Sweet Reality by Laura Heffernan (2)

 

Runaway Fishbowl Couple Returning to TV?

 

by Anna Gomez, Nov. 4

 

 

The couple sits on the couch, holding hands against the cushion. It’s a sweet scene, made more touching by the way Justin occasionally rubs the back of Jen’s hand with one thumb or she rests her head on his shoulder. To anyone who doubted this “showmance,” the love in the room is palpable.

 

My first question for them is what everyone in America must be wondering: What’s it like transitioning from TV “love” to a real relationship?

 

“Any relationship has a honeymoon period at first,” Justin says. “But now we’ve more or less settled into a routine.”

 

“We’re focused on developing full lives, apart and together.” Jen adds. “Justin’s sister welcomed me into her circle of friends. I started a new dinner club, I still host board game nights, and Justin and I are determined to beat every mystery escape room in Florida.”

 

“Next year, we’re planning a week-long vacation to Boston to beat a questing place there,” Justin says, flashing those irresistible dimples. “We’re not so different from any other couple. We just have a cool ‘How We Met’ story.”

 

It’s fun to see them so lively, but board games and escape rooms aren’t what readers care about. Finally, I ask the twenty-five-thousand-dollar question: What’s next for this couple? Are wedding bells in their future?

 

Jen ignores the second half of my question. “There’s a lot of hard work ahead for us. Justin’s getting his bar exam results any day. He’s excited to work full-time as a lawyer after all these years of studying.”

 

“Jen and my sister are opening a bakery.” Justin chimes in. Undeniable pride shines from his eyes. “It’s called Sweet Reality, with recipes inspired by several people I think you’ll recognize. It’s going to be a hit.”

 

 

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As Sarah’s question sank in, realization slowly dawned. The hard object in the cupcake. The clattering when I spit what should’ve been strawberries and cake into the sink. The four cupcakes set apart from all the rest. The romantic dinner Justin planned for this evening. He was going to propose!

. . . And I’d ruined it. Dread replaced my growing excitement. Because I hadn’t swallowed the ring at all.

Without speaking, I pointed down the sink. Desperately, I grabbed the bowl beside the sink, praying the ring had landed in it. Nothing but whipped cream.

“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I didn’t know.”

For a heart-stopping moment, she didn’t answer, shoving her arm down the garbage disposal. I winced, remembering this article I once read that garbage disposals in some states were illegal due to domestic disputes. Even knowing the machine wouldn’t spontaneously start on its own, I squeezed my eyes shut.

Finally, she sighed, pulled her arm out, and pulled her phone out of a pocket in her apron. “I’ll call a plumber. But you need to get out of here before Justin shows up. Go wait in the front and act like you’re watching Patty’s Cakes.”

“What are you going to do?”

Sarah raced around, flipping on the oven, filling a cupcake tin with batter from the fridge. “I’m going to burn some cupcakes so Justin doesn’t know you’re the one who ruined his surprise. I just hope he doesn’t get here too long before the smoke alarm goes off.”

“You’re a real friend,” I said.

“I know. Now get out.” Her broad smile took the bite off her words. Unlike her twin, Sarah didn’t have dimples, but her green eyes crinkled when she smiled. “My future sister-in-law deserves a dream proposal.”

Her words sent a thrill through me. Her sister-in-law! Justin’s wife! Mrs. Jennifer . . . Well, Mrs. Jennifer Reid, actually. But still. Justin and I were getting married! Or we would’ve been, if I hadn’t choked on the ring. The antique, irreplaceable ring.

Oh, hell. I’d ruined my own marriage proposal.

Grabbing the broom and a rag, I thanked Sarah again and trudged to the front room. The few crumbs I’d originally gone to sweep up now resembled a Jackson Pollack painting on our floor. Not wanting Justin to wander into a war zone, I scrambled to clean up the scattered crumbs, strawberries, and frosting.

By the time I finished and returned the broom to the kitchen, I’d nearly forgotten about the line of people waiting to buy baked goods from our competitor. I couldn’t stand and watch. What a mess. Instead, I pulled a tablet out of my bag and sat on a stool behind the counter, reading article after article on Patty’s Cakes. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

A few blogs mentioned plans to start at least one surprise new location. Other than a blog posted half an hour ago, none hinted they’d be opening across the street from us. Not a single article mentioned the competition at all, because no one presented real competition for Patty’s Cakes in the area. They dominated the cake and cupcake market.

Sarah joined me a few minutes later, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

I only wished her words made me feel better. What if the ring couldn’t be recovered, and Justin never forgave me?

Twenty minutes later, the front door opened, bringing in a blast of hot air from outside and my boyfriend. As always, being near him lifted my spirits. No problem seemed insurmountable when the two of us put our heads together. Not even the slight problem of him giving money to the enemy, as evidenced by the pink cardboard box in his hands, “Patty’s Cakes” emblazoned on the top.

“Hold on there a minute,” Sarah said. “You’re not coming in here with that.”

Ignoring her, Justin greeted me with a kiss, sending tingles down to my toes. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hi. Kiss me like that, and you can shop anywhere you want,” I said.

“No you can’t,” Sarah said.

Justin peered at my tear-stained face. “Were you crying?”

“Just stress. I’m fine now,” I said.

He pulled me close, running one hand up and down my arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

If only he knew what truly bothered me. But telling him how I ruined his surprise proposal would kill him, so I kissed his cheek and murmured something unintelligible. Hopefully he’d reach the logical conclusion that I was upset about the imminent demise of our fledgling business.

Before he asked too many questions, Sarah said, “Seriously, what’s going on? Why are you consorting with the enemy?”

“Calm down. How can we prepare to take out the competition without seeing what they do? Knowledge is power. This isn’t betrayal; it’s recon.”

Genius. My boyfriend, the genius. I kissed him again. “Good call.”

Sarah dropped her hostility like a Halloween mask. “Okay, fine. Tell us what you found out.”

Justin opened the box, revealing three cupcakes, which he gave to Sarah to cut up into pieces for sharing. “First, they’re not only selling cakes and cupcakes anymore.”

“What?”

“They’ve expanded their line,” he said. “They’re selling cannoli, cookies, brownies . . . all kinds of stuff.”

“All the same stuff we make.” If Sarah’s face fell any further, her chin would hit the floor. I suspected my own expression mirrored hers.

“Well, the good news is, their cookies aren’t shaped like fishbowls, so yours are cooler. Also, they’re selling them freaking cheap. No way they can stay in business at those prices.”

If he thought this news would perk me up, he had another think coming. “That’s a marketing ploy. It’s called a loss leader. They sell the cookies below cost to bring customers into the store. Once they’re inside, everyone buys the stuff that’s marked up more. That was our entire plan with the ninety-nine-cent fishbowl cookies.”

“Well, crap,” Sarah said. “So much for your marketing expertise.”

“Hey. It was a good plan. It’s not my fault they also took Marketing 101. I couldn’t have predicted this.”

“No one could have known this would happen,” Justin said. “Let’s all calm down and put our heads together. We’ll find a solution.”

Sarah handed us each a small plate of cupcake bites and fell into a chair. “Good luck with that. These are amazing.”

First, I tried a carrot cupcake with vanilla frosting. It turned to glue in my mouth, but I didn’t know if I should blame the bakery or the gaping pit of despair in my stomach.

Justin spit his bite out onto the plate. “Ugh. Do your customers a favor and use cream cheese frosting. That’s terrible.”

“We’re offering options,” I said. “The Birdie is carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, but we also do one with vanilla. Options are part of our hook. It costs almost nothing to make two types of frosting, especially when we use both for other things.”

“I appreciate the loyalty, guys, but this is delicious. Trust me,” Sarah said. “At least, if you don’t hate carrot cake. And this chocolate? It’s like an orgasm in my mouth. A painful, miserable orgasm.”

With my stomach flip-flopping all over the place, I couldn’t eat any more. It didn’t even matter whether our cupcakes tasted better than these if we couldn’t bring anyone into the store to try them because they all lined up across the street.

“What else can you tell us?” I asked Justin.

“I was the youngest person in the store by about thirty years. They’re more elegant, catering to the mothers and the grandmothers. The reality TV shtick you guys created may help bring in the Millennials.”

“Millennials are broke,” I said. “Remember? Lots of student loan debt, no jobs?”

Justin shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“Broke people are sad, and sad people like baked goods,” Sarah said. “What we need is to wow the customers. Justin, these are all fairly basic: chocolate, vanilla, carrot cake. What else did they have?”

He shrugged. “All the usual stuff: vanilla with vanilla frosting, chocolate with chocolate, vanilla with chocolate, etc. I didn’t see anything that holds a candle to your raspberry lemon cupcakes with almond frosting.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” I said. “We can promote the heck out of those. Sarah, what other special recipes do you have?”

Before she could reply, the fire alarm went off.

Sarah shrieked, so convincingly she’d either forgotten about “accidentally” burning the cupcakes or she should’ve been the twin to appear on TV. She tore into the kitchen, blond hair streaming behind her. I followed on her heels before skidding to a halt inside the door.

Thick, black smoke billowed out of the oven, stinging my eyes. The stench of burning sugar made me gag. Coughing, I raced past Sarah to open the back door.

What a friend. She didn’t need to actually burn the cupcakes to tell Justin she’d done it. But now he witnessed the glorious wreckage as she flipped the entire pan upside-down over the sink.

Justin stayed in the doorway, his eyes swiveling from the smoke now rising from the sink to the bowl of strawberries on the counter. “What happened?”

“I got so wound up by Patty’s Cakes, I must’ve spaced on setting a timer. I completely forgot these were in the oven.” She yelled over the still screeching alarm.

Grabbing a towel from a drawer near the stove, I waved the black clouds toward the open door, praying no reporters lurked in the alley. The last thing we needed was a reviewer on the way to check out Patty’s Cakes to see me and Sarah nearly burning down our kitchen.

The alarm stopped, silence blanketing the kitchen.

Justin’s face looked much like Sarah’s when she’d seen me spit the ring into the sink. Barely moving his face, he whispered. “What were you making?”

Sarah’s eyes widened so much I would’ve laughed if the entire morning hadn’t been so wretched. She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, crap. Justin, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Jen, could you go up front while I talk to my sister?”

I started to go before remembering it wasn’t in my nature not to ask questions. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just . . . need to talk about Mom for a minute. Sarah’s staying with her while we go out tonight, remember?”

I nodded. “Oh, right.”

“These cupcakes were for her,” Sarah added, not convincingly. “I feel terrible.”

Justin’s face crumpled. This illusion made me feel like the worst person in the world. If Sarah couldn’t get the ring out of the sink, I’d tell him the truth. For now, I needed to leave before I burst into tears.

“Actually, if you guys don’t need me here, I’m going to head home,” I said. “With this new store opening, I need to tweak our marketing plan, and I’ll work better where it’s quiet. Okay?”

Justin nodded, relief flooding his features. “Take my car. Sarah can give me a ride to your place before dinner.”

Something silver flashed through the air. I reached up cupped hands to make the catch, unable to speak. His keys. Holy shit, he must love me more than I thought.

As a graduation present, Justin’s father surprised him with a brand-new Audi. I’d never driven in my life before moving to Florida. Although he’d been giving me driving lessons for almost six months before the gift arrived, all lessons since took place in Sarah’s beat-up old Toyota. He must desperately want me out of the store to hand over the keys when he wasn’t missing a couple of limbs.

The fact that Justin trusted me with his car stunned me even more than the news that he was about to propose. I stood there, the metal cold against my palm, afraid that if I moved he’d change his mind.

Sarah gasped. “You don’t even let me drive your car!”

“You’re a terrible driver. It’s only a couple of miles.” To me, he said, “I’ll see you later.”

Before he changed his mind, I kissed him good-bye and left.

The whole way home, I prayed they would find the ring. Sinks have traps, right? In the movies, people are always opening sinks and finding stuff caught in them. We hadn’t turned the water on at all after I spit out the cupcake. If we found the ring, I’d always help the needy. I’d give leftover cupcakes to the homeless. We’d donate a percentage of our profits to charity. But we couldn’t lose Justin’s grandmother’s engagement ring. It would kill him.

The moment the front door of our apartment closed behind me, I got to work, reading reviews and market research. Trying not to think about Justin, the ring, and the disaster I’d inadvertently caused. After about an hour, I gave up.

By the time Sarah arrived, I was walking in a continuous loop through the living room and kitchen, wondering how much an antique diamond ring cost. How many cupcakes would I personally need to sell to repay Justin?

Before the door even closed behind her, Sarah said, “We got the ring.”

I stopped mid-pace, flopping onto the couch with relief. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost it.”

“I’m an idiot. I should’ve waited to bake the cupcakes until after you left.”

“You couldn’t have known I’d wander into the kitchen and shove whatever I found into my mouth.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and gave me a stern look. When I hung my head, she giggled and collapsed onto the couch next to me.

“Hey, where’s Justin? Is he coming to pick me up for dinner?”

“No, we got a call from Mom on the way here. He’s going over there now instead of waiting until later.” Their mother beat cancer twice when they were kids, and it went into remission for more than ten years. Unfortunately, it recently reappeared with a vengeance. After their father broke his back at work, Sarah and I spent a lot of time caring for both parents over the summer while Justin studied for the Florida State Bar Exam. Now that he was back at work, the two of them shared duties. I pitched in as needed.

“Oh, no. What happened?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, but since he’s going to be gone all week, he wanted to check on them. Asked me to tell you he’s sorry about dinner and he’ll call you in the morning. I’m supposed to take the ring to be cleaned and give it to Justin in a few days. If you want, I’ll take it now and grab sushi for dinner on the way home.”

“Sounds great.” The full impact of her words sank in. “Wait, the ring is here, with you? Can I see it?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Instead of replying, I tried to gauge whether she might possibly show me. Of course I wanted to see my future engagement ring. But also, of course Justin should be the one to give it to me. The set of her jaw suggested the futility of pushing her. I arranged my features in a way I hoped said, I’m definitely kidding if you’re not going to show it to me.

Sarah said, “You’re not even supposed to know about the ring. Justin would kill me if I told him you found it. If I actually let you see it before he proposes, he will dig up my corpse, resuscitate me, and kill me again. No way. Nuh-uh. You’re not even coming to the jeweler’s with me.”

I let out a fake, huffy sigh. “Fiiiiiine.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be working on the bakery? Did you get anything done this afternoon?”

“Absolutely!” Momentarily rejuvenated with the idea of saving Sweet Reality, I grabbed some pages I’d printed when I first got home. “First, we can do plenty of business with catering. Younger brides love cupcakes for their weddings, because they can order different kinds and give their guests options.”

“That’s a good point,” Sarah said. “But Patty’s Cakes already does cupcake towers.”

“They do, but they’re still appealing more to the Mom set. Graduations, birthday parties, etc. We’re going to bring in the Millennials. The Network’s target demographic is our audience, and that’s who we’ll advertise to. Start practicing superhero-themed cakes and stuff. Blue cakes for girls, pink cakes for boys, gender-neutral cakes, coming-out cakes. We support everyone.”

“Okay, I like that.”

“There’s more,” I said. “People like variety. They like choice. This goes back to what Justin said earlier. Patty’s Cakes makes the basics, and they do it well. Their products taste delicious. But our niche can be a rotation of baked goods with unique flavor profiles. What new recipes have you been working on?”

“Well, I came up with a s’mores cupcake, which isn’t totally unique, but Patty’s Cakes doesn’t make one. Justin found a picture of their menu on Yelp after you left.”

“That’s good. I’ll come up with a name to tie it into one of the survivalist shows. Something like, ‘S’more clothes, please?’ ” The name referenced a popular show that dropped people into the wilderness naked and gave them two weeks to find their way to civilization.

Sarah giggled. “I love it. I thought about coming up with some kind of Ariana-based cupcake, but I’m not allowed to actually poison people.”

She named my arch-nemesis from The Fishbowl, the snake who repeatedly tried to come between me and Justin, who said and did whatever she thought necessary to keep us apart. My hackles rose just thinking about her. If I got to choose, I’d never lay eyes on her again—on or off the television. No one confirmed whether she’d be on the cruise, and I spent three nights tossing and turning before Justin convinced me everything would work out.

I said, “Ariana would probably demand a royalty for using her name. I hear she trademarked it last year.”

“Of course she did.” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “Whatevs. Anyway, I’ve been trying to recreate those coconut cupcakes for ages, but they’re never quite right.”

While Justin locked himself away to study for the bar after I moved here, Sarah and I entertained ourselves every Tuesday night with Totally 80s Celebrity Bake-off. The show pitted former child stars against each other, creating and selling baked goods at charity events. One of the contestants, a former pop star named Tammy Rae, won the finale with cupcakes every single one of the judges and guests raved over. People went for seconds and thirds. But no one knew what she put in them. Tammy Rae made a big show of emptying out the kitchen before adding whatever her “special” ingredient was, and not a hint leaked to the media in the months since.

The solution to our problem hit me while scrolling through the DVR around lunchtime. Sarah and I discussed the recipe endlessly over the summer, and she thought she figured out most of it, but we still needed the last ingredient. Now, the reminder of the show-winning recipe gave me an opportunity to feel useful, and I leapt at it. Maybe I couldn’t decorate cakes or make up recipes on my own, but Tammy Rae was rumored to be part of the cast of Real Ocean: Caribbean, which Justin and I started filming next week. I could talk her into helping us.

“You keep working on it,” I said. “Next week, I’ll convince Tammy Rae to give us her secret ingredient. Then we’ll offer something no one else can compete with: the cupcakes that won Totally ’80s Bake-off. We’ll get a ton of business. She’s more legendary now than when she was a pop star.”

The cruise Justin and I were taking next week wasn’t only a much-needed vacation, although I couldn’t wait to help him relax during the final countdown to his bar exam results. We both needed some time away together to relax after an exhausting summer. How could we refuse a free cruise? Especially after the Network agreed to pay to rush our passports. Plus, Sarah and I got added publicity for Sweet Reality. Win, win, win.

Win, win, win, win, if I got Tammy Rae’s recipe while on the ship. Sure, I didn’t know her, or have any real idea how to ask, but . . . I couldn’t let doubts get in my way now. We needed this.

As if she read my mind, Sarah asked, “What if she won’t give it to you?”

“I’ll find a way. I promise.” We had no other choice. Our livelihood depended on me getting this recipe. No matter what it took, I’d get Tammy Rae to give up her secret ingredient. Sarah and Sweet Reality were counting on me.