Grace Stirs It Up

by Mary Casanova

  “Mom,” I said as I hopped off my bike to walk beside her, “I need to give Bonbon more playdates. Maybe I can bring her with me to Ella’s so that she can play with Murphy. Or maybe we could close up the gaps in the stone wall around our backyard so that Zulu can come over and play! Can we?”

  Mom laughed and nodded. “I think we could, Grace—your dad has been meaning to do that for a while now anyway.”

  Then another thought struck. “It’s weird, Mom,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about how maybe Bonbon and Maddy have a lot in common.”

  “Oh?” said Mom. “How’s that?”

  “I think they both need their freedom,” I explained. “Bonbon was used to roaming free all over Paris, so getting used to a leash is tough for her. And Maddy, she’s a free spirit. If she feels too scheduled or fenced in, she wants to run off—just like Bonbon.”

  I paused for a moment and then added, “I think that’s why Maddy quit. I mean, I like running with an idea, too, but I also like to make plans sometimes. Maddy and I want the same things, but we have two really different ways of going about it.”

  “Like you and Josh?” Mom pointed out. “You’re both creative and smart, but you’re very different people, too.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I actually like to find a path through my room.”

  Mom laughed.

  As we neared home, I felt a little lighter. I knew how to give Bonbon more freedom and fun. But how could I do that with Maddy? And even if I could, would she give me a second chance?

  From the garage came the whirring sounds of an electric saw and the pounding and tapping of a hammer and nails.

  “Come in and see what we’ve been up to,” Mom prompted me at the garage door.

  I couldn’t wait to see what kind of progress my family had made!

  “You look like a drowned rat,” Josh said as I stepped inside the garage.

  “You look like you need a shower,” I replied with a smile.

  “Morning, Grace,” Dad said, shutting off his saw and raising his safety glasses. “Your mom was busy last night out here, so we guys decided we’d better hit it hard today.”

  In the center of the garage stood the simple metal frame of a cart. Around it lay wheels, boards, drawers, handles, paint cans, and different trims.

  This was it? I tried not to show my disappointment. How could my family possibly pull this whole thing together before next weekend?

  “I know,” Mom said. “It sure doesn’t look like much now. But that’s usually how projects go. You work and work and it doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere, and then right toward the end, it seems to all come together.”

  I hope that’s true, I told myself, thinking of all the baking that Ella and I still had to do. But I was determined to get it done, and I knew that Mom, Dad, and Josh were, too. I had to let them do their thing, while I focused on doing mine.

  “I trust you, guys,” I said, trying to sound positive. “I know the cart’s going to be amazing!”

  “Just like your business will be one day soon,” said Dad. “Now go forth and bake!” he added cheerily, lowering his safety glasses over his eyes.

  I giggled and stepped inside the house after Mom.

  When Ella got dropped off later and started tying on her apron, I said, “Do you think we could bake at your house today?”

  Ella shrugged. “I’ll check, but I’m guessing it’s fine. Why, what’s up?”

  I reached down to scratch Bonbon’s head. “She needs more playtime,” I said. “I thought maybe she could play with Murphy in your backyard while we bake.”

  Ella smiled. “I think Murphy would like that, too,” she said. “I’ll have to call Dad first, though, to make sure the chickens are all locked up before we get there!”

  We packed supplies for making truffles and put them in my bike trailer.

  I let Ella ride my bike, and then I followed behind her, walking Bonbon. It would take a lot longer this way, but I knew I couldn’t get Bonbon into that trailer.

  “Think they’ll have the cart ready for the half marathon?” Ella asked as a painted turtle slid off a log into the shallow water of the canal.

  “I hope so,” I said. “All we can do is try to make enough treats by then. It sure would help if Maddy was with us.”

  “I know. It doesn’t feel right without her,” Ella agreed.

  The Petronias’ backyard was enclosed by a tall wooden fence. At the swing set, Ella’s three brothers—Ernie, Eddy, and Eino—were having fun. But I could never tell them apart. They all had curly dark hair and big brown eyes. One slid down the slide, another stood on the tire swing, and the third dug a hole in the sandbox.

  When Murphy spotted us, he bounded over, barking.

  Instantly, Bonbon wagged her tail. I unleashed her, and off the two dogs went, romping and running around the yard.

  The Petronias’ toolshed was now the chicken coop, and in a screened run just outside it, a half-dozen brownish red chickens scratched around in the dirt.

  “There they are,” Ella said proudly. “We already have eggs in the kitchen from them. C’mon, follow me.”

  Mr. Petronia greeted us at the back door. “The kitchen’s cleaned up and ready, girls,” he said with a smile. “Have at it, but be sure to call me if you’re about to do anything dangerous.” He winked, tucked his tablet under his arm, and then headed toward an Adirondack chair near the swing set.

  As we pulled out our supplies for “Chocolate Kiss Truffles” and set them on Ella’s green-tiled counter, I kept glancing out the kitchen window. A few times I caught Bonbon yipping outside the chicken coop, head to her paws, rump up, tail wagging. But when the chickens didn’t seem interested in playing, Bonbon left and bounded back toward Murphy. My little dog was having a blast, just as I’d hoped she would.

  Ella and I whipped up a mixture in the microwave that included melted white and dark chocolate, warm cream, grated orange peel, and orange extract. Before we could shape the truffles into balls, the ingredients needed to cool, so we set the bowls in the refrigerator.

  “Let’s check our website while we wait,” Ella suggested. “We can use my dad’s tablet.” She motioned me to follow her outside.

  Bonbon lapped water from a huge metal bowl and then flopped in the grass beside Murphy.

  “You’ve been playing hard, haven’t you, girl?” I said.

  Bonbon’s tail thumped up and down, but she wasn’t about to get up.

  When Ella told her dad what we wanted to do, he handed the tablet to us. We typed in our website and the administrator’s password.

  There weren’t any new orders, but there was a customer comment on our website.

  “From Mr. Williams,” Mr. Petronia said, looking over our shoulders.

  “Uh-oh,” said Ella.

  I held my breath as Ella read his comment aloud. But to my relief—and astonishment—he had written:

  I am very impressed with La Petite Pâtisserie. Though my first order arrived broken, the girls replaced the broken tartelettes for free—and quickly. I’m very happy with how they handled this mistake. I will order from them again in the future.

  “Grace,” Ella said, “your idea for making things better with him worked!”

  I nodded, and couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, my mom always says that mistakes are actually learning opportunities. I guess we learned something from Mr. Williams. I’m really surprised, though. When I dropped off the new tartelettes, I wasn’t sure he’d ever want to do business with us again.”

  Ella shrugged. “Well, looks like you changed his mind,” she said happily. “I wish all my mistakes turned out that well.”

  “Me, too,” I murmured, thinking about the many things I’d done wrong while starting this business. And that led me back to Maddy.

  Mr. Williams is giving us another chance, I thought. I wonder if Maddy would, too.

  A hopeful feeling swept through me. “Ella,” I said, grabbing her hand, “let’s go see Maddy. Maybe if I apologiz
e, she’ll change her mind about the business.”

  A big smile broke out on Ella’s face. “Let’s try,” she said, squeezing my hand. “I’ll see if Dad can watch the dogs.”

  She jogged over to her dad, who was pushing one of the triplets on the tire swing. The little boy laughed and squealed. “Higher!” he shouted. “Higher!”

  I knew just how he felt. We were on our way to see Maddy, and I was feeling hopeful again. I wanted to reach out my hands and touch the sky.

  Everything about the Eatons’ white Victorian house seemed tidy. The shrubs were trimmed evenly at the foot of the steps. The white wicker furniture was spotlessly clean.

  We rang the doorbell.

  When Mr. Eaton opened the door, Maddy stood well behind him, still in pajamas, her hair in need of a brushing and her fingertips darkened with ink.

  “Hi, girls,” Mr. Eaton said, leaving us alone with Maddy.

  “Hi,” she said, stepping closer. “I peeked out the window. When I saw it was you, I almost asked my dad not to open the door.”

  I swallowed hard. “I wanted to come over and apologize.”

  Maddy looked from me to Ella and back again.

  “I’m really, really sorry if I hurt your feelings,” I said.

  “Whatever. It’s okay,” she said, her cheeks flushing, but I pressed on.

  “Actually, Maddy, it’s not okay. I was so serious about turning what I love into a business that I think I took the fun out of it for you—and for Ella, too. I’m sorry, because we’re friends, and we need to go back to having fun again together. It can’t all feel like work. Forgive me?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Start over?” I asked.

  “Definitely.”

  “Um,,” I asked, “want to come over to Ella’s house? We’re going to shape a chilled mixture into balls—”

  Ella added, “—and dip them in chocolate—”

  “—and then,” I said in a whisper, “drizzle chocolate over them.”

  Maddy looked at us sideways. “Um, yum. That sounds like fun. But let me show you something first.” She waved us inside.

  In the den, the big desk was covered with paper, just as it had been the last time we were there. Maddy reached for a piece of paper and held it up. It had the words “La Petite Pâtisserie” printed in an elegant font and an image below of a familiar-looking little dog with a polka-dot bow. Bonbon.

  “What do you think of this for our logo?” Maddy asked hesitantly. “A French bulldog for a French business? We could put it on our pamphlets and on our website.”

  “Oh, Maddy! It’s perfect!” I gave her a huge hug.

  “What a great idea!” added Ella.

  Maddy glanced downward as she said, “Well, having something French was Grace’s idea, really.” She looked back up at me and said, “It was a good idea, Grace.”

  That made me smile wide.

  “So, is that a yes?” Maddy asked us. “You approve of the design?”

  “Yes!” Ella and I said together.

  “Good!” said Maddy, her green eyes dancing, “because there’s more.” She reached for something from the printer: a sheet of stickers. At the top of each was the name of our business and the Bonbon logo. Below was our website address and a list of ingredients.

  “I thought we could use these stickers on our packaging,” said Maddy, talking faster now. “It’s way cheaper than buying boxes printed with our logo online, because we can print them ourselves—and make plenty of them for the half marathon!”

  I stared at the sticker sheet, shaking my head. “This is such a good idea, Maddy!”

  She blushed a little and said, “Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner instead of pushing for buying that expensive online stuff.”

  “Me, too,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry, too. Because you’re really good at this creative stuff. I should have let you have fun with it instead of…”

  “What?” teased Maddy. “Instead of having me try to draw perfect circles?”

  We all cracked up at that. “I’ll draw the circles from now on,” I said, “as long as you keep making these amazing advertisements. Agreed?”

  Maddy gave me a fist bump. “Agreed.”

  “Wait, let me get in on that!” whined Ella, raising her fist.

  I could tell she was feeling a lot better now, too. If Maddy had great art skills, Ella had great people skills—and she was happiest when all of her people were happy, too.

  “So here’s what I’ve been thinking about…” I said as Maddy, Ella, and I stood in Ella’s kitchen, shaping chilled chocolate mixture into round truffles.

  A flicker of worry passed over Maddy’s face, so I hurriedly explained. “I’ve been thinking that the more we each get to do the parts of the baking business that we like, the more fun we’ll all have. Maddy, you love getting the word out—and you’re amazingly creative and good at it.”

  Maddy’s face relaxed into a smile.

  “I love baking, which is pretty obvious,” I went on, “and Ella, you’re a rock star with numbers but also with people—with our customers. If we turn one another loose in those roles, we might have way more fun and also have a great business. What do you think?”

  With her palms, Maddy rolled another ball and placed it on a cookie sheet. “It makes sense to me. If we keep it fun, then even when we have lots of orders to fill, it might still feel like play together.”

  “I like it, too,” said Ella.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, finally, we were getting somewhere. It had been a bumpy road, but I had learned a lot—and I was excited about the ride ahead!

  Before our day ended in Ella’s kitchen, Ella’s dad snapped a photo of us smiling and wearing our aprons—proof that we were actually having fun again while we worked together.

  Click!

  And then it was time to go home. The thought of walking Bonbon all the way home seemed like a lot of work now, and if Bonbon could have talked, I thought she would have agreed. She was curled up at my feet taking a puppy nap after a full day of play with Murphy.

  Then I remembered that I had my bike here at Ella’s—along with the bike trailer. Would I be able to get Bonbon inside for a change?

  When I looked at my tired pup, I felt another surge of hope. Maybe today, things would be different.

  I said good-bye to my friends and scooped Bonbon up into my arms. She opened her sleepy eyes, but didn’t protest.

  Then I walked out to the bike trailer as if we had done it a hundred times before. I unzipped the trailer and set Bonbon down for a moment while I made a nice cozy bed in the trailer with my sweatshirt. Then, calm and cool as can be, I lifted Bonbon and tucked her into the cozy bed inside. I zipped up the trailer and hopped onto my bike.

  I heard the hint of a whine as we rolled slowly down Ella’s driveway, but I didn’t hear any scratching of paws on vinyl. And when I stopped at the first stop sign and stepped off my bike to peek into the trailer, all I could see were two sweet, sleepy black eyes peering out at me.

  Bonbon was too tired to fight me. She didn’t seem to mind the trailer tonight. Maybe, in time, she would even start to think it was kind of fun.

  n Friday, the night before the half marathon, Maddy and Ella slept over. After dinner, Mom, Dad, and Josh invited us into the garage for the unveiling of the bakery cart. We all stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for Josh to pull the bedsheet from the mysterious cart. I could tell by the smile on his face that he was pretty proud of what they’d accomplished.

  “Voilà!” Josh said finally, yanking the sheet away.

  My hand rose to my mouth.

  Maddy shrieked, “Oh my gosh!”

  Ella started clapping.

  I couldn’t believe it. “It’s beautiful!” I cried, walking around and examining the bakery cart from top to bottom.

  It was practical: a rolling cart with two shelves. But it was much more than that. At the top, metal rods curved into the shape of a heart. Even the whee
l hubs were heart-shaped. Above the glass serving counter hung a sweet little bell on one side, and a chalkboard on the other. A display case curved off one side of the counter, and below was another big shelf for even more baked goods.

  Then I thought about our disaster with the tartelettes that I first delivered to Mr. Williams. “Glass shelves?” I worried aloud. “What if we break them?”

  Josh thumped the glass countertop. “Plexiglas,” he said.

  Dad laughed. “We started with wood panels, but it looked pretty clunky.”

  “And heavy,” Josh added.

  “So we started over,” Dad said. “And with your mom’s help welding…”

  “Well, the cart sort of took on a life of its own,” Mom added. “So, do you think it will work? Do you girls like it?”

  I shook my head. “I love, love, love it.”

  The bakery cart was way beyond what I had expected. But I guess when my family combines their energy and creativity, they’re pretty amazing, too.

  “It’s perfect,” Ella said, gently pushing the handlebar. The cart rolled smoothly back and forth.

  “We tried to make it unique,” Dad said. “We figured it had to be as special as what you girls are making. You set the bar pretty high.”

  I gave Dad a huge, tight hug. “Thanks soooo much!”

  And then I turned to Josh. “You know, for a big brother,” I said with a smile, “you’re not half bad. That’s why you get a hug, too.”

  Josh inched backward. “I was worried that might be coming,” he said, as if he didn’t like to be hugged. But I knew better.

  “You’re the best!” I said, throwing my arms around his neck.

  Out of the corner of my eye, my parents couldn’t have looked happier.

  When the alarm woke us, we all jumped out of our sleeping bags. We had a big day ahead! Mom left early to get her race bib and warm up for the half marathon. I brought Bonbon out to play a little with Zulu, who was up early, too. Then, as the sun rose over the Blackstone River, Ella, Maddy, and I filled tartelettes with fresh blueberries and strawberries and moved the last of our baked goods from the freezer to the cart. And what a cart it was!