Chapter 10
Feeling stymied by the conundrum and stressed by the time crunch, I grab a bag of mini marshmallows and throw them unevenly over the fudge.
I should slow down, be more careful. This flavor is one of our top sellers.
Milk chocolate fudge, marshmallows, and toasted walnuts is a classic for a reason.
It’s pure, sweet nostalgia. But today I just want to be done with it.
I’m feeling itchy and thwarted. I check the fudge’s consistency on the marble slab.
It’s cooled enough that I know it’s time to go to the next step—creaming.
It’s the most labor-intensive part of the process, but it’s what makes the fudge so smooth.
“What’s on your mind, honey?” Mom asks gently, eyeing me. “Are you worried about something?”
“What do you mean?” I take a blunt metal scraper and run it along the sides of the bars, smoothly separating the fudge from the metal.
“You’re racing around the kitchen like a squirrel on speed,” Dani observes from her perch on the stool. “I can hear you spinning out from here.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.
“Just trying to figure out how we can possibly make one of the items on the list come true,” I mutter, removing the bars and setting them aside to wash later. The fudge oozes a little, spreading out slightly on the marble slab, but it mostly stays in place now that it’s cool enough.
“Which item on the list?” Mom asks.
I sigh. “The chocolate shop.” I glance at Mom, letting my frustration leak a little.
“I saw it so clearly. It was exactly as I’ve always dreamed it would be.
But I have no earthly idea how we get from this”—I gesture around the kitchen and toward the storefront—“to that. It feels impossible.” My shoulders slump in discouragement.
“In your vision,” Mom says slowly, frowning a little like she’s concentrating on something. “Can you describe the shop to me again?”
I grab a long-handled wooden paddle and start to cream the fudge, walking around and around the marble slab, scraping up long ribbons of fudge and turning them over on themselves, churning and folding as I walk, over and over.
It’s tedious, and I start sweating a little with the effort.
As I cream, I describe what I saw in my vision again, the shop I’ve always dreamed about.
When I finish my description, Mom doesn’t say anything, just presses her lips together and stays quiet.
She has her thinking face on. I keep creaming.
It always feels like it takes an eternity for the fudge to achieve the right consistency.
After a few minutes she nods once, as though deciding something. “Emmie,” she says, “I think it’s time.”
“Time for what?” I keep walking around the slab, creaming and getting a little dizzy from going round and round. Dani glances up from her phone as though sensing a shift in the conversation.
Mom gives me a tired sigh. “Honey, it’s no secret that the store isn’t doing well.
We’ve been going downhill little by little for years.
I know we keep hoping things will pick up, but so far they haven’t.
” She looks saddened as she states what is obvious to see but hard to admit.
“Maybe it’s time to not just have all our eggs in one basket.
I want you to be able to do what you love.
I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.
And when you described your vision, it felt like a confirmation. ”
I go still. Long, lazy rivulets of fudge fold down on themselves as they fall from my paddle onto the slab. “What are you saying?”
Mom purses her lips, which are a very pale shell-pink shade today.
“I’m saying maybe it’s time to pivot, Emmie.
I know you’ve always dreamed of having your own shop one day, a place where you can make the chocolates you love to create.
Maybe the time is now. You saw it in your vision, and that means it’s important that we help make it a reality.
I think it’s time for you to have your own shop. ”
“What?” I just stare at her, astonished.
I can’t believe I’m hearing her right. A thousand questions race through my head, along with any number of good reasons why this won’t work.
“But who would run this place then?” I protest. I can’t possibly be in two places at once, and keeping one small business running is a full-time job already.
“We’d have to hire someone to help here in the shop,” Mom acknowledges. “But I could take on more of the administration. We could make it work. I’m sure we could figure it out.”
I’m stunned. “I…I don’t know what to say,” I stammer.
My thoughts are racing. “I mean, the logistics of running two businesses is really tricky, Mom. And it takes a lot of money to get a chocolate shop established.” Money we don’t have.
How would I even afford to set up a new space?
Not to mention first and last month’s rent and a damage deposit.
It would be thousands of dollars, and we’re barely making ends meet as it is.
Every month is a white-knuckle race to keep ahead of the medical bills and pediatrician visits, grocery receipts and property taxes.
There’s precious little left over at the end of the month to do anything else.
And starting a new business is a risky venture. What if it fails? What then?
“That’s really generous of you,” I say quietly, “but I don’t see how it will be possible.”
“Emmie.” Mom comes over and stands next to me, so close I can smell the Ivory soap she uses. She winces a little, clearly in pain, but her eyes are shining with suppressed excitement. “I have a secret,” she tells me. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“A secret?” Dani and I exchange a glance.
“There’s a little nest egg I set aside for you,” Mom explains.
“It’s what’s left of your dad’s life insurance policy.
I’ve been holding onto it for a rainy day since he passed, but I think that the best time to use it is now.
I want to give it to you to start your own shop.
What can you do with ten thousand dollars? ”
Dani looks up from her phone and whistles.
I am gobsmacked by her offer. “Are you serious?” I had no idea she had money tucked away.
She nods once, firmly. “I am.”
I run a few quick calculations in my head.
The truth is that ten thousand dollars is an enormous gift and at the same time not nearly enough if we’re talking about a full renovation and opening a state-of-the-art chocolate shop, but I am so touched by her generosity, I don’t want to throw cold water on the idea.
“That’s really sweet, Mom, but maybe you should save it for a rainy day,” I say gently.
She shakes her head, a stubborn little V appearing between her brows.
“You have to move toward what you want, sweetie, even when it feels like a risk.” She tips her head toward the jar of sprinkles sitting on the shelf.
“Remember your courage, Emmie. It’s time.
The vision confirmed it. It’s the right time for you to realize your dream.
You are so good at putting everyone else first, of taking care of everyone but yourself, me included.
It’s okay to want something for you. It’s a good idea to leave a little bit of space for yourself in your own life. Let me help you do this. I want to.”
“Listen to Gwen,” Dani pipes up. “Take the money.”
I hesitate. The offer is so tempting. What would it look like to make that part of my vision a reality, to have my own shop, to get to be creative with chocolate instead of walking around this big marble slab like a mule around a grindstone day after day?
But am I ready? It’s a big change, albeit one I’ve been dreaming about for years.
Mom has given me an amazing opportunity. Am I brave enough to take it?
I glance at Mom, who smiles encouragingly. “It’s your decision, sweetie,” she says.
I think of Henry’s words and of the shop from my vision.
How will it happen if I don’t make space for it in my life?
No fairy godmother is going to miraculously pop into my world one day, wave her wand, and give me a chocolate shop with glass display cases and gleaming walnut hardwood floors.
In life we have to make our own magic, Dot likes to say.
I think she may be right. Mom has given me a chance, if I am bold enough to try.
Maybe it’s time for me to be my own fairy godmother.
I glance at the little glass cylinder of sprinkles sitting on the shelf, remembering the words written on the card.
For courage. I sneak a look at Dani, who has gone back to googling facts about Henry and isn’t paying attention.
Quietly, I reach up and pull down the container, unscrewing the cap and shaking a few sprinkles into my hand, careful not to draw attention to what I’m doing.
Mom and I agreed to keep the sprinkles a secret for now.
I place a sprinkle on my tongue, then another and another.
The delicate floral sweetness melts slowly in my mouth, and as it does, I feel the familiar zing of anticipation, almost electric.
I feel it right down to my toes. For courage indeed.
“Okay,” I blurt out, surprised by my sudden resolve. “Let’s do it.”
I am usually cautious before I make a big change.
I like to consult spreadsheets and crunch numbers and weigh pros and cons before making a weighty decision like this.
Truth be told, I’m itching to do just that.
What if this goes sideways? What if my shop fails and we are left with nothing?
It’s a terrifying thought. But even worse is the thought of waiting and waiting, of letting my vision slip away day by day. I have to act.
Mom is watching me closely. “It’s time, Emmie,” she says quietly.
She’s right.
I keep creaming. The fudge is now viscous and shiny. It’s ready for the final stage, forming it into a long loaf shape so we can slice it. I switch to a short-handled metal scraper that resembles a wide putty knife and keep working the fudge.
“Where do I start?” I ask a touch nervously.
“You take it step by step,” Mom says.
“We need a list,” Dani says, holding up her phone and looking at me expectantly. She loves getting to start a new list. “We can brainstorm a list of what you’re looking for in a space. Starting with location—what are you thinking? Somewhere here in downtown Poulsbo?”
I hesitate. Suddenly this is feeling very real.
I’ve always dreamed of Paris, or New York, even toyed with the idea of Portland or Seattle.
But here in Poulsbo? That’s never been the dream.
Thinking about opening my shop anywhere else presents a huge problem, however.
Gus and I would have to move. We’d have to leave Mom, and I wouldn’t be able to help out with the Happy Viking at all anymore.
I imagine Mom struggling to cope with the demands of managing the store, even if we hired good help.
And what about her living alone? Picturing her trying to open a can of soup with her gnarled fingers brings a pang to my heart.
I can’t relocate to another town. It’s just not going to work with the realities of our life right now.
Mom needs us, and our family business is here.
We can’t leave Poulsbo. And yet I really want a fresh start for my shop, somewhere I can create a business entirely on my own terms, the way I’ve always dreamed. I worry my lip, thinking.
“I guess I picture it somewhere else other than Poulsbo,” I admit. “But I know we can’t move, so what are my options?”
Dani considers my question. “What about Winslow?” she suggests, tapping one nail against her red lipstick. Winslow is a picture-perfect harbor town on neighboring Bainbridge Island. “The downtown gets great tourist traffic with the ferry terminal to Seattle right there.”
I entertain the idea for a minute. It would be a twenty-five-minute commute, but that feels doable. “Winslow could work…”
“Or Kingston?” Mom pipes up. Another adorable town close by with a ferry terminal.
“Also a good option,” I agree. “Let’s see what’s available for rent in both those towns.” It’s not Paris or New York, but maybe it will be good enough, far enough away that I can create my own thing out from under the shadow of my family’s legacy here.
As I work the fudge, we talk about the possibilities and brainstorm together.
I’m growing more excited by the minute. Dani is on Pinterest, pinning inspiring images from French chocolate shops.
Mom is making a list of requirements for a space for the shop on a legal pad in her slightly wavering handwriting.
Dark wood floors. Big windows. She writes down all the details I can think of.
I start another batch of fudge, almost afraid to hope.
Is this really happening? I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.
There are so many things I have to plan for—finding an affordable space to rent, setting up and advertising the shop, handling making chocolates in the quantities needed to keep the business afloat.
And I have to find someone to help out here at the fudge shop, and I’ll need to walk Mom through taking over more of the responsibilities of running this place.
Dad always handled the business side of things, and after he got sick, I filled both of their shoes while Mom took on the role of caregiver for him.
It’s more than a little daunting to consider everything we need to do to make this happen, but still I feel a swell of anticipation. I am doing this. I am making my chocolate shop a reality. I’ll deal with the practicalities later. I think of the list we made on the napkin tucked in my purse.
To-Do List
· Henry + Emmie fall in love
· Chocolate shop
· Yellow dress
· Engagement ring + proposal
I can’t force Henry Summers to fall in love with me, or buy an engagement ring, or propose.
Our relationship will have to unfold at its own pace.
And I haven’t even started looking for a yellow dress yet.
But this is something I can move forward on.
With my mother’s blessing and her little nest egg, I can finally open the chocolate shop of my dreams.
I can’t wait to get started.