by Pepper Frost
“Wait, you play chess, too?”
“No, silly, that’s the problem,” Bea snorted.
“I’ve got no complaints now. Once Aseem gets the app done, I think we’ll go well over a million subscribers,” Angela said. “The biggest challenge is coming up with new Betty Snickerdoodle gear ideas. What would you think about having an authorized biography done? Annabelle Crane could be the perfect author.”
“Ha ha ha! Yeah, and I’ve got the perfect pen name for her: Lily White.” Bea cackled spasmodically at her own joke, smacking her knee with pure delight.
“Not bad,” laughed Angela. “Speaking of books, I’ve got mom working on the cookie cookbook – she’s thrilled about that. Doing a cookbook has been a fantasy of hers forever.”
“Speaking of Maria, how about an update on the ranch? And BettyCon?”
“Mom said the signage went up yesterday. And we’re making fantastic progress on the conference.”
Angela tapped on her tablet, dialed up the page she was looking for, and turned the tablet toward Bea. The image focused on a 15-foot-tall sign directing visitors to a hacienda-style property with a majestic, tile-roofed building. The estate was surrounded by acres of verdant pastures, enclosed by pretty post-and-rail fences. There were mountains behind the property, lightly frosted with the first snows of the season.
The sign sat at the end of a winding driveway and read “Betty Snickerdoodle’s Christmas Inn and Ranch” in inviting red and green type. Bold, old-fashioned holiday lights decorated the outer edge of the sign. An enormous clay fountain stood in the center of a circular driveway. The inn itself was bright white with rust-colored tiled roofing and graceful arches. Poinsettias decorated the inn’s entrance, their red color splashing beautifully against the bright walls. An enormous Christmas tree had been set at the far end of the parking area. Tasteful holiday lights adorned the entire structure.
At the bottom of the sign, a painted wood board reading “no vacancy” and two others reading “Grand Opening 12/20” and “Join us for BettyCon!” dangled from hooks.
“It looks great!” Bea beamed. “That mom of yours is a genius.”
“Aseem and I helped, you know,” Angela protested. The signage had been entirely Angela’s doing, and Aseem had handled all the lighting – even climbing precariously onto the roof to get the small sparklers just right. Plus, Angela had taken on the herculean task of setting up and stocking Betty’s Christmas Inn Gift Shop at the far end of the inn. She knew they were achieving new speed records in readying the inn – but she could hardly remember a more satisfying project.
“But, yeah, mom’s okay,” Angela acknowledged. “You won’t believe what she’s doing with the guest suites. They each have a slightly different Christmas theme, matched to a Treacle Town book. And every room has its own internet speaker, answering to Rebecca – just like you asked.”
“Fantastic!” Bea said. “Those will be great for public addresses during BettyCon – and for mandatory afternoon dancing. Plus I’m thinking about something new for the Con: Betty’s daily affirmation.”
“I love it. They’ll work great for social media,” Angela said.
Angela turned the tablet around and keyed in another address. “Check out the website we did for the Con. We’re already 90% capacity for the event, and the site has only been up a week.” The site was peppered with gushing quotes from some of Betty’s biggest fans about how much they were looking forward to the event.
“Oliver’s been leading social media for the Bros, and he’s set to provide transportation, too,” Angela said. “He’ll be shuttling attendees from the overflow hotel down the street back to the inn for the sessions. He’s even got a special, custom-decorated BettyBus all prepared. He says you’ve made his business through all the publicity you’ve given him – he can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s the least we can do. Don’t you agree?”
Angela nodded her agreement.
“Speaking of small efforts,” Bea continued, “I need you to help me with a legal matter.” The two headed to their tiny shared office, where Bea pulled a manila folder out of her desk drawer. “I need you to witness my will. It’s about time you knew what was in it, anyway.”
Bea explained to Angela that she’d be getting nearly the entire estate. “You’re getting the books, the inn, the entire company,” Bea said. “I set aside 30% of the existing titles’ future earnings for Charlie and his family – because without him, we’d have had no company. I hope you’re okay with that.”
Mouth agape with stunned gratitude, Angela struggled for words. “Okay with that? I don’t know how to begin to thank you,” she managed.
“Don’t be overly grateful – I’m only giving you the company. You’ll still have to work hard if you want to get really rich!” Bea laughed, sliding the document, and a pen, across the table to Angela. “My money and my house are going to Perry. I’ve always loved that guy,” she added, under her breath.
Angela’s right eyebrow raised itself almost involuntarily. Then she cocked her head and squinted, as if processing a thought.
“I’ll save you the math,” Bea smirked. “Ten years age difference. Jeez. You millennials – so judgy. I was hardly what you’d call a panther.”
Scratching her head for a moment, Angela said, “Do you mean a cougar?”
“Whatever,” Bea winked. “Just know that Perry’s getting the dough, but you get the upside. Deal? It’s all there in the document.”
“Bea, it’s ridiculously generous. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just keep making me proud. I’ll be watching from beyond the grave.”
“I actually predict you’ll outlive us all,” Angela laughed, taking a closer look at the will. “But Bea, I’ve got a question. This says I’ll get all remaining shares of your company. Is there another shareholder besides you right now?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. Take a look at this,” Bea said, pushing another document Angela’s way. This one was an agreement giving Angela 49% of company shares immediately. It also spelled out Angela’s new role: president and COO – with a big salary.
“We’re partners, Angie!” Bea squawked gleefully. “That is, if you’re game. Of course, I’ll still be CEO … but let’s face it, when do I ever disagree with your brilliant ideas? And you know I’m not going to object to you doing all the work. I want you to grow this sucker even bigger. Just consider me a figurehead – like a queen,” she chuckled. “Of course, I’ll contribute a few more Treacle Town titles. You can help write them if you like – but I think you’re going to be way too busy building Betty’s empire. Maybe we can try that fan-fiction contest idea you had?”
Angela leaned back in her chair, grinning ear to ear with joy. “So when do we start?”
“As soon as you sign the document!” Bea commanded. “And by the way, I don’t mind if you give your boyfriend a permanent job.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. And you know, I’m not sure I’ve forgiven him.”
“You will. He wasn’t the only one fooled by Cash. Charlie was, too – and you know how smart he is. Aseem’s got a lot of hustle – I like that.”
“We’ll see,” Angela smiled. “I’ve got other things to think about now.” Her mind was already spinning with the possibilities for Betty’s building on conference, retail, inn, and book lines.
“You and Aseem have got chemistry, Ang,” Bea said. “If it’s something you want to explore, just don’t miss an opportunity to get everything you want. And, Angie, there’s one more thing. It’s for later—just for you. Read it when you get home, okay?” Bea slid a large brown paper envelope toward Angela. It contained a stack of pages – with a cover page reading “How Bea Became Betty” on the top.
“Why am I thinking that when you talk about me and Aseem, you’re also talking about you and Perry? I’m going to get to the bottom of it, Bea,” Angela proclaimed. “I’ve got an idea … maybe Perry should direct the first annual Betty Snickerdoo
dle Charity Poker Tournament!”
“Good luck, girlie,” Bea said. “Perry’s poker face is stonier than mine. But I like your tourney idea.”
“Well, it seems to me there’s only one thing we should do right now,” Angela said. “Or maybe two. Pizza first or dancing?”
“Dancing!” Bea exclaimed, heading back to the living room. With the piles discarded, there was more room than ever for dancing. “I’ve got the perfect song in mind. Rebecca, play ‘Walking on Sunshine.’”
The two ladies danced gleefully around the room, twirling, shimmying, and (in Bea’s case) joyfully making herkier, jerkier movements than ever. When the song was done, Bea commanded Rebecca to play a string of her favorite happy tunes one after another, until the two ladies finally flopped on the couch, exhausted, brains buzzing with dreams of their expanding enterprise – and all the new adventures they were going to have building it together.
The End
Want More Pepper?
Thank you for reading
The Return of Betty Snickerdoodle!
To contact the author, email [email protected]
Be the first to know about upcoming releases in the Betty Snickerdoodle series!
Sign up for Pepper’s newsletter at www.pepperfrostauthor.com/newsletter
Pepper’s on Facebook!
Follow her at www.facebook.com/pepperfrostauthor