Company was not what Lizzie expected, but she could not think of an excuse against the exuberance from the three women. “I… uh… I guess so.” Turning to walk back through her kitchen door, she rounded the counter where she had her supplies already laid out and said, “There’s really nothing for you to do.”
“Watching would be wonderful,” Belle said, her soft voice filled with enthusiasm. “I’m always so impressed with people who have creative abilities.”
She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came out. Flummoxed, she began mixing the ingredients, finding herself explaining what she was doing as she began the task.
“Um, here I have pasteurized goat milk in this bowl, and I add an equal amount of distilled water, stirring until it’s mixed well. Over here, I take the stearic acid and add it to the avocado oil and sweet almond oil that I mixed together just before you came. Next, we add the emulsifying wax.”
“This is absolutely fascinating,” Tori said, leaning over the counter and sniffing appreciatively. Her eyes met Lizzie’s and she smiled. “Thank you so much for letting us watch.”
Nodding ever-so-slightly, Lizzie took the large bowl and placed it in her microwave. “I have to heat this for about two minutes so the wax and acid melt in the oils.” She pressed the buttons on her microwave, continuing to stare dumbly at the bowl turning around and around, not wanting to look at the women waiting patiently for the next step.
When the microwave dinged, she took the bowl out and set it back on the counter. She lifted up another bowl and began dumping the thick contents into the bowl of warmed oil. “This is Shea butter. I just stir it in, and it will slowly melt.” After a couple of minutes, it had melted, and all of the ingredients were well-mixed. She began to relax, her visitors appearing to enjoy her impromptu lessons. Moving back to the bowl of goat milk and distilled water, she said, “We’ll microwave this for about a minute to get it warm.”
Once that was accomplished, she poured the oil mixture into the milk mixture, stirring as she went. “You can see that it’s beginning to thicken, but we’ll help that along and make it smooth by putting it in the blender.”
Pouring half of the bowl’s contents into the appliance, she pulsed the blender several times and then checked the ingredients. Pulsing a few more times, she then poured it into another large bowl. She finished with her complete, thickened mixture.
“It seems kind of runny,” Jillian said, scrunching her nose as she leaned over the bowl and peering down.
“You don’t want it to be too thick at this stage or you won’t be able to pour it into the bottles.”
“Is it ready?” Belle asked, eyes bright.
“Not yet. We have to add in the preservative.” Once she stirred it thoroughly, she began to add in the fragrant oils.
“Ooohh, that smells wonderful,” Tori gushed, leaning over and inhaling deeply. “How did you ever learn to do this?”
“YouTube,” Lizzie replied. When the others looked at her in surprise, she could not help but smile. “Honestly... you can learn to do anything from YouTube.”
Bringing over her clean, clear bottles, she stuck a funnel into the top of one and began pouring the lotion, filling the bottle to almost the top. Placing in the pump lid, she screwed it on tightly. She continued until she had ten bottles filled. Opening a folder she had on the side of the counter, she pulled out labels that she had made. They were simple round labels with the words Weston Farm Goat Milk. She carefully centered them on the bottles and pressed them to stick. Pulling out another sheet of labels that listed the ingredients, she pressed it to the back.
Looking up at the women that were staring at her, she suddenly felt foolish. Shrugging, she mumbled in defense, “It’s not much, but I like making it.”
“I think it’s brilliant!” Belle enthused. “My only hobby is knitting, but I love this! If you ever want some help, please let me know. I’d love to come over and assist.”
Jillian tilted her head to the side, tapping her forefinger on her chin as though in thought. “Lizzie, would you consider letting me sell some of your goat milk products from my coffee shop?”
“From your coffee shop?” It was hard to keep the incredulity from her voice, not understanding what a coffee shop would do with lotion.
Laughing, Jillian said, “Oh, I should explain. It’s really a coffee shop and galleria. I have all kinds of things that I sell there that are locally made. Everything from sea glass jewelry and paintings to woodcarvings. I get a lot of vacationers and out-of-town visitors and they love everything that’s local. I have no doubt this would sell like crazy!”
Before she had a chance to reply, Tori added, “I’d like to buy some from you now so that I can offer it to the guests that stay at my inn.”
Shrugging, Belle said, “Around the holidays, we like to bring in local artisans to let our nursing home patients purchase items that they can give to their family for Christmas gifts. Most cannot get out to stores and it makes them feel less helpless.”
The women all stared at her, but Lizzie’s mind locked up. Papa Beau had often told her that she should produce more of her products, but she had always replied that there was never enough time. Just the memory made the tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked furiously trying to keep them at bay.
Embarrassed, she did not have a chance to speak before Belle wrapped her arm around her and led her over to the kitchen table, ushering her to a seat. Stunned, she watched as Tori put on a kettle of water and Jillian searched until she found the teabags. While they made cups of tea, Belle sat on the other side of her, setting a box of tissues nearby.
She dried her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the agonizing pain to lessen. Gaining control of herself, she looked up as Tori and Jillian set mugs of tea on the table. Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly before asking, “I don’t understand why you’re here. We weren’t friends before. You never even knew me way back in high school, and I’ve never been to your shop in town.”
She knew the words sounded rude as soon as they left her mouth, but confusion had mixed with grief and she was too tired to try to guess anyone’s motives. Waiting for them to stand up and flounce out of her kitchen in disgust, they remained still. Slowly lifting her gaze, she noted each of them staring at her with expressions of what could only be described as kindness.
Speaking first, Jillian said, “It’s been many years since high school, Lizzie. I would hope that you would never hold anything against me from that long ago.”
Now embarrassed, she shook her head and said, “No. I’m sorry to have even implied that. I was several years behind you in high school.” Shrugging, she said, “I always had to work on the farm, so I did very little in high school other than attend. I didn’t really have time for friends or activities. And since then, there was always so much to do here.”
They were quiet, and she swallowed deeply before adding, “Farming is what I love, but it’s... hard. The farm used to be much larger, but my grandfather was forced to sell off many acres because he wasn’t able to produce and sell crops at prices competitive with some of the major farms in the area. We worked from sunup to sundown every day. No days off. No vacations. And it’s as though it’s all slipping away.”