“What if we combined it with another business, like a café?” I ask. “We both researched opening a café when we were looking into putting one in the bookstore, and I’m sure Marianne would give us advice or even help out. Maybe we could have a café that also offers birthday party packages.”
Allie straightens, a gleam of interest finally appearing in her eyes. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“We could uphold the tradition of Matilda’s Teapot by offering tea, but we could tailor the experience toward children and families,” I say. “Like have whimsical plates and teapots, maybe Red Queen cupcakes and those rainbow cake-pops you had for the Wizard of Oz party…”
Allie and I look at each other for a minute. It’s a good idea. We both know it.
“I have the money to invest now, Allie.”
“You do,” she says. “I don’t. I’m maxed out on credit, and another loan isn’t an option. I can’t contribute to start-up costs.”
“But you have a lot more experience than I do,” I point out. “You know about expenses, taxes, insurance, hiring employees, payroll. I don’t know any of that, but I’m a fast learner. If I contribute the money, you’d contribute the know-how.”
“Brent could help us out with the logistics,” Allie muses. “He was assistant manager at the Sugarloaf Hotel for three years, and now he’s a manager at the Wildwood Inn. Plus he has two degrees in hotel and restaurant management.”
The whole venture sounds both daunting and exciting. As Allie and I work for the rest of the afternoon, we exchange ideas about the café.
“I think we should do something like your Alice in Wonderland party,” I say. “Put greenery around the front entrance so it’s like a rabbit hole. Then we could have Queen of Hearts tarts and Cheshire Cat porridge… or if we combined it with the Wizard of Oz, we could have those sugar cookies you made with Heart and Courage iced onto them, and the lime-green punch…”
“That building does have two stories,” Allie says. “We could have one theme upstairs and another downstairs. Then have one menu, but with different dishes from each theme.”
“And we could offer birthday parties in one of the upstairs rooms so that they’re separate from the everyday running of the place.”
A palpable excitement flows between us.
“What’ll we call it?” Allie asks.
A name pops into my head without effort, as if it has been there all along.
“The Wonderland Café,” I say.
“I love it!” Allie claps her hands. “We’ll have murals on the walls with scenes from the books, and we can paint the staircase to look like yellow bricks leading up to the Wizard of Oz section.”
I can’t help smiling at the way she’s now talking about it as if it’s something we’re actually doing. The funny thing is that I can picture it too, envision how it would all look.
During my call with Dean that night, I take a breath and tell him about my ideas for turning Matilda’s Teapot into a café and birthday party place.
“That’s a great idea, Liv,” he says. “I’ve never even heard of that kind of café, and the location of the tearoom is perfect to catch a family crowd.”
Oh, my husband’s voice. Better than chocolate, hot baths, café mochas, sunshine. Warms me from the inside out and everywhere in between. I curl beneath my quilt, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“I think it’s a great idea too,” I tell him.
“I’d only suggest that you make sure you have enough money not just to start up, but also maintain working capital for at least eight or nine months.”
Ah, Professor West. Always practical. And usually right.
“What does Allie think?” he asks.
“She’s excited about it, but we need to do a lot of work and research first. I don’t even know how much it would take to get started, or if my inheritance is enough.”
“I’ll give you whatever else you need.”
My stomach twists. “I know you would, but I really want to do this by myself.”
“I don’t mean I’d be a partner. I’d just give you the money.”
“Dean, I don’t want you to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to figure it out by myself,” I tell him. “And if you ride in like the cavalry to save me, that defeats the whole purpose.”
“How is supporting you defeating a purpose?”
“I don’t want to be indebted to you for a business. Do you realize that I have been financially dependent on you for everything?”
“That doesn’t matter, Liv.”
“It matters to me now.” I can’t keep a hint of impatience from my voice. “I thought it was all so blissful and comfortable, and it was easy to let you take care of everything. Even when I was looking for a job, there was no urgency about it because I knew you’d be there if I failed. Maybe that’s why I never figured out what I’m good at. I haven’t failed enough.”
“You don’t need to fail to figure that out. It takes time, not failure.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take money from you. I won’t. With this inheritance, I finally have the opportunity to start something on my own.”
“Liv, everything I have is yours too. You’re not taking anything from me.”