Boardwalk Brides

by Janice Thompson

  Hmm. So much for action-suspense flicks. From now on, it was romance all the way. She lingered, deep in thought. So many things about tonight made sense. Being in Ryan’s arms. The things he’d said about the shop. Even his speech about Atlantic City. The man was a walking billboard. A marketing guru. He’d certainly given her a lot to think about with his enthusiastic dissertation.

  Her eyes popped open quite suddenly as realization set in. “You know, you’re right.”

  “About?” His brow wrinkled.

  “Everything. We’ve been trying to get people interested in candy. Been trying to sell them on sweets. What we need to do is market our products to the masses to draw them back to that quieter, simpler time.”

  He stared at her, confused. “Wait a minute. I just kissed you, and now you’re back to talking about marketing?”

  “Oops.” She stared at him, warmth creeping its way into her cheeks. “Sorry. Not sure how that happened. But Ryan. . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Ryan, something about being with you makes me want to succeed. I want to be the best I can be.”

  “Same here.” He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it, then looked into her eyes.

  “I can do this,” she whispered, looking up at the CARINI’S CONFECTIONS sign. “With God’s help, I can do this.”

  FIFTEEN

  On Monday morning, Taffie arrived at the store, deep in thought. Despite her best attempts, she couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan. The joy in his eyes. The sweetness of his kiss. The comfort of his embrace. She’d pondered all of these things from Saturday night till now, and she doubted she’d be able to stop anytime soon. He’d made plans to come by the shop later today, and her heart swelled with anticipation. Oh, if only she didn’t have to wait!

  Just as she reached into her purse for the key, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit approached. “Excuse me. Are you a member of the Carini family?”

  “I am.” Before using her key to open the door, she paused to look into his eyes. Though completely business-like in appearance, something about him caused a shiver to run down her spine. “Can I help you?”

  He extended his hand. “My name is Paul McKinley. I’m an attorney representing the owner of the new Gold Dust Casino. Likely you’ve heard about the project. We’ll be breaking ground in a few weeks.”

  She’d heard, all right. Taffie bit her lip to keep from sharing her opinion on the matter. All Atlantic City needed was another casino. She’d had her fill of them, to be honest. Why the city saw fit to allow another one in this already crowded area was beyond her.

  “I wonder if you might have a few minutes to chat.” He smiled, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like returning the gesture.

  “I, um. . .” She started to press the key in the lock, but realized he might try to follow her inside the shop, so she hesitated. Taffie could think of nothing worse than being stuck inside the shop with someone who sent a chill up her spine at first meeting. No, best to stay outside in clear view.

  “Have I come at a bad time?” He glanced down the empty boardwalk and she suddenly realized he must have deliberately picked the early morning hour to approach her. Clever.

  “No, I. . .” She glanced at the key in her hand, trying to make a decision.

  “I promise I’ve not come to bring you anything but good news. If you’re willing to talk inside, I’d be perfectly comfortable with the door open. If not, I don’t mind standing out here.”

  She hesitantly opened the shop, leaving the door ajar. After putting her purse behind the counter, she gestured for him to sit at the closest table. Before taking his seat, he reached to pull back a chair for her. Somehow his gesture didn’t feel as genuine as Ryan’s had on Saturday night at the restaurant. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what this fellow was up to. Surely he was here with something specific in mind. He had a determined look about him.

  He got straight to it, scarcely pausing to catch a breath. “We’ve acquired the adjoining property, as you probably know. And, as I mentioned, ground-breaking will take place soon. Still, my client has approached me with a proposition, one I’ve been asked to present to your family.”

  “A proposition?” For whatever reason, a sinking feeling came over Taffie. Whatever this fellow had to say couldn’t be good. She took a seat across from him and braced herself, all the while trying to look as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  McKinley put his briefcase on the table and snapped it open. “My client has had his eye on your property for some time now. He understands that Carini’s is a landmark here in Atlantic City and wants to see your company succeed, but he also sees that the candy shop sits empty at least half of the year. Or more.”

  Taffie did her best not to groan aloud at that last part. Even the casino owners were taking note of the fact that the shop couldn’t keep a steady stream of customers? What next? Would the newspapers run an article, rubbing their noses in it?

  McKinley pulled some papers out of his briefcase and thumbed through them. “After considerable thought, he has asked me to present you with an offer to purchase your property.”

  “P–purchase our property? But. . .Carini’s isn’t for sale. My grandfather bought this land in the 1930s and it’s been in the family ever since.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know the history of your store.” Mr. McKinley fished through several pieces of paper, finally coming up with one that shared the value of the land and the building on it. “I’ve been researching this area for months now. I could tell you pretty much anything you wanted to know about most of the shops on the boardwalk—those currently operating and even the ones that have been bought out by larger corporations.”

  So could I. Not from research, but from personal experience.

  “I know all of this must come as quite a surprise.” He gave her what could best be described as a rehearsed compassionate look. “But my client is prepared to offer you three times what your property is worth. I doubt you will ever see an offer like this again.”

  “Three times?” Though she wasn’t particularly good with numbers, this one had no trouble registering. If they sold the shop, her parents could both retire in style. And she could. . .

  Hmm. She wasn’t sure what she could do. Her whole life was wrapped up in this candy store.

  “As I mentioned, my client is well aware of the impact Carini’s has had on this community, and is prepared to do more than what I’ve already stated.”

  “O–oh?”

  Mr. McKinley offered a genuine smile. “I think he’s hit on a brilliant idea, one you’re going to love. He would like to offer you a spot inside the new casino—rent free—to put your store. A place where you could do business year-round. You would draw a whole new clientele.”

  No doubt.

  “Since the casino will generate business during the winter months as well as the summer, you won’t ever have to close your doors. In fact, you can stay open twenty-four hours a day, if you like.”

  “T–twenty-four hours a day?”

  “Best of all, the Carini’s name would live on. We would technically own the property, of course, but you could manage the store. A percentage of the goods would go to the casino, but the rest you could pocket. And with the crowd from the Gold Dust so accessible, you could keep the shop open for years to come. Keep it in the family.”

  The way he phrased things sounded so. . .unnerving. A heaviness came over Taffie at once. She knew, of course, what her parents would say. They had tolerated the casinos, at best. And Grandpa Gus. . . why, he’d turn over in his grave at the idea of his store being purchased by a gambling hall owner.

  Taffie rose to her feet, ready to give this fellow his first hint. “Mr. McKinley, I appreciate your stopping by. And I’m sure your client is making a generous offer. But Carini’s isn’t for sale. Never has been, and—as long as I’m in charge, anyway—won’t be. At least not under these conditions.”

  He gave her a pensive look, then presse
d the paperwork back inside his suitcase. “Clearly I’ve surprised you with the offer. You’ll need time to think about it.” He snapped his briefcase shut, then shifted his gaze back to her face. “My client is prepared to give you a week to respond. During that time we would be happy to draw up the plans for the new candy shop. We have the best architects in the business.” McKinley looked around the shop. “They could take the basic idea of the store and improve on it, several times over.”

  Improve on it? Taffie felt her nails drive into her palms. She counted to ten and whispered a Lord-please-help-me-not-to-put-my-foot–in-my-mouth prayer. She finally felt released to speak. “Mr. McKinley, I don’t expect you to understand this, but we can’t possibly do business with a casino. It flies in the face of everything we stand for as Christians. And to think that Carini’s might actually be housed inside a. . .a. . .”

  “Ms. Carini, you make it sound like a house of ill repute.” McKinley erupted in laughter. “The Gold Dust is going to be a high-end hotel and casino. Exquisite. And it will draw people from all over the world. Your shop would be filled from sunup till sundown with a steady stream of customers.”

  Taffie shook her head, unable to form words. She did her best not to spout out the thoughts in her head. How could she make him understand? Grandpa Gus had loved the idea that the candy shop sat so near the casinos—near enough the Carinis could reach out to people with God’s love. Offer them sweets as an incentive, sure, but offer them the gospel message, as well. In a simple, safe environment. A place away from the crowd, where they could sit awhile and get their bearings.

  “I think you’re going to need to let me discuss this with my parents.” Taffie shook her head. “Though I can pretty much guarantee you what they’re going to say. As much as they want to see Carini’s live to see another fifty or seventy years on the boardwalk, I can’t imagine they would agree to your terms.”

  He clutched his briefcase with a determined look in his eye. “Ms. Carini, I’ll swing back by in exactly one week. I’d like to arrange for your parents to join us, if that’s possible. And my client will want to be here, as well.”

  “Well, as I said─”

  She never got the chance to finish her sentence. Mr. McKinley put his hand up. “No. No decisions today. Think on it. Plan that dream vacation you’re going to be able to afford, once this land is sold.”

  She stopped cold, unable to continue. Not that she wanted to. No, all she wanted to do was usher this fellow back out onto the boardwalk so that she could get on with her day. . .and forget all about his so-called offer.

  Ryan picked up his cell phone and punched in Taffie’s number. He couldn’t wait to see her again. She’d wound her way around his heart and every time he thought of her, a song came to his lips. He found himself humming, even when working. More than once, his pop had questioned him about it.

  The phone rang several times. He half-expected it to click over to voice mail, but Taffie answered with a brusque “Hello?”

  “Hey, Taffie. It’s Ryan.”

  “R–Ryan. . .” For whatever reason, her voice broke. “I. . .I’m glad you called. But. . .”

  “What? Bad time?”

  “Oh, Ryan. . .” She groaned. “I’ve got the biggest mess on my hands.” She spent the next few minutes filling him in and before long he felt the same sense of frustration. How dare that attorney confront her alone. . .without her parents there. Everything inside of Ryan balked at the very idea.

  “Can’t you just turn him down? Tell him he’s crazy? They can’t make you sell your store, after all.”

  “Right. But there’s more to it than that. He was right about so many things. We’re struggling to keep the shop open in the off-season, anyway. And he had a good point. If we moved locations, we’d have a crowd year-round.”

  “Taffie, surely you’re not seriously thinking about. . .”

  “No, no. Of course not. I’m just scared, Ryan. I’m already on a strict timetable, what with my parents leaving so soon. And now, with this guy breathing down our necks, it just feels like an added pressure to prove I can make a go of this.”

  “And you can. You will. Remember what we talked about?”

  “I don’t know. I need a plan of action. Something specific. I’ve got to come up with a workable strategy soon. And I have to tell Pop about Mr. McKinley today. He’ll flip. But as soon as he’s done flipping, he’ll ask if I’ve come up with any ideas to keep the shop going. And I haven’t.”

  “I’m going to help you with that. Remember? I’m your guy.”

  “You are.”

  They both paused for a moment as the realization of what he’d said sunk in. An unexpected enthusiasm rose up inside him. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons I was calling. I want to meet with you about a plan for the shop. I’ve given this a lot of thought, Taffie. And I’ve prayed about it. I really think I’m supposed to help you through this. In fact, I think that’s why the Lord brought us together.”

  “Y–you do?”

  “Well, that, and. . .” He didn’t say the words, though they threatened to leap from the tip of his tongue. “I care about you. And I want to spend more time with you.”

  “I want to spend time with you, too,” she whispered.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “I have a class.” She groaned. “The numbers stuff is finally starting to make a little sense. You don’t know how close I came to giving up a few weeks ago. But I’m glad I stuck with it. Now I’ve only got a couple more classes left.”

  “You can do all things through Christ who gives you strength,” he said. “Remember?”

  “Well, yeah, but. . .”

  “Taffie, don’t sell yourself short. Stick with it. I can help you through the marketing end of things, but keeping the books. . .” He laughed. “Not my strong suit.”

  “Okay.” He heard her release a sigh and imagined the look on her face. His thoughts shifted to the color of her eyes. The funny way she held her mouth when she was upset. The way her nose tipped up on the end. For a moment, Ryan found himself lost in his imaginings, so much so that he almost missed her next line.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  “Great. And I’ll come by today on my lunch break. Will your parents be at the shop then?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “And Ryan, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all of your help. God knew what He was doing when He sent you here. I don’t think it was an accident that I called you that day.”

  The pounding in his heart almost stopped him from responding. “Oh, I don’t either. In fact, I can truly say—for the first and last time in my life, probably—that I’m glad to be in the appliance repair business.” He let out a laugh, and within seconds she joined him.

  “We’re a mess, aren’t we? Both of us in businesses we’re not sure about.”

  “You’re perfectly suited for your work, Taffie,” he encouraged her. “I’ve never seen anyone with better customer-service skills. And when I saw you pick up that thirty pound wad of taffy─”

  “Forty pounds,” she corrected him.

  “Forty pounds. . . I knew I’d found a jewel.”

  She laughed. “So, what happens next? Are you going to write me a song? Come up with some sort of choreography we can do? Waltz around the taffy shop. . .that sort of thing?”

  “Nah.” He laughed. “None of those things. But I might just write a praise song. For some reason, I feel like thanking God today. In fact, it’s number one on my priority list.”

  “I just hope I feel like praising Him after telling Pop about Mr. McKinley.” Taffie’s voice wavered. “Pray for me, okay? He’s not going to be happy.”

  “I’ll pray for you. But tell him what I said, that I’m going to help. I’ll see you in a few hours. Don’t give up the ship.”

  They ended the call moments later, and Ryan leaned back in his seat, thinking through their conversation. Minutes later, as he ambled to the work van to make a service call, he f
ound himself humming a happy tune. Pretty soon, the words tripped over his tongue. “Sugar, Sugar” had never sounded so good.

  SIXTEEN

  Later that morning, Taffie told her parents about the visit from Mr. McKinley. Afterward, she watched her father with a heavy heart as he paced the back room, muttering, “Who do these people think they are? They’ve already swept in here and torn down most of the quaint little shops I knew as a kid. And to replace them. . .with what? More casinos? More places for folks to lose their money?”

  “I know, Pop.”

  “We own this property, free and clear. No mortgage. And I pay my taxes. No one can drive a man off of his own land.” He slipped off into a ranting spiel, marching back and forth. “My pop would roll over in his grave. Can you even imagine what he would say?”

  “I can imagine.” Taffie drew in a deep breath.

  “Are all of the stores going to eventually sell out?” He gave her a pensive look. “Get swallowed up by the bigger corporations? Is that what’s happening? No independently owned stores anymore? No mom and pop shops? Everything owned by the big names, and those big names funded with gambling dollars?” He paused to draw in a deep breath and Taffie noticed the tears in his eyes. She moved in his direction, hoping to console him.

  “Pop, I’m in total agreement. We won’t let them intimidate us.”

  “Right.” His response was weak, at best.

  “But?”

  Her father shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll never sell out. I can promise you that. It was your grandpa’s dream to keep Carini’s in business for many generations to come. I can envision your children working here. And your grandchildren.”

  Taffie paused to think about that. She could almost see her daughter or son waiting on customers, chatting about the family’s history.

  Pop’s words interrupted her thoughts. “I’ve got to wonder how long we can go on if we can’t keep the store open year-round.”