“I don’t care what the stupid doctor says; I don’t want that flavorless stuff masquerading as food in the dining hall.” Bae Yong Joon stared hard at Irene, his arms folded across his chest in a manner suggesting he wasn’t going to budge.

Her father was generally a pretty easy going guy, but the stricter diet his doctor had him on was beginning to wear thin, as was his patience.

“So what exactly are you planning to eat instead?” It was close to lunch time and she’d set aside time for them to eat together on her short break.

“I’ve ordered a pizza. It should be here any minute.”

She sighed. “A pizza? Appa, that’s hardly within the realm of the list of foods your cardiologist outlined for us.”

Maybe it was the worried expression on her face, or the fragile tone of her voice, but in that moment, he seemed to soften considerably. In fact, he even looked a little sad, which broke her heart for a whole separate reason.

“I’ll just have one slice then. And maybe a little salad and fruit from the dining room.”

He was trying to make her happy, even in the midst of his frustration. Irene met his eyes and took in his labored breathing. It seemed worse today.

“I guess one piece wouldn’t hurt. Maybe some rest after that though, don’t you think?”

He nodded quietly, resolute now. “Maybe so.”

In attempt to elevate the mood, she changed the subject. “So I think you’re going to be proud of me. Or at least, I’m hoping so.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Explain yourself, little bunny of mine.”

“Well, you know how you always taught me to never give up when it came to generating new recipes? Keep those creative fires burning. Give up sleep if you have to.”

That earned a partial smile. “Of course I remember. Never stop working at it, until it’s just right. That’s our motto.”

“Exactly. Well, I did a little of that. I listened to your advice and it took a little time, but I came up with this.” From her bag on the floor, she produced the small pink box. “Try one of these.”

He gently tore the ribbon and took a small bite of the truffle. She waited, almost ready to come out of her skin in anticipation of what he might say. “So? What’s the verdict?” she asked nervously.

Her heart was racing now because his opinion mattered to her more than anyone else’s. It just did. He wasn’t just her father, he was her mentor. He taught her everything she knew, and if he was underwhelmed, it was probable that she’d missed the mark she thought she’d hit and…well, that would be quite a blow.

“You’re not saying anything. Why aren’t you saying anything? Be honest with me. I can take it.”

He took another excruciating moment. “I’m just trying to figure out how to explain to you that this is probably the best piece of chocolate I’ve ever tasted.”

The smile that slipped onto her face started slowly and took a minute to get going. “Really? You’re not just trying to be the supportive father, because I could handle it if you were. You can just admit you’re being supportive and then tell me if something’s missing or too overpowering or —”

“Haven’t I always told it to you like it is?”

He had. Always. She blinked. “Yes.”

“And this is what it is. You’ve got something great here. I assume you’re going to roll these out at the shop?”

“I’d like to. The plan is to have several different flavor varieties, but this one would be our signature.”

“Smart girl. Have you thought of a name for them?”

“I guess Irene’s Kickass Truffles might be a little much for our younger customers.”

The twinkle in his eye was back. “I think it might. What about naming them after you? Baechu.”

Baechu was the nickname her father had given her when she was little. She moved it around in her mind. “Maybe. You know, that could actually work. It’s cute and personal, and it would be a way to have my own stamp on them.”

“True.”

She smiled at him.

“And they’d make me think of you.”

A lump arrived in as she reflected briefly on his failing health, not a concept she allowed herself to think about too much.

Congestive heart failure was a terminal diagnosis. There was still time left, but the days weren’t exactly infinite and she felt them flittering away. He was the only parent she’d ever known, as her mother had passed from stage 4 leukemia when Irene was 2 and a half. The concept of life without him was a little more than she was willing to consider.

His eyes warmed and he squeezed her hand, clearly picking up on the direction of her thoughts. “Don’t you go getting all misty on me. I’m a tough old guy, you know. Not getting rid of me any time soon.”

She laughed and swallowed the lump. “I wouldn’t dare presume.”

A nurse poked her head around the corner into his room. “Mr. Bae? A pizza was delivered for you.”

He slapped his hands together. “And the day just got even better.”

***

That afternoon at The Velvet brought with it 4 orders for delivery and a last minute order of chocolate chip cookies for the clinic to be held for pickup.

Irene set the cookies out to cool as Wendy packed up the last of the deliveries. For the first time in quite a while, they had their hands full, and Irene liked the adrenaline rush the time crunch brought with it.

She lived for busy. It kept things interesting and gave the cash register a workout in the process. And right about now, dollar signs were her friends.

Her delivery guy, Chen, strolled in casually and consulted the clipboard on the counter. He’d worked part time for Irene for the past 2 years and had slowly become part of the The Velvet family. She enjoyed his easy going rhythm and the rapport he seemed capable of establishing with the clients. So he wasn’t the fastest delivery guy on the planet, but many an old lady fell victim to his boyish good looks and placed an extra order or two, just so he’d deliver it. Not exactly bad for business.

However, there was one girl immune to his charm and noticeable biceps, Wendy. The two of them went together about as well as oil and water on their most compatible day. They were like Batman and the Joker. Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker. Madonna and Elton John.

Chen leaned across the counter and peered at the stack of boxes. “So what do you got for me?”

Wendy glared at him. “That’s your greeting? ‘What do you got for me?’ Sugar, we’re busting our asses back here. How about leading with a good afternoon or a hello. Or were you not brought up properly?” Her accent had a way of adding a whole new level of intensity to an insult.

Chen chewed his gum for a few token moments before smiling widely. “Good morning, sunshine.” And then he dropped the grin entirely. “Now what have you got for me?”

Wendy shook her head and moved to the first group of packages, muttering to herself. “Raised in a barn, I know what I’d like to give you.”

“Well, that sounds promising,” Chen called after her.

“Pig,” she shot back.

Irene suppressed an eye roll. It was their daily banter. She’d had to intervene in their battles on more than one occasion when there had been customers present, but she was in too good a mood today to get caught up.

Instead she packaged the cookies and took a swipe from the doughy spoon once she finished. Perk of the job.

Wendy handed Chen the first order. “All right, now pay attention. A dozen passion fruit tarts and two dozen macadamia brownies to the library for book club.”

“Got it.”

“Then you’re heading to the Allstate office next to the police station and dropping off the chocolate macaroons. Last, you’re gonna loop around to the courthouse with the red velvet birthday cake for Judge Saunders. Think you can manage not to screw it up? Or shall I write it in permanent marker across your sweet little forehead?”

He took a step into Wendy, eyes flashing. “Sounds pretty tricky. I think I’ll just manage.” With that, he lifted the stack of pink boxes and breezed through the door nearly colliding with Seulgi in the process. He was pressed for time, but apparently not enough to resist giving her an appreciative once over as she passed.

“Hi,” Seulgi beamed once she arrived at the counter. “Pickup for Special Care of Applewood.”

Irene was happy to see her. “Hey, you. I figured they’d send Mark to pick up these piping hot, wonderful cookies.”

“I volunteered. Trying to earn a few bonus points with the folks; you know how it is.” Seulgi’s expression then shifted to one of amusement and she eyed Irene strangely.

Instantly self conscious, she stared back. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um.” Seulgi halfway pointed at her cheek. “Nothing. It’s just you have some flour…”

“Oh.” She swiped at her cheek aggressively. “Occupational hazard. Did I get it?”

“Wow, no. Not at all. It’s pretty much everywhere. Like you’ve just returned from an all night flour rave and your reward was more flour.”

Irene grinned. “Well, I have to have fun somehow.”

“I can tell. You look, I don’t know…” She shook her head. “Happy. Completely in your element.”

“That’s because I am. I love days like this. Not a cloud in the sky, the aromas from the oven wafting past every few minutes, and the cash register getting a good workout.”

“Who could ask for more?”

They stood a moment, smiling at each other.

It was then that Wendy cleared . “Don’t mean to interrupt, but I think these might belong to you.” She slid a tray of oversized cookies across the counter to Seulgi and