"Deena, these cookies are the best things I've ever eaten. What are they called and how do I make them?"
My mother let out a small chuckle as my aunt shoveled as many of the light, buttery confections in her mouth as she could handle.
"Those are called Lady Locks, Katie. They're very hard to make. I could give you the recipe, but then I'd have to kill you," she replied with a sinister laugh and a wag of her eyebrows.
"Fine, don't tell me. Just make sure you bring them to Christmas, Easter, my birthday, the kids' weddings, and any other get-together we have from now until we die. Or just open your own business already so I can come in every day and eat my weight in these things," my aunt stated seriously.
"Deal," my mom replied with a wink.
She laughed off the idea for a few years until she got laid off from her accounting job at a construction company when I was in junior high. With nothing to do day-in and day-out but wait for my father to wake up after sleeping the day away from working the night shift or for me to come home from school, she baked and started researching how to start your own business. Within two years, Snow's Sugary Sweets was up and running. Since our last name was Snow, it made choosing the name of the store easy. The hard part was getting my father on board with the plan.
"A bakery? We're opening a bakery?" my father asked in shock as he watched my mom hustle around the kitchen taking trays out of the oven, flicking switches on the four mixers she had going, and flipping through multiple recipe books.
"Yes, we're opening a bakery. Don't give me that look. You won't have to do anything other than tell me how amazing I am and be my taste tester," she reassured him as he rolled his eyes and heaved out a great big sigh. "Think of it this way. If it does well, you'll be able to retire early and tell all of those idiots who take advantage of you at the mill where to stick it. Then we can pay someone else to do all the hard work, and we can travel like we always planned."
With just a few carefully crafted words from her, my father's fears were instantly soothed. She knew he was concerned about the amount of time she would spend away from him and the house. My parents were connected at the hip. Where one would go, the other would surely follow. They met in high school and were best friends until they both decided they wanted more. Their marriage was something I always envied: high school sweethearts who stood the test of time. They were the epitome of soul mates. They had their share of problems over the years, but when your love was built on friendship, you could come out stronger on the other side of any disagreement. My father's reaction to the bakery was the closest thing to an argument I had ever witnessed. He was scared that if my mother put all of her time and love into this business, there would be nothing left over for him. If he had learned anything over the years, though, it was to never argue with my mother. If she wanted something, she got it or she made it happen. My mother was a genius at making my father feel included and letting him make important decisions regarding the shop so he wouldn't feel like this was just her dream coming true, but one they could share together.
Snow's Sugary Sweets quickly became the talk of our small town. It was the only bakery within a twenty-mile radius, unless you wanted to go to Wal-Mart and choke down one of their dry cakes with greasy frosting that left a nasty, oily residue in your mouth after just one bite. It also helped that everyone loved my mother. She was sweet, friendly, and would do anything to help someone out. She had more friends than I could ever imagine having, and she was the reason Snow's became such a huge success.
As I use my keys to unlock the backdoor of the shop, I think about the love/hate relationship I have with the place. On one hand, I love that everything about this place reminds me of my mother, from the smell to the snowman décor that decorates the walls and counter tops year-round to tie in the "snow" part of the store name. On the other hand, I hate that everything about this place reminds me of my mother. I hate that everywhere I look I can't escape the memories.
"You're seriously going to put all of your snowmen decorations up at the bakery?" I asked my mom in shock as she pulled another blue tote off of the shelves in the basement where she had stored all of her holiday decorations. The snowmen always made an appearance as soon as Christmas was over. The tree and stockings would come down and the snow globes, crystal snowflakes, and Snowbabies figurines would come out.
"Of course I'm going to put the snowmen up. They're adorable," she stated as she popped the lid off a tote and looked inside. Satisfied with what she found, she slid the tote next to the ten others currently taking up most of the floor space in the back corner of the basement.