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14
A Night to Celebrate
Amber
Celine and I had been in the kitchen, baking up a storm for the last few days. We had been going out into town and handing out our very homemade brochures with samples of our treats. Our men had been supportive, but despite their support, the business wasn’t taking off yet.
After all the effort we’d put in, we had one order of cookies from a mother whose daughter was recently diagnosed with celiac disease and could only eat gluten-free. Our first order was a batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Between Celine and I, we used all of our artistic abilities to nicely display the cookies in packaging from Michaels. The few hours of labor for the order had paid off when the customer took one bite and raved about the cookies. She promised to tell all of her friends and post a review on our Facebook page, but so far, nothing had come.
We were relying heavily on word of mouth because we hadn’t found a corner café available in town. The popular tourist town was booming with business, and it seemed like there was no room for us.
“Maybe we should quit before we get ahead of ourselves, Ames?” Celine slumped down on the barstool in the kitchen. We had just spent the afternoon trying out all of our recipes, making them gluten-free, and making sure they actually tasted good.
So far, we had little success.
“We can’t quit yet.” I leaned against the counter, glaring at the banana and chocolate chip muffins that tasted like cardboard.
“We don’t know anything about gluten-free or dairy-free food. Maybe catering to that niche market is a bad idea. This all tastes like crap.” I shot a glare at her, and she shrugged with a soft, apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“We have to make this work, Cece.” I fought against the anger and shame swirling in my gut. “The whole family is counting on us to make this work.”
She nodded and cast her eyes down to the counter.
Our whole family was counting on us.
We promised them. I promised Ryan so we could move here to start a new life. I had to make this work.
“I can’t give up,” I muttered, opening the trash can to swipe the muffins inside before closing it again. “I can’t give up on my family.” I stood in front of the sink and washed my dishes, pain shooting up the back of my legs into my lower back from standing the entire day. “I have to make this work.”
I fought the sob crawling its way through my chest, the raw pain burning my throat. I blinked away tears as I scrubbed the dishes.
Celine stood beside me. She grabbed the sponge from my hand and bumped my hip to push me out the way. “Let me wash these, hun.”
I stood there, my cold fingers gripping the cold counter.
“Let me try again.” With shaky hands, I picked up the recipe book and read through the ingredients list. I organized everything out onto the counter, double and triple-checking that I had the quantities right.
“You need to try a different flour,” Celine said, and I glanced back at her to see she was reading something on her phone. “According to Google,” she held up the phone to show me a picture of a bag of flour, “this is the best one for baking, so we need to get some.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve. Is anything even open?” She kept tapping on her phone, her nails clicking against the screen.
“Target is open. I’ll send the guys. They can pick up something for dinner, too.” I nodded and started mixing the recipe, leaving the flour for last.
* * *
The timer finally went off, and I tiredly rose from the dining room table. Celine nervously paced the length of the kitchen as I pulled the tray of muffins from the oven and set them on the counter.
I stuck a toothpick inside to see if they were cooked all the way through. When nothing stuck to the toothpick, I turned the oven off and glanced at Celine.
“They look better than the last ones,” I announced, leaning against the counter. I was exhausted.
“Momma, I’m hungry.” Kennedy walked into the kitchen and immediately wrapped herself around my legs to get my attention.
My fingers naturally sank into her short, red locks of hair, pulling her unruly hair into a quick ponytail.
“I’ve got dinner on the stove, baby girl. Just a few more minutes.” I bent down and picked her up, my back protesting with the extra weight, but I held her to me, her little body instantly wrapping around me like a Koala Bear.
