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I always baked when I was happy, even if there wasn’t an occasion, just because it brought back some of my fondest memories from childhood. Sunny Saturdays spent in my grandma’s sun-filled kitchen baking and cooking while listening to stories about our family’s past.
My other sisters were never very interested, and that’s how I ended up with her collection of recipes, some of which went back to the eighteen-hundreds and were among some of my favorites. Back then, before everything became commercialized, people seemed to experiment more with flavors and their cakes especially were more extravagant than today’s offerings.
I had another kitchen counter full of goodies by the time I was done and decided that I’d take them to the office for my monthly meeting that was coming up in two days.
* * *
I wason my way back from said meeting when Henry stopped me with a sheepish look on his face at the front door. “Hey, Miss. Stewart, um, I don’t know how to ask this, but you don’t happen to bake to sell, do you?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Here’s the thing. Like I mentioned the other night, I took those cupcakes to my poker night with the buddies and one of them has a ten-year-old daughter who has a birthday coming up in a week. He wanted to know if you could bake some cupcakes; he said they were the best he’d ever tasted. He'd pay you, of course.” He rushed to add the last. “I told him about six dollars per cupcake; I’m not sure if that’s right or not.”
I almost swallowed my tongue. “You? And he agreed to that price?”
“He can afford it, trust me. I think his only interest is in one-upping his wife. Every year, the two of them go out of their way to see who can make their kids happiest on their birthdays, and the oldest loves her cupcakes. So what do you think? I can give you his number, and you two can work out everything.
“Did he say how many cupcakes he might need?” The way his face cringed gave me pause.
“About three hundred?” He scrunched up his shoulders as if expecting a blow, which made me laugh out loud.
“A week, you say. I guess I can. Give me the number, and I’ll call him as soon as I get upstairs.”
“Really? Oh, you’re the best, Miss. Stewart, whew, I thought you’d be pissed. I mean, it’s such late notice, and I wasn’t even sure if this was something you’d be interested in doing, but he was adamant. That’s why I quoted him that price. His name is Carter; here’s his card.”
He opened his wallet and passed me the embossed business card. I almost pinched myself in the elevator because things like this just don’t happen to me. Not that people hadn’t asked to buy my desserts before, but not on such a grand scale, and definitely not with such short notice.
I called Carter Silverspoon as soon as I got upstairs. He sounded way more excited than I expected, and I soon found out why. Henry was right; he was in a friendly competition with his wife to see who could make their daughter the happiest on her big day.
Apparently, his wife had ordered a specialty cake from a local bakery, but he was sure my cupcakes would put theirs to shame any day. When it came to the price, he didn’t bat a lash at paying almost two thousand dollars for cupcakes, which, when you think about it, is insane.
I know with time and product it works out, but it still seems insane to me. He wanted the assortment box like the one I’d given to Henry, so I got started grabbing supplies and making a list of all the things I needed to pick up at the store.
I sat down and organized my time and decided that making seventy-five cupcakes a day for the next four days, then icing them the day of, would give me more than enough time to get it done. The money wasn’t anywhere near what I make at my job, but for some reason, it felt even more fulfilling.
After I worked up the invoice and sent it to him through email, Carter sent the money through PayPal, which I hadn’t used in forever, but I was glad it was there. I couldn’t believe it; my first real commission that didn’t come from friends or family. I reminded myself to make a batch of cookies for Henry as well as a thank you.
That Saturday morning, I was as nervous as a first-time baker, and when the phone rang an hour before Carter was supposed to pick up the order, I expected the worst.
“Hey Amanda, I’m so sorry to spring this on you at the last minute, but is there any way possible you can drop the cupcakes off? Our youngest isn’t doing too well, and my wife and I are swamped. I can’t find anyone on such short notice. I’ll compensate you for your time, of course.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. Just give me a minute to grab a piece of paper and a pen, and I’ll jot down the address.” I had to make three trips to get everything downstairs to my car, which was thankfully always kept clean.
I put the address into the GPS and half an hour later found myself in one of the prettiest and most expensive sections of the little town. It was hard to imagine that there was a whole metropolis about an hour away from this quaint little idyllic spot.
My mouth hit my chest when I pulled through the gates to the estate. The place was huge with what looked like acres upon acres of lawn with a garden that ran the whole length of the place in back it looked like.
There was a carnival-sized water slide on one side of the lawn. I saw a magician when I drove down the driveway, a few Disney characters, a face painting stand, and, of course, a bouncy castle that would put Magic Kingdom to shame. Just wow.
I was more nervous about being here than I was about the cupcakes. It’s a good thing I’d changed out of the jeans I’d been wearing when he called and into a summer dress that seemed more appropriate for the setting.
There were a few people already sitting or standing around outside, and a woman in a servant’s uniform came out to greet me and take me inside. There was a table already set up with three carriage shaped cupcake stands that looked like they were made out of real gold. I was almost afraid to touch the things.
“You can just leave the boxes there; the mistress will sort them out when she comes down.” I was about to answer when a man in his thirties came bounding across the room.
“Amanda, I take it? Thank you so much for doing this for us; we really appreciate it. Estell, you go on and do what you were doing; I’ll see to this.”
“Yes, sir. But are you sure you shouldn’t wait for Mrs. Silverspoon?” She said it kind of tongue in cheek.
