LIKE SUGAR INTO CARAMEL

"I'm telling you, Dorothy, you could make a million," said Jack, cutting into a plate of sausages and eggs as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"I don't know," she said, sighing. "It's a lot of work. And I never intended to go into business. I only took the classes for fun."

One catering job had turned into two, and two into five, and now Dotty was fresh off a meeting with the owner of The Pie Plate, who had tasted her cookies (a tropical mix of macadamia nut, coconut, banana and white chocolate) at a party and wanted her to start making those and two other kinds for the diner.

"Where would I even make them?" she asked. "I don't have a commercial kitchen. I can't make them at home. That kitchen is too small."

"I thought he said you could make them here."

"This place opens at seven. I'd have to come in at three a.m. or something." She wrinkled her nose. "I like my sleep."

"Bet your pastry chef teacher would help you find a place." Jack set down his knife and reached for the ketchup bottle. Dotty trained her eyes on her own plate. Jack's breakfasts were a saucy mess — ketchup and salsa and jam all running together on the plate in a way that made her stomach tip, the way Amanda's always did when Lee ate runny eggs. Of course Amanda was too polite to say anything, just as Dotty was, but Dotty knew from the little crease that appeared between her daughter's eyebrows whenever her son-in-law poked at a plate of sunny-side-up. Dotty reached a hand to touch her own forehead.

"I can't go to France if I'm here baking cookies," she said.

Jack paused mid-ketchuping and set the bottle down. "You can't?"

"Who's going to fill the orders?"

"You'd need an assistant, I guess."

Dotty let out a surprised laugh. "An assistant! I haven't even earned a dime yet."

"Maybe you need a financial backer," Jack said. "I've been looking for a new investment."

Dotty held up a hand. "No. Absolutely not. I am not going into business with you."

"Why not? Dot, I have enough burning a hole in my bank account. Maybe it could be a going concern."

"I'm not mixing my business and personal lives together."

"It seems to work for that daughter of yours," Jack countered.

"Amanda and Lee are different. Besides, they aren't in business together, they just work together. And they worked together before they were together-together and I am not." She settled in the seat. "I'll think about it. Maybe I'll pay one of my grandsons to work for me. But that's only if I even do it."

Dotty had been seeing Jack for three months, give or take. They had met through her friend Nancy, who had also dated Jack for a short time earlier that year. Jack liked to joke that he was "cut from the team for putting ketchup on his prime rib" — and after watching him eat breakfast a few times Dotty had to wonder if there was indeed a grain of truth to it — but the simple fact had been he and Nancy didn't see eye to eye on several issues, the most important being that Nancy wanted to get married again and he didn't care if he stayed single until the day he died.

Dotty put herself somewhere in between Jack and Nancy on that issue. She had wanted to remarry, once, but the longer she was single the less she wanted to tie herself down. She liked having her weekends free if she wanted, she liked driving her little car up to Vermont to see her sister (when it wasn't Christmas they didn't argue much at all), and she liked being able to have Phillip and Jamie to stay or Lee and Amanda for dinner without clearing it with someone else.

She had never imagined this arrangement would suit her, but it did. Jack had a lot of money and liked to have a lot of fun, and he regularly suggested they go away for the weekend or to the Kennedy Center or to see some jazz musician (he loved jazz far more than Dotty did) at an expensive club downtown. Dotty had been clear from the start that she didn't have bags of money, and Jack had just rolled his eyes and said it was his treat, because he did.

She had thought Amanda wouldn't approve for some reason, maybe because of how upset she'd been over the trip with her father's old friend, but Amanda had simply laughed and said she was glad Dotty was having a good time. Dotty had a feeling Amanda's own happiness had given her the means to be expansive on that front — in Dotty's experience, when someone was in love they wanted the whole world to feel the same way. And Amanda was one-hundred-percent, most definitely in love.

It was nice, watching her daughter settle into a new phase of her life — a lovely husband, an exciting job (though Dotty didn't see the appeal herself, it seemed too all-consuming at times). The boys were growing up into fine young men, developing their own interests and opinions. They didn't need her as urgently or as often as when they were little, and she wanted to be sad about it but she really wasn't. She was happy to take a step back and become just plain Grandma again, and not another caregiver. To spoil them with baked goods and dinners out and leave the day-to-day to their parents.

Amanda was fully supportive of Dotty starting a business. While Edna Gilstrap and some other people had raised a thousand concerns about a whole raft of issues — logistics, whether she'd like it, how would she make money, why on earth wouldn't she just enjoy a nice, quiet retirement — Amanda had said she was certain that if Dotty wanted to make it work, she would make it work. Just like Jack, she thought.

And so Dotty had gone to the meeting that morning, and waited at their favorite booth for Jack to come at ten o'clock to talk over the outcome. And now here they were, and she was waffling.

"You just have cold feet," Jack said around a mouthful of toast.

"Maybe," Dotty agreed. "Probably."

"I'm going to talk you into it," Jack said. "You know I am."

"Yes, I know you are." She sipped her coffee. "But Jack, darling, that means talking yourself out of a ton of fun."

He waved his fork in the space between them, as if brushing aside her words, and a piece of hash brown fell onto the table. "Nah," he said, "I'm not, because I'm going to keep you from biting off more than you can chew." He picked up the hash brown and gave the table a swipe with his napkin, then picked up another and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. His breakfasts might have been messy, but he was neat. "We'll still go to France, and you'll still fill the orders here. I've got an idea."

"An idea," Dotty said, narrowing her eyes.

"Hire Nancy," he said.

Dotty knew she looked astonished. Horrified, even. Nancy was her friend but she was jammed full of opinions, all of which wanted an outlet.

"I couldn't," she said. "We'd kill each other."

"She's bored," Jack said. "She likes to feel like she's in charge of something, and what better way to make her feel like that than to leave her in charge while you come to France with me?"

"I can't just —"

"You'll have a couple of months to get into a groove," he said.

"How would I even pay her?"

"Pay her a portion of the proceeds until you can pay her hourly or something. Just float the idea. I bet she'll bite."

"She already thinks it's ridiculous to even consider it. If I ask her to come work for me she'll take it as a sign I can't do it without her."

"Right," Jack said, easily. He sipped his coffee.

"I don't want that," Dotty said. "She'll be bossing me before I know it."

"She won't. She'll just think she is."

"This is a terrible idea."

"It's a fine idea," Jack said. "You'll come around."

Dotty just shook her head. She wasn't worried about offending Jack because Jack was mostly impossible to offend, as long as you weren't maligning his integrity, his favorite dog breed (the German shepherd), or his favorite baseball team. Dotty had no opinions on German shepherds beyond not wanting to own one and she had no opinions about baseball beyond watching her grandsons play, and of course she thought he was a good person, so Jack continued to remain un-offended.

Jack had spent the night a few times, and they'd been away together and now they were planning a trip. Dotty had chosen France because she'd never been. Not Paris specifically — she wanted to see the countryside. Jack loved to drive so they'd started planning a tour around the country, a big loop that would take a month if they wanted or as little as two weeks if they didn't.

Now that trip was disappearing, dissolving like sugar into caramel, all because of a business deal she hadn't even really known she wanted until it was in her lap. One thing transformed into another, both sweet in their own way.

"Look, Dotty, we're not locked in to a date in France. We can go whenever we feel like it."

"I don't want to go in the winter," Dotty said.

"Me neither," Jack admitted. He pushed his plate to one side. "What if we went next week?"

"What? Jack, how? We haven't booked a thing. It'll cost twice as much —"

"We'll figure it out. But why don't you tell the owner here that you'll start your contract in a month. He's gone this long without your cookies — he can make it a few more weeks. See what he says. Then we'll go to France."

"What if he says no?"

"He won't say no. But if he does, so what? You find another client." His eyes twinkled at her.

Dotty rested her chin in her hand. France in a week. How had she ended up with someone like this? Amanda's father had been practical to a fault — he'd never have run off to France on a week's notice. He'd never had the means to. She hadn't minded at all, because if the opportunity had presented itself she knew they'd have gone.

"Are you sure you want to spend an entire month with me, around the clock?" she asked. "This isn't like nights out three times a week or staying over once in a while."

He chuckled. "Tell you what," he said, leaning toward her. "If we get sick of each other we can always book two rooms."

"What if there aren't enough rooms where we're staying?"

"One of us can sleep in the car."

"Jack," she protested, laughing.

"Me — I'll sleep in the car, if it comes down to it. But I'm pretty sure I won't have to."

"You don't think so, huh?"

"So what do you think? Three weeks? Then you have a week to get ready for —" He drew a circle in the air, gesturing to the dining room.

"Three weeks sounds lovely."

"All right. Well, go talk to them."

"Shouldn't I talk to Nancy first?"

"Nah. Just go for it. You can talk to her when they say yes." He sipped his coffee and then waved her off. "Go get 'em. I'll wait here."

Dotty's stomach gave a little tip as she turned to slide out of the booth. She didn't know why she felt so nervous suddenly — she knew the owner wanted to work with her. She knew she could do it. It was just a new thing, uncharted waters.

She stood and smoothed her skirt, then took a sip of coffee. Jack grinned at her and reached to squeeze her fingers, a silent gesture of support. "Go get 'em," he said again, and Dotty nodded, squared her shoulders, and started across the dining room.