My sister waves her hand like the reprimand is a pesky gnat. “Well, it is. Anyway”—she looks back at me—“I saw you’ve been hiking some?”
I’m flabbergasted. First a visit, then she downplays Mom, and now this? “What the heck is going on, Savannah? Are you stalking my social media?”
One of her shoulders lifts as she grabs her tea. “I may have been stalking you a bit to see what you’ve been up to lately. Plus, I was intrigued when one of my associates mentioned how much she liked your baked goods.”
“Yes, well,” my mother pinches out. “That’s the reason we’re here. We have some pretty important meetings on the horizon, and we’d like for you to cater them.”
It’s literally the first time in the history of ever that she’s even mentioned ordering from my shop. What’s the catch? Surely, there’s some other reason she’s deigning to involve herself in my business now.
“It would be a lucrative order,” she entices when I remain silent.
“What kind of numbers are we talking?”
“We’d want a fresh delivery of a dozen assorted items delivered daily to our downtown branch.”
For a fleeting moment, I wonder if she’s wanting this because she wants to brag.
“Downtown Newman?” As the only employee here in the morning, I couldn’t manage that, but maybe I could talk to some of my neighboring shop owners and see if there is a courier service or something.
“No.” She sniffs haughtily. “The Atlanta location.”
A bark of laughter shoots out before I can contain it. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen unless you use a food delivery app.”
“Well, this is a huge client. Surely, you can make some type of concession. They specifically mentioned having your miniature pecan pies.”
Screw her. Acting all haughty, like she’s doing me a favor. “Well, a standing daily order of a dozen pastries isn’t worth my time. Not when I have multiple standing orders for double, even triple that. So, unfortunately, it’s not as big a deal for me as it is for you.” I smile sweetly as her back goes rigid.
“But you’re the best, and we only want the best for this client.”
Validation should ring through me. To hear my mother say anything I’m involved with is the best. Somehow, the statement she’s making feels… anticlimactic.
“I’m flattered. Thank you.”
“Fine, make it three dozen, and we will have someone stop in to pick it up.”
Savannah’s expression shifts into one of respect, and I want to savor this feeling for a while. We work out the rest of the details. And if my mother acts all pinched againwhen I don’t cut them a deal on the purchase price, it doesn’t bother me too much. This is my business, my livelihood. I deserve to be paid what I’m worth, not be cutting family deals that will end up costing me money.
LaTisha comes back bearing a full tray of fresh muffins, and I smile as I acknowledge that I don’t need their business.
That entire tray will be gone soon, and the one that’s due out after it will be too. Already paid for and claimed by the time Mom and Savannah make it back to their posh uptown office.
The front bell jingles, and two young moms with toddlers come in. The kids run excitedly over to the display case, and LaTisha makes a big deal out of letting them pick their cookies. The moms are all smiles as they settle their bill and hustle back out the door on their way to the park.
This. This is why I do what I do.
“You’ve got a great thing going here, sis,” Savannah says, bringing me back to the here and now.
“Thanks, Sav. That means a lot.” And it does. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, and I appreciate that they also recognize my success.
My mother pushes to her feet, brushing her hands like the table is still unclean and those invisible crumbs are all over her.
“You’ve done well, Magnolia.”
And with that, Savannah ushers her to the door. She shoots me a wink behind our mother’s rigid back. “Maybe we can meet up for a drink soon.”
A warm tingle skitters through me. It’s a shame we’ve never been closer. Now that Jackson is gone, I’ve opened my eyes to how isolated I’ve kept myself. Until him, I’d holed away, focusing on work, on making something of mystore. It was my dream, sure, but the more I reflect, the more I come to understand that I wanted a way to prove that I didn’t need this family that never acted like they really appreciated me.
Alice might have been my saving grace throughout my school years. But was I using her as a crutch? To avoid the reality of my family? Could we be something different?
