Page 77 of Wanted

The future is ours and it’s at our fingertips.

Chapter Twenty-Four

After two weeks of drying, it’s time to cut my soaps. I’ve never been more nervous in my life. This is an important step for my business because if Cat’s clients enjoy the product, they will surely want to buy more. No advertising works better than word of mouth. Also, people are coming from all over the country, this could be the next big thing.

Even though I’m working remotely, I’ve never been more organized. My aunt Felicia is helping my mother maintain the hive, so I’ve assigned her a small salary that she reluctantly accepted. Braxton, the guy who is finishing my store’s website, has installed an inventory system on my computer that makes it easy to organize my stock, what I should replace soon, and what has sold out.

My supplier’s information is also included, and an alert to follow the hive routines, which notifies my aunt directly to her cell phone. It’s truly a wonder.

I put a thick piece of cardboard on the breakfast bar to protect the granite before unmolding the soaps.

“You know I’ve been doing this for a long time, right?” I say to Lionel, who is by my side willing to help me with the process.

Not only do I have to cut the dry leaves, but smooth each of the bars individually, pack them in a polyurethane wrapper, and then label them.

“I don’t need your help.” I don’t want him to feel in any way compelled to be here.

“Occasionally, it’s nice to accept someone’s help,” he replies, wiping his hands on a paper towel. “And must I remind you that marriage is a partnership, so here I am, your PA.”

That makes me snort.

Lionel is nobody’s assistant, the man is too bossy for that.

“You’re going to follow my instructions to the T,” I warn, pointing a finger at him. “And you’d better pay attention, I don’t want to keep repeating myself. It would only lead to wasting more time.”

A gorgeous smile is drawn on his delicious lips.

“As my mistress orders,” he scoffs.

When I bought the wooden molds, I also ordered some wire cutters of different sizes for the loaves, now we’re ready to get down to business.

Although I had my doubts about getting help, I must admit that Lionel has been a very good assistant. In one hour we cut all the bars and are ready to start the smoothing process using a tool that comes with a fairly sharp blade. The soaps are quite hard, so we must be careful that the customer gets a smooth bar with no sharp edges.

While I carefully smooth each one, Lionel takes care of picking up the leftovers, putting them in some covered jars that I got. I’ve never thrown leftovers in the trash, they are useful to use at home or to experiment with new forms of packaging or aromas.

“These soaps are great,” he says, admiring what we’ve been doing. “But I think they’re missing something.”

That makes me gasp. I start to check each of the soaps, in my eyes they are perfect. And believe me when I tell you that I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my work. I’ve never delivered a cracked bar or one with less weight than the one indicated on the label.

Many manufacturers prefer to make the waffle cut, I like the bars to be smooth and with a satin finish. I use top-notch ingredients, so it’s a plus that whoever receives the bar can appreciate it in all its splendor.

Lionel leaves the kitchen like he didn’t say anything while I stay in my place throwing daggers at him with my eyes.

A moment later, as I continue to straighten the soaps in neat lines, we have arranged them by aroma. The whole house smells of honey and essential oils. Lionel returns bringing a tall and thin box. His smile tells me that he’s up to something.

“This is for you,” he announces as he puts the box on the bar, and then he gives me a rather theatrical gesture.

“What is it?” I ask him.

I still need to put the soaps in the shrink-wrap, pass them through the heat gun, and label them. As this is my first large order, I’ve decided to use plastic wrap. Although they have some gaps on the sides, I think the soaps should breathe and continue drying. I still need to tailor my methods to wholesale, but give it a personal touch.

“Open the box and you’ll see.”

“Lionel, we have a lot to do, this is not the time for games.”

“I’m not playing, stubborn woman. This is for your business, open the box.”

Snorting, I do what he tells me, and find a tool I have seen before but had never been able to buy.

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