Between Dreams and Dumplings

Chapter 1

**Life After ‘I Do’**

In Regalhaven, July's warmth lingered like a soft embrace, the kind that made you forget the world outside.

"Eleanor, I know finances have been tight for you. Just sign over custody of Lillian to me. I’ve got five hundred grand ready for you—it's more than enough for you to get by," Isabella Hawthorne insisted. She stood there, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a sleek black pencil skirt, her long legs encased in dark stockings that seemed to reach for the sky.

"I don’t want your money. Not a dime. I can take care of Lillian, and custody is non-negotiable," Eleanor replied, trying hard to keep his tone calm.

"Fair enough. But, Eleanor, you know the costs involved. Kindergarten tuition alone is eighty grand per term. Can you really foot that bill? Regardless, Lillian is my daughter too. I don’t want her to suffer," Isabella pressed, her voice cold and unyielding.

"Why don’t you focus on snagging your ‘golden husband’ rather than worrying about Lillian? That would be more productive," Eleanor shot back, emotions flaring just below the surface.

Isabella's face turned crimson with frustration. Without another word, she whirled around and climbed into a sleek black Maybach. The engine roared to life, throwing up a cloud of dust that settled heavily in the air.

Eleanor turned back to his battered electric scooter, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. He had not expected to run into his ex-wife here—much less to be hounded for custody. Adding insult to injury, this was the fifth flat tire he’d dealt with in just a few days. His delivery orders were consistently late, and the fines from customer complaints were stacking up, surpassing his meager earnings.

Growing up poor, Eleanor had long ago accepted the struggles of starting over post-divorce. But the thought of Lillian’s upcoming school fees gnawed at him. He could take the hardship, but not for her.

He wheeled his scooter to a nearby mobile repair shop where he was a regular. The mechanic greeted him with a wry smile. They shared a momentary glance—Eleanor didn’t feel like playing the ‘let’s laugh about your bad luck’ game today.

Lillian attended Regent Academy Nursery, a prestigious preschool known for its outstanding facilities—and its exorbitant tuition fees. With just sixty grand left on his debit card, he was already twenty grand short for the next term. If he couldn’t scrape together the cash in two short months, he’d have no choice but to transfer her to a public school.

Still, asking Isabella for help was out of the question. Their divorce had finalized a month ago, with custody granted to him under the condition he left with nothing. It wasn’t a dramatic tale; they were just two people who had been on different paths. With his lack of connections and resources, Eleanor had never provided Isabella with anything but an occasional quiet presence—an unwanted relic of a reckless night.

After a lifetime as a stay-at-home husband, Eleanor had kept their home immaculate. It still didn’t escape his in-laws’ resentment. To them, he was a freeloader—a man without ambition.

He and Isabella had been living separate lives for some time, merely maintaining the façade for Lillian’s sake.

“Done. Five bucks. Honestly, you might as well just replace the whole tire at this point. The patches could make a quilt,” the mechanic chuckled.

“Yeah, well, just got the scooter, tight on funds. It’ll have to do for now,” Eleanor replied, scanning his phone to pay.

With the flat repaired, he readied himself to deliver another late order. The buyer had already complained about the delay and left a message saying they didn’t need the food anymore.

"Great," he muttered under his breath.

Two more deliveries later, Eleanor found himself at Silverford Bridge, propping his scooter up and pulling out the now-cold takeout. As a slight breeze wafted over the water, he sighed, finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just dive in and be a fish for a day?” the thought floated through his mind.

Then, with a loud splash, someone jumped from the bridge.

Heart racing, Eleanor’s instincts kicked in. He launched his half-eaten meal aside and, in one fluid motion, stripped off his shirt and dove into the cold water below.

“Help! Save her!” was the only thought running through his mind as the chilling embrace of the river enveloped him.

Eleanor had always been a strong swimmer—years of practice in his hometown had kept his skills sharp, and he cut through the water effortlessly, quickly reaching for the submerged figure.

Above, onlookers started to gather, a flurry of phones raised to capture the moment while others began shouting “You got this!” and “Swim!”

He could feel the panicked woman’s hand slipping beneath the surface. Eleanor gritted his teeth, pushing his own fatigue aside. It felt like dragging a boat as he grasped her from behind and began to swim back toward safety.

Halfway there, the cold water began to bite into his muscles, tension building as cramps threatened to seize his legs. Panic simmered, but he forced it down, thinking of Lillian’s smiling face.

“Grab the rope!” someone shouted from the shore.

A young man had dashed to the scene, securing a length of rope and improvising a makeshift lifeline. Eleanor, exhausted but driven, snagged the rope just as it was tossed into reach. As the crowd rallied, they pulled him and the unconscious woman back to the bank.

Gasping for air, Eleanor glanced over his shoulder to check on the woman. Thankfully, she was alive, merely knocked out.

“Way to go!” a voice called from the gathering crowd, claps and cheers erupting around him.

Eleanor merely nodded, acknowledging those who helped, before remounting his soaked scooter. He had orders to finish, and the woman was in good hands now.

As he rode away, the wind dried his damp clothes, leaving him feeling strangely invigorated.

Just as he passed Silverford Bridge, a voice rang in his mind like an alert.

"Life saved detected. Initiating protocol for Noble Human Consortium."

"…Progress at one hundred percent.”

“Due to your bravery, you’ve been awarded a storefront located on Prosper Avenue. Valid for two months. Specific details enclosed…”

“Based on your actions today, the system has automatically granted you one lottery chance. Your current points will determine draw opportunities—every hundred dollars equals one point, and three hundred points can redeem a draw.”

“Would you like to proceed with your draw now?”

Eleanor halted mid-ride, bewildered, looking around as if expecting to find an answer hiding in the shadows. Then, without thinking, he slapped himself hard across the face.

“Abnormal behavior detected. The system operates within your consciousness at a higher-dimensional frequency. Please refrain from self-harm.”

Eleanor shook his head, contemplating. If this was real, then that store on Prosper Avenue had to exist. He decided to investigate further.

Revving up his scooter, he sped off toward Prosper Avenue, his excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

Upon reaching the location provided, Eleanor stopped in his tracks. An actual storefront stood before him, doors wide open. He walked inside, astounded to find it outfitted with several tables and a full kitchen.

Dining permits hung proudly on the walls, showcasing Eleanor’s name as the registered owner.

On a table lay a rental agreement—the tenant would cover utilities.

This was real.

“Lottery draw,” Eleanor whispered with a sense of awe.

In an instant, an enormous spinning wheel appeared in his mind, whirling like a tornado.

“Ding! Congratulations, you’ve won ‘Basic Snack—Ultimate Wonton Recipe’.”

As the announcement echoed, a flood of wonton-making techniques flooded Eleanor’s consciousness, intricately detailing every step and ingredient necessary.

Suddenly, the weight of the world felt a little lighter, the possibilities a little brighter.

Chapter 2

**Dinner**

If there really are miracles in this world, Eleanor Ashford was living in one.

After browsing through several shops, Eleanor snagged a few random food delivery orders. Just before sunset, he hopped onto his electric scooter, setting off for Greenmarket, ready to pick up ingredients for his Herb-Stuffed Dumplings.

Arriving at the market, he was disheartened to find many vendors already closing up for the day. Just as he was about to turn back, he ran into Edward Lancaster, a friendly local who recommended coming back tomorrow morning at four when the market would be bustling and prices lower.

Though he appreciated Edward's advice, Eleanor still picked up some ingredients for the dumplings and treated himself to a portion of fried chicken and stinky tofu before heading back to Riverside Cottage.

His home was a modest three-bedroom apartment. He had opted for a roommate to save on expenses.

As soon as he opened the door, the comforting sight greeted him: his daughter, Lillian Ashford, and their other roommate, Oliver Blackwood, were sprawled on the sofa, both glued to their phones. Oliver’s injured foot—he had twisted it a few days earlier after a tumble down the stairs—rested awkwardly on the coffee table. Eleanor had been the one to take him to the hospital.

“Lillian, aren’t you the sweetest,” Eleanor said as he placed the fried chicken in the center of the table.

“Dad!” Lillian squealed, breaking free from Oliver's side.

“Wow, Dad! You’re home early today,” Lillian exclaimed, her double ponytails bouncing as she rushed toward him. People often said children were angels, and this five-year-old was truly a little piece of heaven.

“Yeah, Dad missed you,” Eleanor said, teasingly rubbing his stubbled chin against her cheek, eliciting a fit of giggles.

“How’s your foot feeling today, Oliver?” Eleanor asked, shifting his attention.

“Don’t worry, Amelia Rose; a little twist isn’t going to bring me down,” Oliver replied, his eyes still glued to the anime playing on his phone. Eleanor didn’t know much about these shows, but Oliver gave off the quirky vibe of someone who frequented online fandoms—his vocabulary was peppered with odd phrases.

“Glad to hear that. I brought you both some goodies,” Eleanor announced, pulling out the fried chicken and stinky tofu from the bag.

Oliver perked up at the smell, rising in his seat with a wince as pain shot through his foot. Clenching his jaw, he spotted the stinky tofu like a gleaming treasure.

“Amelia Rose, you’re the best! Thanks a ton!” he beamed.

“Ah, no! Don’t eat that, smelly sister!” Lillian protested, pinching her nose at the mere thought.

Oliver chuckled, using a skewer to stab a piece of stinky tofu, playfully pointing at Lillian with his finger. “What do you know about smelly, little one? This is real gourmet cuisine.”

Eleanor smiled to himself. Life was good. Initially, he worried that Lillian might struggle with their new living situation, but in the past month, she and Oliver had formed a lovely friendship. She seemed perfectly at home.

“All right, you two dig in, but not too much! I’m going to whip up dinner. Lillian, I’ve got something special planned for you. Oliver, you’re welcome to join too,” he said.

“Yay! Long live Amelia Rose!” Oliver cheered.

“Yay! Long live hot dad!” Lillian chanted, clapping her hands.

Eleanor made his way to the kitchen, reminiscing on the years spent with Isabella Hawthorne, that proved invaluable in honing his culinary skills.

He prepped garlic, carrots, black fungus, and green peppers, meticulously washing and chopping them. After boiling the black fungus for a minute, he cleaned the pork, slicing it against the grain to create tender strips. Following another rinse, he let the meat sit and marinate with salt, pepper, sugar, soy sauce, and a splash of rice wine while adding an egg white and some cornstarch.

When the oil reached the perfect sizzle, he tossed in the marinated pork, frying it until just cooked before moving on to the vegetables.

As the enticing aroma wafted through the apartment, both Lillian and Oliver exchanged glances, intrigued.

“Whoa, Amelia Rose, what’s cooking? It smells amazing!” Oliver said, nose twitching as he forgot about his previous snack.

“Ha! My dad is the best chef!” Lillian declared proudly.

“Hey, what did your dad used to do? I never heard that from Amelia Rose,” Oliver asked, curiosity painted on his face.

Lillian pondered for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling. “He’s a dad.”

Oliver rolled his eyes playfully.

Soon, Eleanor brought out a colorful array of dishes, the first time he’d cooked this much since the divorce. He noticed Lillian had lost some of her usual appetite lately, but she still managed to eat without complaint.

“Wow, Amelia Rose, you concealed your chef skills pretty well!” Oliver exclaimed, admiring the feast.

“Can you make it over here? If it’s a hassle, I can serve you separately,” Eleanor offered.

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Watch this.” Oliver pushed off the sofa, using his good leg to hop over to a chair.

Eleanor chuckled. “Lillian, go wash your hands and grab a wet wipe for Oliver while you’re at it.”

“Got it, Dad!” she chirped.

After they settled down, Oliver couldn’t hold back any longer and eagerly grabbed his chopsticks, diving into the stir-fried pork.

“Wow! Amelia Rose, what is this magic? This is incredible!” Oliver exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief as he tasted the dish.

“It’s even better than Robert’s meals from the restaurant!” he announced.

“Told you! My dad’s cooking kicks ass!” Lillian agreed, taking her own mouthful.

“Glad you like it! Eat up!” Eleanor laughed, heart swelling with pride.

“Hey, Eleanor, did you make pasta too?” Oliver suddenly noticed the flour dusting Eleanor’s apron.

“Just wait, the water’s boiling now,” Eleanor called back, retreating into the kitchen.

A moment later, fragrant steam billowed into the living room.

“That smells amazing! What’s that?” Oliver asked, having just finished a bowl of rice.

Lillian was equally curious, a new scent lingering in her nostrils. Could Dad have created yet another culinary masterpiece?

“Coming right up!”

Eleanor shouted as he placed two bowls in front of them.

“Try this!”

“Dad, what is this?” Lillian asked with wide eyes.

“This is Herb-Stuffed Dumplings, also known as wontons. But I guarantee you've never had ones this aromatic before,” Oliver replied, suddenly intrigued.

The dumplings glistened in a rich broth, delicate yet packed with flavor. A steaming mound of them sat in the bowl, each enticing, translucent skin hinting at the treasures inside.

With a look of awe, Oliver crashed into the first dumpling, savoring the first bite as the flavors exploded in his mouth, rich and fragrant.

He couldn’t believe how perfect they were—each wrapper thin but resilient, the stuffing impossibly delightful.

As Eleanor watched, Oliver devoured every last bit, then drained the bowl clean, his face lit up with joy.

“All gone, Amelia Rose?” he said seriously, inhaling deeply before locking eyes with Eleanor. “I’m officially your biggest fan. I’m putting away every last dumpling you’ve got; you can’t stop me.”

Chapter 3

Herb-Stuffed Dumplings…

Eleanor Ashford rose from the small kitchen table to refill Oliver Blackwood’s bowl with more of her famous herb-stuffed dumplings.

“Dad, these are amazing! But I’ve had too much fried chicken—no way I can eat any more,” Lillian Ashford said, patting her round little belly.

Eleanor smiled and ruffled her daughter’s hair, her heart swelling with pride. She knew their little family dream was about to take flight.

“I’m opening the dumpling shop tomorrow,” Eleanor announced with determination.

“Seriously? Julian Clark won’t know what hit him! Your herb-stuffed dumplings will blow the competition out of the water,” Oliver added, teasingly.

“Not sure if I’ll blow anyone’s mind, but I can see you and Lillian are about to pop,” she quipped back.

“Come on, just one more bowl!” Lillian pleaded.

“Sorry, kiddo. That’s all for today.”

“……”

……

The next morning, dawn broke early, and Eleanor was up at four a.m. thanks to Edward Lancaster’s encouragement. She hit the local farmers market, where vendors were already setting up their stalls.

After haggling and filling her cart with fresh ingredients, she spent a hefty $516—mainly on the pricey flour and meat. By the time she got back to the shop, it was already five o’clock. She rolled up her sleeves and set to work, folding dumplings while simmering the broth she had made the night before.

By seven, the sun was up, spreading warmth over the bustling street.

Noticing the shop was still empty, she dashed back home to scoop up Lillian. With her delivery gig behind her, it was time for a family venture. Why bother Oliver Blackwood with babysitting when she could bring Lillian along?

Once back at the store, Eleanor lifted the metal roll-up door to greet the day’s possibilities. With no signage yet, she propped a hand-drawn sign in the window.

“Fresh Herb-Stuffed Dumplings, $10 a bowl. Grand opening—no tricks here.”

All she had to do now was wait for customers.

Situated near Prosper Avenue, a hub for start-ups in Regalhaven, the street buzzed with hustle and bustle. During her days as a delivery driver, she used to pick up orders from this area constantly, so the foot traffic was promising.

As the smell of her broth wafted out into the street, Lillian chimed in. “Dad, I’m starving!”

Eleanor set the bowl of dough aside, washed her hands, and tousled Lillian’s hair in affection. “Let’s cook you up a bowl of dumplings, pumpkin.”

“Yay!”

Lillian had a small appetite, so Eleanor decided on just four dumplings. In no time, they were bubbling nicely in the pot.

Setting Lillian on a stool that was a little too big for her, Eleanor chuckled as she realized her daughter’s feet barely touched the ground. She snapped a quick photo, already anticipating the memories they’d share today.

Unlike her father, Oliver, who would wolf his food down, Lillian savored every bite as the flavor hit her taste buds.

As the clock ticked to eight, Eleanor felt calm amidst the chaos. She’d folded over six hundred dumplings in the past hour.

While Lillian munched away, playing at the front of the shop, Eleanor watched as passersby filled the surrounding businesses. However, the space that was supposed to welcome customers remained blissfully empty.

Just then, two sharply dressed women strolled past. “Aww, look at the cute little girl!” one exclaimed.

“Hey there, cutie! How old are you?” asked Emily, the one with sun-kissed hair.

Lillian squinted her big innocent eyes at them. “My dad says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

The women burst into laughter, Emily bending down slightly to coax Lillian. “You’ve got a smart dad there. This must be the dumpling place, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Lillian nodded proudly.

“Clara, let’s grab some breakfast here.” Emily motioned to her friend, glancing at the handwritten sign outside.

“Does it feel right, though? There’s no proper signage,” Clara said with skepticism.

“Let’s just go in. Worst case, we can walk right back out. That’s how restaurants work, right?”

“I promise, my dad makes the best dumplings ever!” Lillian puffed out her little chest.

“Then let’s see if you’re right! If they’re not good, I might just have to take you away,” Clara joked.

With a squeal, Lillian dashed inside. “Dad! Someone’s trying to kidnap me!”

Eleanor, busy prepping in the kitchen, shot out like a bolt of lightning at the sound of her daughter’s voice.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay! Daddy’s right here! Nobody’s taking you anywhere!”

Lifting Lillian into her arms, he glanced at Clara and Emily. “Sorry about that; kids say the silliest things. She must think you're up to no good.”

Clara laughed, “I was just teasing! She’s adorable. Can we order some dumplings?”

“Of course, just give me a second,” Eleanor replied, a bit flustered but relieved they were interested.

After setting Lillian down, Eleanor winked at her daughter. “You stay close, alright? Let’s get these ladies their dumplings.”

Lillian pouted but stayed put, clearly enamored with the two women who were now discussing office gossip around a small table.

A rich aroma began to fill the air, drawing Clara’s attention. “Wow, it smells incredible in here!”

“Emily, can you smell that?” Clara exclaimed, her eyes gleaming.

“Definitely, it’s irresistible,” Emily said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eleanor emerged from the kitchen, clutching two bowls of steaming dumplings, careful not to spill. “Here you go,” she said, presenting them at the table.

“Whoa, this looks amazing!” Clara said, barely able to contain herself. She dug in, taking a bite without hesitation.

“Oh my God,” Clara gasped, her eyes widening. “This is unbelievable!”

Eleanor peeked through the kitchen door, anxiety mixing with pride.

“Emily, you’ve got to try this!” Clara mumbled through a mouth full of dumplings, her lipstick soon forgotten in her frenzy.

Margaret Lancaster strolled in, raising an eyebrow at her friend. “Clara, is this dumpling really that good?”

With dumplings halfway gone, Clara would barely pause to respond. “Boss, another round, please!”

Margaret grinned, taking her cue. She scooped up a dumpling for herself. Its golden sheen caught her eye, and as she sank her teeth into the tender dough, unexpected tears sprang forth.

“Oh…,” she sighed, momentarily lost in the flavor, memories flooding back of home and warmth. She hadn’t meant to get emotional, but all those years spent away chased away her appetite for adventure, stirring a familiar ache in her heart.

At that moment, she felt undeniably homesick.

Chapter 4

**Construction Workers**

“Emily, what’s going on?” Clara Beaumont asked, noticing the glistening corners of Margaret Lancaster’s eyes.

“I’m fine, really…” Margaret wiped away a stray tear. “It’s just that those Herb-Stuffed Dumplings were so delicious, they made me a bit homesick.”

Clara fell silent, the weight of her own nostalgia settling over her like a heavy blanket. It had been ages since she’d last been home. Her life had become an endless cycle of waking up at the Leased Manor, slogging through the day at Enterprise, and returning to sleep. If it weren't for lunch breaks, she might as well have been a robot.

But she shook off her melancholy, determined to lift the mood. “Come on, Emily! You just got promoted to team leader—that’s a huge deal! All those years away from home were for this opportunity, right? Plus, you’ve got me right here by your side.”

“Clara, have you eaten enough?” A subtle twitch of Margaret’s nose hinted that she wanted to change the subject.

“Do you want the honest answer or the one you want to hear?”

Margaret shot her a sidelong glance.

Clara playfully pinched her own waist. “I'm not like you lucky ones who can eat anything and not gain an ounce. I’m on a mission to channel my inner goddess, but... Sebastian Cook’s Herb-Stuffed Dumplings are just too good. I could easily go for another bowl.”

Margaret couldn’t help but chuckle at Clara’s antics. “Sebastian, we’ll take another bowl over here!”

Moments later, both women placed their empty bowls down, having savored every last bite of the dumplings. Clara let out a satisfying belch, while Margaret suppressed her own, noticing a pint-sized observer watching her intently.

“Sebastian, where do we pay?”

At the mention of his name, Eleanor Ashford abruptly remembered she hadn’t pulled up the payment QR code.

“Ah, just scan my phone first.”

Eleanor stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as she produced her phone and opened the QR code for payment.

“Forty dollars received,” the phone chimed.

“Boss, how old is your daughter? She’s a cute little thing,” Margaret ventured, glancing at Eleanor’s daughter standing by the table.

“She’s five. Since it’s summer break, I thought I’d let her hang out at the shop so I can keep an eye on her.”

“Have you thought about putting her in any classes?” Margaret asked.

Eleanor hesitated, recalling that while he once considered extracurriculars for Lillian, life had changed drastically post-divorce, and finances were tight.

“Lillian doesn’t need classes; she likes being with her dad,” Lillian piped up, wrapping her arms around Eleanor’s leg.

“Oh my, that’s just too precious,” Clara cooed, her heart melting at the adorable sight.

Margaret fiddled with her hands, feeling a bit shy. “Thanks for the food, Sebastian.”

Eleanor, puzzled, replied, “If you liked the taste, you're always welcome to come back.”

“Don’t worry, Sebastian. I’ve never had Herb-Stuffed Dumplings this good before. I’ll spread the word once I’m at work. Oh, and you should really put up a sign outside! If people don’t see it from the street, they won’t even know about this hidden gem,” Clara said enthusiastically, standing up and patting her stomach.

Eleanor chuckled. “We just opened, and it was all a bit rushed. I’ll make sure to get that done.”

“Great! Now, let’s bounce. Say goodbye to the nice folks, Lillian,” Margaret prompted.

Little Lillian clung to Eleanor’s leg, hesitant to let go.

“She’s a bit shy,” Eleanor remarked.

The two women smiled but didn’t press the matter any further.

As they reached the door, Lillian gathered her courage and squeaked, “Bye, sisters!”

Once they’d left, Margaret turned to Clara and whispered, “Did you notice how handsome the owner is?”

Clara squinted at her friend, bemused. “Emily, that’s a risky thought. The guy’s got a child.”

Margaret stifled a laugh. “You’re getting the wrong idea! I think he’s just quite attractive and a fantastic cook. His wife must be pretty lucky.”

“Lucky, perhaps, but didn’t you mention there are guys pursuing you at work?” Clara replied.

Margaret rolled her eyes. Her sweet, naive looks meant she attracted plenty of attention, but she felt the persona she’d created didn’t match what she had originally envisioned for herself.

“I don’t want to hear it. Eating those dumplings made me nostalgic for the spicy soup from my hometown. I’ve tried every place around here that sells it, but none have the right soul.”

“What does ‘soul’ mean in spicy soup terms?” Clara asked, intrigued, since she had heard Margaret rave about the dish countless times. She had even sampled it herself once, but it hadn’t lived up to the hype.

Margaret pouted. “I’m not telling you.”

“Oh come on!” Clara exclaimed, barely able to contain her annoyance at the cliffhanger.

Just as she was about to retort, Margaret took off running to distance herself from Clara.

Meanwhile, three construction workers shuffled into the shop, pausing at the entrance.

“Sebastian! You sell Herb-Stuffed Dumplings, right?”

Eleanor spotted the three men in their work clothes as they entered and approached them with a smile. “How many would you like?”

The tallest of the group grinned. “Just one bowl each. We were just at a spot where an Almond Milk costs eight bucks—a total rip-off. Yours is way cheaper!”

Eleanor beamed. “Well, this section is considered the trendy part of Regalhaven, so prices can be high. I keep things modest and hope for volume. You guys find a spot to sit, and I’ll whip up those dumplings.”

“Sounds good,” the men replied, their accents thick with the local dialect.

“Henry, I heard your daughter did well on her exams!” one of the men said once they’d settled down.

“Man, you just can’t hide good news!” Henry laughed, his face lighting up. “She called me yesterday, said she passed the cutoff. I don’t even know what that means, but when I asked if she could go to college, she said yes! Man, I never thought I’d see the day—my little girl’s got what it takes! All those years I spent working away, and she’s still focused on her studies.”

“What’s a college, uncle?” Lillian piped up, curious at the joyful conversation surrounding her.

“Oh, this little girl is adorable!” One of the construction workers grinned at Lillian, his heart melting at her innocence. “College is a place for higher learning. When you grow up, you should definitely go!”

“But why do the builders like you guys work so hard and don’t get to sit in an office like the college people?” Lillian asked, her innocent curiosity shining.

The men were taken aback for a moment by her question, and just then, Eleanor returned with steaming bowls of dumplings.

“Careful, they’re hot!” she cautioned as she set the bowls down.

The rich aroma filled the air, enticing the men.

“Wow, these Herb-Stuffed Dumplings smell incredible!”

Chapter 5

**All's Well That Ends Well**

The air was filled with the intoxicating aroma of Herb-Stuffed Dumplings, each little dumpling perfectly rounded, resembling tiny plump dolls resting in a bowl.

Thomas, William, and Henry Fields were quickly entranced by the delicious scent wafting from the bowl, their thoughts of Lillian Ashford vanishing like the first light of dawn.

As soon as the dumplings hit their tongues, they were met with a blissful chewiness, the soft dough sticking ever so slightly as it melded with the savory filling. Each bite was a delightful texture, a party for the palate.

Though these three workers had enjoyed dumplings before, they had never tasted anything quite this good…

In no time, they had devoured the first bowl, broth and all.

“Another bowl, please!”

“Make that two!” Their voices mingled together, eager for more.

Eleanor Ashford, the owner, beamed and nodded, retreating to the kitchen to whip up three more bowls.

Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Dorothy Kensington, her arm hooked around a basket brimming with fresh produce, evidently just returned from the Greenmarket.

Eleanor’s shop was cozy, so it didn’t take long for Dorothy to spot the trio of satisfied men still vaguely pining for more dumplings.

“Is this a new place?” Dorothy called out, tilting her head curiously.

“Sure is!” Eleanor replied from the kitchen, her voice cheerful.

Dorothy scrutinized the three workers, her brow furrowed as doubt crept in. She had ventured out this morning for dumplings when her grandson requested them but found no other shops selling them. When she stumbled upon this unmarked eatery offering dumplings at cheap prices, she figured it was worth a shot—yet the unclear surroundings made her wary.

Lillian, overhearing her, piped up, “My dad makes the best dumplings! They’re my favorite!”

The men waiting for their second helping chuckled at her earnestness. One teased, “Don’t worry, miss. We’ve already finished a bowl, and this place is fantastic. The boss is cooking our second bowl right now!”

“Seriously? Are you guys just paid actors?” Dorothy raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing her tone.

“C’mon, lady, look around! This place doesn’t even have a sign! If they were paying me to shill, I’d hope for a better setup. If you find a spot that’s giving away free meals for a review, you better hit me up!” The workers laughed.

Eleanor, eavesdropping from the kitchen, couldn’t help but smile at their banter, but she also mulled over getting a proper sign soon—anything to boost her little shop's visibility.

Though Dorothy rolled her eyes, her interest was piqued. “Sooo… it’s ten bucks a bowl, right?”

“Yup!” Eleanor confirmed.

“Then I’ll take one to go.”

Eleanor nodded with enthusiasm. Moments later, four bowls were ready for the taking.

“Just scan my phone for payment,” Eleanor said, showing her QR code.

Dorothy shook her head. “I don’t do the phone apps—only cash.”

“Sure thing!” Eleanor replied, as Dorothy pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. Thankfully, Eleanor had some change ready and returned ninety bucks to her.

As Dorothy turned to leave, Lillian suddenly remembered something. “Bye, Auntie!” she called out.

Though unsure about the dumplings, Dorothy found herself smiling at Lillian’s sweet voice and waved back.

Once outside, Dorothy muttered to herself, “Ten bucks for just a few dumplings and soup? I could make a ton for that price at home…” But honestly, she didn’t want to cook at this hour and had settled for the easiest option.

Meanwhile, the three workers finished their second bowl, satisfied but decidedly not asking for a third. Normally, their breakfasts consisted of a bowl of plain rice and maybe some pickled veggies. Splurging twenty bucks on today’s meal felt like a luxury.

“Time to pay up!” Thomas announced.

Eleanor stepped forward, holding her phone with the QR code visible. “That’ll be forty bucks. Consider the two extra bowls my celebration gift for your daughter getting into college!”

Henry shook his head firmly. “No way! We may work hard labor, but we pay our bills. Your generosity is noted, but we're covering this.”

Eleanor didn’t push further, accepting the goodwill with a smile. “Thank you! Next time, be sure to bring your buddies with you for a meal!”

Afterwards, Dorothy returned home, waking her grandson from a deep sleep. Summer break meant he’d been staying up late, catching his friend’s latest game on his phone, leaving him a bit groggy.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart! Grandma brought you dumplings!”

His eyes slowly blinked open as he shuffled to the table. The smell caught him off guard, and as soon as he took his first bite, he froze in surprise.

Dorothy, noticing his reaction, exclaimed, “What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

“Grandma, where did you get these dumplings?” he asked, his voice abrupt and wide-eyed.

Caught off guard, Dorothy assumed that was a sign he didn’t like them. “Oh, dear! I’ll go back and hunt down that owner!”

But before she could follow through, he quickly grabbed her arm, almost pleading, “Wait! No! I want more. These are even better than yours!”

“What?” Dorothy was dumbfounded. Her grandson adored her cooking and had always claimed her dumplings were unbeatable. Could this place really be that good?

But with her bowl empty, she had no chance to try any herself. Not wanting to dash out without some hint, her grandson began to whine, asking repeatedly, “But really, where are they from?”

Finally, with no choice, she relented and took him back to Eleanor’s shop for seconds.

As they stepped outside, they ran into a neighbor.

“Up and about early, huh? Unlike my grandkid, who’s still snoring,” the neighbor joked.

Dorothy replied, “You won’t believe it! There’s a new dumpling joint on Prosper Avenue, and my grandson insists they’re amazing. We’re going to restock!”

“Someone’s making dumplings better than you? Is that even possible?” the neighbor teased.

With his mouth still watering, her grandson chimed in, “Oh, they’re amazing! I could eat a whole bunch!”

“That’s it—I’m coming too! I’ll grab some for my grandson who’s still asleep.”

Upon arrival, they found Eleanor’s shop buzzing with diners. Only one table was free among the six, and Dorothy felt a flicker of surprise. In such a short time, the little shop had filled up!

“Two bowls, no—make that three dumplings! One to go, two for here,” she ordered, her eyes bright with intrigue.

“Coming right up!” Eleanor called from the kitchen.

Albert, tagged along by Dorothy, took in the enticing air laden with savory scents. “Looks like this place is a hit. Must be delicious if it’s packed like this,” he mused.

Dorothy remained skeptical. After all, her grandson had previously insisted her dumplings were the best. With this challenge, she was determined to find out.

Despite the bustling crowd, the dumplings were quickly prepared and placed before them.

As her grandson took his first bite, a contented grin spread across his face. He dove in, taking another, bigger bite.

Sensing her son’s glee, Dorothy picked up a dumpling and popped it into her mouth.

Waves of flavor exploded, nearly overwhelming her. “What?! These are incredible!” she blinked in astonishment.

In no time, her bowl was empty too, and she glanced over at her grandson, feeling insatiable. “Two more bowls, please!” she called out.

The chorus of voices swelled together, “Another bowl, please!” Eleanor was busy but couldn’t hold back a grin at the sounds of satisfied customers.

In the midst of it all, Lillian, eager and filled with excitement, took over her mom’s phone, ready to assist with payments, bringing an infectious spirit to the bustling little eatery.

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