How Sweet It Is

by Bonnie Blythe

  What man could resist?

  ****

  Delphine slowly awoke with a distinct feeling of security. She half-opened her eyes, reluctant for the sensation to end. The drone of engines reminded her she was on an airplane. Dim light filtered through the cabin from a few overhead lamps. The other passengers were shadowy figures, snoring softly or speaking in hushed tones.

  Turning her head, she realized her pillow was warm—and breathing. Delphine let out a squeak of distress to find herself nestled in Brad’s arms. She jerked away, causing his head to roll back. He blinked a couple of times and smiled sleepily in her direction. She gave him a little push when he tried to cuddle up to her again.

  “What time is it?” he asked in a husky voice, stretching like a cat.

  Delphine shot him an outraged glare, unable to believe his nonchalance. When she didn’t answer, he checked his watch.

  “Two-thirty in the morning, Paris time.” He turned to her. “How are you doing?”

  Gritting her teeth, she edged further away. “Are you working on another slap in the face?”

  “Shh. People are trying to sleep.”

  “Well?” she hissed.

  Brad let out a cavernous yawn and settled himself more deeply into his seat. “Just with you, Delphine. And you have to admit, it was very comfortable.”

  She lowered her gaze when she remembered how good it felt to awaken in his embrace. Infuriating man.

  “I suppose I should ask if there’s a jealous boyfriend I need to worry about avenging you with his fists. My poor face can’t take any more abuse.”

  Delphine blushed. She’d never slapped anyone like that before and was still embarrassed about it—regardless of whether he deserved it. Her blush deepened that he’d reminded her of the fact there was no boyfriend, and hadn’t been in ages.

  “No risk of my being avenged,” she said in a chilly tone.

  He rubbed his hands together, his eyes alight. “Now that have the formalities are taken care of, tell me more about you.”

  “What if you’re a stalker?” she snapped. “I shouldn’t be giving out personal information.”

  Brad smiled lazily. “Stalkers are known to bring along their parents, aren’t they?”

  She shot him a dark frown.

  “Listen, we’re stuck together on this flight for a long time. I’d like to get to know you.” He reached down and opened up his carry-on bag, pulling out a slender box of chocolates obviously purchased from the same shop where she’d first seen him. He lifted the familiar gold lid and held the box out to her.

  She shook her head. Nonplussed, Brad plucked one from the box and popped it into his mouth.

  “Makes life worth living,” he mumbled around the candy.

  Delphine relaxed. While she still didn’t entirely trust Brad Larsen, she realized she needed to be at least civil. His family had paid for her passage, after all. “There isn’t much to tell about my life.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Glendale. And you?”

  “Redondo Beach. We’re practically neighbors!”

  She wasn’t surprised to hear that he lived in an affluent area of L.A. Based on what she’d seen, Brad and his parents appeared to be financially well off.

  “How long have you lived in the U.S.?”

  Delphine gave him a quizzical look. “I assure you I’m as American as you are, Mr. Larsen.”

  “So you’re not French? You have a slight accent.”

  “My mother is French and came to the U.S. from the Loire region in France. My Father is also French but was born in the States.” She bit her lip, wondering if she should confess the whole story. She’d always suspected that her mother had every intention of marrying an American to gain citizenship. Delphine glanced up at him, deciding the partial truth would do.

  “Maman entered a contest and won a trip to Disneyland. While she was in Anaheim, she met my father and they quickly married, which of course made it possible for her to stay here. I was born a year later.”

  Brad waggled his eyebrows. “How romantic.” He ate another chocolate. “So she’s never been back to France?”

  “My parents were never able to afford it,” she said with a tight smile, embarrassed by the way money ran through their hands like water. She changed the subject. “You mentioned you went to Cal State. What did you major in?”

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I really don’t want to tell you. It’ll blow your image of me.”

  Delphine raised a brow. “Let me guess. You’re a lawyer?”

  Brad put up his hands in mock horror. “As if! Try business management.”

  “Seems a little dry for you, but I bet you’ll find a way to make it interesting.”

  “See, you’re catching on,” he said, his gaze caressing.

  She shook her head at his automatic flirtatious manner, but began to relax. They spent the next several hours chatting. After a while, she found herself warming to Brad’s charm. She had to admit he had a sweetness about him, a kindness that softened his roguish personality. Perhaps the amazing amount of chocolates he consumed while they talked made him seem more amicable.

  And he was apparently an answer to her prayer, although she questioned God’s choice of benefactors. Those eyes are definitely too sparkly.

  Much later, when she noticed the pearling of the sky outside her window, she realized she’d almost miss him when they went their separate ways.

  Almost.

  Three

  As the plane taxied on the runway and came to a stop at the gate, Brad sensed Delphine emotionally distancing herself from him. He regretted it after the hours they’d spent talking.

  He felt it was way too premature to end such a blooming friendship. Yet he knew if he pressed to see her again, she’d demur and slip away—this time maybe forever. Brad tried to think of a way to detain her. Once the seatbelt light went off, she rose to her feet, scooting past him to retrieve her carry-on.

  When he saw her stretching up to the overhead compartment, it took a fair amount of self-control on his part not to put his arms around her and pull her down onto his lap. He chewed on a knuckle and wrestled with his conscience.

  From the seats in front of them, his parents turned and gave him a speculative look. Brad started guiltily and cleared his throat. “Delphine. Where can we drop you off?”

  She looked over at them all with wide eyes, then lowered her gaze. “Thank you so much for your generosity, but I had planned to take a shuttle home and—”

  “Nonsense,” breathed Elaine Larsen.

  Brad groaned inwardly, recognizing the avid look on his mother’s face. She was ever on the lookout for matrimonial prospects for the last of her unmarried offspring.

  His dad joined in. “Just tell us where you live, Miss D’Arleux and we’ll be happy to take you there.”

  Delphine seemed to consider the notion, then gave the slightest nod of her head. “Thank you.”

  Brad felt a moment of triumph. Now he’d have her address. “Well,” he said brightly, “shall we?”

  After disembarking from the plane and retrieving their luggage, they took a shuttle to the long-term parking area and climbed into the leather seats of his parents’ Ford Excursion. His dad again asked for Delphine’s address. After she gave it, she seemed to retreat back into her shell.

  Brad frowned at her behavior. Why had she become so withdrawn all of a sudden? Couldn’t she tell they were a nice family? Certainly not people to be afraid of. Frustration gnawed at him when he saw the strained smile on Delphine’s pinched face as his mother plied her with questions. He wanted to reach out to her some way, but didn’t know how.

  God, for some reason, you brought her back into my orbit. Please keep her here, okay?

  Nearly an hour later, his dad turned down her street. The neighborhood appeared rundown, with groups of young men hanging about, staring boldly as they drove by. Litter lined the street and paint seemed to peel from ev
ery house.

  At last, they stopped in front of an old stuccoed apartment building, obviously built sometime in the twenties. The quaint lines and stained glass windows failed to hide the overall air of neglect.

  Brad scrambled out of the SUV and helped Delphine out on the other side. His mom followed, giving her a hug.

  “I will have the money for the ticket as soon as possible, Mrs. Larsen.”

  His mom wouldn’t hear of it and tried to reassure her not to worry. Brad almost had to drag her away from the vehicle.

  “Relax about the fare, all right?” he said when his parents were out of earshot. “My dad gets good deals on tickets and it’s all probably tax deductible anyway.”

  Delphine looked up at him, then shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  “These bags are getting heavy,” he said, hoping to distract her.

  They went in the main entrance and Brad followed her up a flight of stairs. In front of her door, she let out a sigh.

  “Thank you, for…everything.”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “Everything?”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Wait,” Brad said, setting down the bags. “I’d like to see you again.”

  Delphine’s lips lifted a little. It struck him as a sad sort of expression.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not possible.”

  She twisted the handle of her door, lugged her bags inside, and shut the door with a decisive click. Brad stared at the wooden panels for several moments, his hands shoved in his pockets. He heard Delphine’s voice inside.

  “Maman, Papa, I’m home!”

  ****

  Delphine’s shoulders slumped once the door latched behind her. She called to her parents and collapsed onto a fraying, overstuffed rocking chair. The living room was dimly lit by a couple of old Victorian lamps, which helped mask the shabbiness of the furnishings. From the dining room, she heard the television playing a commercial about cheap airline travel.

  She closed her eyes, wondering if she’d ever have the courage to travel again. This trip had too many near misses—including her fib that she’d planned to take the shuttle home. Well, I had planned to—but with a drained account, I was going nowhere fast! She blew out a shaky sigh. Thank you, Lord, for getting me home. And help me to repay the Larsens!

  “Ma chèrie! Tu à màison!” Delphine’s mother, Clarice, small, dark and wiry, emerged from the kitchen. She rushed to her and embraced Delphine. After kissing both her cheeks, Clarice stood back and smiled.

  “Where is Papa?” Delphine asked in French. Though her parents knew enough English to get by, they insisted on speaking their native language at home.

  “He is taking a nap.”

  A noise from the direction of the bedroom heralded his entrance. “No, I am up! Hello Delphine! Welcome home.”

  Leone D’Arleux walked into the living room and gave her a hug. “I prayed for your safe return and here you are,” he said in a low voice.

  Delphine smiled at his rather portly figure and felt relieved her parents were obviously doing so well.

  “Has Mrs. Hanson been by today?” she asked, hoping the neighbor had checked in on her parents regularly as agreed.

  Clarice waved the notion away. “Yes, yes. But do tell us about your trip. How I long to see the Loire Valley again.”

  Delphine sank onto her chair while her parents settled themselves on the gold brocade sofa. She looked at them, noticing their affable, open countenances. Her father’s eyes were blue and childlike, his features almost cherubic.

  “As you know, Maman, I didn’t get to sightsee, and I certainly didn’t make it to the country. But what I saw of Paris was very grand.”

  Her parents questioned her with exacting detail about every aspect of her trip. Delphine grew impatient with the long explanations. She had a pressing question to ask them.

  Finally, during a break in the conversation she took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something.” Leone and Clarice exchanged looks with each other—an action which gave Delphine a distinctly uncomfortable feeling.

  “At the airport, when I tried to purchase my ticket for the flight home, my card was denied for insufficient funds. You didn’t happen to use it, did you?”

  They remained silent for a moment. Her mother traced a finger along a scratch in the scarred coffee table. “You had purchased a round trip ticket, no? Why would you need to buy another?”

  “There was a computer problem.”

  “Ah.”

  She watched them with increasing anxiety as they avoided her gaze.

  Finally her mother spoke. “Hélas, we did. We had to make the rent payment. The landlord was most pressing. Most pressing, chèrie.”

  “Maman, I gave you money for the rent before I left. What became of that?”

  Clarice’s faded, pretty face clouded for a moment, making Delphine feel she really didn’t want to know what mischief they’d embroiled themselves in. It would only demoralize me further.

  “Well,” her mother said in a defensive tone, “as you know, your father and I have not had much in the way of entertainment as of late…” She looked away.

  Delphine felt sweat dot her brow. “Maman, the money!”

  “With you enjoying yourself in Paris, we decided we needed to have a little fun, too.”

  “Traveling to Paris and Belgium was a business trip. A trip calculated to start a business to provide us an income. Again, I ask you. The money?”

  Her father leaned forward on the sofa cushions. “My dear, we only went to Palisade Winds for a nice dinner and some games with friends and—”

  Delphine shot out of her chair. “You went to a casino? And it cost you several hundred dollars?” Her voice shook with anger, anger long repressed in hopes her parents were innocent. “Do you know that I had no money for the fare home? That I was stranded in another country?”

  “But here you are!” Clarice said, her hands fluttering in the air like restless birds.

  Delphine gritted her teeth. “A businessman and his family took pity on my plight and paid for my ticket. I now must find an extra amount of money to pay them back! What were you thinking? Or did you think of me at all?”

  Clarice rose and put her arms out to her daughter. “You are too young to fret so. Only see how it worked out. What an adventure!”

  “No, Maman. Not an adventure. A nightmare.” Delphine bit her lip, knowing her words weren’t exactly true. She’d enjoyed her time with Brad more than she wanted to admit.

  Leone rose from the couch and tugged on his wife’s arm. “Come, dearest. Only see how fatigued our daughter is from her journey. We shall let her rest.”

  Once they’d left the living room, Delphine collapsed onto the rocker. She clutched her head in despair, blinking back useless tears. Though her parents had always been unwise with money, they’d never done anything like this before. Since she’d started working and had taken control of the finances, life had stabilized somewhat, and she’d assumed her parents would no longer be tempted to make rash monetary decisions.

  How could I have been so wrong? In the last several years, it seemed as if she and her parents had changed places. She’d become the parent, and they, the children.

  And the money. How would she ever pay back Mr. Larsen?

  Money, money, always money. She was sick of her financial troubles. What had seemed like a good business move going to Europe was nothing more than an extravagant folly.

  How could she blame her parents when she’d spent so much more on her trip?

  Delphine stood, grabbed her luggage, and went into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. The small room contained only a twin bed covered by an old-fashioned crocheted bedspread, a nightstand with a small lamp and clock radio, and an old wooden rocking chair, one of the last few remnants of her childhood. The floor was bare wood with a small oval rug at the bedside.

  Delphine pushed back the sheer curtains and
lifted the shade over the window. Sunlight leaked into the room, highlighting the Spartan quality of the décor. She hoisted her bags onto the bed and unzipped them. As she began to sort through her clothes, she struggled to rein in her anger at her parents.

  Her dream of opening a chocolaterie had been her one motivation. Making chocolates here in her parents’ kitchen, with the perpetual smells of cooking and cigarette smoke in the air, wasn’t an option. She needed a small shop if she wanted to succeed, and obtaining training by French-Belgian masters had seemed so important to that success. She’d saved little by little for years for the opportunity.

  Now it all seemed fruitless.

  Delphine had only one hope left. Earlier in the month, she’d applied for special financing through the Small Business Administration to lease a shop and buy equipment. Surely, she’d get that loan. Once she started selling chocolates, she could begin earning the money to settle her debts. Her current job at a local bakery barely covered monthly expenses.

  The small business loan had to come through. If she was denied it, she’d be denied a future—which would make her just another gambler.

  No better than Maman and Papa.

  ****

  By the end of the following week, Delphine’s mood had not improved. She stepped off the city bus and walked the remaining block to the bakery, already tired before she started her day. Getting back into the routine of work was harder than she’d imagined.

  Although her trip to Europe had been technically work, she couldn’t deny it had been a whole lot more enjoyable travailing over exotic chocolate confections than getting up at four in the morning to work in a little run-down bakery in a rough part of town.