It devastated my mom when I gave up dancing. Even after winning scholarships and being invited to audition for prestigious dance schools, I declined them all. Only my therapist knew the full reason why, though I was almost positive my mother could piece it all together.
With a gentle smile, I walked over to Eloise and dabbed a bit of flour on her nose, then repeated it on Molly’s. Both girls giggled in that sweet way they had. “We’ll see.”
I started with the same pistachio and raspberry cake from the other day that Nate loved. I swear he had hearts in his eyes after the first bite. Also on my list were a chocolate whiskey cake with caramel custard, a cookies and cream cake, chocolate and hazelnut spread, Champagne-flavored cake with strawberry compote, and orange creamsicle with vanilla pastry cream.
When I texted my mom the list of ingredients to see what she had on hand earlier, she replied with a wide-eyed emoji. Luckily, she had a bit of it stored in her pantry, but I had to make a stop by Chuck’s Grocery Store to stock up on the rest. I made sure to stop by my favorite baker, Betsy, to check in. Mom may have taught me everything I knew, but Betsy knew how to add that extra umph to any dessert. She was the most excited about my venture into the baking world.
As I finished mixing all the doughs, I settled them inside the mothership of all double convection ovens. It really paid to have a farmer’s wife who enjoyed cooking for all the hands working on the land. She always had the right kitchen tools on hand.
The girls asked all kinds of questions about the flavors and how I knew what they would taste like before making them. As requested, I spun around the kitchen with an ease that I hadn’t felt in years. I remembered doing the same as a teenager, helping my mom in the kitchen.
I smiled at Eloise and Molly as I started stirring the batches of icing and checking on the compotes, jams, and creams on the stove.
“You should be on one of those baking shows. The one with all the crazy designs,” Mom spoke as I tasted the chocolate ganache.
“The one Colton hosted last season?” I asked, whisking the chocolate a few more times.
“Yes, that one.”
I huffed out a single chuckle as I made my way over to the girls, performing a pirouette along the way. “Taste,” I demanded.
As expected, they both sighed in delight.
“Was that a pirwowet?” Molly asked as she tried to stick her finger in the bowl to grab another taste.
“A pirouette,” I corrected. “Yes. Very good. You’ll be professionals in no time.”
Walking back to the opposite counter, I locked eyes with Mom. Her lower lids held pools of water. “Mom?” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
“It’s really nice to see you dancing again. It’s been too long.”
“I dance every day,” I argued, though she was right. I hadn’t allowed myself to perform in front of anyone in years. Not since Stephen took everything from me. I’d had years of therapy to get to the point I was at now.
“Not like that. It’s just really nice to see. I miss the girl who used to whirl around the house like a dancing tornado.”
“I’m still that girl. Just less of a tornado and more like a strong wind.”
Mom strode over and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. Her lips pressed against the side of my head before she pulled back and swiped her finger through the chocolate ganache.
“Be the tornado, Alexandra. Show everyone what you’re made of.” Rendering me speechless, she hollered for the girls to help her with a flower project outside. The twins never turned down the chance to get dirty.
Be the tornado.
I always felt like I was too much for everyone. Just a little too wild. Just a little too ambitious. When Autumn left in a hurry after her high school graduation, I toned it down. The emotional downfall from Stephen decimated me to nothing more than a shell of myself.
Be the tornado.
Glancing around the kitchen, I decided that was exactly what I planned to do. I wanted everyone to know who I was. I was going to be the best cake baker in Eastern Tennessee. No, the country. I wanted people clamoring for my masterpieces.
Be the tornado.
I was going to take what I wanted. And right now, I wanted a night with Nate and no interruptions. I had a way to make that happen. Pulling out my phone, I typed out a quick message to Rory, asking if she’d stay the night with the girls. She immediately agreed, her text accompanied by a cucumber and cat emoji.
I was going to be the tornado, and I didn’t care who got in my way.
Two dirt-covered masses came through the back door just as I finished setting the last cake out to cool. Mom followed closely behind them, steering them toward the first-floor bathroom.
“Think you can find something for each of them to wear while I wash their clothes?” Mom asked as she passed through the kitchen.
