“Hello.”
There was an older woman behind a dark wood counter just inside the door. It made me jump a little because I hadn’t expected her to be right there. I’d also spaced out again watching Alex walk away. I thought that perhaps I needed a little more protein in my diet. It might help with my lack of focus. Too bad it couldn’t fix anything else wrong in my life.
“Sorry about that,” she said with a laugh. “Looks like I spooked you a bit, but that’s okay because you startled me too. I wasn’t expecting anyone until later.”
“Oh,” I said. “Are you full? Are there any rooms available?”
“There are,” she said. “We have two rooms available.”
“I’ll take the cheaper one,” I said.
“Okay,” she said with a chuckle. “Nothing wrong with looking for the best deal. That would be the Prairie Grass Suite. It’s $200 a night.”
I was about to say that wouldn’t be an issue because I was so used to Dane and I having a lot of money, but Dane was gone. Dane’s money was gone. All of my recent profits had been reinvested into the video I’d just finished wrapping. It had been self-funded, a way to show the networks what I could offer. So, until I started making money from those sales, I’d been living off of Dane’s support, and he’d left me with all of $500 before kicking me to the curb.
In an email.
I was completely broke until those royalties rolled in, and I had to fight the instinct to pull out one of my credit cards. He’d cut me off from those too. I had to use the cash he’d put in my account to pay for the room. It was stupid, but I couldn’t think of another solution. I wasn’t used to figuring things out for myself, and I was too afraid to go back to Lukas Roth’s office alone to ask for the keys to my uncle’s house.
I always did what Dane wanted or what my agent told me to do, so that I could focus on my fitness. A flat stomach and a butt you could bounce a quarter off of was a full-time job. I just couldn’t tell my fans that. To them I promised results like mine in thirty minutes a day or less. I almost crumpled to the floor again. There was this little voice in the back of my mind telling me that I deserved everything I’d gotten, but I held it together.
My hand shook a little as I pulled my old debit card out of my wallet. What if he hadn’t actually put the money in there? It had been a long time since I had to worry about how I was going to pay for something. I held my breath as we waited for the purchase to clear. It reminded me of being in line at the grocery store before I met Dane. Sometimes all you could do was pray your paycheck hit the bank on time because if it hadn’t, you were going to walk out of the grocery store empty-handed and completely humiliated.
The card went through, and she passed a receipt across the counter for me to sign. “Breakfast is served from six to nine.”
“Breakfast,” I said.
“Yeah, we usually do waffles, pancakes, and cinnamon rolls. Most days I serve eggs and bacon or sausage too. If I don’t do that, I serve fried chicken.”
“Fried chicken for breakfast?”
“Those are the most popular days,” she said with a wink. “Do you want to get your bag before I show you to your room?”
“My bag!” I almost yelled. “Oh, no. I’ll be right back.”
I’d forgotten about my bag. I rushed out the door and prayed the rental car company hadn’t picked up the broken-down Impala yet. I bolted down the sidewalk and around the corner. The hammering in my chest slowed when I saw the car still sitting there.
I retrieved my bag and walked back to the inn. “Good to have you back,” the woman behind the counter said. “I’m Ingrid, by the way. I’m the innkeeper here.”
“Thank you, Ingrid,” I said. “I left my bag in the rental car that has to be towed. I apologize for running out like that.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “I’m glad you were able to get it. Follow me, and I’ll show you to your room.”
The Prairie Grass Suite lived up to its name. It was painted the color of prairie grass and had a beautiful stained-glass window that looked like the Frank Lloyd Wright style. The bed was a queen size covered in a fluffy white comforter and had sky blue accent pillows.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“The television has cable. Comes with HBO if you’re bored. There’s Wi-Fi too. The password is password.”
“How do you keep people from stealing your password?”
“People around here don’t steal, but even if they did, the store next door is run by an older gentleman who doesn’t even own a computer. Well, not a personal one anyway. He’s got a girl that comes in a few times a week to assist him with anything he’d need one for.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. “Is there somewhere around here I could get something healthy for dinner?”
“Not up for diner food?” she said with a chuckle. “I guess you don’t look like the type who eats too much diner food. Well, there’s a pizzeria and a fancy French bistro in town. Oh, and the new Chinese place.”
“Hmm,” I said.
“The guy who runs the Chinese place is nice. He’d probably make you some meat and vegetables with no sauce if you wanted. He could steam it. He started doing that for Martha when she got the diabetes.”
“That would be awesome. Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate that.”
“Just tell him Ingrid sent you.”
When she was gone, I got my laptop out and hooked it up to the Wi-Fi. I opened the email from Dane again and reread it to make sure I wasn’t mistaken about what he’d said. I wasn’t, but that didn’t stop me from reading it three more times to be sure. By the time I was done with that, I’d worked myself into a tizzy. I couldn’t breathe and it felt like the room was closing in on me.
I wanted to run out of there, but I knew that was a bad idea. Instead, I paced in circles around the room until I brought my heart rate down, and I could take a deep breath again.
As soon as I was calm, my phone rang. It was Stan, and I hoped he had good news.
“Allegra,” he said when I picked up.
“Hello, Stan. Can I assume you’re calling about the network this time? Did somebody pick me up for a reality show? I could use a little good news.”
“No,” he said without a hint of humor in his voice. “It’s the opposite, Allegra. Somebody released a video of you on Twitter. It’s from a few years ago, but you can be clearly heard making fun of a plus-size woman as a waitress delivers her a chocolate martini. You were in a club with some friends, and I think one of them was oinking. But the internet thinks you were oinking. You’re canceled Allegra. The company that distributes your videos dropped you, and if you try to fight it, they will sue you into oblivion.”
“What?” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I never…”
“You did, Allegra. I saw the video. You must have been pretty drunk, but the world isn’t going to care. You’re canceled. You’re done.”
“What?”
“And I have to drop you,” he said. “My agency will not allow me to represent a fitness professional who is involved in something like this. I’m sorry, Allegra, but I quit. You’ll have to find another agent if you can find someone who will even go near you. Maybe in a few years.”
“But in a few years, I’ll be in my late thirties,” was all I could think to say.
“Good luck, Allegra,” Stan said and hung up.
I wracked my brain as hard as I could, and all I could think of was my ex-friend Mindy’s bachelorette party. I hardly ever drank alcohol because of the empty calories, but that night I’d had a couple of drinks. I’d also skipped dinner to make up for the calories.
While I knew on an intellectual level that watching the video was a terrible idea, I pulled up Twitter anyway and watched.
It was horrifying, and I was surprised that it took that long for the video to make it on the internet. Of course, Mindy is the one that recorded everything, so it had to be her that leaked the video. I was finally famous. My
name was trending on Twitter.
For all the wrong reasons.
I had to lie down. My head started to pound. I hadn’t had a migraine in years. Diet and exercise kept me healthy, and the headaches hadn’t plagued me since I cut back on diet soda and chocolate.
The room wasn’t very dark, but I crawled under the covers and pulled my laptop in with me. Before I went to sleep, I wrote Dane another email.
I read your email. Are you sure you want to do this? I love you so much.
There was more I wanted to say, but I had to close my eyes. I couldn’t look at the screen anymore. I figured I could finish it when I woke up and perhaps make the message sound less pathetic.
When I woke up a few hours later, I realized that I’d hit the enter button on my laptop and sent the message by accident. What was worse was that he’d responded.
Allegra,
Of course, I’m sure I want to do this. I didn’t tell you everything before, and I probably should have. I’m in love with someone else. Her name is Michella Vandry. We’re starting a life together, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped contacting me. Send your forwarding address to my assistant to get your things. It’s time to move on. This is getting pretty pathetic.
Dane
“Jeez,” I said and sat up. “It’s been less than a day, and he’s acting like I’m some stalker ex still bothering him three years later.”
That was the moment when it hit me. Michella Vandry. The woman Dane said he was in love with. The reason he’d dumped me over email.
A plus-size model.
Chapter Four
My fiancé had left me for a plus-size model. Everything about my life made me perfect for him, and he wanted something completely different. Something I could never be. My dedication to my diet and fitness was the only thing that had kept me from feeling completely out of control, and the man who I thought would be my husband had dumped me for a woman who ate cake.
CAKE!!!
She ate cake out in public. People loved her because they said she was the embodiment of embracing life and loving yourself. I’d always told myself that people like that only said those things because they were covering for how insecure they really felt about themselves.
But, Michella Vandry still had her modeling career and my man. What did I have? My fiancé was gone, my career was done, and I was broke and homeless.
The sound of someone screaming interrupted my thoughts, but when Ingrid began to pound on my room door, I realized it was me screaming. I was standing in the middle of the room with my hands clenched in fists. Tears were streaming down my face, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Allegra, are you okay?” Ingrid said as she barreled into my room using her key. “I knocked but you wouldn’t answer. I was worried you were hurt.”
I turned to her, my eyes wild and completely unhinged. “I’m fine. I thought I had nothing, but I have something. I have that stupid ice cream shop.”
She was about to say something, but I pushed past her. I was a woman on a mission. The world around me was a complete blur as I marched my way to Nutties Sundae Shop.
Just like everything else in my life that day, it was closed. “Closed!” I hollered out. “Of course it’s closed!”
I didn’t have a key, but that didn’t stop me. I went around to the back door, and I kicked that mother-trucker in. Thank you, leg day. No one was around, so I just closed it behind me and pushed a chair I found in the kitchen area in front of it to keep it closed.
The smell inside the shop was indescribably delicious. The air was filled with the scent of candy, fruit, and the perfume of creamy sugar. It was a good thing I was alone, because it elicited another moan from me. My stomach growled, but this time, all I felt was delight.
Everything I thought was mine had been ripped away from me, but I wasn’t going to feel any pain that night. I was done with it all.
A memory hit me. It was the first time my uncle had brought me into the shop when I was five. I was spending the summer at his house again because my father had visitation with me during the summers, but he only took me to spite my mother.
After a day or two of being at his apartment with my stepmother, the fights would start, and I’d get shipped off to Uncle Leonard’s house. Which was fine by me. He was good to me. My mother never went back to court to get the visitation changed because she’d spend her summers on the road following some band around.
“I hope you understand, sweetie. Momma needs a break too,” she’d say when I told her what was going on.
I always wanted to ask her, “What about what I need, Momma?” But I never did.
Sometimes I wished that I could just live with Uncle Leonard in Knox Hills. The little town was a magical place to me when I was a kid. Every summer I’d spent there was my favorite part of my childhood. I’d forgotten that, but the sweet scent of fresh ice cream brought it all rushing back.
How could I have ever forgotten this town or my loving, devoted uncle? Probably because when I became a teenager, I became just like my parents. I was selfish, stubborn, and much to my shame at that moment, I’d never grown out of it. I hadn’t even been there when he died. The man that had loved me more than anyone else had. I’d just gone off and lived my life while pretending he never existed.
But that summer when I was five, when Leonard opened the shop, he was practically a superhero. Only a superhero could own something as wonderful as an ice cream shop, right? That’s what my young mind believed.
As I walked out to the shop area where the freezer cases held the tubs of different flavors, I could almost touch the magic I’d felt when I came to see my uncle as a child. I could almost forget what a smug jerk I’d become, and I could remember the person Uncle Leonard thought I would be someday.
“I’ve failed,” I said. “I’ve failed at it all.”
The moment before I began to weep and wail uncontrollably because I realized that what was happening was all my own fault, I spotted it. The tub of Toffee Twist ice cream was completely fresh. It was a new tub, and it was as if it were calling my name.
My first sundae at the shop was made with Toffee Twist, and it was always my favorite flavor. It was delicious with hot fudge and nuts on top, but it was exquisite on its own too. The perfect blend of sweet, savory butter, and ice-cold creaminess.
My mouth watered as I stood there staring at the tub. It was my shop. I could have a scoop or two.
“But why stop there?” I asked as I found myself yanking the whole tub out of the case.
I grabbed a pink plastic spoon, a spare in case I broke that one, and headed to the back of the store with the tub. When I found the office, I turned on the lights, shut the door, and locked myself in.
On the floor cross-legged, I sat behind the desk and began to dig in. The buttery flavor exploded on my tongue, and all the good memories of my uncle did the same in my brain. Each bite wasn’t a substitute for love, but it did remind me of what it was like to be truly and unconditionally loved. In that moment, that reminder was enough.
The happiness didn’t last, though, and at some point, the whole thing turned into me sobbing and shoving huge spoonfuls of half-melted ice cream into my face.
When I finally came up for air, my stomach was fuller than it had been in years. It was so full that I could barely move. All I could do was lie down in the puddle of my own dignity and moan. Eventually, the food coma kicked in, and I fell asleep.
The deepest sleep of my life was interrupted by the sound of screaming, and that time, it wasn’t me. I sat up and pulled back a huge chunk of my hair that was stuck to my face. It took me a second to orient myself, but I finally remembered I was in Nutties Sundae Shop.
The screaming continued, but it was coming from the front of the store. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled out of the office, nearly tripping over the mostly empty tub of ice cream I’d consumed the night before. The spoon skidded across the floor, and the screaming stopped for a second while the smell of s
weet ice cream hit my nose again and made my stomach roil.
When I walked through the doorway to the front of the shop, a woman in a pink shirt and khaki apron turned around the face me. She paused for a moment, and then began screaming again. Her thin face went from bright red to nearly purple, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her curly dishwater blonde hair had been tucked underneath a Nutties Sundae Shop hat, but her caterwauling had managed to dislodge a few strands.
At first, I didn’t know why she was screaming if it wasn’t because of my little breaking and entering stunt. Then I saw him.
Sprawled out on the floor between the shop’s tables was a man. He was face-up and obviously dead. “Stop screaming,” I said to the woman. “Please, for the love of God, quiet down and give me a second to think.”
“Who are you?” she asked as she backed away from me. “What are you doing here? What was he doing here? What’s going on?”
“I’m Allegra Darling. I own this place now,” I said. “Who are you?”
“Right. Sorry, I was just startled. I’m Lynette Jenner. I’m the manager. I recognize you from pictures your uncle showed us.”
“Okay, Lynette, have you called the sheriff?”
“No, I just. I mean. I saw him and…”
“You started screaming,” I said. “We need to call the sheriff.”
“I can do that,” she said and walked over to the wall phone near the cash register. “I’ll call the sheriff.”
I fought the temptation to go get a closer look at the dead man. It was a crime scene after all, and I didn’t want to contaminate it. I’d seen most of the popular crime scene shows, so I knew how it was done. While I hadn’t watched a ton of television, I did watch those shows on my tablet while I was on the treadmill for an hour at a time. It was my little reward for doing my cardio, and it made doing the exercise less tedious.
Plus, it was helping me not contaminate the crime scene, and I hoped that helped endear the local law enforcement to me. I tried not to think about how the last couple of days of my life had become an unmitigated disaster and the sheriff not hating me when they came to investigate a body in my ice cream shop was the only potential highlight.
Cold as a Witch's Toffee Page 4
