Emma's Not-So-Sweet Dilemma (8 page)

Katie paused for dramatic effect. All the girls' eyes were shining brightly.

“What?” I urged. “What?”

“He pointed to that big gorgeous blown-up photo of you on the wall and said, ‘Someone like her!' ”

Katie and the girls all burst out laughing.

“Oh no!” I said, covering my face with my hands. “I can't believe it!”

Katie nodded. “Totally. So Mona, well . . . Mona went a little nuts, actually. She basically kicked him out of the store, right, you guys?”

Alexis cut in. “Yes, she said, ‘Mr. Rosner, it is a shame your dresses are so beautiful and you are such an ugly person. I cannot work with you. Please leave at once and instruct my staff how you would like the dresses returned to you. Good day!' ”

“And then she turned and walked away, back into the salon!” added Mia.

They stared at me, gloating.

I couldn't believe it. “Wow! I wish I'd been there.”

“It was really good. Mona was great. And all the staff—Patricia, and the salesgirls—they just stood there with their jaws open.”

“And what did you guys do? Did you ask for our money?”

“No! We left!” Alexis shrieked with laughter.

“No way!” I had to laugh too. “You just sneaked out the door? Alexis? You walked away from money?”

Alexis howled. “Desperate times call for desperate measures!” she said.

“But wait”—I suddenly realized—“what about Olivia?”

The girls all fell silent.

“Um. We never saw her again,” Katie said in a small voice.

“We kind of forgot that part,” agreed Mia.

“She must've been mortified. I mean, how could she not have known that he was rejecting her?” I asked, feeling an unusual burst of sympathy for Olivia.

“Gosh, you're right,” agreed Alexis, all sobered up. “That's pretty harsh.”

“No kidding!” I said. “It happened to me, and I felt awful. I wish I had stuck up for myself. I hope Olivia did.”

“Hey! Emma! I just realized!” cried Katie, peering intently at me from the front seat. “Your nose! Your eyes! You're all back to normal!”

“Really?” I asked.

I'd been in such a hurry to get ready, I'd forgotten to check before we left the house. I leaned
up to look in the visor's mirror Katie had flipped down for me.

“She's right. It's really gone,” agreed Mia.

“I can't tell from here,” I said, sitting back. “But I hope you're right.”

“Em, you look good all the time, anyway,” Katie said sweetly.

The others agreed. “Thanks. Maybe you all could give Harry Rosner some pointers,” I said with a grin.

“Totally,” agreed Alexis.

I was pretty distracted for the rest of the ride over to the holiday boutique. I couldn't help feeling bad for Olivia since I knew just what she'd gone through. A tiny part of me was flattered about what Mr. Rosner said, even though it revealed that he was clearly nuts, but I was embarrassed for Olivia and sympathetic to how Mona must've felt too. They were really better off without him, though, no matter how beautiful his clothes were. It was weird that such a nasty man could make something so pretty, I thought again. Mrs. Brown dropped us outside the Y where the boutique was being held and promised to come back and get us at midday. The organizer had told Alexis we could man our
own table until noon, and then they'd hand it off to some other kids who needed community service hours and were eager for the work. That sounded just perfect to us, since it would give us time to do a little shopping and get home in time for lunch.

Despite the storm, the place was a hive of activity and good cheer. People who'd been stranded en route to the fair were straggling in with tales of the kindnesses of strangers, and the vendors were looking to help one another, sharing easels and change and cooperating in all sorts of ways to make things work out.

The hall had been decorated beautifully in a green and white theme—with swags of seasonal greenery and potted evergreens and tiny electric candles everywhere. It was very festive and it smelled great from all the plants and baked goods and things people were selling, from spiced nuts, artisanal cheeses, hand-dipped chocolates, and crumbly biscuits to handmade candles and potpourri, and organic soaps and scented creams. A volunteer directed us to our table, number forty-seven, where a thick white felt tablecloth had been laid. Mia cleverly plucked a few stray evergreen branches and laid them artistically around the table, and then
Katie set out the cupcakes on white platters. I unwrapped a package of red and green napkins I'd bought at the grocery store (we like to provide thematic or color-coordinated party goods sometimes as part of our cupcake delivery), and Alexis set up our cash box.

There were only two chairs for us, and it was a little tight behind the table as we were hemmed in from behind by a table with handmade woolly sheep decorations and on either side by a wooden puzzle maker and a needlepoint lady, so we would have to take turns selling. That left two of us at a time free to roam the aisles and see what was there.

I volunteered to sell first, as did Alexis, and Katie and Mia set off excitedly. Once the doors opened to the public at ten, business was surprisingly steady.

“Gosh, we could have sold double what we brought,” Alexis muttered after only our fifth customer.

“Well, maybe it's the morning rush and things will die down later?” I said to comfort her. Alexis took missed business opportunities pretty hard, and they could set her off into a funk if she thought we had been sloppy or hadn't tried hard enough. (Her family motto is: Beckers try harder.)

She shook her head sadly. “No. It will only get busier. Oh well. Live and learn.”

Business picked up then, and we didn't have a chance to really talk for a while. Mia and Katie circled past to update us on what they'd found, but we didn't have long to chat.

“People are freaking out over the cherry pistachio!” I said to Katie.

“Yay!” She glowed happily.

“There's so much great stuff to buy out there!” enthused Mia. “If only it wasn't so expensive!”

An hour in, we traded places, and I was superexcited to go see what was around. I knew the holiday boutique would be far superior to the mall when it came to buying unique gifts for my friends, and I had money in my pocket. And sure enough, everywhere we looked, there were exquisite handmade things, and Alexis and I oohed and aahed over all of them. But in the end, I wasn't able to find anything for my friends that wasn't outrageously expensive. It made sense, I guess, because people had put a lot of time and effort into these things, and they really were works of art. But two hundred and fifty dollars for a fur bunny neck warmer? Eighty dollars for hand-knit cashmere socks? It was too depressing. I couldn't
believe grown-ups were buying the stuff!

I did end up buying a jar of local honey for my mom for her tea, and a really pretty raw silk coin purse with a mother-of-pearl button closure for Mona, but that was it. I was a little disheartened when I decided to return to the others, but I was looking forward to hearing that we'd made some money selling the cupcakes. I rounded the aisle to head back to table number forty-seven, and who should I spy standing right there buying a cupcake from Mia but Olivia Allen!

U
h, hi!” I said, approaching the table warily. I wasn't sure if Olivia would be mean or civil after what I'd said to her yesterday at school.

“Hey, Emma!” said Katie all fake-cheery, like
Please don't make a scene here!

Olivia turned. “Wow. Your face,” she said.

My hands flew instinctively to the bridge of my nose. “What?” I asked anxiously. Was it bleeding again?

“It's all better,” she said, blinking.

I dropped my hand. “Oh. Yeah. Pretty much.”

“That's good,” she said, shrugging.

I was dying to ask her about this morning, but I didn't know if I should let on what I knew. It seemed like no one knew what to say for a second.

And then, “How was it out there?” Mia asked me, to change the subject.

“Expensive,” I said dejectedly.

“Yeah,” agreed Olivia. Hmm. I remembered what Katie's mom had said. Maybe she
was
trying to be nice.

“Hey, Olivia,” I ventured. “I'm sorry about what I said yesterday at school.” I gulped.

Olivia shrugged again. “That's okay. I understand that when someone feels ugly on the outside, it can make them a little ugly on the inside, too.”

O-kaaaay.
I took a deep, deep breath and thought about Mrs. Brown's advice to assume Olivia was just being awkward. So I said, “Yeah. Anyway. Sorry.” It took a lot of self-control, I'll tell you.

Just then Olivia's mom came over. “Olivia,” Mrs. Allen said sharply. “You shouldn't be eating cupcakes! You'll spoil your skin
and
your figure, and then you'll
really
never get hired again! What
ever
can you be thinking?” And she plucked the half-eaten cupcake out of Olivia's hand and wrapped it in one of our napkins.

Olivia stood there mutely while the rest our jaws dropped. Mrs. Allen looked around at us. “Are these the friends you were saying you wanted to invite to our holiday party?” she asked Olivia loudly.

Olivia looked embarrassed and angry, all at once.

“Mom, let's just go . . . ,” she said.

The Cupcakers all exchanged mortified looks. Friends? Us?

“Wait a minute now. Not so fast! Why don't we give them the details?” continued Mrs. Allen.

Olivia was tugging on her mom's arm to get her to leave, and her face was turning red.

Quickly, I blurted, “So, Olivia, we'll pick you up tomorrow around two o'clock for the event at the children's unit of the hospital, okay?”

She looked at me blankly, but it shut her mother up.

Alexis quickly caught my drift and said, “You know. You're coming with us to volunteer at the holiday party tomorrow for the kids at the hospital, remember?”

Olivia looked at us suspiciously, and her mother said, “What's all this?”

“Wait, did I not send out that e-mail?” I said, smacking myself in the forehead.

“No, I never got it,” said Mia, playing along.

“Me neither,” said Katie, looking totally confused. “There was an e-mail?”

“Okay, well, my mom is driving the minivan, so we have room. I'll pick you all up around two
tomorrow, more or less, and we'll go for about an hour and hand out the cupcakes to the sick kids. Got it?”

The Cupcakers all nodded emphatically.

“Okaaay . . . thanks?” said Olivia.

“No prob!” I said cheerily. “And don't forget to send us the e-mail about your holiday party. We'd love to come!” I added.

Olivia smiled in surprise. “Really? I mean, great! Okay. It's next weekend. I'll send you the info soon, I promise. See you tomorrow!” She practically skipped away down the aisle.

As soon as she rounded the bend, I turned to look at my friends.

“That was really nice of you, Em,” Mia said quietly.

“Yeah, quick thinking!” said Alexis.

“I . . . am not really sure what just happened there, but obviously you just did something really kind, Emma,” added Katie.

“Thanks. Sorry. I just felt so bad for her. And her mom really is torture. Nothing like our moms, you know?”

The other Cupcakers nodded.

“She's not as lucky,” agreed Katie.

“Thanks for playing along, for getting it so
quickly. You guys are the best!” I said.

“No, you are!” said Mia, grabbing me in a hug. “And your face really is back to normal, by the way.”

“Thanks. But I forgot when I was fibbing that we have to go to Katie's first to finish making the cupcakes! So I guess we'll just pick up Olivia after that.”

“Perfect,” we all agreed.