by Gaby Triana
When our lips part, he takes my face with both hands and smiles. He looks so fine with those clothes of his to match my red dress. Alexandre knows me like nobody else, except for maybe Sabrina, but even then, he knows me more. He’s been paying that much attention, and that makes him a keeper.
I slide my hands up his arms and shoulders, wrapping them behind his neck. He closes his eyes and we hug for a long time. My knees feel weak, but he holds me tightly, keeping me from sinking. For Christmas this year, I’m asking Santa for a new airbrush, an edible ink printer, and the ability to detect gay boys from straight boys, because I have clearly failed.
“You thought what? You were saying?” He smiles.
“Never mind,” I whisper between breaths.
He kisses me again, his mouth and tongue soft and exploring, and I happily give in.
Nope. Not gay. Not even close.
Twenty-Eight
The Monday after Thanksgiving weekend, my mom and I are sitting in the legal offices of Papa’s lawyer, whatever-his-name-is, holding hands, as the cheerful old man flips through papers. He reads aloud about trusts, the sale of the townhouse, and other boring things. Then, he hands my mom an envelope.
“And this…is for your daughter.”
She takes the envelope, lifts the unglued flap, and slides out a letter which she unfolds. In the silence of the office, her lips move quietly, and her eyes well up with tears.
What? What is it? I want to scream.
Mr. Papa’s Lawyer, Esq. folds his hands. “He requested that she open a small, part-time business, after school hours only, provided that you oversee everything. At least until she earns a business degree after high school, which he’s also provided for in the other envelope.”
Mom’s eyes widen. Her hands shake.
Wait.
“What is that?” I ask. My mom pulls out a bank check from behind the letter to show me. “For me?” I read my name on it. “For a business?” Will Mom even allow that?
“And he made sure we had to work together too.” She wipes her eyes and chuckles. “Bastard.” She and Mr. Papa’s Lawyer, Esq. share a knowing laugh, and Mom shakes her head.
Mr. Papa’s Lawyer, Esq. shifts his gaze to me. “You might want to start thinking about a name for your new bake shop, Rose.”
My brain lights up in sparkly bright colors. Seriously? I get to open a cake business? “I have one in mind already.” I glance at my mom. I hope she’s not upset that I’m still obsessed with this whole owning-a-bakery thing, but yeah, I’ve had one in my head for a while now.
“Do you now?” She plays with a strand of my hair hanging over my forehead.
“Yes, I do.”
“What is it?”
1945 in the good ol’ US of A.
The blank store window awaits a new name. The sign installer is here, but I’ve been putting off having the store name hung, because of a crazy feeling that my beloved, dreamy fiancé will be marching home today. I’ve been waiting for him since they announced the end of the war. I haven’t received any Western Union telegrams, always good news. And I’ve made sure not to sit under the apple tree with anyone else but him, so hopefully, my inkling is right.
I’m in the back office, wearing my gray spring frock from Sears, working out my budget, ordering ingredients to stock my brand-spanking new General Electric refrigerator, when I hear the chimes above the door.
My stomach flips—it’s him, I know it. But when I peek out the door, a beautiful woman stands there. A beautiful woman who was once difficult to love but is making things easier. “Mom!” I reach the counter and cover her black, manicured nails with mine.
“Rose, baby. I thought I’d come by and see the new store.” She kisses my cheek.
I inhale the soft scent of her pressed powder. “Oh, do you like it?”
“I love it!” She smiles gaily. “And not only that, but I brought you your very first customer.”
“You did?” I glance behind her, but I don’t see anyone. Maybe they’re outside waiting. “Who is it?”
She takes both my hands in hers and raises an eyebrow like only my mom can. “Why, it’s me, darlin’.”
Her? But why would my mother need a…
“Will you make my wedding cake, Rose? Frank and I are engaged.” She extends her ring finger, and I behold a shiny emerald-cut diamond bigger than the budget of an air-conditioning repairman. Her beaming smile reminds me of a young mother I used to see a long, long time ago. I’m glad she’s back.
“Oh, would I!” I hug her over the counter. I can’t believe it! My first official wedding cake! For my own mother! I’m officially a professional wedding cake designer. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Frank! But uh…wasn’t it because of the Cakespell?”
She shakes her head. “No, honey. I had a crush on him before I had your cupcake. Why do you think I kept calling him back for more estimates?” She smiles coyly. “The cupcake might’ve helped, but we’ve kept our love going.”
Just like Papa said should happen.
The door chimes again, startling me, and we both turn. My heart stops when I spot him. It’s my uniformed Romeo, removing his hat, running a hand through his thick hair, flashing me that striking smile I’ve missed so much. “Hello, gorgeous.” He opens his arms wide.
“Alexandre!” I jump over the counter faster than he can call me Toots. He feels so good and solid in my arms. Realer than real. “You’re home. You’re really home.” I bury my face in his neck.
“How I’ve missed you so.” He squeezes me, then looks up, remembering our company. “Oh, hello, Ms. Milkovich. So nice to see you.”
“Welcome home, soldier,” my mother says, turning to me with a sigh. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now. We’ll talk more about that cake later, baby.” She touches my face, then sashays off in her tight, black pencil skirt. The chimes tinkle, and she’s gone.
“So, how do you like it?” I twirl around.
“Real nice place you got here, Rosie. Better than the slop houses my sore eyes have seen lately. I’m only sorry I couldn’t help you fix it up. But you finally did it.”
“I had a feeling you were coming today. I even told Lenny to wait. Hold on…” I let go of his broad shoulders and run outside real quick where Lenny is finishing his lunch. “Go ahead and hang the sign now,” I tell him.
“Sure thing, Miss Rosie.” He wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin from his lunchbox and hops to work.
Back inside, I whirl around in my dress. Alexandre picks me up by the waist and swooshes me into the air, landing me right on the counter. His quirky smile gets me every time. He pulls out a small box from behind his back. It’s dark gray with light gray ribbon. Of course it is. “For you, angel cake.”
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
“Oh, you are just heaven sent.” I loosen the ribbon, pull off the box lid, and peer inside. Reaching in, I lift out a shiny round silver bell. “My own customer call bell! Thank you, honey!” I tap it a few times—ding, ding, ding!
The chiming echo yanks me out of my daydream and into the full-color reality of the present. With freshly-painted light gray walls, shiny white iron bistro tables and chairs, and framed photos of my grandparents, mother, and best friends, my new store is a baker’s dream come true.
Alex leans against my counter, hair gelled back, huge smile and lovely big eyes. “Does that mean you like it?”
“Like it? Oh, Alex, it’s perfect!” I tap it a few more times, taking in the pink, brown, and cream interior of the best cake shop ever—mine.
“Now your customers can call for you when we’re busy making out in the back.” He smiles that swoony Alex smile, and together, we watch some guy (whose name I doubt is Lenny) put up the sign right above the front window. It’s a glossy brown, wooden plaque with carved-out, bright, pink letters that reads:
CAKE MAGIC by Rose
Together, we watch it swing lightly, as the installer climbs back down his ladder.
I take Alex’s hand. “We did it, didn’t we?”
“You did it, doll.” He kisses my cheek. “You’ll have customers lined up outside for miles and miles around. And I’ll still be here to help any way I can. For as long as I can.”
“Well, you do know that, growing up together, you have a one-out-of-four chance of marrying the girl next door, don’t you?” I give him a sly smile.
“If I’m anywhere near as lucky then as I am now…” He pulls me off the counter into his arms. “What do you say we leave and go watch a classic movie down at the old theater? Mick is there tonight, and you’re not officially open ‘til tomorrow at 9 AM.”
“That is definitely a most excellent idea.” I press my forehead onto his. “But first…let’s try your other idea first.”
“Which one?”
“Going in the back to see if anyone interrupts us with the bell?” I press my body against his and lean in for a kiss.
In my mind, a big, gray heart appears, perfectly capturing and framing our faces, as the orchestra plays, and the credits roll. But in reality, there’s no orchestra, no piano plinking, no Casablanca moon hovering over the evening fog. Just me and Alexandre headed to the movies. And it’s all good. Because it’s real.
And that’s what makes life sweet.
Acknowledgements
In 2013, I was at a party in L.A. that my literary agent, Deborah Warren, was giving for her clients during a Society of Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators conference. She suggested I take all my experience running a cake design studio called Cakes by Gaby and turn it into a YA novel about a teen baker. Because I’d recently closed the studio and felt defeated, I didn’t want to write about anything to do with cakes, decorating, or baking anymore. It hurt too much to remember the hard times that had forced my business to close.
But I considered it.
Maybe through writing, I could bring back the magic. I could focus on the fun times I had baking without focusing on the details of running a business. I could remember why I fell in love with the art of cake decorating at the age of 15 (same as Rose) in the first place. I credit Deborah Warren with forcing me out of my comfort zone and making me face the sadness. Because of her, I wrote a story I absolutely adore and hope you all do, too.
I also want to thank Curtis Sponsler for being my Alexandre. He’s the yin to my yang and will always know me better than anybody else. Thank you also to my early readers: Jodi Turchin, Stephanie Hairston, and Virna DePaul. I know how hard it is to make time for others, so I appreciate it. To the rest of my critique group—Danielle Joseph, Christina Diaz Gonzalez, Alex Flinn, Linda Rodriguez Bernfeld, Adrienne Sylver, Alexandra Alessandri, and Sylvia Lopez—even just a few chapters of your feedback helped me form my story.
It’s my hope that CAKESPELL inspires you to never stop dreaming. To push past the “no’s” and “you can’ts” and take matters into your own hands. You’re in charge of your life. You make your own magic. So, go do it.
About The Author
GABY TRIANA is the award-winning author of YA novels, Cakespell, Wake the Hollow, Summer of Yesterday, Riding the Universe, The Temptress Four, Cubanita, and Backstage Pass, as well as 40+ ghostwritten novels for best-selling authors. Originally a 4th grade teacher, Gaby earned Teacher of the Year in 2000, wrote her first middle grade manuscript called Freddie and the Biltmore Ghost, then left teaching to launch a full-time writing career. She went on to publish with HarperCollins, Simon & Schuster, and Entangled, win an IRA Teen Choice Award, ALA Best Paperback Award, and Hispanic Magazine’s Good Reads of 2008. She now writes about ghosts, haunted places, and abandoned locations. When she's not obsessing over Halloween or Christmas, she's taking her family to Disney World, the Grand Canyon, LA, New York, or Key West. Gaby dreams of living in the forests of New England one day but for the meantime resides in sunny Miami with her family, a dog, and four cats.
Visit me at: www.gabytriana.com
Author Links
Website: www.GabyTriana.com
Facebook: Gaby Triana
Instagram: @gabytriana
Twitter: @gabytriana
Also By Gaby Triana
BACKSTAGE PASS
CUBANITA
THE TEMPTRESS FOUR
RIDING THE UNIVERSE
SUMMER OF YESTERDAY
and…
WAKE THE HOLLOW
A “Legend of Sleepy Hollow” paranormal mystery
(Entangled TEEN)
A Note To My Readers:
Hey! Guess what? I’m now a hybrid author. That’s a new term in the publishing world that means some of my books are published traditionally by the “Big 5” publishers in NYC (HarperCollins and Simon & Schuster for my YA books, for example), while some are published through Gaby Triana Books, my own imprint at Alienhead Press.
Most readers don’t care where a book is published, as long as it’s entertaining and well-written. However, being a hybrid author means hiring my own editor, copyeditor, proofreader, cover artist, and marketing team to make this book happen. Which means…if you enjoyed this novel, please take a moment to rate it on Goodreads and/or the online store you purchased it from (Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, Barnes & Noble). Reviews mean everything to us! So does word-of-mouth. Without these two, we can’t continue to bring more books to more readers, and nobody wants that.
Reviewing takes one minute. A quick few words and/or rating will go a long way. Every little bit helps, so I can continue to write quality stories for my fans. Thank you guys so much!
Love, Gaby