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“I will be sure to show you when I finish,” she whispers happily before turning her walker for the door.
“Did you forget about me?” Leonard asks, waving a hand right behind her. “I am running a little late today, so you might have already sold all my favorites.”
“You mean the glazed with sprinkles?” I ask as I grab a brown paper bag from behind the counter. “It would be impossible to forget how much you love your donut holes.” I ring him up and finally turn to my sister and mom, sitting a few tables from the front counter.
“How do you do that?” my sister asks, wrinkling her face at me. “I’d go crazy catering to all these people all day. I’m so grateful that I get to be a stay-at-home wife until the babies come,” she says with a shudder. “Dealing with all these needy folks…”
I inhale, not wanting a fight today. This age-old clash between us has been ongoing since I went to culinary school and started my bakery in town. My mother and both of my sisters don’t believe in being “career women” but being the more traditional stay-at-home spouses and mothers. I think that what they do is amazing—that they found partners that support them in that—but I can’t stand when they impose their views on me and pressure me to give up my thriving business.
“I love my customers. Without them, I wouldn’t have a business. My regulars are not only a great outlet for my social side but also a crucial aspect of my business,” I defend myself. “Let’s focus on planning your wedding, Missy.” And not on our differences of opinion.
“I just think you should prioritize finding a husband over working so hard,” Olivia, my already married sister with two boys in tow, chimes in.
“Well, this business is playing a big part in Missy’s wedding, at a generous family discount. So, let’s save the discussion of how I’m disappointing everyone in the family until after Missy’s wedding,” I retort.
“Hey, we are all just worried about you,” my mom, of course, comes to my sisters’ defense.
Despite the three of them ganging up on me regularly, I have thus far been able to keep my composure. I love my business and even have new plans for its expansion. Unfortunately, it’s not something I can share with my family, but I won’t let their disapproval hold me back. I remind myself that it’s okay to be the black sheep of my family as long as it means I’m doing what I love and think is best—which is to continue to grow this amazing company.
Mia, my right hand, walks in from the back with a tray of cake samples. Perfect timing. “Here’s the flavors I wanted some feedback on,” I tell my mother and sisters.
“Hi, Mia,” my mother greets warmly.
Mia tends to keep to herself and avoids all the customer service-related parts of the business. My family is the exception; they have always been kind to her especially during some challenges she’s had recently. They don’t know the full story, but my mom, sisters, and dad have shown compassion and kindness to the sweet lady when their paths cross.
“Hi, Mrs. Griffin,” Mia responds as she puts the plates down. “I will bring the coffee out in a moment.”
“Thank you,” I murmur to her.
I notice my mother watches her walk away. Once Mia is a good distance away, she turns to me.
“How is she doing?”
“She’s doing well. She’s such a wonderful right hand with the business,” I tell her.
“You think she’s over everything? I have a few men in mind that I think would be perfect—” I quickly put up a hand to stop her.
“No, Mother! Finding a man is not a cure-all for single women,” I mutter angrily. “Please, Mom, focus on your daughter’s wedding and allow others to manage their personal lives. I appreciate your care for those you love, but sometimes you go overboard. Mia hasn’t shown any interest in dating again, so I think we need to respect her privacy.”
“Fine,” my mother mumbles as they start tasting the cake.
“I love the lemon with that fantastic frosting.” Olivia points to a slice of cake.
“Oooh, I might like this dark chocolate and raspberry,” my mother adds, considering her options.
“The vanilla with fresh strawberries is divine,” Missy says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “And oh! I was hoping, when you set up the cake, you could incorporate some of the fresh flowers into the design?” She clasps her hands together in a pleading gesture.
“Definitely,” I tell her. “Did you finalize the flower arrangements?”
“Dad’s picking us up for our appointment after this,” Olivia says. “Then after the cake and bridesmaid’s dresses, there’s just one more thing we have on our list,” she says, exchanging a look with Missy and my mother that doesn’t sit well with me.
“What…what one thing do you have left?” I ask, trying to keep my tone of voice even.
“Now, I know you might not like this…” Missy begins, drawing out each word.
My mother speaks up, her tone serious. “Well dear, as you know, it’s very important to our family that you have a date for the wedding. Even the pictures would be lopsided if you were the only one without a date.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and cross my arms over my chest. These women can be so relentless.
