Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Last year on this day I volunteered at a soup kitchen to reach out and help others so I might feel less sorry for myself, less lonely. An old man complained about my green beans being too salty until I scraped them off his plate into my hand and stomped away. This year, I am the luckiest woman in the world. Even with burnt marshmallow stuck between my fingers. And I have all of you to thank for it. I have a family now. A real one, where we care for each other and protect one another and roast each other viciously over board games. I mean it, guys. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Three boyfriends and no topping for the yams?” I wisecracked.
“Keep talking and no pie for you,” Madison teased. “Don’t wreck a beautiful moment.”
“If you don’t want smartass commentary, why’d you invite me?” I said.
“It’s your farmhouse…” Noah said.
“Okay, that’s fair,” I said, “and joking aside, I love this Thanksgiving and everything we have to look forward to. I’m especially grateful to you, Mad, for making a family dinner happen in the midst of chaos.”
“That’s what family is, right? Celebrating each other in the midst of chaos?” Ethan said.
“Exactly,” I replied and picked up the knife, “Now who wants a drumstick?”
When Madison took a turkey-induced nap on the couch, we scrolled through our photo streams and chose pictures from the weekend to include in a photo book for her.
“I think we should make it special. Some kind of holiday togetherness theme,” I said. “Ethan, you’re a designer. You can make a good-looking scrapbook, I bet.”
“I design buildings. I don’t do scrapbooks,” he said.
“We have to do, what, sixteen pages? According to the app, the book needs sixteen pages. We each do five pages and then one collage page at the end. We do it as one project on the app, so we don’t reuse the same photos.” Noah took charge.
“You’ve got project manager energy,” Ethan quipped.
“I’m aiming for partner. Surely, I can facilitate a successful scrapbook,” he said. We all set to work flagging the pictures we wanted to include in the book we were making to surprise Madison. She’d love it—a sentimental memento of our first Thanksgiving together.
22
MADISON
I put together a grand re-opening for the shop the week after Thanksgiving with help from the guys. Ethan donned an apron and served coffee and scones while Noah worked the register. We had so much business. The worries I’d had about losing my standing orders and customer base after the brief closing were a thing of the past. In fact, the weekdays were so bustling with business that I had to turn down several large orders because of staffing. I had three part-time workers and needed to add at least two more, preferably by getting Jacie or Marco to commit to full-time so I could train them as a manager.
Day after day, we sold out of muffins before nine, and the scones were quick to follow. The only time I had leftover scones was the day of the failed sage and lavender experiment. They smell bad when you put them together. It was a lesson learned. I started making some savory rolls—a sausage roll, a chicken curry roll and a garlic eggplant one. I offered them as a to-go special twice a week. The second day I had calls about ordering a platter of them for a luncheon or a meeting. I didn’t have enough ingredients on hand and not nearly enough help to do the pastry and get them ready in time. There were even more lost orders because of staffing.
I posted a help-wanted sign and interviewed potentials. Having people come in at six a.m. for an interview really weeded out the ones who weren’t willing to get up early and work in a shop, that was for sure. I hired two college kids on a Wednesday, and one had quit by Friday at eight in the morning. I was scraping by with barely enough help. Then I took on a big order for three trays of chicken curry and eggplant rolls.
The next morning, I had asked Jacie to come in early to help roll pastry. At four in the morning my phone rang while I was getting dressed for the day’s baking. It was her. I groaned and answered the phone. It turned out the cough she’d been taking lemon calendula lozenges for turned out to be mono. She’d be out for three weeks. I told her to feel better, not to worry about it. Then I panicked. We hadn’t even opened for the day before I told my remaining recent hire to find a different job. He was fifteen minutes late again. Fourth time, it turned out, was not a charm.
A flood of customers awaited when I unlocked the doors. Marco and I served and rang up as fast as we could. Still, the line stretched out the door and I felt uncomfortably like people were restless at the slow service. I gave away some dreidel sugar cookies in apology for the delay. Frustrated, I had to close early after running out of scones and muffins. I set Marco to work cleaning up while I made a batch of pastry for the rolls.