dubiously. “Are you sure you don’t need my help with this?”
Nick nodded. Honestly, he could use all the help he could get, but trying to create something alongside his father might be the end of him. And he needed to prove he could do this on his own. “Trust me, Dad, I’ve got this.”
His father stared, then finally spoke. “I’m counting on you. All those people out there are counting on you.”
“I know,” Nick said.
“Do you?” his father asked. “Because I don’t think you realize what a big deal this is. I’ve seen other stores make a poor showing at the competition and get absolutely massacred in the food pages. A store is only as good as its last creation.”
Well, that explains a lot , Nick thought. No wonder his father never came up with anything new. “I told you, Dad, I’m on it.”
“I hope so. Have some ideas ready for me after lunch.” His father stormed out of the room.
Nick listened to the whir of the machines in the warehouse, just beyond the door. Candy speeding along, pushed and pulled and prodded by machines, touched by human hands only to move them from one machine to another, assembly line style.
He blew out a huge puff of air and stared at the plain white walls.
How did his father expect any creativity out of him in this place?
He stuck in his headphones and started up his favorite jazz playlist, pulling out a notepad for brainstorming.
He drew a cupcake, labeling the drawing with the flavors that came to him so easily, then sighed, ripping the page out and balling it up, tossing it in the trash.
Candy. This has to be about candy , he reminded himself.
He fell into daydreams of candy, all right, but it was not the designing of candy that was on his mind. It was a certain gorgeous candy girl making all the treats a person could eat, and she was making them for him.
An hour later, his father burst into the room, disappointment and frustration all over his face.
It was a look Nick was far too familiar with. He pulled off his headphones.
“The entire warehouse can see you in here, staring off into space with that goofy grin like you have nothing better to do.”
“I was just trying to find my muse,” Nick said, relieved his father couldn’t read his mind. “You know, brainstorming.”
His father crossed his arms and glanced at the empty sheet in front of Nick. “So what have you come up with, then?”
Nick looked around. “Uh…I don’t know, like, white chocolate coated cookie bits or something.”
His father threw his hands in the air, looking to the ceiling for help. “A very well known candy bar company has already done that, Nick. I really don’t think copying some low-grade chocolate bar is going to cut it with the judges.”
Nick took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t mean that we should use low-quality chocolate…or cookies for that matter.”
“Ridiculous,” his father said, turning out of the room, muttering under his breath.
Nick only caught a few words: “son of mine,” and “so lazy,” “no vision at all,” but he was pretty sure he got the gist.
Chapter Four
Lila put her hands on her hips. “Sign up for the damned contest already. It’s tradition; you have to do it. Think of all the things you could do with the prize money, not to mention the satisfaction of kicking that jerk’s ass.”
Dulcie sighed. “I can’t. Too risky. What if I make a complete fool of myself again?” She had filled Lila in on the disastrous contest year. It had been far too painful and embarassing to tell her when it had happened. Thankfully, Grams had kept her secret for her.
“How on earth is that even possible? Your stuff is amazing.”
Dulcie’s first instinct was to say, How would you even know? You’re no expert , but she stopped herself. Lord knew Lila could probably kick her ass.
“Thanks, but…I don’t think anything in the Spell Book is special enough anymore. Everyone’s already seen everything.”
“So make something
Nick nodded. Honestly, he could use all the help he could get, but trying to create something alongside his father might be the end of him. And he needed to prove he could do this on his own. “Trust me, Dad, I’ve got this.”
His father stared, then finally spoke. “I’m counting on you. All those people out there are counting on you.”
“I know,” Nick said.
“Do you?” his father asked. “Because I don’t think you realize what a big deal this is. I’ve seen other stores make a poor showing at the competition and get absolutely massacred in the food pages. A store is only as good as its last creation.”
Well, that explains a lot , Nick thought. No wonder his father never came up with anything new. “I told you, Dad, I’m on it.”
“I hope so. Have some ideas ready for me after lunch.” His father stormed out of the room.
Nick listened to the whir of the machines in the warehouse, just beyond the door. Candy speeding along, pushed and pulled and prodded by machines, touched by human hands only to move them from one machine to another, assembly line style.
He blew out a huge puff of air and stared at the plain white walls.
How did his father expect any creativity out of him in this place?
He stuck in his headphones and started up his favorite jazz playlist, pulling out a notepad for brainstorming.
He drew a cupcake, labeling the drawing with the flavors that came to him so easily, then sighed, ripping the page out and balling it up, tossing it in the trash.
Candy. This has to be about candy , he reminded himself.
He fell into daydreams of candy, all right, but it was not the designing of candy that was on his mind. It was a certain gorgeous candy girl making all the treats a person could eat, and she was making them for him.
An hour later, his father burst into the room, disappointment and frustration all over his face.
It was a look Nick was far too familiar with. He pulled off his headphones.
“The entire warehouse can see you in here, staring off into space with that goofy grin like you have nothing better to do.”
“I was just trying to find my muse,” Nick said, relieved his father couldn’t read his mind. “You know, brainstorming.”
His father crossed his arms and glanced at the empty sheet in front of Nick. “So what have you come up with, then?”
Nick looked around. “Uh…I don’t know, like, white chocolate coated cookie bits or something.”
His father threw his hands in the air, looking to the ceiling for help. “A very well known candy bar company has already done that, Nick. I really don’t think copying some low-grade chocolate bar is going to cut it with the judges.”
Nick took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t mean that we should use low-quality chocolate…or cookies for that matter.”
“Ridiculous,” his father said, turning out of the room, muttering under his breath.
Nick only caught a few words: “son of mine,” and “so lazy,” “no vision at all,” but he was pretty sure he got the gist.
Chapter Four
Lila put her hands on her hips. “Sign up for the damned contest already. It’s tradition; you have to do it. Think of all the things you could do with the prize money, not to mention the satisfaction of kicking that jerk’s ass.”
Dulcie sighed. “I can’t. Too risky. What if I make a complete fool of myself again?” She had filled Lila in on the disastrous contest year. It had been far too painful and embarassing to tell her when it had happened. Thankfully, Grams had kept her secret for her.
“How on earth is that even possible? Your stuff is amazing.”
Dulcie’s first instinct was to say, How would you even know? You’re no expert , but she stopped herself. Lord knew Lila could probably kick her ass.
“Thanks, but…I don’t think anything in the Spell Book is special enough anymore. Everyone’s already seen everything.”
“So make something
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