by Nicole Ellis
They reached the covered front porch of the model home. Underneath the protection of the roof, she pulled the tail of her blouse out of her pants and attempted to wring the water out, revealing a small patch of pale skin above her waistline. His pulse quickened.
“It’s useless,” she said, dropping the twisted, waterlogged fabric against her body. “We’re never going to dry if we leave these wet clothes on.”
“I have a suggestion for that.” He winked at her.
She tapped him on the arm and laughed. “There are some towels in the bathroom. Thank goodness they’re real and not cardboard. We can wear them while our clothes dry.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but I guess that could work too.”
Her face was flushed from running up the hill from the Cliffside lots. The rain had washed away any trace of makeup on her skin, leaving only her own natural beauty. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her again. He swung her off her feet and kissed her until she was breathless. When he set her back down, it took her a moment to regain her footing.
“Need some help?” he asked.
She stepped back and shook her finger at him. “Uh-uh. Help like yours I can do without. I’ve got to get out of these clothes before I catch pneumonia.” She pushed open the door, smiled slyly at him and scampered into the house.
He stood on the porch for a few minutes to regain his composure before following her inside. He’d never thought he’d find a woman like her and then as soon as he had, he’d lost her. Now, she was his, all his, and he wasn’t going to ever let her go again.
21
A week later
“Hi girls,” Gretchen sang out as she breezed into Off the Vine. Maggie and Dahlia were already seated at their usual table. They exchanged knowing glances that she pretended not to see.
“Charlotte called and said she’s running a little late,” Maggie said.
“Not surprising.” Gretchen slid into the booth next to Dahlia.
“Hey, are you guys talking smack about me?” Charlotte said, coming up behind them.
“You’re not known for your timeliness.” Maggie patted the seat next to her. “Sit.”
“Hey, I was only a couple minutes late. And I called.”
“We’re just messing with you,” Dahlia said. “We’re glad you were able to make it. Especially since we were just about to have Gretchen tell us about her date with Parker last night.”
“A lady never kisses and tells,” Gretchen said primly.
“Right...” Dahlia laughed.
“I for one am glad not to hear the details. That’s my brother you’re talking about.” Charlotte made a disgusted face and then giggled.
“Alright girls, let’s leave her alone,” Maggie said. “I’m starving. What are we going to order?”
They flagged down the waitress and placed their order.
“I do have some news though.” Gretchen looked around the table, building suspense.
“Oh my gosh, you’re getting married!” Dahlia cried out.
“No.” She shot her friend an exasperated look. “We’ve only been together for a week. Maybe we’ll get married someday, but not any time soon.”
Maggie said under her breath, “A week-long relationship that was eight months in the making.”
Gretchen glared at her, but couldn’t hide her smile.
“So what’s the news?” Charlotte asked.
“Parker and I are starting a new real estate company. We figured we navigated all the kinks in our professional relationship over the last eight months, so we know what we’re getting into. We’ll be focused on selling real estate in Haven Shores and Candle Beach. We were worried about how our parents would react, but both sets want us to stay in the area and are excited about us entering the local market.”
Dahlia squealed. “You’re staying in Candle Beach?”
“Yes.” She beamed. It was the right decision. She had no doubts now about Parker or staying in her hometown. It wasn’t that she had necessarily wanted to be in Seattle, it was more of a need for something in her life to change. Now that she had Parker and a new business, life was good.
“Well,” Charlotte said. “Let’s celebrate.”
They clinked their glasses together. “To happiness in Candle Beach.”
The next morning, Gretchen drove down to Haven Shores to have brunch with Parker. They met at Arturo’s, where they’d gone on their first official date. After eating, they walked out to the boardwalk, hand in hand. The winter sun shone down on the beach, making the minuscule particles of mica in the sand glow like someone had tossed glitter over the railing. A few people walked along the hard-packed sand at the shoreline. Everything looked so different in the daylight.
“Still glad you gave me another chance?” Parker peered into her eyes.
She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes. You’ve made me happier than I could ever imagine.”
“I feel the same way.” He kissed her sweetly on the lips and she snuggled in closer.
“Now if we can just get our parents to stop their feud.” She sighed. That would be a long shot.
He cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t know?”
“What?”
“Your mom called my parents and arranged for them to have dinner at their house in Candle Beach next Friday.”
She shook her head. “That ought to be interesting.”
“Hey, they’re trying. We’ve managed to make it work. They can too.” He kissed her again. “They’ve taken the first steps—that’s what counts.”
Tears of happiness pooled in the corners of her eyes. How had everything come together? They’d gone through so much, from their first magical date to all of the misunderstandings, and then come back again full circle.
“Hey, Parker,” she said.
“What?” He stepped back to gaze into her eyes, still holding her hand.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He guided her over to the railing and wrapped his arms around her, their hands meeting in front of her on the weather-beaten wood. He kissed the top of her head and she leaned back against his chest, his embrace making her feel safe and warm.
They watched the waves crash against the shore, no two alike. She knew things wouldn’t always be perfect between them or with anything else in life, but whatever the future brought them, they’d make it through together.
<<<<>>>>
Thank You for reading Sweet Success!
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Dahlia’s Story: Sweet Beginnings
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Sweet Promises: A Candle Beach Sweet Romance
“Albert, I need those turkeys by Wednesday.” Maggie Price leaned back in the chair with the phone pressed to her ear and tapped a pen against the wooden desk. The phone beeped insistently to alert her to another call. Whoever it was would have to wait. This call with her supplier was too important to interrupt.
“Look, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” The man on the other end of the phone call sighed. “You’re not going to have them by Thanksgiving. I might be able to get you something else, but with that storm dumping snow in Portland, there’s no way that we’ll be able to get the turkeys to you in time. Nothing’s getting through.”
“I’ll see if I can get someone else to deliver them,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Maggie, you know I’d get them for you if I could, but my hands are tied. I’m sorry.” He sighed again.
“I know. Thanks for trying.” She hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling in her tiny office. Although no cobwebs hung from the corners, the paint had worn thin in places and the office showed its age. When she’d bought the Greasy Spoon from the former owner and revamped it into the Bluebonnet Café, she’d put all her money and efforts into the custo
mer-facing portions of the café and kitchen, leaving no spare cash for anything behind the scenes. She shook her head. There were bigger problems at the moment than scratched paint.
What was she going to do with no turkeys to serve for Thanksgiving dinner at the café? There’d be a rebellion in Candle Beach. Many of the townspeople didn’t have relatives close by and they counted on having their holiday dinner at her restaurant. She stared blankly at the computer screen, which showed her order for the turkeys that wouldn’t be arriving any time soon.
Someone knocked on the door. She regarded it wearily. What now?
“Come in.”
“Maggie?” Her lead waitress, Belinda, pushed the door open, sending the aroma of freshly baked apple pies throughout the office. Maggie’s stomach grumbled. Lunch had been hours ago. She pasted an ‘everything’s alright’ smile on her face for her employee’s benefit.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s your mom. She said she can’t watch Alex any longer today—she’s got to get to work.” Belinda looked apologetic. “She said you were supposed to be there an hour ago.”
Maggie shot a glance at the old-fashioned analog clock on the wall and jumped out of her chair. Dealing with the supply snafu had taken longer than she’d thought.
“It’s six thirty already? Is she still on the phone?”
“Yeah, I put her on hold,” Belinda said. “You’ve been in here since I started my dinner shift at five. Is everything okay?”
“Things are fine. Can you please tell her I’ll be there in less than ten minutes?” She threw on her winter jacket and rushed past Belinda. “Thanks!”
“Sure, I’ll let her know,” Belinda called after her.
Everything was not okay. A winter storm south of them in Oregon had ground all of her suppliers’ trucks to a halt. She’d been trying to improvise on their daily menu, but something had to give. She’d even had to send someone to the local grocery store to scrounge for hamburger buns that morning. The way it was going, they’d be having Spam and frozen peas for Thanksgiving dinner in two days. That would not go over well with her regulars.
The big holiday meals were always a pain to coordinate, but people in town who didn’t have family or friends nearby appreciated her having the café open for them to eat at. She knew most of the people in this small town, either through the café or from growing up there, and she didn’t want to let anyone down.
She drove the mile to her parents’ house, her mind spinning with everything she needed to take care of. Juggling the schedule for the café and care for her six-year-old son, Alex, was a constant struggle. In a few weeks, he’d be off school for winter break and things would become even more complicated. She wasn’t looking forward to that. As soon as she reached her parents’ house, she parked crookedly in an empty parking spot and ran inside.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Charlene Johansen, Maggie’s mom, said. “I’ve got to get to work at the market. I was supposed to be there thirty minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I totally lost track of time. Things have been crazy at the café.” Maggie felt horrible about being late. Having her mom babysit Alex was a lifesaver and she couldn’t get along without her.
“It’s okay, honey. One of my co-workers is covering for me, but I need to get there soon. Dad had to work late, or I’d have him take Alex.” She searched her daughter’s face. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, everything is fine.”
“Really? Because you don’t look so good.”
Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but Alex came barreling around the corner. “Mommy! You have to see the new Lego set Grandma bought me. It’s Minecraft!”
“Mom…you bought him more Legos?” She narrowed her eyes at her mother.
Charlene blushed. “He had the first of the two sets, so I bought him the second. He’s my only grandchild. Let me spoil him a little.” She kissed the top of Alex’s head and patted her daughter’s hand. “I’ve got to go. Lock up when you leave.”
“Bye. Have fun at work.” Maggie called to her. Then she turned to Alex. “C’mon kiddo. Let’s get home and you can show me your new Legos while I make dinner.” He ran off to the family room to get his toys and she leaned against the open door to wait for him.
“Got ’em.” He pushed past her and she locked the door behind them. He ran ahead of her out to the driveway, opened the car door and got into his booster seat. Maggie sat in the driver’s seat and stared at her son in the rearview mirror. Her husband Brian would have been amazed to see how much Alex had grown over the last five years. Brian had been an Army soldier. He died in the Middle East when Alex was a baby and never had the chance to see what a wonderful little person his son had become.
She put the car in reverse and drove home to the tiny two-bedroom apartment she shared with Alex. Candle Beach didn’t have much in the way of large apartment complexes like in the big city, but she’d been lucky to find a place in a four-plex less than a mile from the café.
After admiring Alex’s new Lego set, feeding him and getting him to bed, she was bushed. She grabbed her planning notebook and flopped on the couch, covering her legs with a lightweight afghan. She flipped on the TV while she worked on an updated menu for the café’s Thanksgiving dinner. The TV provided background noise but she barely heard it.
The unsettled feeling she’d had all day kept nagging at her. She’d made the Bluebonnet Café a success, but she wanted something more. She’d volunteered to cater her friend Dahlia’s wedding to test out a new catering business, hoping that it would fulfill her Type A personality’s desire for a new challenge. And challenging it had been.
Running the café, starting a new catering business and being a single mother wasn’t easy. Would she be able to do it all? She dropped her head to the pillowy couch arm and closed her eyes. Things would work out. She’d always found a way to get everything done in the past.
The next morning, Maggie dropped Alex off at school and headed for the café. Only one day remained before Thanksgiving and she still didn’t have a main course for the big holiday meal. She called every supplier in her notebook, but understandably, they were either sold out of turkeys at such late notice, or they had the same problem with the snow as her original supplier. Finally, after a few hours, she procured some hams that a supplier assured her would get there by the next day. They weren’t what her customers would expect for Thanksgiving, but they’d have to do.
With that crisis averted, she finished planning the rest of the menu. Thank goodness they had potatoes. If there were no mashed potatoes as well as no turkey, there would be a riot for sure.
Her best pastry chef and right-hand woman, Bernadette, stuck her head past the half-opened door.
“Maggie? Do you have time?”
“Time for what?” Maggie set down her notebook. “If there’s something wrong with the latest food shipment, I don’t want to hear about it.” She smiled to let her employee know she was kidding.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Bernadette grinned and approached her desk. “I’m scheduled to work on Friday, but my boyfriend invited me to go away for the weekend. Lily said she’d take my shift in the kitchen. Is that okay with you?”
Phew. Nothing major. She didn’t think she could take anything else.
“Of course, go ahead. I hope you have fun.” Lily wasn’t as hard of a worker as Bernadette, but business should be slow on the Friday after Thanksgiving.
“Thanks!” Bernadette turned and sailed out of the room.
Maggie thought about starting in on the schedule for the week after next, but a quick glance at her watch changed her mind. Alex had a half day at school and she needed to pick him up soon.
“I’ll be back after five,” she called to her kitchen staff. They waved to show they’d heard, but continued working on orders from the lunch rush.
After she got Alex home, he ran off to his room to play and she collapsed on the couch. Her split shift days were exhausting.
She always intended to rest on the couch while at home, but household chores or other projects tended to grab her attention. Today was no different. She’d stacked her supplies for Dahlia’s bridal shower decorations and party favors in the corner, and the half-finished boxes for the petit fours mocked her.
She sighed. At least if she got them done today, there would be less to do on Friday night. She flipped on the TV and mindlessly watched an old Friends episode while folding the small boxes. She’d ordered the boxes and lids from a craft supply store in Haven Shores, but it hadn’t occurred to her how much time it would take to assemble them. Gretchen had volunteered to help with the party favors, but she’d told her not to worry. In hindsight, she probably should have accepted the help.
Making the petit fours should be fun though. Before she’d had Alex, she’d been a bored Army wife, living in a community far away from all of her friends and family, with the exception of Brian. At their last duty station, she’d taken pastry-making and cake-decorating classes at the local culinary school. Now, other than the desserts she helped make for the café, she didn’t have much call to make fancy cakes. She’d searched YouTube and found a ‘how to’ video for making petit fours. She planned to place four in each of the paper boxes. Then she’d wrap a ribbon around the outside and tie it neatly with a bow. She brightened. The final product would be worth it and the guests would love them.
By the time she needed to take Alex to her parents’ house for the evening, she had finished forming the boxes, but there was still a long list of things to do for the shower. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and after she worked a morning shift, she and Alex would go to her parents’ house for dinner. That left Friday. She eyed the pile of decorations. Yeah, plenty of time. She brushed off her hands and called down the hallway.
