Grace Makes It Great

by Mary Casanova

  Even though the red “For Sale” sign was still in the window, it blended in with the surrounding red paint and looked a little less noticeable. With the bloom of new colors, I hoped no one would see it at all.

  “Hello, girls!” Grandma said as we stepped through the front door. She was wearing a brand-new apron with the same reds, light blues, and pinks of the bakery color scheme. She matched the new decor!

  Grandma noticed our eyes on her apron. “I was inspired,” she said, “and took time to sew it for myself last night.”

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  Across from the service counter sat three small round tables, each with two chairs. And on top of vintage tablecloths, the little glass vases each held one red rose. I almost wanted to cry. Together, we’d worked a miracle!

  The swinging door from the kitchen opened, and Grandpa came out, calling, “Hey-ya, girls!” Then he pretended to be blinded by the bright new paint colors. He blocked his eyes with his arm.

  “Oh, Grandpa,” I said. “I bet you secretly love it.”

  Grandma laughed. “I think he actually does, Grace!” she said, wrapping me in a big hug.

  When a handful of customers came in the front door, my friends and I sat down at a table to eavesdrop on their reactions.

  One couple said, “We just had to see what’s going on here. What a sweet little bakery!”

  Another woman said, “I love the colors!”

  After they left, each with a purchase, Grandma said to us, “You wouldn’t believe how many new customers we’ve had today—people who’ve never stepped foot in here before.”

  “Plus,” Grandpa added, “we had two people ask about the ‘For Sale’ sign out front.”

  I cringed. “But that’s not why we redecorated,” I protested. “We’re trying to save the bakery, not sell it.”

  “I know, I know,” Grandpa said. “Sorry if I upset you, Grace. But we need to be realistic. A few more customers this month may not be enough to solve our financial challenges.” Then he nodded toward the kitchen. “Mr. P.’s in back. He’s already checking your website for orders. Sounds like you girls are going to be pretty busy this week!”

  As we headed to the kitchen, the front door chimed, announcing another customer. Or a possible buyer. I glanced back, and then I stopped. The woman stepping into the bakery looked so familiar. I knew her from somewhere, but I just couldn’t place her.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” the woman said to Grandma in a thick southern accent. That’s when I realized she was the porter from the train! What was her name? Destiny? She had been so nice to me when she brought my birthday cake to the table in the dining car. After we’d told her about LPP, she’d told us she liked to bake, too.

  I turned back to the kitchen and was through the swinging door when I heard Destiny say, “I was so excited when I saw your sign!”

  Wait. The For Sale sign? Is she excited about buying the bakery?

  I turned around as fast as I could, pushed the swinging door open a crack, and peered out. Destiny was sitting down at one of the small tables, motioning for Grandma and Grandpa to join her. As I watched, she pulled a few sheets of paper out of her purse. I tried to hear what they were saying, but the clatter of dishes from the kitchen covered their voices.

  “Grace, come on,” Ella called.

  “We’ve got work to do,” Maddy added.

  Stomach clenched, I let the door close softly. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Destiny was going to buy Grandma and Grandpa’s business. I couldn’t bear to say anything to Maddy, Ella, or Mr. P. I really just wanted to go home and crawl under the covers. But I couldn’t. I still had my own business to run. I tried to put Destiny—and the awful feeling in my stomach—out of my mind.

  Luckily there was enough work with LPP to keep me focused on other things. While we’d been busy giving First Street Family Bakery a face-lift, a flurry of orders for La Petite Pâtisserie had piled up. And within the customer comments for those orders, the rumors were definitely flying:

  So exciting to see your little business take off!

  Love the new paint on the old bakery! Exciting!

  We’ll miss the old bakery, but this is good news for you girls!

  I turned away from Mr. P.’s laptop. “I wish people would quit saying that!” I said in frustration. “We’re not taking over the bakery.”

  “I know,” said Mr. P. “They’re just not sure what to make of the changes. It’ll all sort itself out.”

  Ella handed me a marker, and we began transferring each order to our whiteboard.

  When Grandma and Grandpa stepped into the kitchen, I couldn’t look at them. I was worried that they had just found a buyer for their business—all because we’d made the bakery look so good. Wouldn’t that be a joke on us? I forced my lips shut. If I wasn’t careful, I might say something to hurt someone’s feelings.

  Instead, I carefully wrote the last order on our whiteboard. Then I crossed my arms and stared at it. It was so full!

  Maddy exhaled hard. “The orders have been coming in a lot faster lately. How can we possibly handle all of them?”

  “I don’t know,” Ella said. “We used to get just a few orders each week. But now people are placing them way ahead—even for the holidays.”

  Will we be baking here at the holidays? I wondered. Or will someone else own the bakery by then?

  “Whoa, here’s an order from Illinois,” said Mr. P. in disbelief. “That’s one we won’t be able to fill. I don’t think we’re licensed to ship goods to other states.”

  “Oh dear,” said Grandma, peering at the computer. “You’re right—you’ll need a wholesale license for that. We have one, though we rarely get orders from out of state.”

  “How on earth did they learn about LPP?” Grandpa asked from the doorway.

  “The website—and maybe the blog,” Maddy explained. “Things can really take off with that kind of advertising.”

  Grandpa grunted. I finally glanced up at him. He looked at Grandma and then nodded slightly in my direction. What were my grandparents thinking? Did they have something to tell me about their conversation with Destiny? I braced myself for the news.

  Instead, Grandma removed her newly sewn apron and walked to a freshly laundered stack of plain white aprons. She grabbed two—one for herself, and one for Grandpa. “We just closed up out front,” she explained. “We were going to head home, but it’s plain as day that you all could use a little extra help.”

  “Tell us what to do, Grace,” Grandpa said, putting on a clean apron. “We don’t want to get in the way, but if we can lend a hand, we’d sure like to.”

  “That would be great!” I said, relieved that neither one of them had mentioned Destiny. “How do you feel about learning a few new recipes?”

  “Sounds great,” Grandpa said, winking at me. “Change can be good, remember?”

  I had to laugh. Grandpa was making the best of things. I would try to do the same. Besides, we had baking to do. That always put me in a good mood. I turned on my tablet, and soon the kitchen was full of French music and busy workers.

  Given everything on our whiteboard, which included some orders to fill and deliver by tomorrow, we couldn’t possibly be done by dinnertime. “Anyone interested in staying on if we turn this into a pizza party?” I asked hopefully.

  Ella and Maddy nodded eagerly, and even Grandma and Grandpa agreed. I made a call home.

  “Mom?” I asked. “Do you think you and Dad could bring pizza here so that we can keep working? We have so much to do, and Grandma and Grandpa are helping, too.”

  She agreed, thank goodness. Before I put my phone away, I took a group selfie of me, my grandparents, my friends, and Mr. P. in the kitchen—up to our elbows in orders! We were busy, but everyone was having fun.

  Click!

  The night before Thanksgiving, scents of sautéed garlic, onion, and celery filled the kitchen. I sat cross-legged in the bay window with my tablet in hand and Bonbon settled in besi
de me. Mom and Dad were both at the stove, making stuffing and cranberry sauce for tomorrow’s turkey dinner.

  After posting the photo of our pizza party at the bakery, I was trying to write a Thanksgiving entry to go with it. I’d been so worried about my grandparents’ business lately, but I also had a lot to be grateful for today—like how far my own business had come and the way everyone had always pitched in to help us.

  I didn’t know quite how to put my feelings into words, but finally, I drew a deep breath and simply started typing:

  Like many businesses, La Petite Pâtisserie will be closed on Thanksgiving Day.

  We want to spend time with our families—and what great families we have!!!

  Following our dream hasn’t always been easy, but we’ve always felt our families’ love. So this holiday, we want to give a big shout-out of thanks.

  Thank you to my mom and dad for letting us use their kitchen when we first started our business. We know that wasn’t always easy—and was sometimes really messy.:)

  Thank you to my brother Josh for helping to build us a beautiful bakery cart.

  Thank you to Maddy’s parents for helping us start our own website.

  Thank you to Ella’s parents, especially Mr. P.—who helps us in some way almost every day.

  A big thank-you to my French relatives—Aunt Sophie, Uncle Bernard, and my cousins Sylvie and Lily—for teaching me about French baking and inspiring me to start LPP.

  And Grandma and Grandpa? How can I thank you enough? Thank you for believing in me and for teaching us so much about running our own business. And for letting us use your bakery’s kitchen. You’re the best!

  I felt a lump rise in my throat. When I thought about that bakery being sold out from under us, I didn’t know what to write—or even what to think. Accept what is, Dad always says. Could I? And could I find a way to be grateful even if things didn’t go my way?

  I took another deep breath, and then typed a few more words:

  I don’t know what the future will bring, but I am so grateful for everything that has happened so far—and for all the people who have helped us along the way. Merci beaucoup!

  Early the next week, everything changed.

  On Monday afternoon, as we were putting on our aprons, Grandpa called to us from the doorway of the kitchen. “Girls, can you come out front for a moment? Mr. P.—you, too. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

  Before the door swung shut, I caught a glimpse of that someone standing at the bakery counter.

  Destiny.

  My stomach clenched.

  This was it. We were getting the news. The bakery had a buyer, and that spelled the end for LPP. Accept what is, I reminded myself as I filed out of the kitchen behind Ella and Maddy. Accept what is.

  Destiny stood in front of the counter holding a stack of papers—and a brochure from La Petite Pâtisserie.

  “I’d like to place an order,” Destiny said, waving the brochure in our direction. I could see that several items were circled, and there were notes in the margins.

  “I was so impressed by you girls and your French pastry business when we met on the train a while back,” Destiny explained. “Y’all stuck in my head. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name or the website. Then last week I saw the sign for First Street Family Bakery, and that’s how I found you!”

  I blinked.

  “You want to buy treats?” I repeated. Not the bakery? I thought to myself.

  “Yes, darlin’,” said Destiny with a smile. “Hundreds of kids take the Winter Magic Express—the holiday train ride—the last three Saturdays in December. The treats will be part of the price of the ticket. When the ride ends at the depot, just a block away, we’ll lead groups of children here for some hot chocolate and some of those delicious French pâtisserie items you girls are bakin’. It will make the holiday ride extra special.”

  I stared at her with my mouth open—I couldn’t help it. I was stunned!

  Ella went over the price list with Destiny, and then Maddy wrote the order. The whole time Destiny was talking, my mind was racing. Did this mean Grandma and Grandpa weren’t selling the bakery?

  I leaned close to Grandma and whispered, “I thought Destiny wanted to buy the bakery.”

  Grandma looked confused. “No—heavens no.” She whispered back. “What gave you that idea?”

  “Last week I heard her tell you and Grandpa that she saw the sign,” I explained quietly. “I thought she meant the For Sale sign.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Destiny only wants to buy pastries,” Grandma reassured me. “Not a whole bakery. You girls were so busy that day that Grandpa and I gave her one of your brochures and asked her to come back today to place her order.”

  I suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Destiny could be ordering treats from First Street Family Bakery instead. “Grandma, I don’t want to take business away from you and Grandpa!”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Grandma said. “We’re going to provide the hot chocolate. Besides, all those parents are bound to want coffee. We’ll sell that.”

  All those parents. That’s when it finally hit me. Hundreds of kids. Train rides three weekends in a row.

  Destiny left, and I looked at Ella and Maddy, who were both looking at me.

  “Um, Grace?” Maddy said. “This is a really big order.”

  “Can we bake this much?” Ella asked.

  “Are there enough hours in the week?” Maddy added. “And what about our other orders?”

  Mr. P. read the order, and even he looked concerned. “We may need to hire another part-time helper to help out this part-timer,” he joked.

  I tried not to feel overwhelmed. This was good news, after all. The bakery wasn’t being sold—at least not yet. And our business was more successful than ever. But we needed more help!

  Grandma gave me a hug. “What problems we have, eh, Grace?” she said with a smile. “You girls have more orders than you can fill, and not enough time to fill them. Your grandpa and I have plenty of time, but not enough orders!”

  I leaned into her hug, wishing I could send some of our orders her way. And then it hit me. Could I?

  I pulled back and stood up. “We should work together,” I announced.

  Grandpa nodded. “We’re happy to help you girls, whenever you need…” he began.

  “No, I mean for real—permanently,” I said.

  Maddy caught on to my idea. “Yes!” she said. “Like a business partnership—combining our bakery businesses to make them each stronger!”

  Even Mr. P. stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It does seem to me that if we work together, maybe everyone can benefit,” he said. “We have a growing business and a popular menu, but we need more skilled bakers, and a location, and the ability to ship orders to other states.” Mr. P. looked at Grandma and Grandpa, a question in his eyes.

  Grandpa hesitated. “I don’t know about all that. I was just getting used to the idea of retiring sometime soon. Maybe going somewhere warm for a week or two in the winter…”

  “You could still do that!” Ella spoke up. “My dad could manage the bakery while you’re on vacation.”

  I saw Grandma’s eyes light up at that. When was the last time my grandparents had taken a vacation?

  Grandma and Grandpa exchanged a look. It was a small gesture, but I knew what it meant. They were considering the idea.

  I felt a soft breeze of relief sweep through me.

  hen we met again with my grandparents at the bakery on Tuesday night, they asked us to bring our parents along. And they gave us the answer we were hoping for: a big YES.

  “There’s more,” said Grandma. “We would like to officially buy into your business and to pay you—maybe in monthly installments—what you think is a fair price for all you’ve invested in it already and for the recipes you’ve created.”

  I beamed back at them.

  Grandma added, “Now don’t think this decision is based on how much we love our gra
nddaughter.” She gave me a knowing look, and I laughed.

  “It’s a big decision,” Grandpa said. “And we’ve given it considerable thought. In a short time you girls have managed to build your business and start paying back your investors. That’s remarkable.”

  Grandpa’s compliment made me smile. I looked to Ella and Maddy, who were both grinning from ear to ear. We really had accomplished something incredible together!

  “And because business is picking up, we’ll be able to hire Mr. Petronia,” said Grandpa, “Part-time at first. Maybe someday soon it will be full-time.”

  Mr. P. dipped his head in appreciation.

  “We also want to be sure that no matter how busy this business gets, you girls work less during the school year,” added Grandma.

  I saw my mom mouth a silent “thank you” to my Grandma. Ella was nodding, too. A little less pressure, without giving up our business, would be nice.

  “There’s one more thing,” Grandma added. “With the new look of First Street Family Bakery, we’re thinking that maybe it’s time for a new name, too. More and more customers are expecting to find your French treats when they step in the door.”

  I felt like I owed Grandma an apology. “Honest,” I said. “We weren’t trying to take over your bakery.”

  “We know that, honey,” Grandma said, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. “But it’s all working to drive business through this door. It’s a big idea, actually.”

  “You mean a grande idea,” I said, using the French word for big. “Hey, if you want a new name,” I said, “how about La Grande Pâtisserie?”

  “I love it,” Ella and Maddy said in unison.

  “Sounds grand!” Grandpa grinned.

  Grandma nodded. “It’s perfect!” she agreed.

  I thought again of the blog we had created for La Petite Pâtisserie, and then of our website and all the packaging lining the walls in the back kitchen. “Wait,” I said slowly. “What exactly would happen to our business—to La Petite Pâtisserie?”