Page 17 of Icing on the Cake

“Is it the accident or your new stud muffin?” Sage opens a box and bites into a cookie. “Mmm...delicious.”

“Beau and tonight’s meeting.” I glance out the window to avoid eye contact. “I’m afraid if he makes another speech in favor of this bill, more people will vote in favor of it. He’s very persuasive.”

“Then make a speech of your own,” Sage encourages between bites. “You’re persuasive. One whiff of your cookies, and I’m rethinking giving up sugar.”

“I can’t give a speech.” Anxiety springs into action at the thought of addressing a packed crowd. “I’m not prepared. What if I mess things up even worse?”

“You’ll never get what you want if you don’t ask for it.” Hope reaches over the seat and squeezes my hand. “And if things don’t work out the way you’d like, make a new plan. That’s what Sage and I did.”

“True. I was on the verge of quitting Dessert First, but then Hope came along in the same situation. The rest is history.” Sage plucks at the corners of her mouth, then licks away stray cookie crumbs. “We’d be in the same boat you’re in if we didn’t split the rent on our place.”

“You can do this,” Hope says, then squeezes my hand one more time. “Just speak from your heart.”

I stew in the backseat, wringing my hands the entire way to the meeting. My heart pounds with uncertainty, but I know Sage and Hope are right. If I can’t speak up for myself and others, who will? I just hope Beau doesn’t view my opinions as a personal attack of his when I do say something.

We arrive at the meeting, and I sign up for a slot to speak when I pick up the agenda. My palms sweat and my hands tremble, but I’m determined. I spot Beau and take a seat beside him. Sage and Hope scoot in beside me.

“I signed up to speak.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I have time to think about anything else. “I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed. I’m proud of you.” Beau drapes his arm across the back of my chair and whispers so only I can hear. “I’m sorry about this morning. I tend to prioritize my sense of duty and our community over everything else in my life. But I don’t want to do that anymore. You’re my priority now.”

“I’m sorry, too.” I rest my head against his cheek and slide my hand into his, needing some of his confidence. “We don’t have to have all of the answers.”

My heart thunders against my ribs, and I’m anxious about what I’ll say when it’s my turn at the mic. Midway through the meeting, the chairperson calls my name. Beau squeezes my hand, and I walk unsteadily to the microphone. My throat tightens as I face the audience. Having so many people staring back at me increases the nervous jitters scaling my spine. I shift my gaze to Beau. His smile lifts my heart and steadies my soul.

“Esteemed members of the council and neighbors,” I begin with a shaky voice, worried I’ll stumble over my words and everything will come out like gibberish.

I glance at Hope and Sage, wondering how they talked me into this. They sit with arms looped together, two besties living the dream. They give me a thumbs up, and I recall something Sage said in the car. An idea buzzes around my brain, but I can’t exactly nail it down. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath.

“Ms. Holland? Will you continue, please?” the chairman prompts.

“Yes, I...uh.” I stammer, remembering something Beau said this morning.

A perk of having a professional kitchen, Beau said. Or friends with one, I said, turning his gracious gift into a negative. An idea comes to me, and I don’t know why Beau and I didn’t think of it all along.

“As a small-scale food entrepreneur, I understand the importance of supporting our local artisans while preserving the safety of our community. I also value the community’s cooperative spirit in finding solutions that benefit us as a whole. What I propose is simple yet impactful.”

A sense of excitement floods through me, disrupting the anxious butterfly playground swarming in my gut.

“A community kitchen where cottage bakers can rent space for only the time they need. This shared kitchen space would provide all the necessary equipment while adhering to licensing laws and health codes. By centralizing operations in a community space, we can ensure that everyone adheres to the same rigorous standards of food safety and quality while fostering camaraderie. This would support small businesses and promote economic growth in our community.”

I wrap up my brief speech to the applause of the majority in attendance.

“Ms. Holland, how do you propose the city pay for such a kitchen? We don’t have the budget for this kind of venture,” the chairperson counters, deflating my hope that this could work.

I shake my head for lack of words, defeated.

***

Beau

“Madam Chairperson, may I speak?” I interrupt the conversation as soon as Eisley falters.

“You may if Ms. Holland doesn’t mind sharing the floor.”

“Not at all.” Eisley nods, and I hurry to her side.

“The benefits of Ms. Holland’s proposal far outweigh any costs associated with it. Losing businesses like hers would result in job loss and have a ripple effect on other businesses in the community. Think of the revenue one small business generates for local suppliers and the taxes that business generates for the city.” I gesture to the audience with a sweep of my arm. “Now multiply that by fifty or a hundred businesses like that one. Can the city afford to lose that revenue?”

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