How Sweet It Is

by Bonnie Blythe

  She entered by the back door of the building. After storing her purse, she slipped on the well-worn apron. Again, she found herself depressed by the exposed heating ducts, wiring, plumbing, and the sight of rust and chipped paint. Old warehouse light fixtures hung down from the ceiling, their bulbs surrounded by cloudy coronas from the perpetual flour dust in the air.

  While cleanliness and order was at all times enforced, the place looked so dismal, she could only wonder if the gloomy interior manifested itself in the baked goods. She considered the quality only so-so.

  Even the lobby was devoid of all charm, the décor tending toward stark utilitarianism. Delphine often thought even a small attempt at homey decorations would encourage customers to linger and possibly purchase more products. As it was, the majority of the customers simply popped in to make their daily purchase, leaving the small Formica-topped tables for the most part empty.

  Delphine began her chore of removing the day old bread and baked goods—to be donated to a local homeless mission—then restocked the shelves with fresh product. All the racks and fixtures were metal or white wood, anemically illuminated by the same kind of lighting that was in the production area.

  Trying not to sigh aloud, she set her mind to the task at hand. If an image of Brad Larsen managed to infiltrate her consciousness, she worked that much harder to banish it.

  Four

  Brad felt like a caged tiger. It had been a week since he’d returned home from Europe, and he hadn’t been able to get the pretty French girl out of his mind. Despite the fact his mother had grilled him relentlessly on everything he knew about Delphine, he still wanted to see her. He paced in the den of his family’s home wondering what he should do next.

  He had to be careful to figure out a way to see her without his mother’s knowledge—because if she knew he planned to seek Delphine out, she’d undoubtedly start planning a wedding.

  Finally, his parents decided to go visit some friends. Brad marshaled his courage and decided to drive to Delphine’s home and see if he could speak to her. He jumped in his red VW Jetta and headed for Glendale. Forty-five minutes later, he turned down her street and soon came to a stop in front of her apartment. Feeling oddly nervous, Brad paused for a moment.

  Glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he combed his fingers through his hair. Then he peered down at what he wore. He hadn’t even thought to check before he left the house. Hopefully faded jeans and a cotton hooded pullover would suffice. He noticed a brown spot on the front of the pullover and grimaced. It was evidence of his chocolate binge earlier that morning.

  Brad gave a snort of disgust at his preening. I’m just going to see a girl, that’s all. Nothing to get all worked up about. He hit his forehead on the door of the car when he got out. Rubbing the sore spot, he made his way to Delphine’s apartment.

  After rapping on her door, he looked around at the surroundings. He hated to be judgmental, but he didn’t like the idea of her living in such a neighborhood. The door swung open and a small woman with large brown eyes peered up at him.

  “Qui êtes vous?”

  Must be Delphine’s mom. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly heard a voluble stream of French coming from inside the apartment. He recognized Delphine’s voice—and she was apparently upset about something. Temper, temper.

  Remembering he’d had a taste of that temper, he stifled his amusement and summoned his most charming smile. “I’m Brad Larsen, here to see Delphine D’Arleux.”

  The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, and a smile curved her lips. Without taking her gaze from him, she called for her daughter.

  A moment later, Delphine appeared at the door. Her dark eyes widened when she saw him.

  Brad caught his breath. She looked even lovelier than he remembered, especially with flushed cheeks and her hair piled carelessly on top of her head. Several strands framed the sides of her face.

  He smiled. “Miss D’Arleux, we meet again.” Brad released an unsteady breath. Nice remark, Larsen. Real suave. You hardly bumped into her by accident while standing on her doorstep!

  His frozen smile faltered when Delphine continued to stare at him as if he’d grown a second head.

  Her mother stood aside and opened the door wider. “Monsieur Larsen,” she said in heavily accented English. “Pleeze come in.”

  Avoiding Delphine’s gaze, Brad stepped into the apartment and looked around. The small living room boasted a loveseat and upholstered rocking chair, both draped in brocade, shiny with wear. The other pieces of furniture, though rough around the edges, looked like antiques. Beaded floor lamps sent out prisms of color into the rather dim room. A faint smell of garlic and musk hung in the air.

  Rather Bohemian.

  Beyond the living room he could see the kitchen counter and backsplash of multi-colored tiles. A braid of garlic hung on one wall above stacked copper pots and pans on the counter. Delphine’s candy-making cookware, no doubt. Feeling her gaze upon him, Brad turned around and smiled at her.

  “This is a great place.”

  “If you’re here to collect the airfare I owe, I—”

  He put up his hands. “No way. I’d totally forgotten about that.”

  Delphine crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow. “So, what brings you to this part of town then?” she asked, her tone flat.

  “Why, to see you, of course.” He turned to the smaller woman. “You must be Mrs. D’Arleux.” Brad took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  Delphine’s mother batted her eyelashes. “You may call me Clarice.”

  “Only if you call me Brad.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Delphine roll her gaze to the ceiling. A moment later, a man emerged from the kitchen. Spotting Brad, he stopped. Brad went to him and held out his hand.

  “Mon chèr,” Clarice said, “This iz Delphine’s ami Brad Larsen. Monsieur Larsen, this iz my Leone.”

  Leone shook his hand. “Bienvenue, er, welcome! Come and sit and tell us all about yourself.”

  “Didn’t Delphine mention me?” Brad asked, lowering himself onto the loveseat.

  Clarice suddenly clapped her hands together. “Tiens! You must stay for dinner! You can tell us all about yourself then. Delphine, you must entertain our guest. Leone! Come help me finish preparations in the kitchen!”

  Suddenly he and Delphine were alone in the living room. Brad looked up at her. She stood shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  “Did I come at a bad time?” he asked in a low voice.

  For the first time, he noticed a sheet of paper in her hand. As if aware of his interested gaze, she folded the paper and tucked it into a front pocket on her apron. She removed the apron and draped it over the back of the rocking chair before perching herself on the edge of the cushion.

  “Delphine?”

  “I just didn’t expect to see you again—so soon,” she said, her hand reaching up to smooth back a wayward lock of hair.

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  She offered him a stiff smile. “Of course not. But if you will excuse me, I would like to change.”

  Before he could respond, she hurried from the room. Frankly, he hadn’t noticed what she’d been wearing. His gaze slid to the apron on the chair. However he had noticed that piece of paper, a letter by the look of it. And moments before he’d arrived, she’d been upset about something—maybe something in that letter.

  Brad’s conscience gave him a powerful jolt, but he knew Delphine would never tell him anything. He looked around the loveseat past the dividing wall, noting her parents were busy in the kitchen. What to do, what to do? It would be so shameful to snoop, but what if it was a problem he could solve? Maybe it would make Delphine more open to his friendship.

  The little clock on the wall ticked loudly. Any moment she would appear. If he was going to find out what was in that letter, he had to be quick. Stifling the knowledge he was behaving disgracefully, he rose and took a couple of steps to the chair. W
ith his back to the kitchen and a glance toward the bedrooms, he slipped the paper from the pocket of the apron and unfolded it.

  Brad raised his brows at the letterhead. The Small Business Association? Scanning the letter, he let out a low groan. It referred to a loan Delphine had applied for, obviously to start her candy making business. The word DENIED jumped off the page.

  “What are you doing?”

  Brad jumped at the sound of Delphine’s voice. He turned around to face her, knowing he looked every inch a guilty schoolboy. He hid the letter behind his back, his mind racing to explain his actions.

  Delphine’s dark eyes burned like coals. She marched around him and twitched the letter from his fingers. “You had no right!”

  Brad puffed up his cheeks, hoping for inspiration to excuse his grubby behavior. He noticed Delphine had changed into a rose-colored dress. He blew out a breath, deciding to try diversion. “You look very pretty.”

  She crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it at him. It missed, which only seemed to infuriate her more. Delphine crossed her arms and opened her mouth, obviously preparing to unleash a scalding lecture upon him.

  Brad crossed to her side and put his hands on her arms. He tipped his lips into a smile, desperately hoping to diffuse the situation. “Poor Delphine. Nothing’s working out for you, is it?”

  She shook his hands away. “Don’t you dare mock me!”

  Strike two! He spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “I’m not mocking you, Delphine. I’m sorry for snooping, but I knew whatever was in that letter upset you. I just want to help.”

  “I don’t need your help!”

  Clarice walked into the living room. Her bright gaze swiveled between them as a smile lit up her features. She took a step backward, spun on her heel, then returned to the kitchen. Brad could’ve sworn he heard her say l’amour.

  Even a California boy knew the meaning of that.

  Delphine thought if her face grew any hotter, it would surely burst into flames. The comment her mother made about love didn’t help matters either. Seeing the genuine look of distress on Brad’s face caused all the fight to drain out of her. She put a hand to her head and sank onto the sofa. “I’m sorry, Mr. Larsen. This hasn’t been a very good day.”

  Brad came to her side, seating himself next to her on the loveseat—so close she could smell the citrusy scent of his cologne, feel the warmth from his body—his strong, masculine body. Every absurdly weak, feminine atom within her screamed to lean into that strength.

  She clenched her hands together in her lap.

  “Delphine,” Brad said gently. “I had no business snooping like that. Please forgive me.”

  She made a Herculean effort to compose herself. Swallowing, she raised her gaze to his. “You were right. I was upset. All my plans, everything depended on that loan. Since I don’t have the proper credit to go through the bank, the SBA was my only hope.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, belying the turmoil roiling within her. “C’est la vie, eh?”

  Brad took one of her hands. This time Delphine didn’t have the willpower to yank it away. His grip felt warm and soothing, like a sedative seeping through her veins.

  “I have an idea, but please don’t take this the wrong way. My dad has helped a lot of entrepreneurs get their start. Would you consider putting together a business proposal for him? I can’t guarantee anything, but it might be worth a try.”

  “I couldn’t take anything else from your family.”

  Brad shook his head. “Not take. Borrow. This would be a business proposition, and my dad is always looking for new ways to make money. If he were to give you a loan, you would be expected to pay it back with interest. Same thing as a loan through a bank.”

  Lowering her gaze from his compelling one, she took a moment to consider his words. At first, they sent her heart pounding with new hope. In the next instant, reality raised its insistent head. Why would this guy want to help me? What’s in it for him? A sudden suspicion clouded her thoughts. She looked up at him. “How would I know this isn’t a scam? Who’s to say your father is trustworthy?”

  Brad’s mouth opened. He closed it and smiled. “I suppose I deserved that.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Put together a proposal and if my dad accepts it, take any paperwork he gives you to an attorney and get it checked out.”

  Looking down at their hands, Delphine could feel her pulse jump. The temptation to take Brad’s advice was strong. The trip to Europe would be an utter waste unless she could begin a business. With her savings account drained, she needed money, plain and simple.

  Delphine also knew a loan from Brad’s father would bring her into Brad’s sphere. Could she bear to see him and know he’d only see her as someone to flirt with? Or worse than that, like a stray dog in need of a handout? God forbid, she didn’t want his pity.

  Well, what do you want?

  She peered up at Brad through her lashes, annoyed that attraction warred with common sense. Those blue eyes of his seemed to promise blue skies—while the possible solution to her problems tantalized her beyond belief.

  She felt herself swaying in his direction.

  Clarice erupted into the room. “À table! Time for dinner, mes enfants. Tonight we have Blanquette de Brochet.”

  Catching her breath, Delphine tugged her hand free from Brad’s clasp and got to her feet. “I’ll think about it,” she said in a husky voice that sounded odd to her ears.

  ****

  Delphine arose at four the following morning, readied for work, and checked on her parents before leaving the house. Catching a bus from the street corner, she sat on the hard seat and gave in to her relentless thoughts.

  Since Brad had put the idea of a loan from his father in her head, she’d barely been able to sleep. Her mind had been in a whirl, her heart daring to hope. Could it be possible that she had another chance at success? Or was it the beginning of just one more disappointment?

  God, are You there? I’m so confused!

  As the bus lurched from stop to stop, Delphine felt separated from everything around her. A hectic yearning filled her—a longing for something better than this day to day existence—for a comfortable income and freedom from exhaustion and the clinging, petty financial stresses which weighed on her soul.

  Last night before bed, she’d tried to pray and ask for wisdom. A part of her wondered why she bothered. Regardless of her supplications, her plans always seemed to go awry. More disenchantment seemed her only answer.

  You got home from Paris, didn’t you?

  Delphine blew out a breath as the thought occurred to her. She was ashamed at her ungrateful attitude. Yes, miraculously, I got home from Paris. Thank You, Lord. She let her eyes close for a moment, wishing she had more faith. Everything seemed to be such a battle.

  She supposed it would help if she went to church once in a while. But when? Her only day off was Monday and most churches didn’t offer services of any kind then. Besides, it was easy to put off when her bed promised oblivion. In church, she’d have to examine her heart. She already knew she’d fallen short, so why go to the effort?

  Delphine pressed her lips together and tried to concentrate on the passing scenery. The neighborhoods and buildings sat shrouded in the early morning shadows. In a few homes she could see lights on inside. What kind of day were others waking up to? Maybe her hopes of a comfortable life were unrealistic. She couldn’t be the only one struggling to survive.

  The bus stopped to let on a passenger. Delphine leaned her forehead on the cool, smudged glass, too tired to hold up her head a moment longer. A tree next to the curb caught her attention. A little brown bird hopped from branch to branch, tilting its head as if wondering at the smelly, lumbering beast next to it. The bird opened its tiny beak and poured forth a series of liquid notes she could just hear through the glass.

  The bus engine roared to life, eclipsing the echo of sound until she wondered if she’d only imagined it.

  His eye is on the sparrow.
<
br />   Delphine lifted her head and looked around. Had anyone else heard those words? Her gaze only met the blank, uninterested faces of the other passengers. Swallowing, she felt a film of tears burn her eyes. A portion of her frustration eased at the idea God might be reminding her of His presence.

  Delphine thought once again of Brad’s offer. After being turned down by the SBA, chances were even bleaker for her to secure any kind of loan. In the grim hours of fatigue and mental weariness to come, she knew if she didn’t take him up on his offer, she’d later regret it.

  The bus pitched to a stop. Delphine rose and exited onto the sidewalk. She took a deep breath of the sweet morning air before it became polluted with the diesel fumes from the bus.

  I’ll put that proposal together as soon as possible.

  ****

  Determination, fueled by hope, made the morning speed by in a blur. Delphine waited on customers, and after the first rush, was left alone to work the counter. She’d just completed wiping down emptied tables when a customer entered.

  She looked up, and seeing a friendly face, hurried behind the counter to take his order. “Chocolate glazed doughnut and black coffee today, Mr. Hartung?”

  The man grinned. “You know an old stick-in-the-mud like me too well.”

  While she placed the doughnut on a plate and filled a heavy mug with black coffee, he leaned against the counter.

  “I thought you must’ve quit when I didn’t see you here for a week.”

  Delphine smiled. “I took a little break.”

  “Well, I know the boss here runs you ragged so I’m glad to hear that. Do anything special? Spend time with your beau?”

  “Not enough time for a beau,” she said, enjoying his banter. She knew some of the other female co-workers were annoyed by his nosiness, but Delphine sensed he was a little lonely. And who better to recognize it than another loner?