Sorry to Ask Something Like This
Bzzzt…
I opened my eyes to the vibration of my morning alarm, which I'd set to silent so Luca wouldn't wake. Reflexively, I switched it off and stretched hard right where I lay, chasing the sleep from my limbs.
When I'd first quit my job, I used to force myself to find something to do so I wouldn't be sprawled out alone while everyone else headed to work. Now Mondays felt busier for me than for any office worker.
I had to make the desserts for James's café, then race over to the church to pick up Reni. And ever since the kids had started kindergarten, I'd had to push pickup an hour earlier, which meant Mondays required a four a.m. wake-up.
Of course, getting up that early also meant turning in with Luca at eight the night before, so I never went short on sleep.
Today, as always, I tucked the blanket snugly around Luca—who was sprawled in a completely carefree pose with not a single worry on his face—grabbed my jump rope, and stepped out onto the terrace.
After fifteen minutes of fast jump-roping, I showered, came back in, and started prepping the cakes.
The desserts I supplied to James's café sold under the menu name Today's Dessert. What I made was entirely up to me. Today's Dessert always sold at the same price, and James always paid me a fixed amount in return. I would calculate the ingredient costs accordingly and build the desserts to match.
But once I'd gained a little financial breathing room, instead of hammering the calculator to hit a target number, I started making more experimental menus—or simply whatever I felt like eating that day.
Today, I decided to make the dozens of cakes I'd promised Reni and the kids.
"Dozens of cakes" sounded ambitious, but they were only palm-sized mini cakes at snack scale, so it wasn't all that hard. I baked three sheets of genoise in a wide rectangular pan, cut each into thirds, filled them with lemon jam, strawberry jam, or chocolate filling, then stamped them out with the cookie cutters the kids had requested—and that was the first stage done.
After that came the colored coating chocolate, melted over a double boiler. I gently poured the softly flowing yellow, pink, and light-brown milk chocolate over the cakes to coat them, then brushed the sides with a pastry brush until…
"Aigoo."
Nothing about it was difficult, but painting dozens of cakes by hand was pure repetitive labor, and my back was starting to ache. I stretched for a moment and checked the clock. Unfortunately, there was no time to spare.
While I waited for the chocolate coating to firm up a little, I quickly got ready to go out, then finished by scattering cupcake sprinkles over the tops in place of icing.
Star-shaped and heart-shaped sprinkles weren't hard to find. Penguin shapes, though—those simply didn't exist, so I substituted snowflake sprinkles on the penguin cakes.
"Cute."
The finished mini cakes sat somewhere between a proper cake and a cupcake—a new little hybrid. Still, with their dainty size and their sparkling, multicolored sweetness on full display, I figured they weren't half bad.
Once I'd packed the cakes for the church and the ones for the café separately, I snapped a few photos for social media. Cassandra managed all the SNS channels outside of YouTube for me now, and sending her these extra photos had become part of the routine.
I loaded still-sound-asleep Luca into the stroller and stopped by the first floor to deliver the café cakes. Lily and Rose, already at the café at that early hour, tried to snag me, but the moment I said I was going to pick up Reni, they let me go at once.
As expected—our eldest was a filial son. I headed for the church with Luca.
I parked in the church lot and got out just as Reni came running, rubbing eyes that still weren't fully open, and threw himself into my arms.
"Daaad, I'm sleepy."
I held the warm little body tight and offered the greeting he seemed to have forgotten.
"Hey, my boy. Did you have a good weekend?"
"Mm…"
He rested his head on my shoulder and rubbed against me as if he might fall straight back to sleep. The sister who followed him out whispered that he'd secretly stayed up playing with his friends the night before and hadn't gone to sleep until past midnight.
"Oh my, my boy. You played behind Sister's back?"
"…Heehee."
Reni, who'd looked half-drowned in sleep, let out a sheepish little giggle at being caught. I wondered how a kid who could barely keep his eyes open past ten had managed to stay awake that late.
"What were you doing with your friends until then?"
"Mmm… that's a secret, though…?"
He already had secrets from Dad? I watched him from the corner of my eye as he subtly avoided my gaze and nuzzled into my shoulder, then saw the sister gesture that nothing serious had happened, and decided not to press further.
If we'd been heading straight home, I would have just let him sleep like this. But we were going to kindergarten, not home, so that didn't seem like a good idea.
"But if you're this sleepy, Reni won't even get to eat the star cake Dad brought before going to kindergarten, huh?"
"…Daaad, no."
Reni, who had been nodding off again, snapped his eyes wide open and jerked his head up.
"I can eat it."
"All right, then. Let's say goodbye to Sister and get going."
"Okay. Sister, bye-bye!"
The sleep seemed to have fled; he waved brightly as I buckled him into the car. I handed the sister a box of cakes big enough for several kids—including Jennyfer and Tony—to share, then hurried off.
On the way to kindergarten, Reni chattered excitedly about his weekend. The little cake topped with glittering star sprinkles must have won him over completely; he sat in his seat bouncing his feet.
"A trampoline showed up on the lawn yesterday! So I jumped on it all day with Jennyfer and Tony-hyung!"
"Is that so. Weren't you tired?"
"A little? So I took a really long nap!"
Ah. A long afternoon nap. That explained being awake at midnight.
"And, and also the dolls came up with us and did jump, jump, but…"
Listening to him with a fond smile, a good idea suddenly struck me. What if I turned the church's empty lawn into a playground the kids could actually use?
The grass between the church and the group home was a space regular parishioners walked through, so that would be hard to touch—but there was a small yard behind the group home as well. If I bought some ready-made pieces and ordered lumber for the parts I built myself, I figured I could finish it at a reasonable cost.
The longing that came from missing their parents couldn't be helped—but a daily life where something fun was waiting the moment they opened their eyes would only help the kids.
Once winter passed, aiming for next spring seemed about right.
Chattering nonstop the whole way and still neatly finishing an entire little cake, the boy said a cheerful goodbye and headed into the classroom. I asked Ivy and Daniel to look after him well again today, sweetened the request with the remaining two cakes as cute little bribes, and left the kindergarten.
"…Uung-ah."
"Oh my, is our Luca finally awake?"
I moved half-asleep Luca—flapping one hand from the stroller—into the car seat and held up a sippy cup of baby food and a milk-bread roll. I'd meant for him to choose one. Luca grabbed both.
Yeah. Of course. Why not eat both.
"Dad was worrying over nothing."
I smoothed his hair as he started happily sucking on the straw, smiling, then took the wheel again.
A short drive later, I clocked in at the office. After Luca finished his thoroughly satisfying breakfast, I turned him loose in the playroom and stretched out beside him.
Greg, seeing this, opened a window, looked down, and scolded me.
"What gives, boss? You can't just flop down the second you get to work."
"You're just getting started, but I already feel like I've put in half a day."
"Fair enough. Oh, this was really good."
Greg held up one of the star-shaped cakes I'd delivered to the café earlier.
"Why would you buy that with your own money and eat it…"
"So what? Oh, and there were barely any left already. James said your desserts always sell out first."
"That's a relief."
"Which is why I'm saying—if the studio tanks, should we open a bakery?"
I sat bolt upright and glared at him.
"Why would the studio tank?"
Greg chuckled and handed me a coffee.
"What is this. We have a coffee machine, so why'd you go buy coffee?"
"Neighborly mutual aid, that's all. And this place's coffee is good."
That much was true. Whether it was the expensive machine or just excellent beans, I couldn't say.
"When you're done with the coffee, send me the footage from this morning—the cake-baking shoot."
"That should've auto-backed up already. Want to check?"
After a little coffee, some chat, and a quick rundown of the day's agenda, I moved to the workroom and put serious momentum into finishing Cassandra's wedding dress.
With only about two weeks left until the wedding, I wanted to complete it and put her mind at ease as soon as possible.
And a couple of hours later, I stood looking at the wedding dress draped over the mannequin with a deep sense of satisfaction.
Over the past few weeks of work, I'd thought more than once that I would never make another wedding dress as long as I lived. Even with the power of the Manito App behind me, it hadn't been easy. I'd learned firsthand why it takes a whole team of people to make a single gown—a completely obvious fact, experienced the hard way.
But the finished dress wore every bit of that effort on its sleeve.
For a slightly more dramatic presentation, I moved the mannequin in front of the full-length mirror outside the dressing room and switched on the lights. Under the bright glow, the wedding dress shimmered as if someone had dusted it with fairy powder.
I cleared my throat once for no good reason, then called for Cassandra as if it were nothing special.
Cassandra—who never so much as poked her head in this direction unless I called—came into the room with a little skip in her step. The moment she saw the dress reflected in the mirror, she let out a shriek of pure joy. I stepped back a little so she could admire it to her heart's content.
"Whoa, this is seriously incredible. How is something like this even possible… What even are you…?"
Greg, who'd followed her in, slung an arm over my shoulder and marveled with complete sincerity. I shrugged and tossed out a joke.
"Right? Even I feel like the god of sewing briefly possessed me and then left."
Calling it purely my own skill would have been a stretch, after all.
I said that and turned around—because a familiar sound had just drifted over.
"Papa."
Startled by the sudden scream, Luca had pushed his baby walker out to investigate. He stopped when he saw me and stretched out his hands. I scooped him up, kissed him, and went to stand beside Cassandra, who was furiously photographing the dress from every possible angle.
Even if it wasn't pure skill alone, my labor had definitely gone into it—so I showed it off to my son with a little pride.
"Luca, Dad made this. Pretty amazing, right?"
"Yeah."
He answered well enough, but Luca was clearly not all that interested.
I fixed the boy a slightly late lunch, left Greg in charge of meal supervision, and had Cassandra try on the dress.
But then…
Both sleeves were tight, and the back zipper only made it halfway up before it stuck.
Unable to hide my bewilderment, I had no choice but to ask.
"Cassandra… did you gain weight?"