Emmie, you have a real talent. I hope someday soon you can find a way to share it with the world again.
Every time I think of those words, I feel a strange twist in my stomach, longing mixed with both hope and despair. I want so badly to be able to share my gift with the world, but I don’t know how to make it happen. Yet in my vision, I am standing in my own chocolate shop. How in the world do I get from here to there? I don’t have money to rent a storefront, or the funds to renovate it to look like what I’ve imagined for years, much less buy the expensive equipment I’d need. And what about the Happy Viking? Mom can’t run it, and I can’t juggle two stores at once. It feels impossible. An impossible dream. And yet I saw it in my vision. Surely there must be a way for me to make it happen? And soon. Henry is only here for the summer. If I don’t get my store up and running quickly, how will my vision come true?
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, creamingand 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. Mythoughts 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 openinga 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 youshouldsave 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.”
