Lily White Lies(15)

I smiled in appreciation and extended my hand, saying, “Thank you very much for taking the time to see me, Mr. Anderson.”

“Please, call me Ron. And tell Brian I’m sorry I missed him last night, but I’ll be ready for him next week.”

“I will and I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”



My meeting with Ron had enabled me to put aside my grandmother’s news, my hangover and even the fight with Brian. Most of my life seemed to be in an upheaval, but my long-standing dream had never seemed more attainable. As I walked to work, I felt a bounce in my steps, each one sparking a reason to smile.



When I arrived at the building I rented by the month, I stopped and remembered the first time Brian and I came to look at it. He saw stained walls, missing linoleum tiles, stopgap equipment and—as he put it—not enough space to trip in. I saw what he didn’t. I saw the dream.

I recalled an expression often used by my grandmother; ‘From small things, big things one day come’. This run-down workspace was the small thing that would one day bring all the big things to life.

As I reached for the knob, the door swung open with such force, I stumbled backward, catching myself before I fell. Nelda, one of my employees, burst through the door with the energy of a Latin tornado, muttering things that sounded vulgar, even in Spanish.

Taking hold of one of her arms, I asked, “Nelda, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Shaking a fist toward the open door, she replied, “Marco… estupido… lio grande! Too much soap… washer blew up… mucho agua por todas partes.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll take care of it. Calm down and let’s go inside.” I took a deep breath and made my way through the doorway, preparing for what had recently become a common scene between Nelda and Marco.

They hadn’t been dating that long and even though the relationship seemed to be blossoming nicely outside of work, during work they fought like democrats and republicans.

Surveying the damages, I knew that too much soap in the dishwasher was not the cause of this mess. There was water dripping from every inch of the room. If I didn’t know better, I would think the two of them had been amusing themselves with a good-old-fashioned water fight.

“This wasn’t caused by too much soap…” Before I could finish, Marco broke in.

“See! I told you I didn’t do it.” His thick Spanish accent made his words sound sharp and crisp as he defended himself. Turning to me, he added, “She don’t think I can do things right. Tell her I didn’t do it, Meg.”

At times like this, I felt that having employees—especially romantically involved employees—might be very similar to having small children.

“Nelda, Marco didn’t do this…”

Nelda interrupted, “I didn’t do it! I mind my business… next thing… it’s raining … he laughs…”

Patting her hand and trying to conceal a smile, I said, “The equipment’s rather old. It’s probably a break in a hose or something like that. It’s no one’s fault. I’ll call a repairman to come look at it, but for now,” turning my attention to Marco, I asked, “how much damage are we looking at?”

Marco looked around the room, and replied, “I make Napoleons and éclair shells again and throw out crème for French horns, but everything else packaged or not started. Is okay.”

Nodding with relief, I began to wipe down the tables and racks. I had wanted the day off, hoping to make a solo trip to Brickway, but knew that leaving them alone with the mess would be like leaving children alone with dirt and water and asking them to stay clean.

I spent the next two hours wiping and drying, while Nelda and Marco continued making the days orders. This latest mess made me that much more hopeful the loan would go through, as I said silent prayers to that effect. I had been working out of this kitchen for almost three years, had put thousands of dollars into it and still had to deal with breakdowns, repairs and set backs on a regular basis. But, even with the hindrances, my business had steadily continued to grow.

Nelda and Marco were a gift from me—to me. I hired them as an extravagance, thinking it would allow me to spend more time with Brian. Naturally, that never happened, but luxury turned to necessity when business became too much for one person. They were loyal, hard workers who fought with a passion, but could put out more pastry in a day than anyone I’d ever seen—including myself.

“Okay guys, I think the mess is pretty well cleaned up, you seem to be caught up on orders and the repairman should be here before three.” Giving the small kitchen a quick once-over, I added, “Unless you need me for anything, I think I’m going to take off now.”