Give Me Some Sugar by Nicolette Dane

Author:Nicolette Dane [Dane, Nicolette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

With Ellen’s help, I settled on a space in a converted industrial building and we set to begin the new kitchen build out. It was my dream come true, really. The kitchen space we had been using came pre-furnished. It had been someone else’s kitchen before I began leasing it. But this new spot, this would be all my own. I got to pick the equipment. I got to pick the layout. Such a project made me feel giddy. It made me feel like a real chef. A real businesswoman.

And things with Ellen were fantastic. I loved spending all the time with her that I could. But I will say that the business side of our relationship was feeling a little weird. We’d often talk in bed about Sweet Release and the direction of the business, and she would go ahead and implement some of the tactics we came up with. But her bills often confused me. I thought they were a little bit steep. I thought maybe she was actually billing me for our bedroom conversations.

But I was falling for her. I was so infatuated with her, so smitten, I just tried to push whatever weirdness I was feeling down so that I could instead enjoy the positives of what we had together. The love, the laughs, the companionship, the understanding. Ellen was so smart in regards to business, and since we started working together Sweet Release had really taken off. Our custom cake project was a success. And our desserts were already in about a dozen restaurants in the city. It was going great.

These feelings were difficult to reconcile. So I kept my worries locked up and buried, I paid my bills for Ellen’s consulting, and I enjoyed what we had going.

As I sat in my quiet condo, flipping through the month’s receipts, making notes in a spreadsheet on my laptop, I was shaken from my reverie by the buzzing of my phone on the coffee table.

Lifting the phone up, I looked at the caller ID, took a deep breath, and then answered.

“Hello Mother,” I said.

“Hello Angelica,” she responded. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No,” I said. “Just doing some bookkeeping. What’s up?”

“I’m calling to coordinate catering for this fundraiser I told you about,” she said. “Is now a good time?”

“Sure,” I said, tossing my folder of receipts aside and picking up a notebook and pen. “Let’s do this.”

“Wonderful,” she said. I could hear her smiling. “Did I tell you any of the specifics?”

“You did not.”

“Well, then,” my Mother began. “It’s a fundraiser for the Botanical Gardens. We shall be hosting it at the Art Institute.”

“Why not just have it at the Botanical Gardens?” I asked.

“We do those, too,” she said. “But this is an event for wealthier individuals, many of whom happen to work and live downtown, and the Art Institute is both a convenient and appropriate place for us to throw this gala.”

“Okay,” I said, scribbling into my notebook. “How many guests?”

“We’re anticipating around two hundred,” said my Mother.

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