by Jean Oram
“But you can’t do that!” She was sure John had made sure the interest rate was set. Absolutely sure.
“Not with you, I can’t.” He gave her a half smile. “You’ve a good lawyer.” His voice perked up and he said, “Don’t worry. Wrap it Up will rise like a phoenix from the fire.”
“That kind of implies everything is going to be reduced to ash first, Seth.” She rubbed her forehead. “Can’t you just give it to me straight, for once?”
He sighed. “Bankruptcy.” He slowly wrapped her hands in his, his gray eyes gazing into hers with what seemed like real pain. “I never did anything wrong,” he said softly. “In six months from now, this will all be over and I’ll be exonerated--”
“You said you’ve already been exonerated!”
“Yes, but…I can’t afford to go through this. I have retirement plans. I’m filing for bankruptcy.”
“But you took my money. Why would you take my money if you…” She stared at him, seeing the shrewd businessman everyone else had seen--the one Frankie had warned her about. Oh, no. Ohhhh, no. She took five steps back, hand on her chest as though she’d been stabbed. “You took my money with no intention of ever letting me open! That’s why everything has been delayed. It’s you!” She covered her mouth. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“Mandy, no,” he begged. “I want you to open. I want you to do well. You’re not like the rest. You’re not rich. I don’t ruin lives.”
She pointed a finger at him, angry that it was shaking. “You better not screw me over, Seth. You’d better find a way to get my place set up so I can open or I will--” Will what? Everything she could have used as a threat, the cops were already nailing him on. “I’ll make you regret it like you wouldn’t believe. You’re not messing with city girls. You’re messing with Blueberry Springs.”
Mandy gunned her truck up the mountain pass to Blueberry Springs and brushed a tear from her cheek. She’d keep moving forward when she’d stopped trusting Seth because she trusted John and his contract revisions. But as smart as John was, she had a strong feeling the both of them had been outmaneuvered by a city man.
She sighed, trying to think of an angle. Any angle that would help her save this. She couldn’t think of one and her mind went in circles, stuck. If she gave up, she lost. If she didn’t give up, she still lost.
But to throw it all away today--preemptively--so she could slink off and hide meant she was accepting her fate. And she would not do that. She was not her mother. She would never allow anyone to defeat her without her permission. Going through the past few months had changed her. She was stronger and was getting a sense for who she really was.
She flicked on her wipers, driving past mounds of dirty snow that had slid off the mountain during very late season avalanches. The highest northern ridges were still snow-covered from the late spring storms, but with August’s heavy rain, they’d had two days of mud slides, avalanches and flash floods along the road. She couldn’t recall there ever being a year like this. Mother Nature’s moodiness seemed to be matching her own moods stroke for stroke.
Her truck swished through the remains of an earlier flash flood and she pushed away pangs of loneliness. She flipped her sunglasses down as her truck roared into the sunlight at the end of an avalanche tunnel. Like a rebirth.
A rebirth she couldn’t have. No mulligans. No do-overs.
She had to proceed with what she had.
Frankie.
The one thing she’d always counted on and now no longer had. She brushed the tears from her cheeks. What Ethan had said was true. He had always been there for her, letting her be the guide while she stomped all over his wishes, his feelings. She’d refused to let him get close, refused to owe him a thing. She was a horrible friend in some ways and he’d always been so patient with her--something she’d assumed would last forever. Something she now realized was incredibly unfair.
She raised her sunglasses again as she drove into the last avalanche shed between her and the lower meadows of home. As she entered, something felt off. She eased up on the gas and flicked on her lights. Something was definitely wrong. Her truck was rumbling and shaking, making her vibrate in her seat. Frowning, she checked the gauges and hit her flashers. She couldn’t afford a breakdown. Financially or location-wise. Between here and home, there was nowhere safe to pull over, due to no stopping zones, avalanche zones, and a long runaway lane for trucks whose brakes had gone out on the long hill into town.
She was almost out of the tunnel when a sudden bout of vertigo hit her. She blinked hard as thundering blocked out the sound of her stereo. Mandy slammed on her brakes as snow, mud, rocks, trees, and rushing water piled in front of her, sliding into a growing mound blocking the exit.
She threw her truck into reverse, and with her heart throbbing madly in her chest, she backed up, watching pieces of the mountain continue to thunder down over the protective tunnel. Feeling as though she was being tumbled around in a clothes dryer, she closed her eyes to steady herself, waiting for the deafening roar to come to an end.
She peeked out at the debris, which continued to mound higher and higher, trapping her. She checked her rearview mirror to confirm that the same was happening at the other end of the short tunnel. The air stilled and quieted and the remaining detritus tumbled over the exits, sucking the last bit of light out of her safe, concrete cave.
After the roaring and cracking, the tunnel felt frighteningly quiet. Thick mud had oozed into the tunnel and fear left a bitter taste on her tongue as she checked her phone’s signal. Nothing.
She was trapped. Alone. The darkness felt complete and she fought for control of her breathing. She rested her head on the steering wheel, thoughts streaming through her mind. She’d be in the papers again with all her current failures--the franchise, getting trapped here. But she’d survived worse humiliations. And she would again.
She’d survived Oz dumping her so he could pick up with harmless Beth instead of facing the reality of his life. Mandy had told him he should get out of his father’s business and chase his passion but he didn’t listen. Well, eventually he did, but not until much later. She’d been good for Oz. He’d just been a poor listener who took forever to follow through on advice.
She’d also pushed Frankie to go on TV--to gnaw on the very marrow of his passions.
But again, the town had pointed their fingers at her--she was the bad guy for causing change in Oz’s life as well as Frankie’s.
For years, she’d lived with a giant hand of fear clutching her heart because of Frankie. Ever since that night under the water tower when he’d come flying toward the earth after she’d screamed his name, she’d been living in fear. Fear for how much she loved her best friend. Scared her love wouldn’t be enough to make him stay, just as it hadn’t been enough to keep her father from leaving her and her mother to go take up with a new family across town. And later, she’d been scared that Frankie would leave her the way Oz had left her for Beth. Twice.
But of course Oz wasn’t the man she was supposed to be with. Oz was the one man in town she could easily pretend to love, but never be truly crushed by.
Not like Frankie.
Fear had made her cling to Oz, to do desperate things to keep herself from having to be alone. Of having to face Frankie and the power of her emotions head on.
Yet, after all these years, Frankie still loved her. He’d waited. He hadn’t allowed her to push him away. He was right there. Ready.
She loved him. It was that simple. She always had. Great big scary love. If she opened that door to her soul and peeked inside, she was overwhelmed by a love for him that made her dizzy and breathless. Every time. And now it was time to let that door off its hinges and see what happened.
She was ready. Ready to meet his heart and the power of his love, head on.
She was finally strong enough. The disasters with her business start-up hadn’t led to her collapsing the way her mother had when faced with adversity. They had only made her mo
re determined and she knew it was time to leave her fears behind so she could experience true love.
When she got out of this tunnel, the first thing she was going to do was run to Frankie and make him hers.
Grinning to herself she yelled out, “I’m in love with my best friend!”
14
It had taken all her courage to drive back through those avalanche tunnels between her and the studio where Frankie was filming, but she’d done it. She’d ignored her lengthy to-do list and whipped up a batch of brownies just for him.
Deep in the city, Mandy parked her truck beside several souped-up cars outside Studio B. Now all she needed was the guts to get out of her truck, step through those doors and tell Frankie the truth: that she missed him and she loved him.
Oh, man. She shook out her hands and bit her lips. Driving all this way had been the easy part. Now she actually had to do it. Let go. Put herself out there.
She closed her eyes and slid out of her truck, balancing the plate of brownies on her upheld hand. She took two steps forward, then turned back to her truck.
She couldn’t do it. What if he rejected her? What if it was too late? What if he said yes but only wanted a weekend with her? What if he said yes and she fell so deep and hard and something happened to him like when they were teenagers?
She lowered her forehead to the warm metal of her truck. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t strong enough. And she didn’t have anything to offer him. She was a dragonfly’s wingspan away from failure. From losing his inheritance. She wasn’t a big fish. She wasn’t even a waitress anymore. She was a nothing. She wasn’t even a good friend.
She closed her eyes against the tornado of emotions battling inside. She needed to get a grip on her fears. She couldn’t let them run her life any longer. She wanted this. She’d already taken the first steps to changing her life. All she had to do was keep up the momentum.
Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled her head off her truck, ignoring the oily smear she’d left behind, and marched herself into the studios. Huge walls rose up on either side of her and oversized doors led into various rooms. She paused in the dim halls until she spotted the man-sized door that hid Frankie. She stared at it. Was she supposed to knock? What if they were filming?
A woman came up, reached over and opened the door. “Those will be popular,” she said, eyeing the plate wavering in Mandy’s hand. She pointed to a darkened light to the right of doorjamb. “When the light is off, you’re safe to go in.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
The room overpowered her with the scent of oil, gasoline, paint, and pretty much everything that made her heart ache for Frankie. Large fans struggled to keep the fumes out, providing a constant hum in the background. An old roadster sat under huge lights that were so bright, the rest of the room disappeared when you focused on it. A man in a T-shirt sporting the show’s logo worked on a rusty fender. A few large cameras were set up around the room and shiny toolboxes on wheels were scattered about, along with state-of-the-art tools that must have had Frankie drooling. A dream come true.
She smiled, knowing he had to be loving it and would come home inspired to get his bodywork business off the ground and leave parts stocking in his past.
She turned to leave, feeling as though she shouldn’t have come and caught Frankie’s eye. For a second she faltered as their eyes locked.
Frankie resumed his work and she watched his hands deftly move a piece of metal, grinding it into a perfect circle. Summoning her courage, she made her way over to him, stepping over various cords and hoses taped to the floor.
“Hey,” she said as he turned off the grinder and lifted his safety goggles. “Um.” She glanced at the roadster frame in the middle of the room and, unable to think of something brilliant to say, shoved the brownies in Frankie’s direction. “I brought you brownies.”
His eyes flickered to the other workers who had stopped their projects to check out what was happening with the dame carting goodies.
“Brownies,” she said, giving the plate a light lift in the air, answering their unspoken question.
“All right!” The men moved in.
“They’re for Frankie,” she scolded gently. She pointed to one side of the plate. “These ones win the fall fair every year, and these ones--” she pointed to the new batch “--are my latest creation. I’m going to enter them in the bake-off this year. I was hoping to get Frankie’s opinion since I created them as a way to pay homage to his late grandfather.” She swung the plate away from reaching fingers, her heart doing a little Olympic diving stunt in her chest when she turned back to face Frankie. “But maybe he’ll share.” She shot the men a coy look.
The guys turned to Frankie and he shrugged, his face a mask as he said, “Help yourselves.”
Dirty fingers grabbed the dark chocolate squares, leaving only one of the new recipe squares for Frankie. Mandy offered it to him. “This is my newest recipe.”
Frankie ignored it while fiddling with the grinder’s guard and she slowly lowered the plate. “The roadster looks great.”
“Not really,” he replied.
“Um. Your mom is really excited and proud of you.”
Frankie gave her a sidelong look, arms crossed. “You came all this way to tell me that?”
“And a few other things.” She pressed her finger on a brownie crumb and lifted it to her mouth. “I’ve missed you,” she said quietly, studying the plate. He was right there, listening. Waiting. And she couldn’t make herself put it out there. Of all the things she’d expected, she didn’t expect him to be so…distant.
“I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.”
She peeked up at him, startled. “I did. And I realized some things. I got stuck in an avalanche tunnel.”
“I heard.”
She nodded. Of course. He probably even knew about Seth and how screwed she was. “And I’m sorry.” She peeked at him again. “You were right. And I was wrong.”
“About what?”
Mandy bit back tears. “Everything,” she said in a choked voice. She longed to grab him and hold him against her. “You. Me. My attitude. My expectations. The franchise. Borrowing money. Everything.” She looked up at him. He was watching her with a kind, forgiving expression, but he wasn’t pulling her into his arms and she knew it wasn’t just because of the onlookers. Frankie had never cared about that kind of stuff. “Can you forgive me?” she asked. “I was dumb.”
He watched her, his jaw working.
She added, her cheeks burning, “I was dumb for years. I can see it now. I put my fears before your feelings. And I’m sorry because I’ve always felt--”
“Why now?” he snapped. “Now that you have nothing left? Now I’m good enough for you?” He turned his back.
Something unsaid hung between them and she cast a glance around the room as chills ran up her spine. And there she was. A short woman in overalls, feet set wide apart, watching with more than an onlooker’s level of interest. She was holding some sort of mini blowtorch but Mandy knew it didn’t burn nearly as brightly as the torch she had for her best friend.
Mandy glanced at Frankie, who had been watching the woman, as well. Mandy stepped back and let out a deep breath. “I’m too late.” She bit back a hysterical laugh, her insides churning with humiliation and pain.
“Why now?” Frankie was looking at her, a sharp edge to his voice. “Why couldn’t you want me during the good times?” He stepped closer and she felt the urge to run. “All those times I asked?”
“Because I…I just…I.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the other woman. What did Frankie see in this pixie-like tomboy other than the urge to give the major cuteness a big squeeze?
It had only been a week. How could he fall out of love with her and for someone else so quickly?
“Is it real?” she asked, facing Frankie, trying to look deep into his eyes to delve out the truth.
He kept his eyes averted. “You only want me because I’m not th
ere to hold you up and you think you’re going to lose me. I hate games, Mandy. I hate them.” He slammed down the metal circle, his cheeks red.
Mandy bit her lips, trying not to feel embarrassed, as she was sure every head in the studio workshop had turned toward them. Her knees shook as she stepped right up to Frankie, hoping nobody could pick up her words. Breathing in his peppermint scent for what she hoped wasn’t the last time, she stood on the edge of that cliff, eyes watering, trying not to look at the jagged rocks below. She brushed her lips against his cheek as she whispered, “I love you. And I’ll wait for you. However long it takes. Good times and bad. There has only ever been a place for you in my heart.”
15
Mandy slumped on the stool at the tall counter that would have overlooked Main Street if the window wasn’t still covered in paper announcing an upcoming grand opening--which, at this point, felt pretty much felt like a big, fat hopeless lie.
In the avalanche, she’d convinced herself she’d changed. But the truth was, she was still a scared little nobody who couldn’t change her life.
She hadn’t nabbed Frankie when she’d had the chance.
Plus, she hadn’t taken Seth’s bankruptcy warning, Blair’s advice, John’s advice, or anyone else’s to the extent that it had left her fully protected. And now, she would lose Frankie’s building in just two weeks--a full week before her planned opening--if she didn’t find a way to pay back her outstanding debt against the franchise. Because with the franchise going into official receivership, it didn’t matter how much Seth owed her in their agreement; it was all about what she owed the drowning company.
She rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the headache that was badgering her. If she had money, it would be easy. She could pay off the open loan and save herself--or at least, Frankie’s building.
How could she have trusted Seth? How naive and blind was she?
She pushed aside the registered letter and newspaper article she’d read several times over the past forty-five minutes, trying to get them to sink in. A business expert in the paper claimed Seth had charged the franchisees more than was reasonable for his delivery of a less than superior product. On top of it all, he had suddenly begun agreeing to set up franchises in places where there was no hope of them ever surviving. Including Blueberry Springs.
