Kiss My Cupcake(3)

“Ohhh! Great idea!” I carefully free two more unicorn glasses from the box and round the counter.

Daphne hops down off the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

I mm-hmm, too consumed with rearranging the shelf to be concerned with where Daphne is going.

Daphne returns as I finish positioning the glassware. She’s grinning and her hands are clasped behind her back. “Close your eyes.”

I slam my lids together. “They’re closed.”

“Arms up.”

I raise them over my head and Daphne laughs. “Just to the side, like you’re halfway into a jumping jack.”

I lower them so they’re out in a T. “Oh my God. What do you have? What came?”

“Stop jumping around and you’ll find out.”

I didn’t even realize I was bouncing with excitement. I still and wait while Daphne drapes something over my head. When she ties it at my waist behind my back I start bouncing again. “It’s my apron, isn’t it?”

“Stop moving and don’t you dare peek.” She smacks my butt.

“Ow!”

“It was a tap, you sucky baby.”

“It was unexpected.” And the most action I’ve had in a long time. Opening one’s own business means I have very little time for anything but work, more work, and limited sleep.

“Eyes closed until I tell you.” She takes me by the shoulders and pushes me forward. “Okay. You can open them.”

I pry one lid open, and then the other. Daphne has moved me to the center of the café, where a massive mirror with the Buttercream and Booze decal hangs from the wall. I’m off to the right, so I can see my brand new apron without the obstruction of opaque letters cutting through it.

My hands start flapping without my permission, so I ball them into fists and hide them behind my back for a moment while I search for some calm. “It’s just so perfect, isn’t it?” I’m halfway to tears, I’m so elated.

But then, that’s what this place reduces me to: tears and excitement. I’ve worked my tushy off to get here.

“It is.” Daphne, being the awesome friend that she is, hands me a tissue before I even have to ask. “You’ve come a long way from weekend markets and a cupcake truck.”

I survey the product of all my hard work. “It’s been a journey, hasn’t it?”

“An uphill battle to the top of cupcake mountain, really,” Daphne agrees.

“I’d rather take the hard road than compromise my dream.” I run my fingertips over the letters that spell out Buttercream and Booze. My phone chimes from inside my purse, signaling a call. The ringtone, which is “The Addams Family” theme song, means it’s my mother.

Daphne and I look at my purse and then each other. “I’m letting that go to voicemail. I one hundred percent guarantee my mom is calling to try to argue my dad’s case.”

Daphne sighs. “They really don’t get it, do they?”

“Nope.”

“Have you told them when your grand opening is?”

“Absolutely not.” I do not need them showing up on opening day throwing advice at me. And honestly, it wouldn’t be that difficult for them to find the information on their own if they had the wherewithal to check out social media, but I’ve been extremely vague about the whole thing.

“It’s too bad they can’t just support you without taking everything over.”

“They have the best of intentions and a complete lack of chill.” Two traits I’m not unfamiliar with.

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Daphne blows out a breath. “It’d be nice if they would let you access your trust without forcing their opinions on you.”

“They really love the concept of conditional independence.” My family owns some of the most highly regarded, exclusive fine dining establishments in the Pacific Northwest. The expectation was always that I, too, would become a chef and carry on the family legacy.

She taps on the edge of the counter. “It’s just frustrating to know you have the money, but if you use it there are all kinds of stupid stipulations that go along with it. Sort of defeats the whole purpose of having a trust in the first place, doesn’t it?”

Daphne’s family is well off, too. We went to the same prep school and have been friends since we were kids. The main difference is that her family has backed every single dream she’s ever had an inkling to pursue, whereas mine keeps trying to hammer the square peg that is me into a round hole of their design. “Hence the reason the money is staying where it is until this place is established and I’ve proven I can make it work.”

Fingers crossed that’s what happens. For the past several years I’ve been squirreling away money and living in a crap apartment because I’m determined to make a go of this, on my own merit. So I put the research in, found a storefront I could afford in an area where I thought I could be successful, worked up my business plan, secured the financing, and now here I am, opening my own place, without my family’s input, much to their chagrin.

Daphne motions to the shop. “How much more proof do they need?”

“Running a successful cupcake truck business isn’t quite the same as having a storefront.” I run my finger around the rim of a martini glass.