I may have mentioned a time or two that I used to own a small business, a candy shop. That was me more than twenty years ago, sole proprietor of Trifles 'n' Truffles in the thriving metropolis of Wesleyville, PA. I was also the first woman vice president of the Wesleyville Business Association. Good grief, it sounds like I am writing an obituary.
It was good stuff, I am proud to say. I blended my own chocolate and made most of the fillings from scratch. Business was good from September until Mother's Day. In the summer I had a shack at the ball field and sold popsicles. I learned a lot and would try it again in a heartbeat.
The idea was born in the summer of 1983.
We had just come back from a few days vacation with cousins in Rochester, NY. We ate too much Italian food, saw lots of long-lost family, toured Kodak and were generally wiped out. But of course, you know how vacations are. There was still work to be done. We got lumber and paint, painted the house and built a new shed. Beavers weren't as busy as we were.
Steve had just finished the roof and settled in with a Miller when we got an unexpected visit from his boss. Art wasn't known for dropping in. Something was up. Sure enough, he helped himself to a beer and said, "don't be coming back to work Monday, Steve. You're laid off as of today."
Well, we had been through this before. We would survive. It would be at least six months, Art told us. OK, we could do that. We had always been careful to see that unemployment checks would cover our bills. It had happened before...little did we guess it would be eleven months this time.
By the sixth month, I was panicking. Steve seemed unworried as he enjoyed the time with the boys, but I felt desperate. We fought a lot. At Christmas time I made and sold candies of all kinds to earn money for Christmas presents. I got a part-time job in a little candy supply shop. An idea began to form.
I began to walk and to think. After the kids were in bed, I would spend hours on my plan. My aunt fronted me some money so I could experiment with different recipes. I learned chocolate painting. I researched candy supply houses. An old friend who was a CPA helped me with a business plan. Several months later, I got a loan. Now I needed a location, not as easy as it sounds. In Erie, there are zoning laws. You can make it but not sell it, or sell it but not manufacture. I went to Wesleyville. Nestled between Etzel's Barber Shop and Hull's Jewelry was a little place for rent.
I had it painted red and white and hung my sign. We built a kitchen, put up shelves and stocked the pantry. Uncle Don came to work for me, learning to temper chocolate and wash molds. Mom helped, too. She ate all the imperfect pieces!
The barber and the jeweler were happy to help me get started, They shared some of the initial advertising costs and sent flowers on opening day, as did the radio stations. Johnny Arnone sent me the first of many lunches. I got greetings from the bank and the bakery, Padden's and Baby Fair and Wendel's. I was open for business. My license to make chocolate would be available in a few days.
On the day I was expecting the health inspector, it rained. The new kitchen ceiling collapsed. There was water EVERYWHERE, except, praise God, in the chocolate-stocked pantry. AAAAGGGGHHH!!!!
A woman I didn't know came to the door, peeked in and asked if I was open yet. I had been passing out samples for a week or so in the neighborhood. I said no, no candy yet, probably not for awhile, and told her the problem. She sat her bag on the counter, rolled up her sleeves and said, "I guess we'd better pray about this!" and she took my hands in hers. Then she marched into my sloppy kitchen, pulled out a mop and went to work. In the meantime, my friend and bookkeeper showed up unbidden. She too, went to work. We mopped and scrubbed for hours.
Much later, the health inspector arrived. She nodded her way through the kitchen, citing me for a stray coffee mug on the counter, She never looked up at the sagging ceiling. She smiled as she handed me the license. I was in business.
Jackie and Linda remained my friends from that day until the day Jackie died of breast cancer a few years ago, Linda following her a year later. They are still missed.
TNT was up and running. Imagine Christmas ornaments and Nativities made of painted chocolate with peanut butter camels, candy dishes and novelties made of white chocolate. The window had a tree with lights and stockings. Poinsettias filled the store. The smell of warm chocolate, sponge candy and spicy hard tack permeated every corner.
It was among the happiest moments of my life.
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