Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Right,” Harper says, unbothered as she rips the dog picture away to reveal a Barbie Dreamhouse. “New goal.”
Chloe leans forward. “Does that thing have a jacuzzi?”
“Oh yes, and a working elevator,” Harper notes, tapping the picture with her marker.
I look at Chloe to see what she thinks about all of this. She shyly looks back over at me, and we share a glance that feels like it’s chock-full of a whole year’s worth of conversation.
Are we okay?
Was last night too weird?
Let’s just reset.
“I’m in if you are?” Chloe says with a shrug. “I can help make the lemonade, obviously.” She looks back at Harper. “But it looks like you’d like to offer some food as well?”
“Oh yes, muffins, croissants—”
“I wouldn’t do croissants. They’re too time-consuming to make, and they’re not as profitable as muffins. What about cookies?”
Harper snaps with enthusiasm then rips off the cap of her marker with her teeth like some power-crazed corporate exec so she can scribble down “cookies” on her board. “That’s good. Good. What else?”
While they tackle the menu items, I get tasked with construction of the lemonade stand. Harper’s printed out inspiration photos for me.
“Harper, this took a team of carpenters two weeks to build,” I say, pointing to the least elaborate of them. “And this one is housed inside an actual Airstream.”
“Okay fine, it doesn’t have to be that fancy, but it does need to—hold on.” She references her notes and starts to read from them. “‘Represent our brand well and set the right tone for our consumer.’” Then she looks back to me with a confused frown. “What’s a consumer?”
I run down to the small hardware store near our house, and after the shop owner gets a picture with me and talks my head off about a home run I hit five years ago during a game against the Astros, he walks me through what I should purchase.
“You’re gonna lay these wooden crates on their sides, and the bottom slats will make it look real fancy for your kiddo. It’ll also form the top of your counter. Then you just nail in your supports, add the tall boards to either side, and tack on your board up top where she can write her name. Won’t take you but an hour. The painting will be a headache though. I’d use spray paint. Here, I’ll show you where it is.”
Once I get back to the house, I unload everything near the shed. I’m sure I’m supposed to be annoyed that Harper has given me this task, but I’m enjoying it. I used to tinker around with stuff when I was a kid, before baseball started to consume so much of my life. I like to build things and use my hands.
Ned lets me into the shed so I can grab some tools.
“Oh, you organized it,” I say with an impressed nod.
He grumbles and points me in the direction of the nails and hammers.
“Don’t like it one bit. Used to keep a pile of nails right underneath my hammers. Now she put them up all neat so I can barely see them.”
There’s no need to ask who she is.
Before I get started, I check in on the girls to see how they’re doing. The kitchen is absolutely littered with cooking ingredients: sugar and flour, eggs and milk. Harper has a dusting of flour across her cheek and her hair. She’s adding a liberal pour of chocolate chips into a mixing bowl when she looks up and waves.
“You’re back!”
“It smells like a real bakery in here,” I tell them, amazed.
Chloe finishes taking a tray of cookies out of the oven. There’s already a pile on a cooling rack nearby, and she walks over to pick one up so she can bring it to me.
“Chocolate chip cookie courtesy of Sugar Stand by Harper.”
Harper jumps up and down behind her, giddy with excitement. “That’s the name! Sugar because of the lemonade and treats and Stand because it’s a stand!”
Chloe laughs. “Genius, right?”
“We’ll paint Sugar Stand really big at the top and then ‘by Harper’ smaller underneath,” Harper adds.
“Genius,” I confirm before I take a bite of the cookie.
As I assumed it would be, it’s delicious, that perfect middle ground between gooey and crunchy.
I wag the second half of my cookie at Chloe. “How do you do it?”
Her smile spreads wide. “Chef’s secrets.”
Harper thinks this is wildly funny.
We spend the rest of our day at our battle stations. It doesn’t take me long to build the actual stand. The method the guy at the hardware store suggested works out seamlessly, but painting is tricky, especially once I try my hand at hand-lettering Sugar Stand at the top in pink paint. The first go-around looks horrific, as if I painted with my eyes closed, so I spray paint over it all and try again, slower the second time.