Bakers on Board (4 page)

The ship was way larger than Jenna had ever imagined. “I got lost trying to find my way back from the elevator to my cabin,” she told her friends. “Those hallways are a mile long!”

“Did you see all the restaurants? And the pool? And the waterslide?” Delaney gushed. “It's like a floating city at sea.”

“There's a basketball court, a shuffleboard deck, even a video arcade,” Sadie said, studying the map the cruise director had given her. “I don't know what to do first!”

“I do,” Kylie said. “I'm scouting out the galley—that's ‘kitchen' in ship-speak. Leo said the pirate party will be a huge event with fireworks and laser lights projected on a huge screen above the pool. And we have just a few days to prepare for it.”

“Do we have any details—anything I can start thinking about for cupcake decorations?” Lexi asked.

Kylie nodded. “It's a salute to all the great pirates on the Seven Seas, from Bluebeard and Captain Kidd to Hook and Jack Sparrow. Our cupcakes have to be equally spectacular—and dastardly.”

Jenna rubbed her temples. “I'm sensing some crazy Kylie cupcake stunt,” she said. “We're not going to shoot them out of a cannon, are we?”

“That's not a bad idea…” Kylie contemplated. “But I think they'd be hard for people to catch, don't you?”

“What if we shish-kebabbed a bunch of cupcakes on a giant pirate sword?” Delaney suggested. “Then we could have a bloody battle on the high seas!”

“Ouch! That sounds dangerous!” Lexi protested. “And it would make holes in all my cupcake art.”

“Bloody and gory is cool,” Kylie said. She had seen every Pirates of the Caribbean movie twice. “But I think Lexi is right. Swords might scare the guests.”

“Fine, it was only a suggestion,” Delaney said. “I just think it would be fun to stage a pirate sword fight.” She pretended to wave a sword in the air and laugh like an evil pirate. “Yo-ho-ho!”

“Yo-ho-
no
!” Jenna said, shaking her head. “Think presentation. What would make a big splash at the party?”

Kylie thought hard—but was interrupted by Maggie.

“How long till it's warm enough for us to swim?” she asked Kylie. “I brought this big raft to blow up but it's freezing on deck.”

“We'll be two days at sea before we hit Florida sunshine,” Sadie reminded her. “But it's fine—there's so much to do on the ship. I'm hitting the rock climbing wall tomorrow morning.”

Maggie flopped down in a chair next to her. “I just want to float on my raft in the pool and soak up some rays.”

Suddenly, Kylie had a brilliant idea. “What if we built a huge raft with a sail and put hundreds of mini cupcakes on it, right smack in the middle of the pool?”

“You mean sail our cupcakes into the pirate party?” Jenna asked her.

“Exactly! Maybe it could start out in the dark with some fog and scary music—like the
Flying Dutchman
in Pirates of the Caribbean? It's crewed by the undead!”

“That's creepy,” Sadie said. “But cool.”

“I could do a skull and crossbones in fondant on each of them,” Lexi added.

“Good!” Kylie exclaimed. “What about flavors?”

“Jolly Roger raspberry,” Jenna said. “And pirate pistachio!”

“And we could all dress up like pirates with eye patches and fake mustaches,” Delaney chimed in.

“I think we have a game plan,” Kylie said. “A floating cupcake ghost ship and pirate costumes for all.”

• • •

Leo made sure the girls of PLC had full access to the ship's “junior” galley—a second kitchen that was free while the cooking staff worked in the main one preparing meals. While the other guests enjoyed all the activities the ship had to offer—lectures, concerts, auctions, and unlimited food and fun—Kylie insisted the girls get down to business.

“What happened to sun and fun?” Delaney complained as they rummaged through the enormous pantry for ingredients.

“It's still too cold on deck,” Kylie reminded her. “You'd be sunning in a ski jacket.”

“It's not too cold to rock climb,” Sadie grumped. “By the time we finish here, the line will be a mile long!”

“Cupcakes come first,” Kylie reminded them. “We need to nail down the recipes, build the raft, and then bake and decorate. We'll have plenty of time for other stuff tomorrow or the day after.”

“Fine,” Delaney said. “But after the pirate party I'm off duty. All cupcakes and no play make Delaney a grumpy girl!”

They experimented with several variations on a raspberry cupcake: raspberry on the inside; raspberry on the outside; fresh raspberries chopped and sprinkled throughout the batter.

Jenna took a bite and examined the cupcake closely. “It looks like our cupcake has the chicken pox,” she commented. “It's all polka-dotted.”

“What if we pureed the raspberries first?” Kylie suggested. “Less chunky, more smooth?”

Jenna found a bottle of raspberry extract on a galley shelf. “And this will ensure we get that punch of raspberry flavor.”

“Okay,” Kylie said, checking off her list. “On to the pistachio ones.”

Sadie placed a huge ten-pound bag of pistachio nuts on the counter. “The recipe calls for the nuts to be shelled.” She took out a single nut, cracked it open, and popped it in her mouth. “This is gonna take a while.”

“What about frosting?” Jenna asked. “Brown sugar buttercream? Cream cheese frosting?”

“No,” Kylie insisted. “It needs to be something dark and sinister…like dark chocolate ganache.”

“Easy,” Jenna replied. “And Lexi's skull and crossbones can sit right on top.”

Leo came in the galley to check on them. “How are the cupcakes coming along?” he asked. “I'm sure they'll be the hit of the pirate party.”

“Slowly and surely,” Kylie said. “We've got the recipes worked out. Now we just have to bake them. How many exactly should we make?”

Leo checked his guest roster. “I'd say we need twelve to cover everyone,” he said.

“Twelve dozen cupcakes?” Delaney asked, surprised. “That's nothing! We can do that in our sleep.”

“Not twelve dozen,” Leo corrected her. “Twelve
thousand
cupcakes. There are over three thousand people on board.”

Kylie gasped. “That's one thousand dozen! I'm not sure we've ever done an order that big before.”

“Well, you've never been on a cruise ship this large before,” Leo pointed out.

“
No problema
,” Jenna assured him. “We promised and PLC always keeps its word. Right, guys?”

Kylie's head was still spinning, but Jenna had a point. They had promised Leo an amazing cupcake display in exchange for the trip. “Right. I guess. Sure.”

“Okay, then I'll leave you to it, ladies. I have to go find Harold and Marisol and make sure they're all set to shoot the runway show tomorrow.”

Kylie checked the oven. It was a huge industrial one, capable of baking twelve dozen cupcakes at a time. She clicked the calculator on her phone and did some quick math. “Okay, so we can bake twelve dozen every twenty-two minutes, which means we can bake a thousand dozen in about 1,833 minutes…”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “Um, that's like thirty hours. And that doesn't even include the time we need to frost and make all the fondant toppers.”

“OMG, we're going to be working for two days straight!” Sadie groaned.

“And we have to build the raft and sail too,” Lexi reminded them. “That's several more hours.”

Kylie sighed. It was an awfully big assignment. “Well, no use sitting around complaining,” she said. She cleared her throat and did her best Johnny Depp British pirate accent. “Like Captain Jack Sparrow always says, ‘The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.'”

“Translation?” Jenna asked.

“Let's make this fun!” Kylie exclaimed. “Isn't that what PLC is all about?”

Delaney took a handful of flour and sprinkled it over Kylie's head. “How fun is that?” she asked, slightly annoyed. “Certainly not as fun as the shuffleboard tournament on Deck 8.”

“You guys, you're missing the point,” Kylie insisted. “We're here together, and we've got a ginormous kitchen to play in.” She gestured around the galley. “Would you just look around you?”

Sadie walked over to a huge mixer and flipped it on. It whizzed to life. “This is pretty awesome,” she said.

Delaney opened the enormous refrigerator room door. “Whoa!” she said, noting entire shelves filled with eggs, milk, and butter. “There's like an entire grocery store in here.”

“And will you just check out all these bottles of food coloring?” Lexi asked, admiring the pastry chef's collection. “Who knew blue came in so many shades?”

Delaney seized a wooden spoon and thrust it at Kylie. “Avast, ye landlubber! I challenge ye to a duel to the death on the high seas,” she said.

Kylie picked up a spatula to defend herself. “Arrr, no one challenges Cap'n Kylie Sparrow. Else you want to walk the plank, me bucko?”

“Shiver me timbers, me thinks we need a high-seas shanty fit to duel to,” Delaney continued. She improvised a funny pirate song:

“Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of vanilla,

we have more than 12,000 cupcakes to filla!

But fear we not, 'cause mighty we are.

All hands in now, and let me hear you say ‘Arrr!'”

“Arrr!” the girls sang out, roaring with laughter.

“Delaney, you are one crazy pirate captain,” Kylie said, dropping her spatula on the counter. “I surrender!”

Delaney bowed. “Me hat's off to you, Cap'n Kylie. You said we could make this fun, and you were right.”

“We can make anything fun if we do it together,” Kylie said, holding up an empty muffin tin. “Time's a-wasting, maties.”

The next morning, as Harold unpacked his camera bag, Marisol carefully laid each lens, flash, and tripod out on the floor of the Neptune lounge to inventory them.

“What's this?” she asked, holding up something that looked like an umbrella.

“It's a reflector,” Harold replied. “Very important in lighting a subject.”

“There's so much I don't know about photography,” Marisol said. “It's overwhelming.”

“It comes with time,” Harold assured her. “When I started out, I wasn't much older than you. The best thing you can do is just take pictures. You learn from doing.”

He handed her an old Nikon camera. “I traveled with this all over the world. It was one of my first cameras. Good old Lucy never let me down.”

“Lucy? You name your cameras?” Marisol asked, giggling.

“Sure do! That one there is Ethel, and these two are Betty and Veronica.”

“Okay, Lucy,” Marisol said, putting the camera strap around her neck.

Harold had an idea. “Tell you what. Why don't you hang on to her for a while for me and take her out for a spin?”

“Really?” Marisol said, admiring the camera's intricate lens. “You sure you wouldn't mind?”

“Just keep a close eye on her,” Harold warned. “Lucy's a delicate old girl.”

Marisol wandered around the ship, snapping shots of various guests enjoying themselves. There was a woman admiring an ice-sculpting display; a group of little girls playing ring-around-the-rosy in the kids' center; and an older gentleman asleep on a deck chair. She noticed that the air on the top decks wasn't as chilly as it had been when they left New York. In fact, it was almost warm. They must have been getting closer to Florida and the Bahamas. She gazed out at the rolling waves and breathed in the salty air.

“Hey, Maggie!” she called, spotting her stepsister walking around with an ice cream cone in her hand. “Where'd you get that from?”

Maggie pointed to an ice-cream parlor way on the other side of the deck. “DIY cones,” she said. “All you can eat, open twenty-four seven!”

She offered Marisol hers. “I'll give you my cone if I can hold your camera for a sec.”

Marisol hesitated. “It's kind of on loan…so be very careful with it,” she instructed Maggie. Maggie threw the strap over her neck and peered through the lens. “Whoa, this thing really zooms!”

“Pool's open!” a little boy yelled, racing past them.

“No way!” Maggie squealed. “Finally!” She took off after him, forgetting she was still holding Lucy.

“Wait! Maggie!” Marisol shouted after her and dropped the cone. “Don't get the camera wet!”

But it was too late. Maggie was standing at the edge of the pool watching as the boy did a cannonball off the side. In a split second, he soaked her from head to toe.

“Hey! Why don't you watch where you're splashing!” she yelled at him. She looked down at the camera dangling from her neck. “Oh no. I got it wet!”

Marisol caught up to her and snatched Lucy back. She tried drying the camera off in a towel, but no matter how many times she tried to switch it on, it wouldn't oblige.

“Maggie, you ruined Lucy!” she moaned. “What will l I tell Harold?”

“Who's Lucy? Who's Harold?” Maggie asked. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, honest!”

Marisol sighed. “Lucy is the camera, and Harold is the photographer who trusted me with her. I guess it's just as much my fault as it is yours. I shouldn't have let it out of my sight.”

“Well, maybe Harold will know how to fix it,” Maggie suggested.

“Oh no. I couldn't possibly tell him I broke his precious camera. I'll just have to keep my mouth shut and hope I can fix it before he finds out.” She tucked Lucy into her tote bag. “He's got a lot on his mind with shooting the collection anyway.”

• • •

When Marisol caught up with her photo mentor, he was busy in the main ballroom, taking test shots and checking the lighting with a meter. There was a long runway for the models to walk down, and red velvet curtains with glistening gold Ralph Warren
RW
logos framed the stage.

“It's not ideal,” Harold said, noting how the light streamed in through the room's small portholes, streaking the walls. “But we can make do.”

“I've seen a runway show before,” Marisol said, reflecting on the time Leo took her and Gabby to New York Fashion Week. “It was really dark with lots of flashing lights.”

“Exactly,” Harold said. “Which means I supplement the flash and change my focus mode—since the models will be moving fast and I don't want my subjects to blur.”

Marisol nodded and pulled out her pen and paper to take notes. Harold was so smart!

“The show is supposed to start at 8:00 p.m., right after the banquet dinner,” she said, checking the schedule. “Sounds fancy.”

“Then you better go get yourself gussied up,” he pointed out. “I'm good here.”

“Okay—if you're sure you don't mind,” she said. She did want to straighten her hair, do her makeup, and figure out what shoes to wear with the evening gown Mami had made her.

“Go on, have some fun. It's your vacation,” he told her. “Take some great pictures with my Lucy. Can't wait to see 'em.”

Marisol gulped. She felt awful that she had ruined Harold's camera! “Um, yeah, great…” She hesitated. “I'll do that.”

Great
, Marisol thought to herself as she went back to her cabin.
I'm not only lying to Mami, but I'm lying to Mr. Hammond as well!
She bumped smack into Leo, who was walking down the hall with his nose in his clipboard.

“Oh, hi,
mija
,” he said. “I hear the pools are open.”

“Yeah, they certainly are.” Marisol couldn't help groaning. If it weren't for the pool, she wouldn't be in this predicament.

“I thought you'd be psyched for a swim,” Leo replied, puzzled. “I can't get Maggie out of the water.”

“Too much splashing going on for me,” Marisol said, dashing off before Leo asked any more questions. “Don't wanna ruin my hair.”

Leo shrugged. His stepdaughter's strange behavior was the least of his worries. The fashion show was set to start in just a few hours, and most of his models were unaccounted for.

“Leo to Mitchell… Come in, Mitchell,” he said in his walkie-talkie. “Have we tracked down all ten of the ladies for the fashion show?”

“Negative.” Mitchell's voice cracked and hissed over the receiver. “I'm short one of them. I've looked everywhere—the spa, the pool deck, the game room, the lunch buffet. If you were a model, where would you be?”

“Keep looking,” Leo instructed him. “I need her in hair and makeup in less than an hour. Or Mr. Warren is going to have both our heads on a platter at the banquet tonight.”