"I thought you'd make standard cupcakes," I corrected. "These are bakery quality."
Harlow beamed. "Mrs. Tanaka helped with the recipe! She says baking is chemistry for hungry people."
Iris wiped her hands on her apron. "We made two dozen. Twelve are vanilla with strawberry, and twelve are chocolate with raspberry."
"And you decorated all of them differently," I observed.
"That was Cassidy's idea," Harlow said. "She said boring identical cupcakes are for people without imagination."
Cassidy's ears turned pink at the credit. "Whatever. It just makes sense to customize them."
I looked at the cupcake she was working on—the tiny painted strawberry now had individual seeds and a perfect stem.
"You're actually really good at this," I said.
She glanced up, her expression guarded. "At what?"
"Art." I gestured to her work. "That's museum-quality fruit."
Her cheeks flushed to match her ears. "It's just food coloring on frosting. Anyone could do it."
"I couldn't."
