Page 66 of Stronger Than Blood
I lay there with Mick in my arms, thinking about all he’d gone through. Not just tonight but throughout his life. I forced myself not to feel the natural anger that bubbled up from the thought. I had no tolerance for bullies, even the dead kind.
I wouldn’t give him the power from my anger, though. So, I forced myself to focus on how much I admired Mick’s resiliency. His and Mrs. Ida’s. They were truly amazing people.
Chapter forty-six
Mick
It surprised me how quickly life returned to normal. I mean, normal in the spiritual sense. Our lives were anything but normal.
It took longer than we anticipated for Uncle Eddie’s stash to be sold. Mostly because Jonah had to ensure everything was managed legally. For the most part, I let Jonah handle what needed to be done, and with the power of attorney handed to me by Granny, I mostly just signed all the necessary documents so we could sell it to our very interested party.
I’d begun meeting Essie every Sunday morning since she’d started taking over for Brenda. “To get her feet wet,” Brenda had said.
“Do you think you can handle all the baking? I can handle the regular food prep, but trying to manage the pies and cakes you sell, along with the stuff for the buffet, seems overwhelming,” she’d admitted to me the last time we met.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Essie, I used to make at least five times the desserts I make here, and that was every night. We are nowhere near my capacity.”
“So, do you think we could sell more?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe,” I said, looking around. “If I share a thought with you, do you promise to think about it before we bring Brenda in?”
Essie cocked an eyebrow but nodded. “As long as it’s just an idea, I’m not sure why I’d have to tell her.”
I swallowed hard. I knew I was stepping outside my boundaries and would probably never even mention it to Brenda because, for real, the woman wasn’t known for dealing with new ideas well. Hell, even now, I knew she regretted the baked goods over at the hotel.
“Okay, come here,” I said and walked around to the section of the restaurant opposite the kitchen and larger dining area. “So, this area is rarely used because it’s the farthest from the buffet. It’s also far enough away from the kitchen that our wait staff tends to discourage people from sitting here at night when we're taking table orders. So, if we were to move these coolers out and put a couple on that end, I could easily fill these up and turn this section into a bona fide bakery.”
Essie looked around the room, a frown on her face. I could tell she was thinking about what I’d said. “Are you sure this isn’t used very often?”
“Positive. I mean, this is a large building, too big for the type of service we have. Most people are in and out within thirty minutes during the day. At night, when the servers seat people, they always direct them to the left side of the restaurant. In fact, I’ve been in here when this section is completely blocked off.”
“You think there’s enough interest in the baked goods?” she asked.
I just chuckled. “You know I sell out every weekend. Not to mention, we consistently get more orders every weekend. I barely have enough time to put anything out for customers to buy. However, if I worked a regular schedule, with at least aforty-hour week, I’d be able to fill orders and keep these coolers filled.”
“You think Brenda would be against it?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah, she’s ready to retire. Even before that, she had all she could handle with the restaurant. I… well, to be honest, Essie, I think she only offered this to both of us because she knew I needed the work, but I don’t want to be just a weekend warrior. I’d like this to be a real job, a real career. With Brenda leaving, I’d like to take this section over and turn it into the bakery I’ve always wanted to run. That way, you’ll have your part, and I’ll have mine.”
Essie nodded. “My turn, come with me,” she said and led me into the back, to the kitchen. I followed her to where we kept dry goods. “I think this is the wall that separates the kitchen from the dining room.” She looked around and smiled. “This is just where Brenda tosses the overstocked stuff, like extra flour, canned goods.”
She pointed to a corner where we stored the mop and brooms. “As you can see, this area is not being used. So, if we move the shelves from back there up to here, move the mop and brooms to the area where the clean-out traps are located, you can open a door between that side of the restaurant and the kitchen.”
“That would make it a lot easier to move stuff into the coolers,” I said, excited at the thought.
“We could also add another oven and sink, which will cost, but not too much, and you can become more autonomous. That way you won’t have to work all night—you can do your baking during the day and not be in the way. This would be your workspace,” she said, and when I looked at her this time, she was actually smiling.
“What do you think it’d cost?” I asked, concerned.
“Not much. The plumbing is already run into the wall here, and there’re electrical outlets all around the space, provided there’s enough amperage to support another oven. I’m assuming you’ll need some prep space. I think, Mick, this might be the best idea for everyone.”
“So, does this mean you’re going to take Brenda up on her offer?”
“Are you?” she asked.
I looked down, thoughts flowing through my head faster than I could process. “I’d like to, but I’ve already agreed to help with the microdistillery. It’s always been my dream to have a bakery, though. Well, not always, but it has since I started cooking.”
“Then let’s make it happen, but first, you need to commit. If you're willing, we can present the idea to Brenda. We can talk about how to pay for the improvements and get things set up for you to make it happen.”
