PENELOPE
The past few days have been a whirlwind.
Ever since the private tasting with the First Lady, my life had felt like it was moving at a speed I wasn’t prepared for. The tasting had been an experience I would never forget—security detail surrounding my bakery, agents stationed at every entrance, the entire street practically shut down for a couple of hours just for one meeting.
And it was worth it.
The First Lady was kind, warm, and incredibly down-to-earth. She had sampled every single item we prepared, her eyes lighting up with delight at the flavors. When she took the last bite of a dark chocolate tart, she smiled at me and said, “We’re definitely going with you for the event next month.”
That was it. The deal was sealed.
She and I went over the menu, the expected number of
