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I was getting choked up. The Center was such a big part of me getting through my childhood and teen years.
“Darling, not to worry. The Center is safe.”
He knew from a glance what I was feeling. Protective of all those childhood memories of mine.
“I didn’t even try to buy it, my beautiful darling. It’s owned and run by a nonprofit. But the buildings are run down. They spend all of their donation money running their programs, and rightly so. I made an endowment.”
I had to ask him what that was. Oh, yeah! I’d heard of that.
“Well, our family trust endowed the Center. You and I can donate additional money and specify that it must be used for renovations or remodeling to bring it up to code or whatever comes to mind in the future. Like that. So, I did.”
“In both of our names?” I was confused.
“In the name of the trust for the endowment. Jointly in your name and mine for the charitable renovation money contribution.”
I teared up, “Why, oh,whydo I love you, you crazy man?”
I pounced on him and he found my lips. We wrapped ourselves around each other.
A cold dinner would be just as delicious as a hot one.
As the year-end holidays threatened to come back around (as Amy said), she, Alex, and I plotted and planned the bakery’s holiday menus and got in touch with suppliers.
There was no secret: Holiday time was a big moneymaker for retailers like me. I didn’t want to blow it. It would be my bakery’s first holiday season, given last year’s disastrous events. No, I needed a smashing financial and culinary success for this season.
I decided to get Roberta's and Jerry’s help. She was a data guru and Jerry was my numbers pro. I needed to plan correctly so that we, on the one hand, wouldn't get caught short of products and miss out on sales, nor on the other hand, have so many fresh baked goods that we couldn't sell them all in time.
They told me what I wanted to know. More or less what I already knew! It was comforting to hear confirmation, nonetheless.
Over the months since our Valentine’s Day re-opening, Amy and Alex had worked together with me to develop a manageable catering arm of the business. Alex supervised an on-call delivery service. Amy was his backup for inventory tracking and negotiating with suppliers. Roberta and Jerry had also helped me earlier in the year so I would not make any financial mistakes. Or at least not big ones.
It was all coming together! It was turning into, more than ever, a family affair.
I got Amy’s husband ‘officially’ involved as a taster for Alex’s and my new products; she told me with a laugh that I nailedthat one! He was constantly asking her when ‘new goodies’ were coming out.
Alex’s girlfriend, now fiancée, placed a big order for their coming wedding—banning him from the baking because she could count on me! Been there. Done that.
Jerry’s and Davie’s respective companies became catering customers.
Mom Peterson (who loved, loved,lovedthat Davie, Jerry, and I now called her just ‘Mom’) along with Dad Peterson (who likewise puffed up with pride and happiness when he announced, “All you kids just call me ‘Dad’, okay?”) always placed huge orders for our now-regular full-family dinners every two weeks.
As for my Leighton? He never missed a bakery-kitchen breakfast hour with me. Not once.
Leighton
My business continued to satisfy my curiosity and compulsion to create solutions to problems. We had private and government clients. We had US-based and international clients. I loved it as much as ever. I was paying great people to do great things. I think the staff was, overall, happy.
Marriage? I loved every minute of it!
Samantha's happiness was paramount. I knew she'd gotten through tough years with her “control what I can” mantra. She had a big heart. A lot of talent. A lot of skill. And more than ever, I wanted to provide her with a lot of resources to fulfill her dreams and her goals.
And, as the song said, “…a whole lotta love!”
My parents were thrilled to the core to have three more adult children calling them Mom and Dad. Did it matter that Davie and Jerry were probably only six years younger than my parents—their new Mom and Dad? Not one little bit. Go figure.
My folks. I loved them so much! Some people are just made for parenthood.
I’d be remembering that thought before long.
