Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn - Chapter 10

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Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn


Chapter 10: A Family’s Hope


The evening air was warm as Olivia Carter stepped through the creaky gate of their small home at Maplewood, her fingers still tingling from the crisp ten-dollar bill tucked safely in her pocket. The weight of it—her first earned wage—felt like more than just money. It was proof that she could help her family, that they weren’t entirely powerless against the hardships that had shadowed them. Before she could even call out, the front door burst open, and four eager faces spilled onto the porch. "Olivia!" Emily, the youngest at six, barreled into her legs, nearly knocking her over.
"Did you see a mansion? Was it like a castle?" Charlotte, ever the dreamer, clasped her hands together. "Tell us everything! Did they have chandeliers? Gold plates?" Lillian, her twin, nudged Charlotte with an eye roll. "Nobody eats off gold plates, dummy." Hannah, sharp-eyed and already calculating, crossed her arms. "More importantly, was the work fair? Did they pay you properly?" Eleanor Whitmore stood in the doorway, her apron dusted with flour, her expression a mix of relief and quiet pride. She didn’t say a word—just opened her arms, and Olivia melted into them. "It wasn’t hard, Mama," Olivia murmured against her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of yeast and vanilla. "Mrs. Langley was kind. I just washed dishes and folded laundry. They even have a machine that washes clothes for you." Eleanor pulled back, cupping Olivia’s face. "You’re sure you weren’t too tired?" Olivia shook her head, though her arms ached from scrubbing. "It was easy. And look—" She pulled out the ten-dollar bill, holding it up like a trophy. A hush fell over the sisters before they erupted into cheers. "We’re rich!" Emily declared, bouncing on her toes. Hannah snorted. "Hardly. But it’s a start." Inside, they gathered around the worn kitchen table, passing around plates of simple stew and bread.
The air hummed with excitement, the kind that came from shared purpose. "So," Hannah began, tapping her fingers against the wood. "I’ve been doing the math." Eleanor raised a brow. "Math?" Hannah pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, covered in her neat, precise handwriting. "For Sweet Beginnings to work, we need ingredients, packaging, and a way to transport everything. I checked prices at the market—flour, sugar, butter, eggs. Even if we bake small batches at first, we’ll need at least three hundred dollars to start." The number landed like a stone. Eleanor’s spoon stilled. "Three hundred?" Olivia swallowed hard.
That was more than she’d ever held at once. Hannah nodded. "We can’t cut corners. If we want people to buy from us, it has to look professional." Charlotte leaned forward, undeterred.
"Then we’ll find a way! Maybe we can sell something?" "Like what?" Lillian frowned. "Our toys?" Emily gasped. "Not Mr. Fluffington!" She clutched her ragged stuffed rabbit to her chest. Olivia bit her lip. "We don’t have anything valuable enough." Eleanor stood abruptly and walked to the cupboard, pulling down a small tin box—their emergency fund. She pried it open, and the sisters crowded around as she counted out the coins and wrinkled bills. "One hundred dollars," Eleanor murmured. "Enough for groceries this week, but..." The unspoken but not enough hung heavy in the air. Hannah exhaled sharply. "We’re two hundred short." For a moment, no one spoke. The flicker of hope they’d felt earlier dimmed. Then Charlotte, ever the optimist, clapped her hands. "Okay, so we need jobs! Olivia’s working—why can’t we?" Eleanor’s face tightened. "You’re children." "I’m ten," Hannah argued. "Old enough to help." "And I’m eight!" Charlotte added. Lillian and Emily exchanged glances before chiming in, "We’re six, but we can sweep or—or wash dishes!" Eleanor’s eyes glistened, but she shook her head. "I won’t have you working like that. Not yet." Olivia reached for her mother’s hand. "Mama, we want to help. We can do this." Eleanor looked at each of them—Olivia’s quiet determination, Hannah’s fierce intelligence, Charlotte’s unwavering optimism, Lillian’s thoughtful curiosity, Emily’s innocent bravery. Her throat worked before she finally whispered, "I know you can. But it shouldn’t be your burden." Hannah set her jaw. "It’s not a burden. It’s our family." The words settled over them, binding them together. Eleanor took a shaky breath. "Alright. Let’s think.
Are there other ways? Something we haven’t considered?" Olivia hesitated. "Maybe... we could ask for an advance from Mrs. Langley?" Hannah shook her head. "Too risky. What if she says no? We can’t rely on charity." Charlotte brightened. "What about the bakery contest? The one in the paper!" Lillian perked up. "The Maplewood Spring Bake-Off? First prize is two hundred dollars!" Emily gasped. "That’s exactly what we need!" Eleanor’s lips twitched. "That’s in two weeks. And the competition is stiff." Hannah smirked. "So? Mama, you’re the best baker in Maplewood." Olivia grinned. "And we’ll help. We’ll practice every day." For the first time that night, Eleanor laughed, the sound warm and bright. "Alright. We’ll enter. But we’ll need a showstopper." The sisters erupted into excited chatter, throwing out ideas—layer cakes, pastries, breads—each more elaborate than the last. As the night wore on, the weight of uncertainty lingered, but so did their determination. They had a plan. A chance. And for now, that was enough.