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.
It’s quite expensive, and it’s a luxury I could never afford especially for a small company like mine.
“A stamping machine.” Those words come out of my lips in a soft sigh. But inside my chest, my heart has swollen and is jumping with excitement.
“And of course, you need a seal.” I look at it without knowing what to say. Braxton has been working with the company’s marketing department to help me choose my store’s name, but I still haven’t decided, although I have several good contenders.
From a gift bag, he takes out a glass object and puts it in my hands. When I lift the cardboard covering the bottom, I see the perfect name for my company in blue ink.
Bee my honey.
“This is wonderful,” I say with a smile, as I blink the tears that fill my eyes and make everything blurry. “Thank you, Lionel.”
He has done so much for me in the past few weeks. Not only has he given me wings to fly, he has taken it upon himself to be there every step of the way, encouraging me when forces have failed me and giving me the little push that urges me to continue.
Since I arrived in California, I’ve discovered the true meaning of having a partner.
“You like it?” he asks me when he sees I continue to trace the seal’s fine lines with my fingers.
“I love it,” because of what he has done and what it represents. They even added a couple of bees flying around.
This is my store. What I believe in. This is me.
“Let’s get back to work!” he encourages me. We soon put the stamp in place—the process is relatively straightforward—and in about an hour, we have stamped at least a hundred soaps.
“You know this kitchen is going to be too small for you soon, right?”
“Are you already tired of seeing the countertops full of molds and materials?”
“Not in a million years, Hvezda. This is your house, and you can do whatever you want in it,” he says decisively. “What I mean is, this is the first step to success, and as organized as you are, the kitchen is not that big. You need your own space. At some point, you will have inventory and supplies purchased at wholesale.”
Fuck, I hadn’t thought about that, what Lionel is saying is true.