Sweet Beginnings: A Candle Beach Sweet Romance

by Nicole Ellis

  “Does this look familiar?” He held the plastic-encased object up to Wendy.

  “Yes.” She trembled as he pushed it closer to her.

  Dahlia narrowed her eyes at Wendy. “Wendy, do you know who did this?”

  “I think so, maybe,” she said. “I don’t know.” Her voice shook with fear.

  “Ma’am, if you have any idea who did this, it’s in your best interests to tell me,” Chief Lee said.

  Wendy breathed deeply. “Last year, I was working the Oregon Coast craft market circuit. There was a man there who wanted to date me. I went out with him once, but we didn’t really click.” She glanced down at her hands, as if just remembering the drying red paint. She rubbed her fingers together. “He didn’t take well to me rejecting his advances. Nothing major happened, but I was tired of him pursuing me, so I decided to move on to Washington.”

  “And the significance of the dream catcher?” Chief Lee prodded.

  “He sold dream catchers,” Wendy said. “That was his thing. He was really into dreams and their meanings, as well as anything having to do with dreams. In fact, that was why he fixated on me. He’d had a dream of us getting married, so he was convinced that it was meant to be.” She shook her head. “I’d never have gone out with him in the first place if I’d known he was so loopy. He seemed nice and normal at first.”

  “Can you give me his name?” Chief Lee asked.

  “Dale Peters.”

  He wrote it down and asked Wendy a few more questions, which she answered.

  Dahlia tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “Wendy, tell him about the threatening card.”

  Wendy deflated further.

  “Ma’am? Is there something else I should know?”

  “About a week ago, someone left an envelope and card for me in front of To Be Read,” Wendy said. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I didn’t call the police or anything.”

  “Do you think the vandalism of Wendy’s truck and the note are related to this?” Dahlia asked Chief Lee.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I’ll check it out. Do you still have the envelope and card?”

  “No,” Wendy said. “I threw them away.”

  Chief Lee made some more notes. “Thank you, ma’am.” He flipped his notepad closed. “We’ll look into this. For now, please be aware of your surroundings. We don’t know where this man is or what he plans to do next, so it’s best you aren’t alone. Is there anyone you can stay with?”

  Tears slipped down Wendy’s face. “I can’t go somewhere else. I’ve got to work on my furniture. Half of my inventory is ruined.” She gestured to the destroyed furniture. “Founder’s Day is next weekend. I have to have inventory for that. From what I’ve heard, it’s one of the biggest sale days of the summer.”

  “I can stay with her at the apartment over the bookstore,” Dahlia said. She turned to Wendy. “If that’s okay with you? I can sleep on the couch and keep you company.” It wouldn’t hurt her to spend the extra time at the bookstore. She had a lot of work to do before Founder’s Day as well.

  Wendy nodded, and relief passed across her face. “I’d like that.”

  “I’d prefer for you both to be off the bookstore premises, but it’s better than nothing,” said Chief Lee. “I’ll have my officers patrol the area around the bookstore more frequently.”

  “Now that we’ve got that settled, when can I start cleaning up these pieces?” Wendy asked. Her color had returned and she seemed determined to move on.

  A female police officer in her late twenties had been taking pictures of the crime scene. She now stood off to the side, reviewing the shots she’d taken. Chief Lee glanced at her and she gave him a thumbs-up.

  “We’re about finished here,” he said. “You should be able to get started in the morning.”

  “I’ll be here at six,” Wendy said. “Maybe I can rescue a few items and have them ready by the time the market opens at nine.”

  “I can help you,” Dahlia said, but immediately regretted her words. As it was already midnight, six o’clock would be a miserably early wake-up time. The grateful smile on Wendy’s face made her promise worth it.

  “I’ll walk you back to the bookstore,” Chief Lee said. “Ms. Winters, do you need an escort back to your house to get things for tonight? I can have Officer Jenkins go to your house with you.” He gestured to the female police officer.

  “No, I’m fine.” When she’d cleaned out the apartment, she’d found stacks of linens and blankets, so she knew she wouldn’t need anything to stay at Wendy’s apartment. Her favorite pillow would have been nice, but the extra sleep she’d gain by not going home first sounded even nicer.

  When they arrived at To Be Read, Chief Lee searched the interior of the bookstore and the upstairs apartment. After finding nothing suspicious, he allowed them inside. “Make sure to lock all the doors and windows,” he advised.

  Dahlia felt like saluting him, but instead said, “We will, thank you.”

  She locked the door behind him and watched through the front window as he retreated down the sidewalk. His presence had provided a sense of security, but now she realized how vulnerable she and Wendy were alone in the bookstore. A beam of light strobed through the room, reassuring her that the extra safety patrols had begun.

  She turned to Wendy, who had collapsed in one of the armchairs. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything? A cup of tea maybe?”

  “I’m fine,” Wendy said, her voice quieter than usual. “I don’t think I’m going to be getting any work done tonight though. I’ll have to make do with the remaining furniture to sell tomorrow.”

  “Let’s get to bed then.” Dahlia checked her watch. They’d be lucky to be in bed by one. While she’d been a night owl in her college days, she now treasured every minute of sleep.

  They trudged up the apartment stairs together. Wendy retreated to her bedroom and Dahlia pulled the extra linens out of the closet and arranged them on the sofa. Not the most luxurious of accommodations, but it would do. A breeze came through the open window, ruffling the curtains.

  Had she checked the locks downstairs? The apartment window was high enough that no one could enter it without an extremely tall ladder, but she’d better check the back door. In all the excitement, she couldn’t remember locking it.

  She crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake Wendy. The older woman had fallen asleep immediately after entering her bedroom and her snoring filtered out through the closed door.

  She double checked the front door and the small windows that opened on either side of the big front window. All were locked. In the back room, she pulled on the door to the alley to make sure it was tightly closed.

  Crash. She whipped around at the sound. A few books had fallen off a precariously perched stack of books. Not surprising that they’d fallen, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. The threat of Wendy’s stalker was making her paranoid.

  She went back upstairs and lay on the too-soft couch. Wendy’s snoring and thoughts of the stalker kept her awake. The police needed to catch him soon, or she was going to be a nervous wreck.

  20

  Garrett stood on the sidewalk while the doorman hailed him a cab. His week in New York City had flown by. He’d met with his editor, who thankfully had liked the book he’d just finished and was interested in his next novel. He’d met a friend for dinner during the week and connected with a few old work colleagues. It had been a blast, but he was ready to get back to his life in Candle Beach—and to Dahlia.

  The air in the city stank of exhaust, sweat, and who knew what else. More cars rushed by him in a few minutes than he’d see all day back in Candle Beach. How had he once lived here? And enjoyed it? That was another time in his life. Now, he preferred a much quieter life.

  A woman selling jewelry down the street caught his eye. Her wavy red hair glinted in the sun, much like Dahlia’s had the day he first saw her. Dahlia. As much as he’d tried to deny his attraction to her, she’d somehow manage
d to wriggle her way into his life. So what if she wasn’t the boring accountant or scientist that he’d thought he wanted? All artsy types weren’t the same as Lisa.

  “Sir, I’ve got you a cab,” the doorman said, scooting Garrett’s bags over to the door of the taxi.

  “Thanks.” He smiled at the man and tipped him.

  When they got to JFK, he paid the cab driver and stepped out into the milling crowd. He pushed his way inside the airport and scanned the signs for his airline.

  After checking in and getting through security, he settled down in the waiting area for his flight. A man in his thirties next to him kept tapping his foot and checking his watch.

  “Looks like we’ll have a packed flight,” Garrett said to him.

  “I know. That’s what I’m worried about.” The man pulled out his phone. “My girlfriend was supposed to be here forty minutes ago. She said she lost track of time or something.” He stood. “If she’s not here soon, they’re going to give her seat away.”

  “I’m sure she’ll get here soon,” he said as the man dialed on his phone.

  Then the man hung up. Worry and anger were etched across his face. “Voicemail again. I swear, she’s always late. It drives me crazy. And she can’t even be bothered to answer the phone.”

  “I know the type,” Garrett said. He opened the thriller novel he’d brought with him for the trip, but the words swam in front of his eyes. He’d been that man, both with Lisa and now with Dahlia. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Dahlia and Lisa were alike in many ways—ways that tended to annoy him. He closed the book and leaned back in his seat.

  Dahlia missing their dinner date worried him more than he’d like and he’d watched her struggle with the organization and management of the bookstore. They were so different. He had to hand it to her though; she’d persevered through all the challenges Agnes had thrown at her. But was it enough? Was there really a future for them together?

  A voice blared over the loudspeaker. “Flight 7886 to Seattle, now boarding.”

  He was going to have to make a decision soon.

  Founder’s Day came sooner than either Dahlia or Wendy would have liked. Although Wendy had made progress on rehabilitating the ruined furniture, she wasn’t satisfied with her stock on hand. Dahlia had carefully chosen a selection of books for the tourists and had a full supply of muffins to sell, along with a commercial coffee urn.

  “Whew, it’s hot today,” Wendy said. “You’d have been better off selling iced coffees.”

  “Don’t even say ice.” She wiped the sweat away from her forehead. Not even eleven o’clock and the heat was already sweltering. Usually the air coming off the water cooled the temperature to a comfortable level, but today the air remained motionless and the thermometer stayed firmly in the high eighties.

  “Can’t complain about the crowds though,” Wendy said.

  The warm weather had brought out record-breaking attendance for the Founder’s Day celebration, and the summer market was in full swing. Later in the day, there would be a parade, town picnic, and nighttime fireworks.

  “I think the whole town is out today.” Dahlia scanned the crowds.

  “Yeah, nobody wants to stay in their non-air-conditioned houses.” Wendy sucked down half a bottle of water. “I’d better get back to my booth. I just wanted to see how you were getting on.”

  “I’m good. How about you? Have the police said anything about what happened last weekend?”

  “No, nothing. He probably moved on to someone else. I couldn’t have been the only person he ever dreamed of marrying.”

  “Probably not.”

  Wendy had seemed touchy about her stalker. Not that Dahlia blamed her, but considering Wendy lived above the bookstore, she felt she had a right to know what was going on. The day after the vandalism of her booth, Wendy had insisted Dahlia return to her own home. Dahlia had ensured that the police were still patrolling around the bookstore, but with no other threats to Wendy, had done what her friend asked.

  “Oooh, a fish in the pond.” Wendy eyed a young couple who were browsing in her booth.

  “Hook ’em.” Dahlia grinned. Although the town felt overrun with tourists, they were good for the bottom line.

  She rearranged stacks of books and replenished her supply of local hiking guidebooks. They’d gone fast that morning.

  “Ready for work,” a woman said from behind her.

  Dahlia stood from where she’d been kneeling next to a box of books on the floor. Her hair flew across her eyes and she brushed it back.

  “Hey, Marsha. Thanks so much for helping me out today.”

  “You’re very welcome. Chester has his mayoral duties at the parade and I just rattle around like the last coffee bean in the jar when we have these town functions.” She lowered her bulky frame into the folding armchair.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Marsha took in the market and nodded with satisfaction. “Ruth would be proud of you, honey.”

  A smile quivered on Dahlia’s lips. “Do you think so? Some of the things I’ve done with the bookstore aren’t exactly what she’d do.”

  “Ruth would have done everything she could to hang on to the bookstore—which is what you’re doing. She would be proud.”

  On impulse, Dahlia leaned down and hugged the elderly woman. “Thanks Marsha,” she whispered.

  “I miss her too, honey.” Marsha blinked away a tear and busied herself straightening books on the table. “Now, let’s sell some books.”

  “Will you be okay by yourself?”

  “Of course, remember, us Ladies were running the bookstore before you came to town.”

  “Right.” She laughed. She felt a strange sense of attachment to the offshoot of the bookstore. “Thanks for helping out. Maggie and Gretchen are both in the parade and I promised them I’d be on the sidelines to cheer them on.”

  “Go.” Marsha smiled at her. “I’ll be fine. Take pictures of any of the truly strange floats.”

  Dahlia wasn’t sure what she meant by “truly strange”, but smiled back at her and walked away.

  The parade was scheduled to start at noon, so she found a spot on the curb along the parade route. The available seats filled up fast. Little kids with flags waved them in the air as their mothers fought a losing battle to apply sunscreen to their squirmy offspring.

  She breathed in the warm, salty air. This was home. She knew she’d made the right decision to stay in Candle Beach, even though she may lose the bookstore anyways if it wasn’t profitable at the end of the year. At least she’d have tried.

  Around her, the crowds stood and cheered as the first of the parade floats rounded the corner onto Main Street. The first float was a gigantic chicken, advertising the Homestyle Restaurant.

  “Bawk, bawk,” cried the chicken, or rather the young man dressed as a fowl who waved from the float. She pulled out her cell phone and snapped a shot. Behind the chicken float, a group of baton-twirling dancers pranced along. The girls beamed as they came down the street. Next to her, a woman who must have been the mom of one of the dancers took photos in furious succession.

  On the next float, a miniature house sat on a bed of imitation grass. She leaned forward to take a photo and realized it was the float for Candle Beach Real Estate. As it rolled past, Gretchen leaned out and waved at Dahlia as she threw candy to the kids along the way.

  Dahlia grinned and waved back at Gretchen. This was way more fun than the parades in Seattle she’d gone to as a kid. Why hadn’t she attended the Founder’s Day parade during all those summers she’d spent in Candle Beach? She’d probably thought she was too cool for such things.

  After a few more off-the-wall floats, including one carrying the mayor dressed in early twentieth-century garb, the Bluebonnet Café float appeared.

  The float was decorated with an array of live plants and a few of the patio tables adorned with food from the café. Dahlia’s stomach grumbled at the sight of Maggie’s delicious food. Maggie
had dressed her five-year-old son Alex as a chef, his costume completed by a white chef’s hat. He waved from an enclosed box at the front of the float, looking too adorable for words. Maggie stood behind him waving at the crowds, who cheered as she went by.

  The parade rolled around the corner toward the end of the route. Dahlia stopped at the Bluebonnet Café and grabbed a cheeseburger and fries to go. She wasn’t sure how long Marsha would want to stay at the booth and she didn’t want to abuse her generous offer to man the booth while she watched the parade.

  She managed to snag a seat on an empty park bench and was halfway through her burger when Gretchen tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Oh my gosh, those smell awesome.” Gretchen ogled the fries.

  “Want some? They gave me too many.”

  “Not going to say no to that offer. I haven’t had anything to eat since early this morning. You’d be surprised how much work those parade floats are.”

  “Yeah, not going to let Garrett talk me into one of those, no matter how good they are for business,” Dahlia said.

  “Garrett?” Gretchen raised an eyebrow and bit into the fry.

  “He’s been helping me with To Be Read.”

  “Helping with the bookstore? Is that what they’re calling it now?” Gretchen grabbed another fry and wiggled her eyebrows at Dahlia.

  “Yes, helping me promote the bookstore.” She picked her soft drink up off the ground and took a long swig of it, hiding her face from Gretchen’s keen eyes. “Okay, we’ve been out on a few dates.”

  “I knew it! So how have things been going with him?”

  “Good I think. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” She put the takeout container down between them on the bench. Gretchen took it as an offer of the remaining fries.

  “Complicated how?”

  “He’s been burned before by women in his life that weren’t reliable. And you know me, I’m not always the most organized person in the world. I’m not sure if that’s an issue for him, but I really like him and don’t want to lose him.” She shrugged. “With all that’s going on, I’m trying not to overanalyze it.”