Page 44 of Make Mine Sweet
Wren and I box up their requests. Ada pays for the pies as I slip them into a wide bag with handles so it’s easier for them to carry them off to book club.
“Will you have any special flavors for the Fourth of July?” Isabel asks.
We rotate our flavors weekly, but we have special flavors we only offer around holidays, too, like citrus-cranberry at Christmas and pumpkin at Thanksgiving.
“We’ll do our usual blueberry and strawberry cream pie for a red, white, and blue theme,” I tell her. “But they sell out fast.”
And I’ll smell like berries all week, but I don’t mind that.
She blinks up at me like I missed something. “What about cakes?”
“Oh. I might do something similar with all the fresh fruit we’ll have for our cupcakes that week.” Since our cupcakes are more Mom indulging me than true business plan, I can do whatever I want with them.
“I’ll have to special order one of those full cakes for our family get together. I’ve heard they’re the best around.” Ada nods at me like she’s giving my work a gold star.
Naturally, this is when Mom slides into view. She’s been doing inventory in the back, but here she is, front and center for a conversation I’d rather she didn’t hear. Goodness knows,shedoesn’t want to hear about how much people love my cakes.
“I’m surprised you haven’t put them up on the wall here.” Isabel gestures at the chalkboard menu where we update each week’s pie flavors. I haven’t even put the cupcakes up there yet. “Shout it around town, drum up more business.”
“The cakes aren’t part of our regular offerings.” I have no idea what else to say. How do I explain that “more business” isn’t part of Mom’s game plan when it involves my cakes?
“They should be.” Ada nods like a queen issuing a decree. “Maybe next time we bring desserts for book club, we’ll bring one of your cakes instead of pie.”
I’m glad I can’t see my own smile. It’s got to be a twisted mess of awkward pride. The last thing I want is for Mom to think I’m trying to go into competition with her, but I’ll make the cake if they ask me to. “Sounds great.”
Ada and Isabel wander out of the store, their work complete. I can’t even look at Mom. Maybe if I let it go, she will, too. She’s done a pretty good job of ignoring my random cake orders so far.
Some day—when I’ve had a lot of advance planning and practiced my speech—I’d intended to make my pitch to her about expanding Blackbird’s offerings using spreadsheets, numbers, and solid facts. Things she would respond to a whole lot better than two regulars putting on pressure with their glowing reviews.
“We should put the cakes on the menu.”
I spin to face Wren. We’ve danced around this with Mom for the last year—she wants to address it head-on now?
“It’s too much extra work for Tess to take on.” Mom’s answer is calm and collected, unlike the chaos unfolding inside my chest.
“Not if we hire a couple more bakers.”
I think I might be having a heart attack. I’ve been trying to come up with the most careful way to approach this with Mom, and Wren’s going straight for the jugular, no hesitation.
“The bakery is successful as it is now.” Mom’s using her oh-so patient voice, but the slant to her mouth tells me how much she dislikes the idea of expanding. “We’re able to live comfortably off of it. If we rush to offer more items and hire more people, we don’t know what might happen.”
“Yeah. It could be a wild success.”
I can’t relate to my sister’s boldness, but I love her optimism.
“Or we could destroy our own livelihood by pushing it past its breaking point.” Her smile is gentle, but her words are like a slap. “Sunshine is a small town. There’s only so much success we can expect.”
Wren’s eagerness deflates a little. We already suspected Mom’s arguments against expanding the business, but hearing them straight out like this hits different.
She steps forward to take each of us by the hand. “I love that you’re so enthusiastic and dedicated to Blackbird’s. But trust me on this. We don’t want to do anything that would put the business in jeopardy.”
My heart squeezes even harder. She means me. If I pursue my cake business, if I try to expand my specialty cake offerings or hire someone else to help me with them, my choices could ruin us. I obviously wasn’t involved in Blackbird’s early days, but I remember how much stress Mom was under when every day felt like a make-or-break moment. I completely get why she wants to stay in the safe cocoon of our success.
But it hurts that she can’t see an outcome where my cakes couldaddto that success.
“Now.” She releases us and takes a step back. “I’m going out for lunch. Will you two be okay while I’m gone?”
I used to think asking us this was just her habit, but now, I have to wonder if she really thinks Wren and I can’t handle her absence for a couple of hours. Like we might run wild and eat all the pies when she’s not looking or abandon the store to watch movies all afternoon.
