THE JINGLE OF THE bell above the door made me pop my head up in excitement at the prospect of a customer.
But as soon as the door swung open, my hopes were dashed. The man peeked inside, scanned the shop, and realized he was in the wrong place. I blew a gusty sigh and dropped my gaze to the display case full of cupcakes. I knew starting a business was risky and was well aware I wouldn't see profits for at least five years. The problem was I didn't know if I could wait that long.
Things were tight, but I was living the dream. Right? Opening a cupcake bakery with my grandmother had felt like an unobtainable goal until a year ago. I had used the money from my parent's inheritance to buy the tiny shop near the historic district in Charleston, South Carolina. Here it was a year later and the business was still trudging along.
My grandmother, namesake, and partner in crime is Elipheleta Cora Smacker, but I call her Wavy. The story goes that when I was a baby my grandmother would do anything to get me to laugh. She would wave her hands excitedly whenever she saw me. Wave her hands in the air as she danced around the room. Wave her hands while standing at her front door watching my parents and me drive away from her little white house on Hester Street. You get the picture. So instead of granny, nanna, or mama, she became Wavy. It was fun and unique, just like her.
As a child my favorite times were the weekends I spent with Pop and Wavy. Early Saturday morning Pop would head to Folly Beach to fish while Wavy made me cheese grits for breakfast. She would place the hot bowl of grits on the windowsill to cool down a little as we planned our day.
Hampton Park was always our first stop. During spring and summer the place was surrounded by bright, fuchsiacolored azaleas as well as roses and camellias. Add in the beautiful Spanish moss draping the century—old oak trees, a stone bridge that crossed the huge duck pond, a white gazebo with a green roof, and the park looked like something out of a fairytale.
After feeding the ducks, Wavy and I would make our way to the gazebo, climb the steps, and survey the land. We were like a queen and princess residing over their kingdom. On occasion we got to see couples getting engaged or married in that park. I knew when I found my Prince Charming I'd be coming back to this very spot for my own elegant wedding.
Our next stop would be the Red and White grocery store to get the ingredients we needed for cupcakes. Wavy loved to bake, period, but cupcakes were her favorite. She'd tell me that no matter what difficulties people were going through, a cupcake would always put a smile on their face. Once we got back home and the first batch went in the oven, we would make the buttercream frosting and talk about the bakery we would open someday.
Our place would be decorated tastefully in our favorite colors of pink and green, with some bright white accents thrown in. The shelves would be lined with Wavy's collection of vintage ceramic cookie jars in the shape of cupcakes. There would always be a fresh, colorful Gerber daisy in a small vase on each of the white bistro tables. And when the weather was perfect, we would move the tables out to the sidewalk so people could enjoy the beautiful sights and sounds of the Lowcountry. The cupcake flavors would be endless. Not only would we have the well—known favorites, we would invent our own unique varieties like banana pudding, key lime pie, pineapple upside down cake, and peanut butter cup.
Looking around now at the tan lifeless walls, second hand furniture, and shabby decorations, the reality didn't exactly match the dream. Wavy had wanted to spend her money fixing up the bakery, but I wouldn't hear of it. She had been there for me all of my life. After my parents died in a car accident four years ago Wavy and Pop were the only family I had. A year after my parents' death, Pop unexpectedly passed away sitting in his favorite chair. Cause of death was listed as a heart attack, but Wavy said he died of a broken heart over his son's death. Now that Pop was gone, I made it my goal in life to make Wavy's dream, our dream, come true.
When I saw this shop go up for sale, I jumped at the chance to buy it. Wavy and I had been watching this place for years. Originally, it had been the burger joint where she met and fell in love with Pop when they were fourteen. Over the years the place had changed owners and had been reincarnated from a burger joint to a pizza parlor, then a sushi bar, then a molecular cuisine café—whatever the hell that was. Now it was our bakery.
I figured once the business got going I would make enough money to really do the place up right. In the meantime, I made do with what I had. The bakery hadn't taken off the way I thought it would. I was positive it wasn't my cupcakes. People loved them, raving that they were the best they had ever eaten. But word of mouth traveled slowly and at the moment I didn't have the extra money to spend on a full—blown marketing campaign, a splashy grand opening, or even the cute little vases with the colorful Gerber daisies.
