The Magic Cake Shop by Meika Hashimoto

Author:Meika Hashimoto [Hashimoto, Meika]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-375-89874-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

Emma woke to the smell of burning. She opened her eyes groggily, then snapped awake as the odor of charred sugar grazed her nose. She pulled on her shoes and hurried downstairs.

Mr. Crackle was standing over the counter with a blowtorch. He wore pink protective goggles and green flame-resistant gloves. He whistled happily as he aimed the torch at several dozen custard cups spread out on the counter. Once he had finished flaming them, he set down the torch and turned to Emma.

“Why, hello, Emma! Care for some crème brûlée?”

“No thanks, Mr. Crackle. But if you don’t mind, could I have something to eat?”

“Of course!” Mr. Crackle removed his goggles and gloves. “Sorry about the smell—it’s an unfortunate sensation one must experience when making brûlée. Though, to tell you the truth, that poison of Mr. Beedy’s is working remarkably well—I can’t smell a thing. Anyway, why don’t I whip up some peanut butter and jam sandwiches while you get us some milk? Cups are in the cupboard behind you.”

As Emma hopped onto the counter to reach the cups, she heard a knocking on the glass separating the kitchen from the front of the shop. She looked over and saw Albie, with a surprised face, tapping away.

“Mr. Crackle, Albie’s here!” she called.

“Oh, good, we need him too. I always thought that freckly young man could be put to better use than just cutter control,” Mr. Crackle called back. “Pop around to the front and bring him back here. Today we have more important things at hand than selling cake. I’ll tell Margie to close up shop for a few days after she sells what I baked this morning.”

Emma ran out the back door and around the shop to the front. “Hey, Albie,” she panted.

“Emma! How did you get into the kitchen with Mr. Crackle? I’ve never seen him let anybody else in there while he’s mixing things up!”

Emma took a few moments to explain to Albie what had happened. When she finished, he scratched his head. “So … you’re saying that one of your uncle’s friends poisoned Mr. Crackle, and you’ve got to make a special potion or else Mr. Crackle is toast?”

Emma nodded. “Yup. Will you help him? Oh, please say you will!”

Albie snorted. “Will I help? Is the ocean wavy? Of course!”

Emma gave Albie a tight hug, and they raced back to the kitchen, where Mr. Crackle was putting the finishing touches on some exquisite-looking peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Once he was done, they carried their meal upstairs to eat.

As they sat at the table munching, Emma hesitantly said, “Mr. Crackle? Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Why, certainly, Emma. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, you’re not scared of being poisoned, and I’m not sure why. Most people I know would be screaming or fainting every three minutes or throwing a tantrum or something. And then you seemed so calm and sure when Mr. Beedy asked if you could make the recipe. I can’t help thinking you don’t need my help.

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