Sweet Girl

by Rachel Hollis

I bring over the desserts one by one while they all look at me with bemused expressions. I grab the presentation packets off the counter, but when I walk back over to my family, I can’t quite make myself put them down on the table. I am not even sure how to begin. What can I say without sounding even more ridiculous than I already do? I try to imagine either of my brothers in my place now, because I know they’ve pitched business ideas plenty of times as part of their job. But they are put together in a way I just don’t know how to be.

  Then I think of Landon and how she would handle the situation. Bright, cheerful, effervescent Landon. She would be honest and self-effacing, and people would find it endearing. Her personality is one of the reasons she’s been able to snag clients so quickly. The three of them stare back at me expectantly, and Liam raises his eyebrows nearly to his hairline, prompting me into motion.

  Well, here goes nothing . . .

  “I don’t know what to do now,” I blurt out.

  “Forks,” Brody says, fighting a smile. “Forks would be a great place to start.”

  I almost slap my forehead at my own oversight, but my mom has already appeared with a handful of silverware. I hand a fork to each of them and begin my opening volley. Food is the one thing I can speak about intelligently in this moment. I point at the first plate.

  “These are sour-cream coffee-cake cookies with a brown-sugar crumble and a drizzle of maple glaze. Next is a Milky Way cheesecake brownie topped with sea salt,” I tell them.

  My brothers both reach for the brownies without waiting for me to finish. I smile and keep on going.

  “This is a peach-cobbler cupcake with a bourbon cream-cheese icing. And an individual bananas foster pudding parfait with coconut whipped cream topped with a caramelized banana. And last is a spiced cake donut topped with maple icing and candied bacon.”

  Daddy has already started in on the cupcake and looks totally blissed out. When he finds his voice again, he asks, “You made all of this?”

  “I did.” I set a packet down in front of each of them.

  Daddy is grabbing for a donut when he reads the cover and looks up at me with a smile.

  “Of course, Max,” he says. “You don’t even have to ask. You know I’d love to help you. Just tell me how much you need.”

  My smile is a little strained, because it is exactly what I knew he would say. I sit down to face the three of them.

  “Thank you so much for the offer, but I don’t want you to give me money. I’m looking for a loan.”

  Brody and Liam have both begun looking through the proposal, and Liam glances up at me.

  “With what collateral?” he asks, sounding, I think, exactly like he would in a boardroom.

  “An equity stake in the company,” I tell them.

  “A silent partner?” Brody asks, because he more than anyone has constantly fought me on my need to do everything alone.

  “No,” I tell them. “I don’t know how to start a company. I can run a kitchen, and I think my recipes are unique and, beyond that, delicious enough that I could sell them if I had the opportunity. But other than that, I’m running blind.” I take a breath. “I need help, guidance far beyond the capital. I’m looking for partners, not a handout.”

  “Fifty-fifty?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “Thirty percent,” I tell them deliberately, “and I’d like an option clause written in that I can buy you out if I can return your initial investment plus interest within five years.”

  Liam and Brody both laugh.

  “Why ask all three of us when one would suffice?” Liam asks.

  “I guess I thought it would be safer for you all if you were able to spread out the risk,” I tell them honestly. “I’m terrified of failing and losing all your money.”

  “First of all,” my father says, grabbing for a parfait, “this family doesn’t fail at anything. Secondly”—he points his spoon at me meaningfully—“forty percent is the lowest I’ll agree to. Even nepotism can’t allow for a margin that skewed against us.”

  I straighten my spine. I need his help, but this man didn’t raise a fool.

  “Thirty-five,” I say firmly.

  A smile splits his face in half.

  “Good girl,” he says proudly. “We’re in.”

  I look around at them in shock as they continue to plow their way through the desserts.

  “But you didn’t even get all the way through the proposal,” I say nervously. “You didn’t even discuss it with each other first. I—”

  “Mack,” Liam says gently, “you could pitch us the idea for a business trading old people cash for their gold fillings. We’d support you no matter what.”

  “But you need to be sure.” I point at the report I worked so hard on. “Make sure it’s a good idea before you decide. I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want to let you down,” I say a little desperately.

  My father reaches across the table for my hand and squeezes it so that I look into his eyes.

  “You have never let us down,” he says fiercely. “That’s not possible, no matter what. OK?”

  We aren’t just talking about business anymore. I blink back stupid tears.

  “OK,” I whisper back.

  “I like the name,” Brody says, grabbing a cookie and swiftly changing the topic and the mood in the room. “I’m surprised you’d pick something so . . . cute. Where did you come up with it?”

  My mother materializes again like a genie, though it is a miracle she’s been able to hold herself back this long. She sits down in the chair next to my dad and starts to unfold an old piece of paper.

  “She came up with that name when she was a little girl,” she tells everyone, smoothing the paper out on the table for us to see. “It couldn’t be called anything but this.”

  In the center of the page is a drawing my six-year-old self had painstakingly worked on so it looked just right. A yellow-haired crayon drawing of me is in the middle of the page holding a tray of cookies. Behind her is a cheerful-looking building with a big sign on the front that reads “The Flour Shop.”

  “Imagine that,” Liam says with mock surprise. “She was facetious even then.”

  “Or wise beyond her years,” my mom says, playfully throwing a napkin at him.

  “Or well versed in double entendre.” I jump into the banter.

  “Or lacking an ability to color well,” Brody adds in.

  “I was a little girl,” I tell them with mock indignation.

  “She’s missing half her facial features!” he shoots back.

  “Noses are really hard to draw!” I explain to him through my laughter.

  “Clearly,” Liam says, leaning over to inspect my drawing in closer detail.

  I pick up another napkin and throw it somewhere in their vicinity.

  “You guys are the worst,” I tell them. The effect is lost, though, because I can’t stop smiling.

  “So they’re going to help you?” Taylor says as we jog around the last bend at the end of our run.

  “They are.” I smile at him through my Wayfarers. “Did you think they might not?”

  Taylor dodges a little boy who zips by us on a razor scooter, and his dad calls a hurried apology to us as he races after him.

  “Not for a minute,” he answers. “Your family is amazing. I knew they’d be happy to help.”

  “Do you think it’s, I don’t know, cheating? To use their resources, I mean?”

  “I think”—he increases his speed a little as we get closer to our cars—“it would be idiotic not to. Jennings, people would kill for the kind of connections you have. It would be bad business not to look for every advantage you have when starting a new company. You are supremely talented at what you do, and knowing you, you’ll probably work twice as hard to make sure their investment pays off. That’s all any investor can hope for.”

  I nod along with his words. It isn’t anything I don’t know already; I just want, or maybe need, to hear it from him.

  When we get
back to our cars, we sit down in the shade of a nearby tree to stretch. Asphalt isn’t the best surface to stretch out on, but after a six-mile run, I care more about not getting a cramp later than I do about whether the ground is clean or comfy. Taylor pushes up into a downward-facing dog and stretches out his calf muscles.

  “So what happens now?” he asks me.

  “Next week we start looking for a space. Liam and Brody have a friend in commercial real estate. We’re supposed to see a bunch of stuff.”

  When I look over at him, I see that his shirt has slipped down, revealing his chest as he bends over. His abs are shiny after the long run.

  “Where are you looking?”

  My gaze slams into his.

  “What?” I ask stupidly.

  “Which area of town are you looking in?” he clarifies.

  I bend over my legs in a butterfly stretch to hide the fact that I’m blushing as hard as Landon does. And that I’m a total creeper.

  “All over, honestly,” I tell him. “They have a list of requirements, and so do I. Hopefully we’ll find something that hits everything on the combined list before the next century.”

  “This has, um . . .” Landon kicks an empty beer can out of the way as she steps farther into the space. “This has real potential,” she says judiciously.

  I look around the cavernous space we are standing in. It is the fifteenth place we’ve seen in the last couple of days, and it’s in the worst shape by far. It is covered in an inch of dirt and drywall dust that has settled in and has never been cleaned up. Apparently someone began a renovation to turn it into a restaurant the year before but ran out of money. They had only just started the process, and it sat untouched for eight months after that while they fought with banks and creditors. In the end, they weren’t able to make any kind of a go at it, so it sat empty and beat up. Miko takes several more steps and inspects a broken piece of wall with rusted pipes shooting out of it in every direction. I vaguely wonder if she is up-to-date on her tetanus shot.

  “It’s a great area,” Brody says as he comes to stand next to me. “This part of Ventura is really popular. You’d have a ton of foot traffic. Babe, please be careful. Those wires could be live!” he calls across the empty space to Landon.

  She looks back at him with a sheepish smile and keeps slowly picking her way past debris to inspect the space. I can’t remember a single time in all the years I’ve known him that I’ve ever heard my brother call anyone ‘babe’ or sound like a mother hen. I smirk in amusement but don’t want to embarrass Landon by calling him out on it.

  “I like the brick.” I point to an area where the drywall has fallen away, exposing old brick underneath. “It would be cool to open up the whole back wall.”

  Liam makes a sound in the back of his throat but keeps his mouth shut. He has already preached on the value of finding a space that needs minimal improvement. He believes it is the best option, even with the added expense. He argued about it for so long and in so much detail on the drive here that we threatened to kick him out of the car if he didn’t shut up. None of the other places were quite this raw, though, and I can tell it is killing him to keep his opinions to himself. While Brody likes the idea of renovation and working with the bones of a space, Liam prefers throwing money at a problem to ensure ease of use.

  “There’s tons of room, though,” Brody says. “You could finish the kitchen and partition off areas for an office, and still have a small space where people can sit down to eat or grab a coffee or something.”

  Most of the spaces we have seen so far have been in high-traffic, high-rent areas, which means that the square footage is smaller. A smaller space means room for a kitchen in back, a bakery display and counter up front, and not much else. It isn’t absolutely necessary, but I love the idea that people could sit down and enjoy their pastries if they wanted to.

  “Does this door go somewhere—” Landon’s call is cut off by a loud crash as she pushes her way through a door in the back.

  “Babe,” Brody calls as he hurries off after her.

  He manages to fit exasperation, worry, and adoration into a single word.

  I look over at Liam, who looks back at me.

  “Babe,” he says in a pretty good imitation of our brother.

  “Babe,” I answer, applying my own tone to it.

  “Babe.” He offers more nuance, and we both start laughing.

  “You’re both assholes,” Brody calls from the far end of the room. “Come check this out.”

  We are still laughing when we step out onto a cement back patio. It is walled in on either side by the buildings next door, and the far side of it is closed off by a high fence covered with ivy. It is totally bare of anything else, save for some fast-food wrappers and a collection of pots that might have once held living flowers but have no evidence of them now.

  “I guess you could use it for seating,” Brody tells me. “I can’t imagine you’d need it, though.”

  Miko turns around in slow circles, her eyes alight with possibilities. She looks at Landon.

  “What does Diane charge for a room rental at Da Vinci’s?” she asks her.

  Landon is already nodding in agreement to something. “Fifteen hundred, plus a food and beverage minimum for weekends, and this is—”

  “—twice the size,” Miko finishes for her. “It wouldn’t be hard to retrofit this for something rustic.” She taps her foot on the cement.

  “A plank would be nice. Maybe whitewashed? Like we did for the bar mitzvah last year?” Landon asks.

  My siblings and I look at each other in confusion.

  “Exactly.” Miko continues to stare at a space only she can see. “Add some large-scale vegetation . . .”

  “She means trees,” Landon supplies. “With twinkly lights.”

  Miko snaps her fingers and points at Landon, letting her know she is right on, and I can feel Liam biting his tongue to keep from arguing the point with them.

  “Twinkly lights are a must, or maybe some exposed Edison bulbs overhead.” Miko looks up at the open area.

  Apparently, Liam’s ability to remain silent snaps.

  “What are you guys going on about? We’re looking for a bakery location, and you’re talking about—”

  “The potential to upsell,” Miko says in challenge.

  Liam looks at her as if she has sprouted a second head, then glances around the dirty patio for some kind of answer.

  “What do you see that I don’t?” he asks her in exasperation.

  “In what capacity?” she asks him.

  He gives her an impatient look, which only seems to make her happier.

  “An event venue,” she finally answers.

  My brothers and I are all quiet as we examine the space with new eyes. I would have never considered it, and it is likely too small to gain notice from the two of them, whose venues host only large-scale events.

  Landon reaches out for Brody’s hand when she comes to stand beside him.

  “Lots of popular restaurants have small rooms or patios for private events. They’re great for showers or birthday parties. The room rate alone could probably cover your mortgage if you could book a few of them a month,” she tells me.

  I look around the space again, and I can almost see what they see. I have no idea how to produce a party or turn this into a venue, but I know they could do it. I kind of like the idea of getting to work with them on a part of the business. Apparently asking for help is going to my head.

  “Mack,” Liam says calmly, “this place is a dump. No one in their right mind would want something this messed up when there are so many better options.”

  His words hit me like a slap, because they are almost the same ones I’d thought about myself where Taylor was concerned. I feel, then, sort of desperately angry on behalf of this abandoned storefront. Sure, it has some issues, and it needs a little work done, but it isn’t a lost cause. Just because something is messy and needs some help doesn’t mean it isn’t worth a s
econd chance, right?

  “This is the one,” I tell my brothers.

  Miko claps like a five-year-old while Liam glares at her.

  “No way,” Liam says at the same time Brody asks, “Are you sure?”

  I ignore Liam. I know I am right. I have a feeling.

  “This is it. I can feel it in my gut. If you think we can pull it off on budget, and it has the foot traffic and the neighborhood to help it succeed, I’d really like to use this space.”

  Liam’s shoulders drop.

  “You have no idea how much work this is going to take,” he tells me. “This is impossible.”

  I smile back at him.

  “The last time someone told me something was impossible, I talked my way into working for a lunatic, who also happens to be one of the world’s greatest pastry chefs. Impossible is a self-taught baker creating six menu items that sell out daily at one of the nicest hotels on the planet. Impossible is creating and serving a dessert plate to a table full of the greatest chefs in the world. All of that without trying more than the tiniest bite in order to check the flavors. That,” I tell him proudly, “is impossible. This is just a lot of work, and I’m not afraid of that. Are you?”

  I can see Brody fighting a smile, but Liam’s face is totally blank.

  “Fine.” He sighs. “But this has to stay on budget, and don’t come crying to me when that means you end up having to paint this thing yourself or—”

  I cut off his tirade with a bear hug, and even if he is annoyed, he hugs me back just as hard.

  “Let’s go check out the front again,” Miko says when we break apart. “I had an idea for an art installation.”

  “You”—Liam points an accusatory finger at her—“are a bad influence.”

  “And you”—she points back a finger of her own, but the gesture ends up looking more like a fairy granting a wish than something aggressive—“need to chill out. I am an excellent influence. Ask anybody.”

  With that she grabs my elbow and pulls me away. If Liam has any kind of rebuttal, he isn’t fast enough to get it out before we are out of earshot.

  Chapter Twenty

  Taylor pulls a drop cloth back with flair to reveal the smooth expanse of wood underneath.