Kylie and the girls were packing the red, white, and blueberry cupcakes in the back of her dad’s car when her phone suddenly rang.

“Is this Peace, Love, and Cupcakes?” a harried woman asked on the other end.

“Yes, it is,” Kylie replied. “But we’re about to make a delivery. Can we call you back?”

“It’s the delivery that I’m calling about,” the woman continued. “The cupcakes for the Mount Vernon Library fund-raiser. This is Ms. Cushman, the head librarian.”

“Oh, yes!” Kylie replied. “We’ll have them there soon. Five o’clock sharp, just like we promised.”

“There’s a little problem,” Ms. Cushman said, hesitating. “It seems we underestimated how many guests would be coming tomorrow. We need a few more than I originally ordered.”

“Not to worry,” Kylie said. “We always bake some extras just in case. Instead of twelve dozen, you have thirteen dozen.”

“That’s nice of you,” Ms. Cushman said. “But I’m afraid we need more than that for our guest list.”

Kylie held up her hand, motioning for Jenna, Sadie, Lexi, and Delaney to stop loading the car. “Exactly how many more cupcakes are we talking about?” she asked.

“Oh, just another twelve dozen.”

Kylie’s mouth hung open. “Are you serious? You need us to double the order? Now? We can’t!”

Sadie grabbed the phone out of her hand. “What she means is we can’t—unless you pay us a rush fee. A dollar more per cupcake.”

“Fine,” Ms. Cushman said. “I’ll wait for you to get here. But please hurry. My favorite show, History Chronicles, is on TV tonight and I never miss an episode.” She hung up.

“Sadie, are you crazy?” Kylie gasped. “We can’t bake and decorate twelve dozen more cupcakes. It took us three hours yesterday to get this batch done—and it’s already four o’clock.”

“I don’t even think we have enough ingredients left over,” Jenna piped up. “We’re low on berries, big-time.”

“It’s a lot of money,” Sadie pleaded. “And I’ve had my eye on a new bike for the summer.”

“We’ve been in a cupcake crunch before,” Delaney insisted. “We can do it if we work together.”

“Let me think,” Kylie said, pacing back and forth. If there was one thing she was good at, it was dealing with a cupcake crisis. “We’ll leave these cupcakes in my dad’s car. It’s cold out here, so they’ll be fine as long as we don’t move them. Jenna will ask her sister Marisol to drive her to the market while the rest of us get to work on the fondant toppers.”

Lexi shook her head. “I have to roll out fondant for another hundred and forty-four Georges?” she complained. “My poor aching wrists.”

“We’ll all help,” Kylie assured her. “If we’re gonna do this, it has to work like an assembly line. Sadie cracks; Delaney mixes; you and I roll.”

Jenna gave her the thumbs-up. “I texted Marisol and she’s not thrilled, but she’s on her way.”

• • •

When Marisol pulled up in her car she had a scowl on her face. “You owe me,” she told her younger sister as she jumped in and buckled up.

“It’s not like you have anything better to do,” Jenna teased her.

“For your information, I was working on something very important.”

Jenna yawned. “What? A physics experiment? Memorizing War and Peace?”

“No, nothing to do with studying,” Marisol replied.

Jenna looked puzzled. “Did I interrupt you alphabetizing your book collection?” she joked. “Lo siento! I’m so sorry!”

“Forget it,” Marisol said in a huff. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.” She pulled up in front of the market and clicked the door lock open. “Go on. I’ll wait for you here.”

Jenna actually felt a little bad for teasing her sister. Something was clearly bothering her.

“Okay, I’ll be quick,” she said, jumping out. “Thanks for the ride.”

Marisol shrugged. “Whatever.”

When they returned to Kylie’s house, the kitchen was in full swing. “Bring those berries over here,” Sadie said, motioning to the mixing bowl. “We’re ready for them.” It took them two hours to bake all three flavors and another hour to frost and decorate. It was nearly seven o’clock before they were ready to hit the road for Mount Vernon.

“Marisol said she’ll help us drive them over,” Jenna told her friends. “Though she’s not very happy about it—or anything actually.”

“Great. My dad’s backseat is packed to capacity,” Kylie said. “Let’s box ’em up and get them loaded.”

There was only enough room for two passengers in each car: Kylie and her dad, and Marisol and Jenna.

“I win Father of the Year for this,” Mr. Carson said, getting his keys. “And you’re lucky it’s not a school night. It’ll take us at least an hour to get there—if there’s no traffic, but there will be on a Friday night.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Kylie promised. “You can sleep late tomorrow morning, and I’ll make you pancakes.”

“With some of those leftover blueberries?” he asked, turning on the ignition. “Now you’re talkin’!”

The trip took them longer than expected. When they finally arrived at the library, it was eight thirty. Kylie knocked on the door, but it was locked and no one answered. She peered through the window and saw that everything was dark and quiet inside.

“I thought Ms. Cushman said she would wait for us,” Jenna said, carrying a stack of boxes out of the car.

“She also said she never misses an episode of History Chronicles,” Kylie recalled. “Which started a half hour ago.”

“Now what?” Marisol grumped. “It’s freezing out here, and we’ve got three hundred cupcakes and no one to accept them.”

“I suggest we drive down the road and find a neighbor willing to hold them for Ms. Cushman till tomorrow morning,” Mr. Carson suggested. “Or it won’t be just the cupcakes that freeze.”

They all piled back in and drove to a small house just down the street from the library. Kylie rang the doorbell and crossed her fingers.

A gray-haired man opened the door a crack and peeked outside. “May I help you?” he asked.

“I hope so!” Kylie exclaimed. “We have to deliver these cupcakes to the library but it took longer than we thought to mix the batter and Jenna had to buy berries and then we hit traffic and Ms. Cushman left to go watch her TV show.”

The man scratched his bearded chin. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said. “But if you’re selling cupcakes, I’ll take one.”

“No.” Kylie tried to explain better. “They’re for the library’s annual fund-raiser tomorrow night. We’re not selling any, but if you can hold on to them for Ms. Cushman to pick up tomorrow, we’ll gladly give you one.”

The man opened the door the rest of the way. “I know Ms. Cushman very well, and I’ll let her know I have them,” he said. “You can bring them into the kitchen and leave them there for her.”

He motioned to a room down the hall. “It’s right through there, past the photos on the wall.”

As they all piled past him carrying box after box, his eyes grew wide. “I thought it was a dozen or so cupcakes…not enough for General Washington’s army!”

“Sorry,” Kylie apologized. “Ms. Cushman asked us to double the amount at the last minute, so I’m afraid there’s a whole carload more.”

“You might want to stack those in the living room,” he suggested. “It’s a pretty small kitchen.”

As Marisol walked by, she couldn’t help noticing all the amazing framed pictures. “Wow, did you take these?” she asked.

“I did,” the man said. “I used to be a professional photographer. In fact, the library has a few of my shots on display.”

She put the boxes down and walked back to get a better look. “They’re amazing. Like something out of National Geographic magazine.”

“You have a good eye. I used to shoot for National Geographic.” He pointed to the signature in the corner of the print. “That’s me. Harold Hammond.”

Marisol continued to study the pictures. There were several of a desert at sunset, one of lions lounging in the Serengeti, and yet another of the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“I worked in Paris for quite a while shooting fashion models for magazines,” he said. “In my younger days.”

“It must have been incredible to travel the world and see all these sights,” Marisol said. “I wish I could.”

“It was quite an adventure,” Mr. Hammond reflected. “But now I’ve retired and hung up my cameras.” He seemed sad. “I’m older now. That’s all behind me.”

“You must miss it,” Marisol said. “I don’t know how you could ever give this up.”

“Are you a photographer?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, just an amateur one,” she said, showing him a few photos on her phone. “Besides, I’m applying to college this year.”

“Those are pretty good.” He nodded. “You have real talent. If you’re interested, I know some people at the Los Angeles Film School, where I went. I could put in a good word for you. They have an amazing photography department.” He handed her his business card from his wallet.

“That’s so kind,” she said. “But my mother has her heart set on me going to medical school one day.”

“And what is your heart set on?” Mr. Hammond asked.

“Photography does seem very exciting,” Marisol said, thinking out loud. “I just don’t know if I can…”

“You see this?” He showed her a picture of a dolphin flying high above the waves off the coast of Oahu. “My editor told me to get this shot. I said, ‘I don’t know if I can.’ And he told me, ‘You can…but are you willing to do what it takes?’”

He patted Marisol on the back. “I put the same question to you.”

Jenna found Mr. Hammond and Marisol talking in the hallway. “Here you go,” she said, handing him a white chocolate cupcake. “Thanks again for letting us crash our cupcakes overnight.”

“My pleasure,” he said, taking a lick of the frosting. “Happy to help out. Nice meeting you all and reminiscing.”

• • •

All the way home, Marisol seemed absorbed in thought. She stared ahead at the road and said nothing.

“You and that photo guy seemed to hit it off,” Jenna commented. “What were you talking about all that time?”

“Stuff,” Marisol said simply.

“What sort of stuff?” Jenna asked.

“Just stuff. It’s none of your beeswax.”

Jenna shrugged. “Well, you can think about your stuff all you want. The only thing I’m thinking about is setting sail on our cruise Sunday morning.”

“Maybe I’ll bring my camera,” her sister said suddenly. “Do you think we’ll see any dolphins?”

Jenna just couldn’t figure Marisol out these days! “Dolphins? Since when do you care about dolphins?”

“There’s a lot I care about,” her sister insisted. “You and your friends have your cupcakes, but what do I have?”

“Amazing grades, for one thing,” Jenna said.

“I mean something that makes me really happy. Something I can get excited about.”

“I’d get excited if I had straight As,” Jenna said. She couldn’t understand why Marisol seemed so worked up.

They pulled up in front of their home, and Marisol shut off the car’s lights. “Please don’t say anything to Mami or Leo,” she pleaded. “I’m just being silly.”

Jenna promised, but she had a hunch that Marisol wasn’t being silly at all. She was being very serious.