Tough Cookies (New Year New Me 1)

“No. Ms. Brittany redecorated my room at Daddy’s, and I hate it. I know she wanted to do something nice for me.”

r />

“It’s okay to say you don’t like something, Clementine.”

“But Daddy says it’s important to include her and make her feel welcome.”

I cup her face with my hand. “No. It’s Ms. Brittany’s job to make you feel that way. She’s the adult, Clem, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll talk to Daddy about it tonight after bedtime.”

Her head tilts back. “I don’t want to be mean, Mommy. I really don’t.” The panic in her voice guts me. She’s had a difficult year, trying to acclimate not only to our divorce but the new woman in his life. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from talking badly about Jackson. Spoiled and wealthy, he’d always been a bit entitled and selfish. Seeing him forget to put Clem first boils my blood. He doesn’t get to make things easy for himself by guilting our little girl.

“I know, sweetheart, and disagreeing with someone isn’t mean if it’s your truth. Never let anyone silence your voice.” I tap her chest.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now finish your snack, my darling. We’ve got homework to do.”

Turning back around, she munches cheerfully on the peanut butter coated celery as I mentally eviscerate her father. If I do it here, I’ll be able to actually have a civil conversation with him in real life.

ANDERS

I pull into the driveway and clutch the steering wheel. I haven’t felt this apprehensive since I missed curfew back in high school. It’s the first time we’ve all gotten together since the party and my announcement. Not going back to work with them after the first was bizarre. Evander and Winston had sent me shots of my empty desk. Deciding to rip the band-aid off fast, I throw the sedan into park, hop out, and walk to the door. I step inside, and suddenly Mom appears in front of me.

“Mijo, I’m glad you came.” Mom kisses my cheek, and I hug her. The scent of Carne Asada makes my stomach rumble.

“I never miss a chance to eat your cooking. You know that.”

She shakes her head. “You boys are still trying to eat us out of house and home.” She waves me toward the kitchen. “Go. Everyone else is waiting. You’re the last one to arrive today.”

I can see the worry fading in her eyes. She thought I might not come. I hate putting her in an awkward position. Papa is the head of the house, but sometimes his ideas don’t match mine. I shrug off my jacket, hang it up on the hook by the door, and hurry into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I got caught up with planning.”

My father shoots me an unimpressed look as I continue over to the sink to wash my hands.

“Were you doing some filming today?” Evander asks.

I flash him a grateful expression. My brothers have each shown their support for me in their own way. Both check in on me pretty much daily, and Evander has made some graphics for the show. Shaking the excess water off my hands, I hold them up like a surgeon before patting them dry on a towel. My mother has always been a stickler for clean hands. I take the seat beside Winston on the opposite side of the table from Papa. I can still feel the tension strung tight between us like a bow.

“No, I was plotting an entirely new segment.”

“That’s interesting.” Mom smiles, trying to keep the peace as she shows interest.

I grasp it, not examining authenticity. The fact that she’s trying is a step in the right direction.

“And this is going to bring in money how?” Papa asks.

“The more people who view my videos, the more money I make, and the better chance I have for endorsements. I think Baking Redemptions will bring a lot of new viewers and local attention. Do you guys remember hearing about the Cookie Woman?”

“Who?” Winston asks.

“The poor woman who set her oven on fire on New Year’s Eve trying to bake cookies,” Mom explains as she places fresh tortillas and Carne Asada on the table.

“That’s her. She sent me an email asking me to teach her how to bake for her daughter’s bake sale at school. It was sweet.”