I laugh. “Maybe I should put up a sign that saysBest cinnamon rolls in Fernley.”
“Woman, you gotta think bigger. If you’re going to make a sign, at least make it seem real. It’s gotta say:Best cinnamon rolls in the world.I promise you, people would buy shirts. Better yet, make some that say C. R. F. L.” She smacks her chest like she’s making a gang sign. “Cinnamon Rolls for Life.”
I beam. My grandma’s recipes are really touching people, and I know she’d be so proud of me right now for keeping our family’s legacy alive.
I start another batch, rolling the dough across the floured counter like it’s breathed into my memory. Sometimes, I get lost in baking, my mind wandering through all the what ifs I can possibly dream. Like envisioning what it would be like to have a franchise that spreads across the country, where Mindy’s Sweets are on every corner, and my baking empire is spreading through the world like a hungry wildfire. It’s something I’ve always thought of, but now that it’s within my grasp, I’m closer than I’ve ever been. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t break free of it until I feel a soft tug on my dress.
Giovanni.
“Hi. You’re pretty,” he declares, face still covered in chocolate.
My heart melts. “That might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
He grins, revealing more chocolate on his teeth. “Your chocolate chip cookies are ooey and gooey. I had three already.”
Amber snorts. “We’re working on moderation.”
“Well,” I say, dropping to his level. “After I finish these cinnamon rolls, I’m going to make more cookies. Want to help me?”
His little gasp is adorably theatrical. “Mommy, can I help the pretty lady make some cookies?”
Amber’s laughter fills the room. “Yes, baby. And her name is Mindy.”
He nods aggressively. “Right. Mindy. I’ll remember that.”
He climbs onto a stool, leaning forward to watch me swirl cinnamon across the dough.
“What are those gonna be?”
“Cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh. I had one of those yesterday, but it made my tummy hurt.”
Frowning, I turn to Amber, who only smiles as she raises a brow. “Now tell her why your tummy hurt, Gio. The whole truth.”
He shrugs innocently. “I may have had some cookies and pie before it.”
Laughing, I finish rolling up the cinnamon rolls and carefully cut them out so they’re the perfect size. “That’ll do it.”
He grins. “I’m not eating too many today. I promise,” he assures me, trying to hide the fact that he’s hoarding another cookie between his cheeks like a chipmunk.
Amber just shakes her head.
“Well, that’s good because I need my helpers healthy.”
“I’m very healthy,” he says proudly. “I wash my hands regularly. It keeps the germs away.” He pauses before looking at his mother. “Mommy says you should sing your ABCs while washing your hands. Do you know the ABC song?”
I nod. “I do.”
He grins. “Before we make the cookies, we need to sing our ABCs.”
“Okay, we’ll do that.”
We spent a whole thirty seconds singing the ABC song while washing our hands. I totally botch the song, my voice anatrocious mix of off-key happiness that messes little Giovanni up a few times. He glares up at me as Amber watches with a soft smile, one hand drifting to her belly.
“Don’t worry, Miss Mindy, you’ll do better next time. I’ll make sure to teach you the song right.”
“You’ve got a pretty smart kid here,” I tell her as he takes his place in front of the bowl.
