Page 71 of Home Body
CHAPTER 41
The meeting with the contractor turned out to be a smash hit, causing the bakers to forget their worries. At least temporarily. The entrepreneurs had previously gone over the property numerous times and knew what equipment they wanted in the kitchen and how they wanted the customer area to be laid out to give it a homey feel.
Mamie pointed it all out in the kitchen as the contractor listened. “We want the ovens on this wall. We need counter space here for the dough proofer, mixers, bread slicer, and all the extras. Flour, sugar, and other bins will be down here. Over there will be the racks for sheet pans that go into the display cases. Oh, the industrial fridge will be here. The fryer here. And shelves for bakeware over the counter. The cooler and pantry stay put from the former cafe that was once here. Customers dishes and utensils here. Coffee, juice, and water station there where it’ll be handy.”
“And in the middle,” Dalia added enthusiastically, a great big wood work table.”
The man nodded as he took notes on a legal pad. “And out there?” He pointed at the front room of the shop. “The original wood floors are in great shape. The tin ceiling is sturdy. We’llmove in display cases and everything you need. What about paint? Lighting?”
“Oh, we have the paint color all picked out.” Mamie pulled out a paint sample from her pocket. “‘Morning Sun.’ It’s such a pretty soft yellow, don’t you think? I’m making cafe curtains for the windows. Signs are on order, not that we’re anxious or anything. We’ve even already ordered the tables and chairs. ”
“And we want the westside wall painted in blackboard paint. I’ll post sayings and specials every day. We’ll go shopping for an antique wall clock and other wall decor.”
“What about the upper floors?” he wanted to know.
The second and third floors were set up as studio apartments that their benefactor, Vic Van Natter, had updated when first putting the property up for sale. Each floor had a bathroom and a kitchenette. Mamie and Dalia planned on renting them out to help with the business expenses.
“They’re all set,” Mamie reassured him.
Vic came in and reminded the contractor to do whatever they wished. It felt like Christmas in June to the women.
When the men left, Dalia and Mamie stayed behind to muse over their good fortune. Rose was down the street at gymnastics, so they had plenty of time. They walked through the kitchen discussing the business end of the endeavor. They’d long ago figured that out but went through it one more time.
Mamie would come to the bakery at four in the morning five days a week, at least in the beginning. That was her usual time for getting up to bake at home, so she didn’t see that as a burden. Dalia would take care of the farm animals at daybreak, like she did now, and then would bring Rose with her to the shop. During the school year, Dalia would take a break to walk Rose the few blocks to the elementary school. The shop would stay open until two o’clock in the afternoon, with Mamie going homemidmorning and Dalia taking care of the place until it was time to pick up Rose from school.
They would hire help for Saturdays, as they wanted to continue their kiosk at the Farmers’ Market. They’d be closed on Sundays.
It was a neat and tidy schedule, but they both knew they wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. The apartment rental would aid in being able to pay for help. It was a tight plan, but they felt optimistic it would work for the time being until they could afford to have more employees.
From the kitchen, they heard the front door open and someone come in. They went out to find Llayne O’Brien standing there appearing disheveled and adrift, as if she hadn’t slept.
“Well, hello, Llayne.” Mamie exuded warmth. “Come in, come in. I’m sorry there’s no place to sit yet.”
“I, I saw you in the window earlier,” Llayne stammered, “and waited for the men to leave. I won’t be long, I promise.” She stuck her shaking hands into her pants’ pockets and shifted her weight. “I just want to make sure you know I thought you died,” she beseeched Dalia. “I wouldn’t have abandoned you. Never! I mean, I had no means of support. Your father had dumped me. I considered adoption at first but changed my mind. I would’ve figured it out somehow. I would never have let that horrible woman, that Agnes, have you.” She took a breath, this speech taking a lot out of her. She began to weep with deep, guttural sobs. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” She turned to go.
“Llayne. Come here.” Mamie went to her daughter’s biological mother and took her in her arms. “Now, now. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”
“I just, well, I just don’t know what to do in a situation like this.” Llayne pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you, Mamie. You’re so kind.”
Mamie looked at Dalia, and said “Would you two like to be alone?”
“Oh no,” Llayne insisted. “Mamie, I want you to know I’m so very, very grateful Dalia came to be with you and your husband. Once this story hits the news, I can’t imagine how many women out there will discover they have a stolen child and they’ll be in agony wondering what happened to it. I’m so lucky to know. Thank you. I mean, I’m so glad I’m not in that situation and that Dalia has had a great family for most of her life. And we know each other! Isn’t that amazing? Well, that’s all. I’ll go.” she pointed behind her at the door but didn’t make a move to leave.
“Okay,” Mamie said. “Let’s go down the block to the park and find a nice bench.” She went to the door and opened it. “Come on.”
Once in the park, Mamie announced she was in the mood for a solitary stroll down by the river. She’d be back shortly.
Dalia and her birth mother were left sitting on a bench by the fountain, needing to figure out what kind of relationship they wanted or if they wanted one at all. Llayne couldn’t take her eyes off Dalia, but Dalia’s eyes veered away until Llayne said, “You look a lot like me at your age.”
“Oh yeah? I guess I do see the resemblance. We have the same coloring and same height.”
“Same build at your age.”
“Huh. I’m good at remembering historical dates. How about you?”
“Excellent.”
Dalia pointed back and forth between them. “Our voices sort of sound alike.”
