“Yeah.” I smile. Now that Gretchen’s in charge, she seems much more at ease. “And the most important thing—the reason we’re all here—is because this is what we love. So let’s get started, and have some fun.”
It may sound a little silly, but I raise my hand in a high-five. Everyone else puts their hands in the middle too, just like we might have done when we were little kids. The energy begins to flow between us, and all of a sudden, worried faces turn to smiles.
“Ready…” I say.
“Steady…” everyone joins in.
“Bake!”
Chapter 39
Confetti and Cakes
I lose myself…
In the feel of the flour as it thickens when I stir it in the bowl, the butter and sugar mixing together. In the smell of the lemon peel, the fresh fruit, the caramel. In the laughter, the occasional floury hand on my shoulder, in the bright lights and the white surface that is no longer shiny, but covered with sugar and pastry ends, gravy, doughy spoons, vegetable peelings, and eggshells. In the moment when I put each cake tier, one by one, into the shiny steel oven to bake, and the moment when I open the door and the sweet-smelling steam rushes up to warm my face. And the cameras don’t matter, or the microphones, or the directions spoken by the producer.
One by one, canapé by canapé, dish by dish, layer by layer, the wedding feast gets made. Violet and Annabel oversee the desserts and help me decorate the cake, Gretchen and Nick focus on the mains, Fraser and Naya on the starters. Alison pitches in where necessary, peeling the fruit, and making the sparkling lemonade and miniature milkshakes. She ends up doing quite a bit of speaking in front of the camera, explaining what we’re all doing. Maybe because it’s because she’s so pretty, but she’s a natural on the screen.
As I make each tier of the cake, I tick off the ingredients as I put them in to avoid another baking powder disaster. Violet makes new “bride and groom” figures for the top of the cake out of sugar paste. Hers don’t look a lot more like Mom and Em-K than mine did, if I’m honest, but they are more artistic, and the silver and white edible glitter on the dress does look lovely. But as the cake nears completion, my nerves rise to the surface. Because as much as the wedding feast prepared by the Secret Cooking Club seems to be a success, on camera at least, I need the other part—the most important part—of my plan to come together too. I wipe a layer of flour off my watch and check the time. It’s almost three o’clock. If something’s going to happen, it will have to be soon.
Just then, I hear a high-pitched voice as a small figure dashes into the studio. Producer Poppy looks alarmed. “Who’s that child?” she says.
Kelsie runs up on to the stage. “Oooh, look at that cake,” she says. “It looks so fab-u-licious!”
I take a step back and look at what Violet and Annabel have done. The six tiers of the cake are covered with smooth white icing. Violet has piped on an intricate white border of buttercream around each tier, and she and Annabel have used royal icing and edible glue to paste real flowers covered in glitter—rose petals, crystallized violets, pansies, and lavender florets—all down the side of the cake like a magic swirl.
Kelsie squeezes my hand. “Dad and I did what you said, Scarlett,” she says. “He talked to her in the kitchen, and I went upstairs to her room and got the dress and flip-flops. And your purple T-shirt.”
“Great job,” I say. She hands it to me and I slip it over the white one I’m wearing. “But just for today, the T-shirt’s lavender, okay?”
“Yeah!”
“Kelsie!” My sister and I both turn. It’s Mom.
She looks beyond stressed, but at least her hair is wet, which means she’s showered. Producer Poppy immediately waylays her. Naya puts Kelsie to work helping to finish the canapés, and I strain to hear what Poppy and Mom are talking about.
“Makeup? Why do you want me in makeup?” Mom says.
“We thought it might be good to get some footage of you with your daughters while they’re baking,” Poppy says. “We’ll put you in a nice dress, and it will be brilliant. So good for the show.”
“Well, if you think it will be good for the show…” Mom brightens.
“Yes. So if you’ll just go with my assistant, she’ll take you down to your own dressing room…”
“Did Mom talk to Em-K?” I whisper to my sister.
“I…” Her blue eyes widen. “I…don’t know. They are going to get married, right?” There’s a hesitation in her voice. “That’s what Dad says.”
“Did he? Did you get your scooter?”
“Yes!” She grins. “It’s totally awesome. It’s pink.”
“Good.”
Her smile fades. “Dad says that Em-K can help me ride it. That he’s going to be our new stepdad.”
“And are you okay with that?” My jaw tenses as I wait for her answer.
“I guess so. Dad says that we’re lucky because we’ll have two dads. We’ll get twice as many presents.”
I laugh, ruffling her blond hair. “With two dads, I guess we will.”
* * *
All the ingredients are in place, separate things ready to be mixed together into something new—like they belonged that way all along. The wedding feast, The Secret Cooking Club, even the TV cameras. Violet’s hand is perfectly steady as she positions the little sugar-paste bride figure on top of the cake. But there’s one piece of the puzzle that’s still missing.
I go to the side of the stage where the cameras can’t see me and check my phone to see if there’s been any response to the texts I’ve sent. Texts to the one person who can make or break this now. There’s no response. I feel a chilling sensation running down my spine. In front of three cameras, Violet sets the figure of the groom on top of the cake next to the bride. Will all this be for nothing?
The studio door opens. A few women come in whom I recognize as friends of Mom. There are only four of them, but I figure it’s not bad for only a few hours’ notice. Behind them, an elderly man in a dark suit and white collar enters.
Producer Poppy rushes up to the newcomers. “How fantastic you could all make it at such short notice!” Even though she’s been on her feet in those high heels for eight hours, there’s no sign of her flagging. She looks around and frowns. “Let me take you to the studio next door. That’s where we’re hoping to start filming in…” she checks her watch, “…ten minutes. All being well.”
But all is not well. Mom comes into the studio, followed by a breathless Assistant Annie who has obviously been told to keep her as far away from the cameras as possible. Mom’s wearing her flowered dress, but not her flip-flops. Those are in Annie’s hand.
“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Mom says. “Why I’m—oh!”
She spies the cake and her mouth drops open. Then, she looks around at the feast we’ve laid out on a table at the edge of the white kitchen counters. A feast we made in part for the benefit of the cameras, but in the end, I swear—that each dish, every canapé, each dollop of icing, and sparkly edible flower was made with love. It’s a feast fit for a bride and groom; a feast fit for a new family. If only—
The studio door opens again. I feel shaky with nerves as Dad walks in, tall and straight in a pair of tan trousers and a blue shirt. And behind him is another man—shorter, but with every inch the same authority. He’s wearing a black suit and a white shirt, but his tie is loose around his neck.
Dad steps back, standing next to Producer Poppy. I notice him reach out and brush her hand. But that’s all I notice about them, because all eyes are drawn to the other man. Congressman Emory Kruffs. Down on one knee. And Mom, kicking off her shoes, running over to him.
“Camera one!” someone whispers.
“Claire,” Em-K says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “A little bird told me that in your heart of hearts, you still want to marry me. That you had some things to come to t
erms with, and then there was the stress of the wedding. And I guess that if I’m honest, I was kind of scared too. But at the end of the day, I want to be with you. Forever.”
“I…I…” Mom stammers. I don’t remember her ever being speechless before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“That little bird also told me that you might be open to doing something really outrageous—like eloping. Getting married on a beach, in a summer dress and flip-flops.”
The flip-flops materialize from Annie’s hand at Mom’s feet. She steps into them.
“And, of course, with the most beautiful wedding feast anyone could ever imagine.” Em-K’s smile seems to light up the whole room. He takes Mom’s hand, and the glowing bubble extends around her as well.
“So maybe I haven’t exactly got a beach, but I can tell you that in the studio next door, there’s some sand and a nice sunny backdrop. There’s also a vicar and some of your best friends.”
Tears flow down Mom’s face, but fortunately, it seems the makeup lady used waterproof mascara.
“So, I know this is kind of short notice, but, Claire, will you run away with me? Elope? It will just be us, the children, a few friends, the Secret Cooking Club…and a national TV audience.”
“Oh, Emory! How fabulous!”
They start to kiss, and things go kind of blurry as my own eyes fill with tears. Emory leads her off to the side. Mom’s crying and gripping his hand, and they’re talking to each other—the most important thing of all, I think.
The stage crew comes in and rearranges the walls so the kitchen studio and the soundstage next door are made into one big open space. Dad stands at the back while Producer Poppy and Assistant Annie get on with the million tasks of sorting out lighting and camera angles, and the wedding cake is moved forward into the shot; the vicar says a few words, and my friends and I all gather around. “Quick, get the champagne and canapés ready!” I direct. Gretchen and Naya take charge and make sure the food gets moved to the right place.
I feel wobbly on my feet and overcome with emotion. Everyone is busy, and no one seems to notice as I slip out of the back door of the studio to the hallway to catch my breath. I lean against the wall, feeling happy and scared and bubbly with adrenaline. The door opens again, and Nick comes out. It hardly seems possible, but my heart speeds up even faster.
“You okay, Scarlett?” he says. “It’s all happening, isn’t it?”
I look at him for a long second—his wavy brown hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, the face that launched a thousand crushes, now etched with concern—for me. And then I start to laugh. Great gulping laughter that makes it hard to breathe and shakes my whole body. The concern on his face turns to alarm, and then, a second later, he’s laughing too. And then almost before I realize it, he’s put his arms around me, and he’s stopped laughing. His hair falls over his eyes and he pushes it back nervously. And then, he brushes his lips against mine. And I stop laughing, lift my chin and press my lips to his. I try to relax and then start enjoying it—my first real kiss!
And I’m not even embarrassed when the studio door opens again and Assistant Annie sticks her head out and announces that everything’s ready—well, not too embarrassed anyway.
Nick and I slowly come apart, and my head feels as if it’s shimmering like light on water.
“So I guess you are my girlfriend.” Nick laughs breathlessly (and I can’t believe he can even talk at all).
“I guess so,” I squeak. I allow him to lead me by the hand back inside the studio. My friends are standing around the stage in a group. I can’t stop grinning, and I’m sure that what’s happened is written all over my face. But most of them don’t even seem to notice that Nick and I have just returned. Only Violet comes up next to me, giving me a sly smile. “There you are,” she whispers. “We thought you’d been ‘bridesmaid-napped.’”
My whole face is glowing as I smile back at her. “Something like that.”
One of the stagehands comes around and passes us each a small plastic bag filled with confetti—tiny bows and hearts made of silver and white paper. The producer gives a signal to the cameraman.
I stand in between Kelsie and Violet as we all join hands, and Mom scrunches her toes in the sand, her face shining with the love—and drama—of it all. And she and Em-K say their vows, and then are pronounced “husband and wife.” They kiss each other in a way that makes me blush to the roots of my hair, and hyperaware of Nick standing behind me. And when the happy couple turns to face us, we all cheer and whoop and throw clouds of confetti, showering them with shimmering bows and hearts and good wishes. I feel so happy and full of hope for the future—both my family’s and my own. I turn my head slightly to smile at Nick, still feeling flushed at the memory of the kiss. And as I’m turning back, I notice Dad slip out of the back of the studio, his eyes downcast. And I feel a little sad too.
“Scarlett?”
I turn back. Mom’s holding out her hand for me to join her. Swallowing hard, I push my nerves aside and go and join her and Em-K and Kelsie on the “beach.” The four of us hug each other—so tightly that it takes my breath away. A tear rolls down my cheek, and Mom brushes it off with her finger and kisses me on the forehead. “You even wore lavender for me,” she says, beaming.
“I tried—this was the best I could do.”
“Thank you so much,” she says, “for all of this.”
I just hug her more tightly. The spotlights are on us, and the cameras, and I think about how the wedding may not have been exactly what Mom planned, but is definitely something she’ll talk about and remember forever. I see the love that’s crinkled into Em-K’s serious-looking brow, and I feel the joy and the pride as all my friends start talking at once and go over to start serving the food. And I know that it’s okay to feel happy and sad, because this moment marks both the end of something, and a new beginning—not just for them, but for us.
As I go over to rejoin my friends and help with the food and the cake, the lights pan over me, warm and bright like the morning sun. Violet waves me over to help her pass out the plates for the cake. As I join her, she takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. “You did it, Scarlett,” she whispers. “It’s wonderful.”
“We did it,” I whisper back with a grin. “And yeah, it really is.”
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Two days after the wedding, the door goes in.
Em-K and Mom have both taken the week off, and they’ve arranged to move their honeymoon forward because, of course, the wedding was sooner than anyone expected. While they’re away, Kelsie’s going to stay with Dad at his apartment, and I’m going to stay with Violet. But even though everything has changed, for a few days at least, things are almost the same as they were.
For one thing, Kelsie and I still have school. When I go down to the kitchen in the morning, Em-K is there, making coffee for Mom, who’s sleeping in. It isn’t even that weird to see him there, wearing a bathrobe that Mom gave him for Valentine’s Day, over a T-shirt and pajama bottoms.
Okay, to be honest, it is a little weird.
As the coffee burbles away in the machine, I try to act normal. Treacle rubs against my leg, and I reach to pat him. I make some toast and pour myself a glass of orange juice. Em-K gets out a tray to bring Mom breakfast, and as we’re both trying not to get into each other’s way (without seeming that we’re avoiding each other) I end up bumping right into him, the cat squawking underfoot.
“Okay then!” he says. We both start laughing.
“Why don’t you let me make breakfast?” I offer. “I’ve got a little extra time.”
“Actually,” he says, “why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to make some eggs.”
“Are you sure?”
He reaches out and takes my arms. A smile lights up his face. “It’s the least I can do, Scarlett. To say thank you for what you di
d. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
“Whoa!” I say. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to Mom?”
His face goes pink. “Was it very awful?”
“Terrible!”
We both start laughing again.
There are footsteps overhead and then on the stairs. A moment later, Kelsie comes into the kitchen, followed by Mom.
“Everything okay?” Mom asks. Her eyes are shiny, and her skin, usually dull and pasty in the morning, seems to glow. She looks happy.
I look at Em-K. His smile stretches from ear to ear. He looks at me and winks.
“Things are great,” I say. “You two sit down, and Em-K and I will finish making breakfast.”
“Okay,” she says. She and Kelsie both sit, and I set the table for four—or try to. There’s a pile of bills and papers taking up one whole place, and the table is small for four people anyway.
“This is cozy,” Em-K says, as he serves the eggs and buttered toast and I pour everyone glasses of orange juice. His eyes flick over to the jagged hole in the wall. “Maybe you could give me the number of the builder later on, Claire,” he says. “Unless you want to call.”
“Oh, that.” Mom waves a hand lazily. Her sparkly engagement ring catches the light, next to the thin platinum band that Em-K put on her finger during the wedding. “You go ahead.”
“And are we knocking out the whole wall or putting in a door?”
For a moment, a spark of panic shoots up my spine. An awful lot has happened in the last forty-eight hours, and while we’re all still running on adrenaline, it’s going to take a while to adjust, surely…
Mom reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine. “Just a door, I think. Assuming that’s okay with everyone.”
I smile at her, feeling a rush of love. “Thanks,” I mouth so softly that no one hears it but her.
The Secret Cooking Club
June 9
Lemon and Lavender Cake
Cake and Confessions Page 17