Weddings and Wasabi by Camy Tang Page A

God leading you to form your own business?”

    God? Jenn’s stomach felt like she’d just stepped off a cliff. Had she even asked God before doing all this?

    What did He think of her catering business? Would He be mad at her for not praying about it before quitting her job? Before telling Aunty Aikiko she wouldn’t work at the restaurant?

    What had she done?

    “If you feel God is leading you to form your own business,” Mrs. Castillo continued, “your family should not hinder you. Their opinions should not clash with what God wants for you.”

    “Er …” Jenn’s throat had closed up. “I, uh … I didn’t exactly ask God … yet.”

    Mrs. Castillo patted her hand. “Then maybe you should.”

    And she left it at that.

    “Nice goal, Joshua!” she called to one of her nephews who had just kicked a ball past his much-older cousin.

    Jenn stared at the game but only saw a blur of people. What had she done? She’d already quit her job. Had already set the wheels in motion to form her own business. She’d lost the primary source of income of their household besides her mom’s retirement.

    Maybe she could withdraw her small business loan application? How could she find another job quickly? Would God help her get employment when she’d already run full-steam ahead on something that wasn’t in His will?

    Wait, she didn’t know this wasn’t His will.

    Well, you certainly didn’t ask Him, did you?

    Could she ask Him now? Would He answer?

    Lord … ?

    What if it was too late?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    Six minutes late. On the wedding day, Aunty Aikiko would probably be clocking them down to the second.

    “We’ve got to plate faster,” Jenn said, working alongside her sous-chef, Sarah.

    Mika, one of the two assistants, passed a plate laden with a petite filet mignon to Karissa, standing at the stove beside her. “Karissa’s holding us up.” Mika winked and playfully bumped her partner in the hip.

    “No, it’s Mika.” Karissa scooped a delicate piece of fish onto the plate and then spooned the herbed shrimp sauce over the fish.

    Jenn took a moment from spooning the red and green pasta into the flower-shaped cookie cutter on the plate in front of her—Mimi’s idea, for a prettier presentation—to study their set up for the trial run of the wedding’s entrée plating. It did look like Mika’s station was holding things up because she had to spoon the sauce over the fish. “Mika, let’s take that sauce and move it here to where Sarah’s arranging the vegetable bouquets.”

    Mika grabbed the pot of sauce and shifted it next to Sarah.

    “We’ll get a hot pot or something to keep it warm on the day,” Jenn said.

    “How about a crock pot?” Mimi suggested from where she was doing the last minute clean-up and presentation of each plate.

    “Good idea.”

    Sarah already had pre-made bundles of carrots and asparagus artfully tied together with tiny braided raw spinach ropes. She plunked the bundle down on the plate and mimicked spooning sauce over the fish. “That’ll work,” she said. “I’ll still be able to keep up.”

    “Let’s shift the order, then. Mika and Karissa get the plates first, then Sarah, then me, and lastly to Mimi.”

    They practiced another fifteen minutes before Jenn called a halt. “Good job, we’re right on time. We’ll get the entire banquet hall served in less than ten minutes.”

    The women exchanged high-fives and whoops of delight. Jenn couldn’t help the starburst of excitement inside her. She loved this—the precision, the time pressure, the feeling of working as a finely-tuned team.

    At moments like this, she knew this was what she was made for.

    So wouldn’t that mean God wanted her to form her own catering business? She still wasn’t sure. She’d been praying for over a week and hadn’t heard clearly from God. At the back of her mind was a fear that He was mad at her and wasn’t speaking to her.

    No, that was silly. God wasn’t a