{ 1 } pineapple upside down cake
I covered my mouth with hands and squealed. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. Blinking my eyes three times, the sight in front of me still hasn't changed. I squealed again.
"Will you stop screaming and just open the door, Bonnie?"
Turning my head, I saw Jasmin, my best friend, standing next to me with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Is it so wrong to want to cherish this moment?"
"Take a picture then, and open the dang door!" she replied in a calculated manner, her pierced eyebrow raised in annoyance.
I shook my head and inserted the key, hands visibly shaking. The door swung into the shop revealing a large room with a high ceiling and an empty floor. The main source of light came from the panel of windows at the front of the shop. There weren't any pieces of furniture and the paint on the wall was chipping. Even in its destitute state, I couldn't help but sigh happily in all its undecorated glory because one fact remained: the place was officially mine.
"Woah, we have a lot of work to do if this place is going to open in a week," Jasmin breathed as she walked around the shop. She swiped her fingers along the wall and looked at her hand in disgust as she collected a large amount of dust. "What time is the equipment truck coming?"
"In about thirty minutes," I estimated as I glanced at my watch.
"Good. That gives us enough time to sweep the place a little. With the amount of dust in here, thirty minutes alone is enough to give us hay fever. I have a few cleaning supplies in the trunk of my car. I'll be right back," she declared, pulling her bouncy dark hair into a ponytail and heading out the glass door.
I turned my attention back to the dilapidated shop. Years of baking in my grandmother's kitchen led to this moment. Years of culinary school, where I knew more than all the students combined, led to this moment. Standing here right now in this run down studio complex, I couldn't be happier.
I walk over to the wide window sill and set my purse down in the corner, not caring how much dust I was spreading around. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out a small frame that held a photograph of me wearing crudely decorated apron and hat, holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies. To think I'm going from childishly drawing "Bonnie's Bakery" on everything to having an official logo blows my mind. I knew that the picture had to go somewhere in the shop, but I was unsure where at that moment. Smiling, I put the picture frame back.
"What on earth are you doing?!" Jasmin had come back into the shop, clad in rubber yellow apron, gloves, and face mask. She was carrying a broom and mop in one hand and a box of various spray bottles in the other. I have been living with her so I am aware of her neat freak tendencies. But her standing before me looking like a ghost buster for dust and grime, she had reached a whole new level of neat freak.
"Because of your negligence of sanitary rules, you're going to have to burn that purse!"
I shook my head at her incredulously, "I'm not going to burn my purse."
"Not if I have any say in it," she mumbled under her breath as she set the box of spray bottles on the floor.
"You don't actually," I pointed out as I grabbed a pair of gloves before she yells at me again. I proceeded to clean the windows and windowsill first while Jasmin wiped down all the walls.
Together (but mostly with Jasmin's super cleaning powers), the shop was spotless by the time the equipment truck came.
° ° °
I was wiping down the glass counter for the millionth time when the bell signaling someone coming in sounded.
"Grandmère!" Jasmin abandoned her post of straightening photo frames and ran to the door. I looked up and saw her thin, golden brown arms wrap around Grandmère's now plump frame.
"It's so good to see you, Jasmin," Grandmère said as she stood on her tiptoes to hug my very tall friend. I stepped out from behind the counter and walked over to Grandmère.
"It's good to see you too, mon petit chou," Grandmère said as she moved to give me a hug. I closed my eyes as she hugged me, inhaling her sugary scent.
"Are you here for the party?" Jasmin asked as she took Grandmère's purse and put it on the coat hanger.
"Oh no. I merely have stuff for the party. It's all in the car," she replied.
Jasmin nodded and headed out the door, the bell above it jingling.
"I don't know why she calls you Grandmère," I said as I led her to a stool at the counter. She rested her hands in her lap, her back erect and her feet crossed. Even at her age, she maintained pristine etiquette.
"Well, I don't mind. She's just showing her love."
I felt a stab of guilt at her statement. "Grandmère, you know I love you."
She cocked her head and smiled, "Of course I know." Her eyes scoped the shop and my eyes followed her line of vision. The ceiling was now decorated with ivory paper lanterns of different shapes and lengths. Instead of the peeling paint, the walls were covered with powder blue wallpaper. Covering most of the walls were various picture frames of locations in France along with pictures of different baked goods on the menu. Scattered along the shop were small circular white marble tables with three matching stools at each one. At the front of the store was the wide windowsill, now turned into a window seat with cushions of varying shades of blue. Plastered in the window and on the door was my logo, a slice of pie with "Bonnie's Bakery" written on the top in swirly writing. The counter Grandmère and I were at doubled as a display case for the cakes that were on sale. Behind it was a door that led to a kitchen and beyond that a stairwell that led to the apartment upstairs where Jasmin and I live.
"It's truly a beautiful shop, Bonnie," Grandmère said as her eyes landed on a picture frame on the wall. It was the picture of me holding chocolate chip cookies at a younger age.
"I remember that day. You would not stopping pestering me to have a cookie. So you went up to your room and baked cookies that you swore would be better than mine!" She shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Crazy talk in my opinion!"
I giggled and looked back at the picture. "Although," Grandmère continued, "I do remember saying that I would be absolutely blessed to see you open your own shop. How I wish your mother was able to see it too."
I only knew bits and pieces about my mother. She had me when she was seventeen years old with a man who wasn't worth the time of day. She came to Grandmère's door asking for help. Grandmère took me but kicked my mother out in fury. After she did that however, she deeply regretted her choice. I don't know much about the situation after that and Grandmère won't tell me more.
Saving Grandmère from answering my upcoming question, Jasmin came in with a tower of boxes in her arms.
"Your grandma baked a freakin pineapple cake!" she exclaimed as she put the boxes down on the table nearest the door. "Plus, I got a call from Jasper. He's bringing drinks and people around 8:30. We should start getting ready soon."
I looked up at the clock behind the counter. Fifteen minutes before seven.
I turned back to Grandmère. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"
"So you can have an old maid at your party? No thank you!" She stood up from the counter and walked to grab her purse. "Au Revoir! I'll be here tomorrow for official opening day!" She blew a kiss and headed out the door.
° ° °
I was on my third slice of pineapple cake and fourth martini glass. No matter how much practice and training I get, my baking will never be as good as Grandmère's.
I walked over to Jasmin, standing by the counter in a backless long sleeved black dress that stopped mid thigh. She had her black hair cascading around her shoulders. In the dim lighting of the shop, her eyebrow piercing and gold nose ring glistened against her face. She was preparing her plate with shrimp, dousing them with hot sauce.
"That's a lot of hot sauce, Jasmin. You're going to be sweating!" I mentioned, completely surprised at her use of nearly half the bottle.
"You seem to forget that I'm Indian. I was birthed from the womb eating a chili pepper!" I laughed at her rare use of a stereotype.
I turned slightly and caught Jasper standing on a stool with a glass and spoon in his hands. I'll have to clean his footprints off the seat later. He clinked the glass with the spoon, gaining everyone's attention. Although, some groaned and yelled at him to get off the chair.
"I think now's an appropriate time to make a toast," he started in a faux haughty voice, "To the prosperity of this quaint little shop, and that Bonnie may find the kindness in her heart to reward us with free cake whenever we please. To Bonnie's Bakery!" He raised his glass at the last part. I smiled at all my friends, mingling in the shop. All of them gathered to celebrate my happiness of finally opening my shop.
"To Bonnie's Bakery!" everyone toasted with the harmonious clink of drinking glasses.
° ° °
A/N
hello everybody! chapter one of 24 hour sugar high! yay!
i know i promised under 1k chapters but this one ended up being close to 2k - oops
anyways, i hope you liked it. this one you don't get too much of the characters but i promise to fix that later on. speaking of which, jasper is my plot hole character, the guy who will save the day when i inevitably create a plot hole lol
vote, comment, follow and all that jazz
xoxo belle eve (deamsriptis)