes I just toss a few in the air and grab whichever one comes down first,” he joked.

“Really?” asked Mia.

“No,” he said, and he shook his head and laughed.

“I can't imagine living somewhere where you could get basically anything you can dream of delivered to your own front door. It's kind of wild! Maybe we should just order in pizza?” I suggested, which was my first suggestion of the trip.

“Yeah. And order up a movie?” Katie suggested.

“If you think that's good enough? I mean, we
are
in New York City!” said Mia.

I shrugged. “Sometimes the best kind of social plan is having no plan at all.” But then I thought back to my empty days at home. “If it's by choice, that is. And only then.”

At seven o'clock the doorbell rang, and Mia ran to get it. I didn't really stop to think that it was odd she'd be paying for the food, but when I heard laughter and squealing in the hall, I stood to go check on her. Where was Mr. Cruz? I wondered.

But out in the hall, I couldn't believe my eyes! It was Emma!

“Emma? Emma!” I cried, and I galloped over to grab her in a huge hug. “OMG, how did you get here?” I was so excited, I nearly cried, and I am not a big crier.

“Let the poor girl get in the door!” admonished Katie. “So I can say hi to her!” Katie gave Emma a big hug too, saying, “We missed you!”

“Thanks! I missed you guys, too!”

Emma dumped her stuff, and we all went into the living room to catch up. I was so, so happy, I couldn't stop smiling at Emma. Now the trip felt
complete. I just knew I wouldn't have been able to savor the memories in the same way without her having been here too. I'd always be swallowing my comments, not wanting her to feel left out. Phew. This way was much better.

After explaining how Mia had had her dad text Emma's mom this morning to organize all this, Emma told us all about the camping trip and how there'd been a snake in the tent and the water was freezing, but also how they'd seen a rainbow and climbed a mountain to see the sunrise, and cooked fish they'd caught themselves. It sounded pretty great.

“Hey, maybe next year we could all go camping together,” I suggested.

“Yeah!” Everyone liked that idea, and I think Emma was pleased her trip sounded so fun, we wanted to do it too.

“And next time we come here, Emma has to come for the whole time,” said Mia. “Not just the very end.”

“Thanks!” said Emma. “Hey, where's Ava?”

We explained where she was, and then we filled her in on everything we'd done, and it did really sound like a lot. It
had
been a lot.

“Aren't you guys exhausted?” Emma asked
incredulously, and we had to admit that we were.

“Not that we'll be low energy for you tonight!” Mia said with a grin.

“No, I myself am low energy.” She giggled. “Sleeping on the ground doesn't do wonders for feeling rested.”

“I call sleeping in a bed!” I joked, and Emma looked confused while the others laughed, so I had to explain it to her.

“Oh, you can totally have the bed, actually. An air mattress will feel like heaven to my achy bones right now.”

“No, no. You take the bed. Please!” I insisted. “Especially for your achy bones.”

“Well, we'll see,” said Emma. “Thanks, though. What I really need is a professional massage with one of those rose oils my mom's always talking about.”

“Oh, wait! That reminds me!” I ran into Mia's room and grabbed the little Soapy Chic bag. Returning to the living room, I reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle for each girl, checking the tag to be sure the right person had the right bottle.

They tore open the wrappings and said, “Yum!” Then they opened their bottles to use the cream.

“Oh, Alexis, these are awesome. You are so thoughtful. Thank you,” said Mia.

“Yeah, I love mine. You're the best,” Katie said.

“You're welcome,” I said. “Sometimes a good idea strikes me and I plan ahead.” And then we all laughed again, because I always plan ahead. At least when it comes to the important stuff.

Over pizza, we filled Emma in on all of our cupcake research: Georgetown, Billy's, Magnolia, and the Sprinkles cupcakes sold at Dylan's.

“By the way, the real money is in wholesaling,” I said.

Emma looked at me blankly.

“I'll explain another time. But it's that or just selling cupcake mixes.”

“Ew! I'd never use a mix!” said Katie.

“You'd be surprised,” I said. “Lots of research goes into them.”

“Wait, I thought you were going into the candy store business?” asked Mia.

“That too,” I confessed. “Maybe I'll run Dylan's one day.”

“I would not be surprised,” teased Emma.

“Now, I hate to bring this up, but since we're all here . . .”

“The PTA.” Mia moaned, putting her head in her hands.

“Right!” I said.

Katie sighed. “You know where I stand. I think we should just make the best possible plain vanilla and plain chocolate cupcakes, with alternate icing, and call it a day. If we can do simple perfectly, scrumptiously, then they'll know we can be trusted with anything.”

“I kind of agree,” said Mia. “I think we could do plain cake and frosting, but decorate them really wildly, like with candy from Dylan's or fondant flowers, or use wild cupcake wrappers, and sprinkles—whatever.”

“But we don't want them to look junky or unappetizing . . . ,” complained Katie.

“Hold on!” I said while putting my palms out peacemaker-style. “We're just in the brainstorming mode. Emma?”

“I think we should do one totally wild and one totally simple, to show our range.”

“Okay, and I think we should just blow it out. I mean, do our most unique stuff. Everyone knows we can do plain and basic. Why not showcase what we're capable of?”

We all sat in silence, chewing.

Mr. Cruz spoke up. We'd all kind of forgotten he was there again.

“Can I put in my two cents?”

“Sure, Papi,” said Mia.

“I think you're all right. So why don't you put all the possibilities into a hat and pick three?”

We were quiet for a second, and then we all broke into smiles. “Great idea,” I said.

“Thanks. Sometimes I have them,” Mr. Cruz said smugly.

“Sometimes,” teased Mia.

And so that is how, one week later, we ended up at the PTA meeting with three platters of cupcakes. One was kind of our trademark: salted caramel cupcakes with bacon frosting. Another was our Mud Pies, something we'd made once for Jake Taylor's birthday party. It was chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and with chunks of Oreo cookies and chocolate chips stuck in the frosting. And the final ones were our minis that we make for our friend Mona, who owns The Special Day bridal salon in the mall in Maple Grove. They were vanilla cake with vanilla frosting, about the size of a fifty-cent piece: tiny and delicious.

See if you can guess which ones went the fastest?

Yup.

The vanilla-vanilla minis.

And the bacon? About half got eaten.

The Mud Pies? Barely at all. (I hate wasting cupcakes; it's money out of our pockets, even though the Taylor boys are always glad to take extra inventory off our hands.)

When we picked up our trays and leftovers after the meeting, we analyzed the results.

“Well, grown-ups—all the moms especially—are always trying to eat healthy or lose weight or whatever, so it's no surprise they went for the minis.”

“Plus, vanilla appeals to everyone. Surprisingly, chocolate doesn't,” said Katie.

“Yeah, I think all the bacon ones were eaten by dads,” said Emma. “I know those are my older brothers' favorite.”

“But, hey, we did hand out a ton of flyers and business cards,” said Katie. “Alexis, you've got to be pleased by that!”

I nodded, and then I tried to sum it all up for us, to make it into a learning experience. “So all cupcakes are good, in different combinations. But the simpler, the better.”

Mia squinted. “Kind of like friends,” she said.

I laughed.

“Yeah. And plans,” Emma added.

“And clothes?” suggested Katie.

“And candy!” I said.

We all laughed then.

“Hey, look, guys! It's Taylor Swift!”

We all laughed again and ended in a big group hug before we took our leftovers and went home in good old Maple Grove. It felt great to have the four of us together, in any and all combinations. I was glad there was school the next day (I know, I know) and I could get back into my routine with my friends. I was glad I had branched out and tried new things, and I knew I'd try to do more of it, but sometimes you just need things to be easy and peaceful. And speaking of peace, I, for one, had lots of
Celebrity Ballroom
to watch.