by Coco Simon
“I still can’t believe you didn’t get sick,” I told him.
“I told you, superteacher antibodies,” he said. “Plus, I take my vitamins.” Then he walked off, whistling.
“What was that about?” Emma wondered aloud.
“Honestly, I have no idea,” I said.
“He seems very happy,” Mia remarked.
“You’re right,” agreed Alexis. “Katie, have you noticed that?”
“He’s always been a pretty chill guy,” I said, which was true, and then suddenly, I remembered what my mom had told me. That she and Jeff loved each other. Could that have something to do with it? Maybe, but I didn’t exactly feel like sharing that information in the middle of the cafeteria.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out Sunday,” Emma said, picking at her lettuce with a fork.
“We’ll find out a lot on Sunday,” Alexis added. “We’ll finally know what your father’s like, Katie.”
“Yeah, I guess we will,” I said, and then I started slurping my soup so I wouldn’t have to talk about it anymore.
My meeting with my dad was only a few days away. The nervousness started to bubble up inside me. The way I saw it, the meeting could only go two ways:
It could be amazing, with me and Marc Donald Brown instantly bonding and talking and laughing like we had been part of each other’s lives forever. We would both love hot chocolate and we would finish each other’s sentences and realize that we had so much in common.
Or it could be awful, with him making up some lame excuse about why he had left and me freaking out and running out of the coffee shop and him deciding it wasn’t worth having a relationship with a crazy daughter like me.
I was convinced the meeting would be either totally amazing or a total disaster. It never occurred to me that it might be something in between.
CHAPTER 6
Marc Donald Brown
How are you feeling, Katie?” Mom asked as she drove me to the coffee shop on Saturday morning.
I know she wasn’t asking me about the aftereffects of my cold. She was just as worried as I was about me meeting Marc Donald Brown. For the last few days I had caught her staring at me several times, like she was expecting to see me break down or cry at any minute.
“I’m okay,” I said. But my stomach was doing little flip-flops when I said it.
“Well, I’ll be close by,” Mom said. “I’m not going back home; I’m going to do some shopping in town. So text me as soon as you want me to come get you, and I’ll be there in a flash, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. Then I had a funny thought. “Are you really going to be shopping, or are you going to be spying on us through the window?”
Mom smiled. “Actually, my plan was to disguise myself as a barista and spy on you from inside the coffee shop,” she said.
I laughed. “I can just see you doing that!”
Mom pulled into a spot in the municipal parking lot.
“Is your phone charged?” she asked.
I patted my pocket. “Charged all night.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”
We got out of the car and walked toward Lane’s on Main. It was a beautiful morning. We turned on to Main Street, which is filled with cute little shops—a candy shop, a toy shop, a pet boutique, and lots of clothing shops. Between Tanya’s Treasures (a jewelry shop) and Footprints (a shoe store) was Lane’s on Main.
There were a few people sitting at the round metal tables outside. Marc Donald Brown was standing by the front door, looking up and down the street. He waved when he saw us.
“Good morning, Sharon. Hi, Katie,” he said as we walked up.
“Hey, Don,” Mom said. She turned to me. “Katie, I need to talk to your dad for a minute before I leave you two. Why don’t you go inside and find a table?”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said.
Lane’s on Main was crowded, but I managed to find a small table for two. It had a view of the window, and I watched Mom talking with Marc Donald Brown.
Those are my parents, I thought. My mom and dad. Together. What would my life have been like if they had stayed together? I wondered. I tried to imagine Marc Donald Brown eating Chinese food on the couch with Mom and me or running through the park with us. But I couldn’t. It was weird.
Then Mom waved to me through the window, and Marc Donald Brown walked inside.
“Can I get you something, Katie?” he asked me. “Coffee? A cookie? They have great scones here.”
“I’ll take a hot chocolate, please,” I said. “Thanks.”
I stared out the window and nervously tapped my foot against the floor as he got our beverages. He came back with a mug of steaming hot chocolate for me and a cup of espresso for himself.
“So,” he said, “thanks for meeting me.”
I just nodded. I didn’t know what to say. I waited for him to speak again. He was the one who was so eager to see me. I was going to let him do the talking.
He cleared his throat. “I just . . . I owe you an apology, Katie,” he said. “Your mom and I were really young when we got together, and I was in a strange place in my life. My parents pushed me into dental school, but I didn’t really want to go. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And then I met your mom.”
He looked away, and I could tell he was thinking about a far-off memory.
“I really loved her—I did,” he said. “But we got married, and then we had you, and it all happened so fast.” He shook his head and took a sip of his espresso.
“And then you left,” I blurted out.
MDB nodded. “I did. And I’m sorry. I hated being a dentist. It was my parents’ dream, not mine. I had always wanted to be a chef. I worked my way through college in the kitchen of a restaurant.”
“You did?” I asked. I had never heard that about him.
“Yes, and then one day, after you were born, a friend of mine from the restaurant called me. He was going to Paris to intern with a restaurant there, and he said he could get me in too. I couldn’t believe it. It was always what I had dreamed of doing. So . . . I left.” He looked away from me.
“But why couldn’t you have stayed married to Mom?” I asked. “Couldn’t she have been a dentist in Paris? Or you could have had a long-distance relationship. And then after your internship ended, you could have come back here to be with us.”
“That makes sense now, the way you’re saying it, Katie,” MDB said. “You’re much more mature than I was when I was twenty-four. Back then, I didn’t feel like I had those options. It felt, well, all-or-nothing to me. Like I had a chance to live the life that I wanted, finally.”
My stomach felt hot. I know Marc Donald Brown was being honest with me. But I didn’t much like what he had to say.
“A life without Mom and me, you mean?” I asked.
“Katie, it wasn’t like that,” he said. “Your mom thought I was crazy to want to be a chef. She wanted us to open up a practice together. We fought a lot over my decision.”
“Mom told me you moved to Washington State,” I told him.
“I did, eventually,” MDB said. “After the Paris internship, I went to Spain and then Germany. I was getting an education that I knew I couldn’t get anywhere else. And while I was there . . . Well, I wasn’t thinking too much about what I had left behind.
“In a kitchen in Germany, I met Jasmine—she’s my wife,” he said. “We moved back to the States to be closer to her family in the Pacific Northwest, and that’s how I ended up in Washington.”
Jasmine. The woman who had replaced my mom. I let that sink in. My mom had a good old-fashioned name: Sharon. Sharon was a good name for a dentist or a teacher or a nurse or a mom. Jasmine sounded like, well, a princess or a woman who created a line of cosmetics.
“We opened a restaurant in Olympia,” he went on. “And then we had our three girls.”
“I know,” I said. “I read the newspaper article.”
“They’re part of the reason I reached out t
o you, Katie,” he said. “Watching the three of them grow up . . . I started to realize how much I was missing by not seeing you grow up. And I want my girls to get to know their sister.”
I let that sink in too. One minute I was Katie Brown, only child, and then—boom! Katie Brown, older sister of three.
He took out his phone.
“Would you like to see their picture?” he asked.
“Um, sure,” I said, because I was genuinely curious. It had been a while since I’d seen that newspaper photo.
He brought up a picture and held out the phone to me. “The oldest is Cecile; she’s eight,” he said. “And Ella is six, and the youngest, Riley, is four.”
I looked at their faces, searching for some resemblance to me. But they had Marc Donald Brown’s green eyes, and that blond hair had to have come from Jasmine, I guessed.
“They’re cute,” I said, because I felt like I needed to say something polite. And it wasn’t a lie. They were cute—I just wasn’t sure how I felt about having half sisters yet.
MDB took the phone from me. “I’m not asking you to understand, Katie, or even for your forgiveness,” he said. “But I felt like I owed you an explanation. And I want you to know that I’m sorry to have missed so much of your life already.”
I was glad he said that. Something inside me softened up a tiny bit. Because if he had been expecting me to say, Oh, it’s okay; I understand; don’t worry about it, that was not going to happen.
“So,” he said, “I would really like to get to know you better. For starters, maybe you can tell me about this Cupcake Club.”
“Well, it kind of started on my first day of middle school,” I told him. “My best friend, Callie, dumped me. And at lunchtime I ate with Mia, this new girl who’s now my best friend, and Alexis and Emma, who were already best friends. And Mom had packed me a peanut-butter-and-jelly cupcake, like she always does on the first day of school, and we started talking about cupcakes.”
Marc Donald Brown nodded. “So you bonded over food. I get that.”
Then I went on to explain how we had formed a business, and told him about some of the jobs that we had, and he asked me a lot of questions about where we got our supplies and how we budgeted our expenses.
“It sounds like you’ve got a nice little business going,” he said. “And you and each of your friends bring something to the team. I’m guessing you come up with a lot of the recipes?”
I nodded. “That’s my favorite part.”
I was waiting for him to say, “Well, you got that from me,” but he didn’t—and I was glad that he didn’t. Because that wouldn’t have been fair. Mom is the one who taught me how to cook and how to bake cupcakes. Even if maybe I did get some cooking gene from Marc Donald Brown, Mom is the one who really encouraged my talent and helped me with it.
“I really would like to get you know you better, Katie,” he said. “And I had a thought about that, which I passed by your mom. How would you like an internship with a pastry chef at my restaurant? Well, not an ‘internship,’ really, and I can’t pay you, but it’ll be a chance for you to observe how a kitchen in a restaurant works, help out a little with the prep work and baking, things like that. It’ll be good experience for when you go to culinary school.”
I was pretty shocked. Of all the things I had imagined happening at this meeting, me being offered an internship was not one of them. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him with my mouth open for a few seconds.
“Take your time and think about it, Katie,” he said. “Our pastry chef, Melissa Stackman, is really good at what she does, and really nice besides. I think you’d have a good time. We could work out what times and days are best for you to come in that won’t conflict with school or your cupcake business.”
“Wow,” I said. “That, um, sounds like an amazing opportunity. I should probably think about it, though.”
And I really did need to think about it. I had always heard that the environment in a kitchen is fast-paced and crazy. Did I really want to get to know Marc Donald Brown under those circumstances? But then again, how else would we ever get to know each other? Certainly not by meeting for coffee every week.
And besides, interning at a restaurant (especially a well-reviewed one like Chez Donald) was a fantastic experience for someone my age. It would look great on a cooking school application, too.
Even so, the offer kind of felt like a sort of . . . consolation prize. You don’t get to have me as a father, but you can work in my restaurant!
“Just let me know when you have your answer, Katie,” Marc Donald Brown said. “And let me know if you’d like to meet your sisters soon.”
“Half sisters,” I corrected. “And I’ll need to think about that, too.”
I happened to glance over at the window then, and I saw Mom looking in. She wasn’t exactly spying, but it was good to see her. I waved at her.
“Well, I guess I should go,” I said, standing up. I awkwardly stuck out my hand, because I wasn’t sure of the best way to say good-bye, and that’s the first thing my body thought of. A hug didn’t seem quite right, but a handshake was kind of weird. Who shakes hands with their father? But Marc Donald Brown shook my hand and smiled.
Then I bolted out of the coffee shop and let out a long, slow breath.
CHAPTER 7
It’s Actually Happening!
How did it go?” Mom asked after we climbed into the car.
“Okay, I guess,” I said. “It was weird. And I guess you know he offered me an internship.”
Mom nodded. “Yes. How do you feel about that?”
I had to think about it. “I’m kind of torn. It’s a great opportunity. Like, if he weren’t my dad, I would probably jump at it. But the fact that he is my dad . . . Well, that makes it kind of awkward. He hasn’t been around all these years, and now he’ll be my boss.”
“I talked to him about that,” Mom said. “He wouldn’t be directly supervising you. You’ll be working with the pastry chef, Melissa. So this way, you’d get to know him a little better, and he’ll get to know you a little better too.”
“It might work,” I said thoughtfully. “I’m just not sure.”
“It’s your decision, honey,” Mom said. “I’ll support you no matter what you choose. And if you’re having a hard time, you can always talk to me about it. Or talk to your friends. They always give you good advice.”
I thought about how many problems Mia, Alexis, and Emma had helped me deal with. I don’t know what I would have done without them!
“Good idea,” I told Mom.
I thought about calling Mia right away, but I knew she was in Manhattan with her dad, and they usually do fun stuff together, like go to museums and fancy restaurants.
I was right. Mia texted me that night, late. How did things go with ur dad? Sorry I didn’t text earlier. Dad took me to see Wicked on Broadway.
Sounds like fun! I texted back. Things went okay. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.
Okay. Nite! , Mia wrote.
I would have kept texting, but I had a lot to tell, and I didn’t feel like typing everything out.
The next night, I waited till all my friends were together at the Cupcake Club meeting to tell them all that had happened with my dad. We were back in Mia’s house, sitting around the dining room table.
“So, we’ve got fifteen minutes until Mr. Green gets here with his mysterious request,” Alexis said. “I thought we could go over our schedule for the next month before he gets here.”
“Good idea, but first, I need to hear what happened when Katie met her dad yesterday,” Mia said.
“Yes, that’s right!” said Emma. “How did it go? Was it totally weird?”
I told them what had happened, ending with the part about him offering me an internship.
“You definitely should do it,” Alexis said. “With that on your résumé, you’ll get into any culinary school you want to.”
Emma frowned. “I don’t know. It sounds l
ike it could be totally awkward.”
“I think it’s worth a try,” Mia said. “It’s a good opportunity, and if it gets weird, you could always just quit.”
Believe it or not, I hadn’t thought about that. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m still not exactly sure what I want to do, but—”
Just then the doorbell rang, and Tiki and Milkshake started barking like crazy. A few seconds later Mia’s mom came into the dining room with Jeff.
“Hey, girls,” he said. “Thanks for letting me come to your meeting.”
“I hope they give you a good deal,” Mrs. Valdes said, winking at Jeff. I figured that whatever he was up to, she knew about it.
“Before we talk business, I’d like to have a word with Katie in the kitchen,” he said.
“Uh, sure,” I said, and I followed him out of the dining room as my friends looked on curiously.
Jeff turned to me and took a deep breath. “So, I was going to tell you this at the meeting, but then I realized that might not be the best thing to do. You deserve to hear this from me first.”
I was starting to feel nervous. “Okay?”
He took another deep breath. “Katie, I’m going to ask your mom to marry me. And I want to propose to her with a cupcake. A special cupcake made by the Cupcake Club. But if that’s weird for you, or you don’t want to do it, I completely understand.”
I couldn’t breathe for a second. Jeff wanted to marry my mom! Of course, I knew that was probably going to happen. He and mom had talked about it. Mom had even explained to me that if she and Jeff got married, he would move into our house with us. And his daughter, Emily, would live with us sometimes.
And now it was happening! And the thought of Mom and Jeff getting married made me feel happy but also kind of scared, too. I still worried that things would never be the same again with Mom and me once she married Jeff.
And now Jeff wanted the Cupcake Club to help him propose. Which was sweet, really. And he had told me first!
I noticed Jeff was staring at me, and I realized that I hadn’t said a word in what must have seemed like a very long minute.