It's Raining Cupcakes (14 page)

When she pulled away, she looked around the room. “Thanks for being here, everyone.”

Stan walked toward Mom with a pair of scissors in his hand. “Caroline, these have been very lucky for me over the years. Not once have I cut off an ear or scratched a cheek.” We laughed. “Will you please do the honors and cut your ribbon? This shop is your little treasure. Cherish it. Share it. Love it. And I
promise, when you do that, others will love it too.”

“Thanks, Stan,” she said as she took the scissors from his hand. She looked over at me. “And thank you, Isabel. Thanks for continuing to stir to make something wonderful when I couldn't do it. You're the best.”

She looked around the room one last time. And then, without any hesitation, she cut the ribbon.

And we all clapped for a really, really long time.

T
o say we were busy the first couple of weeks doesn't even begin to describe it. We were slammed. But of course, it was all good, and Mom's confidence grew, thank goodness.

A storm blew through, and it rained the first few days we were open, which meant that all the moms who would normally take their kids to play in the
fountain in the park brought them to our place to have cupcakes instead. Mom said it was entirely appropriate that it rained on the day It's Raining Cupcakes opened.

Everyone we knew, plus many more we didn't, showed up the first day. I couldn't believe how many teachers from the middle school came. I think Mr. Nelson must have sent them all a note or something. He stopped by too and brought some cool pictures of Washington, D.C., with him.

Sue Canova brought her twin boys by for a cupcake, and when she saw me, she gave me a hug and told me there were no hard feelings. At least I think that's what she said. The boys were jumping up and down and yelling, “Cupcakes, cupcakes, CUPCAKES!” so it was a little hard to hear.

But the best surprise was having Aunt Christy drop by. She came right from the airport, still dressed in her flight attendant uniform. She gave me a bag of goodies from different places she'd visited in the past couple of months. My favorite souvenir was a miniature Statue of Liberty. I'd been checking the mail every day, expecting to hear about the baking
contest, one way or the other. But so far I hadn't heard a thing.

Christy couldn't stay long, as she had another flight that evening, to Chicago. We sent her on her way with a belly full of cupcakes, which she said was icing on the cupcake after visiting with us for a while.

As she left, she told us she would tell all the people traveling to Oregon to make sure they stopped in at It's Raining Cupcakes. I know Mom appreciated that a lot.

The first day, we opened at noon and ran out of cupcakes by three. People were really nice, though, and sat at the little pink tables drinking coffee or tea and talking about how they'd just have to come back the next day and get some cupcakes.

The next morning Grandma, Mom, and I tripled the number of cupcakes we made. This time, we had enough to get us through our regular closing time, five o'clock.

Mom had decided that for all our sakes, the shop would be open five days a week, Tuesday through Saturday, and only in the afternoons. “We don't want to work ourselves to death,” she'd said.

Beatrice's Brownies had a great opening weekend, of course. We got in line with everyone else to check it out. The brownies were good, but their chocolaty goodness didn't make any of us cry in despair or anything. By then Mom knew her cupcake shop was special in and of itself.

The day after Labor Day, Dad and I had to go back to school. Grandma and Mom said they'd be fine without us and not to worry. Still, I did—just a little.

Sophie and I ended up with three classes together, which made us extremely happy. She came home with me after school, so we could talk about our first day.

“I miss Kyle so much,” she said, as we sat at the kitchen table, drinking some iced tea before we went downstairs to see how Mom and Grandma were doing.

“Has he written you back yet?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I can't believe it. I thought we had something special, you know? But that reminds me. Guess what I did get in the mail?”

“What?”

“A letter telling me I didn't place in the baking contest. I'm so bummed. Did you get one?”

I shook my head. “Maybe I should run down and check the mail right now.” I started to get up and find the mail key when the phone rang. I thought it might be Mom calling from downstairs to ask why we hadn't come to see her yet.

“Hello?” I said.

“May I speak to Isabel Browning?” a woman on the other end said.

“This is she.”

“Isabel, this is Julia from
Baker's Best
magazine. I'm so glad you answered the phone. I'm calling to let you know that you are one of our finalists for the baking contest you entered last month. Congratulations!”

I backed up against the counter and grabbed onto it to keep myself steady. “Are you serious?”

She chuckled. “I'm very serious. We loved your recipe. It was so different from anything else submitted. Very original.”

Sophie came over with a puzzled look on her face.
Who is it?
she mouthed.

I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and whispered, “The baking contest.”

“Isabel, is everything all right?” Julia asked.

“Yes, sorry. I just can't believe I'm really a finalist!”

By now Sophie was clapping her hands together really fast, although quietly, and jumping up and down.

“Isabel, we look forward to seeing you in New York in November. You'll get a packet in the mail in the next week with all the information. Please give it to your parent or guardian who will be accompanying you on the trip, so it can be completed and mailed back to us right away.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you very much.”

“Congratulations again, Isabel. Bye.”

When I hung up, Sophie grabbed my hands and pulled me around in circles. “You get to go to New York, you get to go to New York!”

I laughed as we spun around and around. When we stopped, we stood there, holding hands. I squeezed hers and said, “I'm so sorry, Soph. You didn't place.”

She reached out and hugged me. “It's okay! You get to go on a trip, just like you wanted. That's more than enough to make me happy.”

“Thanks, Soph.”

“Come on. We have to tell your mom and your grandma. They are going to die when they hear!”

I gulped. “That's what I'm afraid of.” But she pulled me along, smiling like there wasn't a thing to worry about.

As we walked downstairs, I said, “Sophie, what did you want the thousand dollars for, anyway? You never really told me.”

She stopped before we went through the door and closed one eye, like she was thinking. “I'm not sure I want to tell you.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What? What do you mean? Come on. You have to tell me.”

“Okay, fine. But you can't tell anyone. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I want to take acting lessons. And singing lessons too.” She smiled. “You know how much I loved those theater camps. My mom found some more for next year that I can do with other teens. But when she
talked to the camp director, he said a lot of the kids take professional lessons throughout the year. And if I want to get better, so I can be a professional actress someday—”

“Oh, Sophie Bird,” I said, “you will make a
maahvelous
actress someday. I can just see you on the big screen. When you move to Hollywood, can I come and visit?”

She laughed. “Absolutely, Chickarita. Just be prepared. I don't think it's anything like Willow.”

We kept giggling and talking as we made our way to the cupcake shop. Lana was sitting at a table with a cup of tea, reading a book. I waved at her, and she waved back. The other tables were filled with people I didn't recognize. That was a good sign. It meant people were coming because they'd heard the cupcakes were good, not because they knew us.

We walked back into the kitchen. It smelled yummy, like always. A mix of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate all rolled into one. Grandma greeted me with a hug. Mom had bought each of them official cupcake “uniforms” to force Grandma to stop wearing fancy dresses to work. I almost hadn't
recognized her the first day she showed up in khaki pants and a pink T-shirt with the words
IT'S RAINING CUPCAKES
printed on the front.

She'd said, “Now I'll have to style my hair every day. That's the real reason I wear hats, you know. Nothing like a hat to fix a bad hair day.” It made me laugh, because I knew about that trick!

When I saw Mom, my insides felt like someone had taken a mixer to them. She walked over and put her hand on my forehead. “You don't look very good, Isabel. Is everything all right?”

“Mom,” I said, my voice shaking just a little, “remember that baking contest?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Well, they called to say that I'm one of the finalists.”

She squealed and clapped her hands together. “Isabel, that's wonderful!”

I gulped. “You know the bake-off is in New York, right? An adult has to go with me. Do you think Dad can get some time off work in November to take me?”

Mom walked over to the counter and opened a drawer. She pulled out a book and held it up. It was
Don't Be a Fraidy Cat: How to Live Like You Have Nine Lives.

“I liked it so much, I bought my own copy,” she said. “I've been doing visualization exercises. If I keep at it, I bet I'll be ready to go in November.” Mom turned to my grandma. “You can keep things running for a few days, can't you, Mom?”

“Of course,” she said. “I'll be happy to.”

I couldn't believe it. I let out a big sigh of relief. She was really going to try. Try to get over her fears. For me.

Mom looked at me. “Oh, I can't wait to visit St. Valentine's Cupcakes! And take you to a Broadway play. And—”

Sophie grabbed our hands and started jumping up and down. “You're going to New York, you're going to New York!”

As I giggled at silly Sophie, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I turned and looked, which made everyone look. A young guy with a mustache and major bedhead hair stood there, holding a laundry basket full of clothes.

“Can I help you?” Mom asked.

“I think I'm lost,” he said. “I'm looking for the Bleachorama.”

Mom turned around and looked at me, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. We were both thinking of that day I had asked her where the people would go who needed to wash their clothes.

She walked around to the front and took his basket from him. “Mother, will you get him a cupcake and some milk, please? I'm going to take these upstairs and wash them for him.”

“Wow,” he said. “That's some service. A place that does laundry and gives you cupcakes. I'll have to tell all my friends.”

“NO!” we all shouted. Then we burst out laughing.

But as Mom walked out the door, she turned around with a twinkle in her eye. “You know, now that I think about it, you could be onto something there. I mean, Beatrice's Brownies certainly doesn't—”

“You have an adorable cupcake shop, just like you wanted,” I said, interrupting her, as I walked over and put my arm around her. “Let's leave it at that, okay, Mom?”

She looked around and smiled a relaxed, happy smile. “I do, don't I?”

Later that night, I wrote in my passport booklet as I daydreamed about our trip to New York City.

I journeyed to a place

where it's always raining cupcakes.

I didn't need a passport,

but I met a lot of interesting people

and experienced new things.

Even though the trip was a little bumpy,

I got there just fine.

—IB