Read It's Raining Cupcakes for Free Online

difficult. Cookieswere too ordinary. A cake was hardly different from cupcakes. I didn’t know what to do.
    It was fun to get a postcard from Stan in the mail. He sent me one with Durham Castle on the front. On the back he wrote:
    Dear Isabel,
    We’re having a jolly good time here. The weather’s been truly grand. I miss everyone back home, however. Hope the cupcake shop is coming along splendidly. It’s sure to be a smashing success.
    Cheerio, Stan
    I took it along with me to show the twins. They weren’t impressed. “We want to swim!” Lucas said.
    â€œWe want to swim, we want to swim, we want to swim!” they chanted, marching around the family room.
    We went outside to the backyard, only to find the kiddie pool completely empty.
    â€œIf I fill it up, the water’s going to be really cold .”
    Lucas nodded his head hard, his blond curly hair flopping in his eyes. Those curls were my ticket to telling them apart. Logan didn’t have nearly as many.
    While Lucas nodded, Logan clapped his hands, like he’d never heard anything so exciting. Really cold water? Yay!
    I dragged the hose over, stuck it in the swimming pool, and turned the faucet on. “Let’s go inside and read books until it’s full.”
    They didn’t move.
    â€œCome on, boys. It’s going to take awhile.”
    They still didn’t move.
    â€œPlease? If we’re going to be sitting out here all afternoon, I want a book to look at.” I had spotted a beautiful book about Colorado on their bookshelf the other day that I was dying to read.
    The boys stood there, hypnotized by the water running from the hose into the pool. For once they weren’t climbing something, spilling something, or tearing something apart.
    â€œOkay, you stay here,” I told them. “I’ll be back in a second. But listen to me. Do not get into that pool. Do you understand me? If you get in, I’m throwing it away. You’ll never, ever be able to swim again. You got that? DO NOT GET INTO THAT POOL.”
    â€œOkay,” Logan said. Lucas nodded in agreement.
    I ducked inside, kicked my flip-flops off, and ran to the front of the house where the living room was, all the while wondering how mothers of young children ever got anything accomplished. It seemed amazing that they weren’t all walking around completely filthy from not having showered for months. Unless they were waking up at four a.m. every day and showering then. Maybe that was their trick.
    I snatched up the book about Colorado, but as I did, my eyes couldn’t help but scan for others. There were a lot. I took one called 50 Amazing Things to Do in Chicago , and another one about Ireland, then hurried to the backyard.
    When I got there, Mrs. Canova, or Sue as she insisted I call her, was standing there, arms crossed in that “I’m so appalled with you” way, as two completely dressed boys walked around inside the pool, kicking and splashing water at each other.
    â€œIsabel?” Her eyes pierced mine.
    I gulped. “Yes?”
    â€œDid you leave them out here by themselves with a pool of water?”
    â€œWell, it was filling up and—”
    Her eyes narrowed even more as she stepped closer to me. “Did you, or did you not, leave them unattended with a pool of water?”
    I looked down at my toes, the red nail polish I’d put on a month ago starting to chip away. Obviously, she already knew the answer to that question. She had found them outside, and I wasn’t anywhere around.
    â€œYes,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
    The boys’ laughter filled the air. I listened to it, trying to make myself breathe. But I couldn’t. It was like someone was standing on my chest, pressing harder and harder.
    She reached over and took the books from my hands, then walked toward the sliding glass door. “I’m sure you understand, I can’t have someone watching my