"You've truly outdone yourself, woman." I stare slack-jawed at Liv's laptop, which is sitting on Betty's kitchen table. Not only did she splice together the clips of everyone raving about my class, but she included screenshots of comments from my Instagram posts.
@AutoimmuneWarriorQueen: These cookies are the best thing I've eaten since getting my diagnosis.
@SuckItLupus: If I didn't bake these brownies myself, I wouldn't believe there isn't any added sugar!
@TiffsWellnessJourney: This is the first treat my daughter's been able to eat in years without flaring up. Thank you!
My eyes well. This. This is the reason I want to be a nutrition counselor. Helping people find joy in food despite their dietary restrictions is the greatest feeling in the world. When I was at my sickest, I spent months eating nothing but beef and a handful of vegetables. If I ate anything else, I flared up within hours. Mealtimes became something I dreaded. But after a while, my flare-ups eased. My body stabilized. Slowly, I was able to add more foods back into my diet. I'll never forget the first batch of AIP brownies I made. It was the first time I had hope that I might get to live a somewhat normal life again. And that hope, it was everything.
Helping others find that same optimism drives me to go after my dreams. Lately, it seems like there's been one obstacle after the next, trying to keep me from reaching my goal. But watching this video makes me realize I'm already making a difference. I'm just crossing my fingers that once the judges for the Happy Spoons Grant see this, they'll agree.
"Thank you," I say to Liv as a tear rolls down my cheek. I laugh, scrubbing at my face and glancing at the stainless-steel ceiling fan whirring above us. "Jeez. I'm such a baby."
"Hey, there's no crying on craft day." Betty points her glue gun at me. A blob of glue squirts out the end and plops onto the white wooden table that Betty bought at a yard sale. She sanded and re-painted it to make it look new. She frowns at the gluey splotch. It's been years since she fired up that glue gun, and the smell of burning dust and chemicals is acrid, singeing my nostrils.
"It's your daughter's fault." I shut the laptop, setting it on the counter behind me. I snatch a paper towel, swiping at the glue. All I manage to do is smear it across the table.
"Remind me why we're doing crafts again." Liv wrinkles her nose at the uneven ribbon of fabric she cut out. "The words 'craft' and 'Thursday' don't even start with the same letters. I thought that's what we were going for."
"You try thinking of a new way to celebrate each day, missy. I'm running out of alliterative activities. Besides, just because we haven't historically excelled in arts and crafts doesn't mean we can't start now. We're Kelley women. We can conquer anything."
Betty tucks a hair elastic inside a strip of neon-green polyester. She draws a line of hot glue around the edge of the fabric before folding the edges together and pinching them firmly shut. "Ta-da!"
Betty holds up her finished scrunchie with a flourish. It's lopsided, most of the fabric bunching at one end. As she waves it around, glue oozes out the seam, sticking to her fingers. Betty glances down at it and flicks her hand, trying to free it from the gooey mess. "Okay, maybe we aren't quite ready to conquer the fine art of the scrunchie."
"No kidding." Liv tosses her fabric down and leans back in her chair, taking a sip of her latte. She and Betty picked up coffee from the cart next to the park this morning and were nice enough to bring me a green tea with coconut milk.
Betty drops her scrunchie and walks over to the sink. She flips on the tap, attempting to scrub the glue from her fingers. "We can chalk this one up as a learning experience, but this isn't over. I won't surrender until I'm a certified domestic goddess."
"Whatever you say, Martha Stewart." Liv starts gathering up the scrunchie supplies scattered across the table. "Don't you need to get ready for your date?"
"Date?" I ask, turning to Betty. "Who's the lucky fella?"
"Al's taking me to the diner over in River Hollow for breakfast." Betty's words are casual, but her face flushes, and she's suddenly absorbed in the task of washing her hands.
Liv and I exchange a look. Betty's usually very open about her dates. I've never seen her this flustered talking about a man before.
"Speaking of gentleman callers." Betty turns off the faucet and dries her hands on a dishrag. "I couldn't help but notice a certain truck pulling out of the driveway late last night." She waggles her eyebrows at me.
My chest burns redder than Ty's pickup. I hadn't broached the topic of Ty with Betty and Liv yet. I didn't know how to after spending the past week insisting that the two of us were never going to get back together.
"What?" Liv's to-go cup falls from her hand, plonking onto the tabletop. It tips over, spilling her vanilla latte everywhere. She doesn't make a move to clean it up. "You hooked up with Ty?" Her eyes are wide, and she clasps her palms to her heart like she's about to do some second-hand swooning. "Does this mean you're back together?"
"I, um..." I stammer, glancing over at Betty. She gives me a wicked grin, and I sigh. "Okay, yes. I did, and maybe?" I grab the roll of paper towels off the counter again and start mopping up Liv's coffee, trying to hide the love-sick smile sneaking across my face.
Liv squeals, leaping out of her chair and smashing me in a hug. The towel falls from my hand with a wet whump. "I knew it. You two are totally soulmates. How did it happen? I demand details."
"I'll tell you what happened," Betty says. "Ty showed up at her door and was like..." She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a spatula, raising it to her lips like a microphone. "Baby, give me one more chaaaaaance." Betty launches into a surprisingly decent song and dance routine, and Liv jumps in with backup vocals.
I cover my burning face with my hands but can't help laughing. "Keep it up, and I'm signing the two of you up for karaoke tonight."
Naturally, they ignore me, continuing to belt out lyrics. I'm simultaneously mortified and amused, which is a very familiar feeling. They lovingly harassed me the entire time Ty and I were together. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I glance at the screen. It's a FaceTime call from my dad.
I slash a hand in front of my throat, motioning for Betty and Liv to cease and desist. "It's my dad." I hold up my cell to show them the incoming call.
I do not need them singing songs about me getting back with my ex while I'm talking to my father. Discussing my love life with him would be about as pleasant as a root canal. To say he wasn't Ty's biggest fan after he got me arrested and expelled would be an understatement.
Liv and Betty quit singing but continue shooting me roguish glances. I shake my head at them and swipe to answer the call.
"Hey, kiddo!" Dad grins out at me.
"Hi, Dad."
"What are you up to?"
"Oh, you know. Just doing crafts with Betty and Liv." I try to sound offhand and casual like nothing earth-shattering recently happened.
Dad's eyebrows lift in surprise. "You three are doing crafts?"
Sometimes I forget how well he knows us Kelley girls. I might have turned myself into a first-rate baker, but that took a lot of work. Domesticity isn't typically our strong suit.
"We sure are," Betty chimes in from over my shoulder. "See." She waves her mangled scrunchie in front of the camera.
"Wow." Dad nods, and I can tell he's holding back a laugh. "That's really something."
"It's something, alright," I mutter, and Betty bumps me with her hip.
"So, listen, hun." My dad says. "Betty told me about all the effort you've put into the festival this week. Carrie and I thought we'd check out the movie night and see all your hard work in action."
"You and Carrie are coming to Rosedale?" Excitement over seeing my dad wars with the dread of having to make small talk with Carrie. I don't know what to say to her after our last encounter.
"Yeah. It's been a couple of months since I've been down there, and I miss you."
"I miss you too,"
"Carrie's excited to see you again. She feels terrible about what happened and wants to make it up to you." The glint in Dad's eyes is pleading. It clearly means a lot to him that I get along with Carrie. He works so hard to help me, and I know how much he loves me. There isn't much I wouldn't do for him. If Carrie's important to him, then I need to give her another chance.
I sigh inwardly and nod, forcing a smile onto my face. "That sounds perfect."
The grin that lights up my dad's face makes any impending awkwardness with Carrie worth it. "Great. We'll see you tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow." I blow a kiss at the phone, and Dad disconnects the call.
"That was the right thing to do," Betty says from where she's leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, well." I shrug. I'm about to set my cell on the table when it buzzes in my hand. I glance down at the screen and freeze as I stare at the text from Janet. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. It's as though my insides have evaporated, leaving me hollow and dazed.
"What's wrong?" Liv takes in my expression, and her forehead furrows with concern.
My mouth is moving, but no words are coming out because no. There's no way this is right. I read the message again.
Janet: Just wanted to make sure you got your grant application submitted yesterday. Let me know how it went. Remember, I believe in you!
"No. No. No. No. No." I whisper as I text Janet back. This can't be happening.
Me: Yesterday? You said it was due next Wednesday.
My heart's in my throat as I watch the three dots dance on the screen. "Type faster, Janet," I growl. I can feel Betty and Liv watching me, but I can't think beyond those dots. If their flickering doesn't end with Janet saying she's just kidding, I don't know what I'm going to do. My phone finally buzzes with her response. My stomach plummets so far; it must have relocated somewhere near my ankle.
Janet: Oh, no! Quinn, I said that last Friday. I highlighted the due date in the email I sent you.
It's not possible. I open my email app and reread her message. Sure enough, yesterday's date glows up at me in bright yellow. How did I not notice that? I'm meticulous in everything I do. This was the most important deadline of my life. It's unfathomable that I could have overlooked it. But I did. I let myself get swept up in the festival and in Ty. I blew the best shot I had to make my counseling business a reality.
Another text from Janet comes through.
Janet: I'm so sorry! I should've followed up with you earlier. You're always so on top of things. I didn't think you needed me to.
I can feel my dreams shattering into pieces around me. My fingers tap out a response on their own. My mind is nothing but white noise.
Me: It's not your fault, Janet. Thanks for trying.
I hit send and let my phone drop to the table with a clatter. When I glance up, Betty and Liv are watching me, matching expressions of worry on their faces.
"Quinn," Betty says carefully, like I'm an animal she doesn't want to spook. "What happened, sweetie?"
I'm too hollowed out to cry as I say, "I missed the deadline for the grant."
They don't say anything; just wrap me in a hug as all my hope for the future drains out of me.