My Sweet Valentine

by Sanders, Jill

  Allen thought it was due to Iian being deaf, but the man had an uncanny knack of knowing what was going on with everyone all the time. Since he'd been in Pride, Allen had always used his friend’s gift to his benefit. He'd always asked Iian to tell him what he thought of his new recruits, if they had what it took to make it through the training. So far, the man had never been wrong.

  “Yeah, well.” Allen took another sip of his beer, then his friend patted him on the back.

  “Good luck with that one,” Iian said. “She can be a hellcat if you ever cross her.” He shook his head. “Claws like a lioness.” His friend was smiling.

  A lioness? Funny, so far Allen had seen nothing in Sara that would make him describe her in that way. More like a scared kitten looking for a dark corner to hide in.

  “John Timothy! Get off the ladder this instant!” Sara stood with her arms crossed. It was less than a week after Christmas and the third day since she'd taken possession of Allison's building on Main Street. No, she told herself, her new building. John Timothy, a local electrician she'd known since she was a child, stood on top of the ladder looking down at her. The man had retired less than a year ago after a major heart attack. His two sons were busy working in the back room.

  “Now, Sara, I'm not quite through here.”

  “You are not supposed to be on that ladder and you know it. Don't make me call your wife down here.” She watched him scurry down the ladder.

  She sighed and dropped her arms. Her head was hurting from all the banging the other men were doing in the back. The sawdust was causing her eyes to turn red and itch. “You need to go back over there and sit down. You said you were going to supervise and nothing more. Don't make me regret letting you through my doors.” She was so focused on Mr. Timothy she almost didn't hear the chuckle behind her. Spinning around, she looked right into someone's chest. She knew exactly who it was and tried to not let out a sigh of frustration. She didn't need the distraction right now. Slowly moving her eyes up, she looked into Allen's eyes and saw he was laughing at her.

  “I just stopped by to see if you needed any help. I didn't know you'd be scolding John here.” He smiled and nodded towards Mr. Timothy. Allen looked good. How was it that a man could look so good in faded blue jeans and an oversized Coastguard jacket?

  “How's it going, Allen?” Mr. Timothy said as he climbed down the rest of the rungs on the ladder and walked over to shake Allen's hand.

  “Can't complain. So, how's construction going?” Allen and Mr. Timothy walked further into the room, essentially ignoring her. They talked about the building and what they were doing to it to make it ready for her. She unfolded her arms and decided Allen would keep him entertained and off the ladder so she could finish placing her orders. Walking back to the makeshift desk that held her laptop, she sat down, took another sip of her coffee, and got back to work.

  There was still so much to do before opening day, which she projected would be the middle of January. The building had only needed some minor changes. Electric and gas needed to be updated in the back room for her ovens. A large island was being built in the middle of the room so she had a large surface to work on. There was already a small office that she was just having them paint for her. It had a large window that overlooked the kitchen area. She would need a new desk and chair that would fit in the small area. In the front room, the main countertop had been cut in half so that the remaining space could house her large refrigerated display cases. Looking at her computer screen, she smiled at the four large cases she'd just ordered. Delivery was set for next Tuesday. She felt like dancing around to celebrate, but knew there was still so much she had to do. Her mixers, ovens, and other utensils still needed to be purchased.

  She'd hired a company in Portland to create her logo and the images she'd need for all her menus. She'd spent the last three days fine tuning her menu items and had emailed them to the company. They'd promised a rough draft of her menus later that week. She'd opened accounts under her business name with all the distributors that she would need. It helped that she'd worked with each vendor before and knew where to go. Her first shipment of flour, butter, and eggs were going to be delivered later next week, which meant that the large refrigerators for the back room, which she'd purchased from a company in Portland, would have to be delivered at least a day earlier. Picking up her cell phone, she called to set up the delivery. Ten minutes later, her headache had tripled. It seemed that her order had been misplaced and they had no record of it. By the end of the call, she’d arranged for three oversized, professional-grade refrigerators to be on a truck just in time for her first delivery of food. Knowing it took a while for the units to get cold, she wondered if she should set her food order back a day.

  Looking down at her schedule and the list of items she still had to accomplish, she decided she'd call tomorrow and set the delivery back. Right now, she had some more ordering to do. She had almost everything else she would need except the conventional ovens.

  She'd worked with a couple of different brands in previous jobs as a baker, but her favorite by far was Vulcan. It hurt to spend the extra money, but she knew from experience that the ovens would pay for themselves in the low maintenance they would require over the next few years.

  “Wow!” a voice said from behind her, causing her to almost jump out of her chair. Allen’s hands came down on her shoulders as he mumbled, “Easy. Didn't mean to scare you.” She heard him chuckle.

  “You didn't,” she lied. “I was just focused.” She heard him chuckle again.

  “Are you really going to pay that much for an oven?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, and she wished more than anything that he'd move them. She couldn't think when he was touching her.

  “Yes, actually, I'll be getting two of them.” She looked over her shoulder at him and tried to dislodge his hands. She only succeeded in making him move them a little so that now he was massaging her shoulders. She had to admit, it felt wonderful.

  He whistled and shook his head. “What are those?” He moved his hand away from her shoulder long enough to point at her computer screen.

  She turned back towards her screen as he continued to massage her neck. Closing her eyes for just a second, she tried not to think of what his hands were doing to her system.

  “Those are fryer baskets.” She closed her eyes again and rolled her head forward.

  “The kind you make french fries in?”

  “Hmmm, yes.”

  “Why would you need fryer baskets?”

  “Donuts.”

  He stopped rubbing her shoulders. “You're going to have donuts?” She sat up a little, straightening her back and looked at him.

  “This is going to be a bakery.” He was looking at the computer screen, then a huge smile crossed his face.

  “What else are you going to have?” He pulled out a five-gallon bucket, flipped it, and sat on it next to her. Excitement was written all over his face, so much so that she couldn't help but smile at him.

  “Well, if you want, I can show you my menu.” She opened the file on her laptop and he leaned closer to her to get a better look.

  When he was done reading over the simple menu, he turned to her and smiled. “You're going to have monkey bread! Sara, you are not only doing this town a great service, I think you've just stolen my heart.” She knew he was joking, but it didn't stop her heart from skipping a beat.

  Chapter Three

  It felt like his lungs were on fire. Even when his body begged for air, he steadied his mind and continued to hold his breath for another fifteen seconds. When he finally came up for air, he noticed he'd been the last one to do so. It had always been that way. His new recruits were all treading water around him, some gasping for air, others easily swimming. He'd taken stock of who had come up first and the order that the other seven recruits had come up.

  “Jones.” He nodded towards the skinny kid. “Dry off, change, and be in my office in five. The rest of you, take ten laps and call it a d
ay.” He hated letting the kid go, but so far, his record wasn't impressive. You had to be made of stronger stuff and the hundred-and-thirty-pound twenty-two-year-old just didn't have what it took to be in the Coastguard. Sure, he'd worked hard for the last three years, but that didn't mean he was tough enough to handle an open ocean rescue.

  Allen dried off and watched his recruits swimming laps in the Olympic-size swimming pool they used to train for water rescues. Finally, after a few minutes, he turned and walked towards his office. The kid was standing by his door looking like every other recruit had before he'd given them the news. The kid’s shoulders sank, his head hung low, and he avoided eye contact with Allen.

  He hated telling kids that their life's dreams were being squashed. Only once in the last several years had he been wrong about someone. Terry O'Brian had been much like the kid standing before him now when Allen had given him the news that he wasn't cut out for the job. Terry had taken it badly, but the next year had shown back up on Allen's doorstep, fifty pounds heavier with bulging muscles, and his head firmly on his shoulders. He'd passed the yearlong classes with flying colors and had gone on to take a position in Alaska, one of the roughest jobs along the coast. Allen smiled. Maybe this kid could bounce back like Terry had, he thought, shutting his door behind them.

  When he got off work, he decided a meal at the Golden Oar was in order. Sitting in the familiar room with the sounds of a crowd and the smells of wonderful food always lifted his spirits. By half way through his meal, he'd talked himself into believe cutting the kid loose was for the best. If he looked at it from one angle, he could have just saved his life.

  After he'd eaten, he sat there and chatted with Iian a little. When he left, the snow was coming down in thick clumps. Already his truck was starting to slide on the hill when he went up towards Main Street. When he saw the light on in the bakery and Sara's small car sitting outside, he pulled over and parked behind it. He'd hate to think that she'd have any more car problems on a night like this.

  Sara stood back and watched as her new appliances were being hooked up. The vents and fans had been installed yesterday, and now the two ovens sat beautifully below them. The ovens, one a gas six-burner with two ovens below, the other a double-stacked, double-wide convection oven, looked perfect along the stainless-steel-plated walls. Her new register was sitting on the countertop, but she decided she could unpack it at the last moment. It was the same she'd used at her last job. The new coffee machine and espresso machines sat along the back counter, ready to use. She figured she'd try those out soon, since she was dying for a caramel latte.

  She still had so much to do in the front, but decided to take a break and watch the process. Looking around the large back room of her bakery, she smiled. The light yellow walls made the place look cheery. The shiny chrome worktables in the middle of the room gleamed in the daylight. She'd yet to unpack all her utensils; they sat in several boxes in the corner, out of the way. The huge mixer sat on the opposite wall. It was an older model that she'd found used online, but it looked and ran like new. The shelving that would hold her dry supplies still had to be put together. They sat in large boxes pushed up against the back wall. She planned on putting them together herself later that night.

  Her sister stood beside her, looking bored. Becca had wanted to come down and help her today, but so far all she'd done was text her friends. It took the men less than half an hour to have everything set up. When she walked over and tested the units, they kicked on and she couldn't wait to bake something in them. She was still waiting for her refrigerators, which would line the wall to the left, but everything else had been delivered and setup. When the men left, she walked over and took one of the boxes from the corner and placed it on the worktable.

  “Becca, you can help me out by unpacking my utensils. They hang on the hooks here.” She showed her sister the hooks hanging above the workspace. “That box,” she pointed to the other box along the wall, “is full of knives and they go on the magnets there.” She pointed towards the long magnetic holders that hung above the cutting table. “Be careful, they are very sharp. I'm going to finish up front. If you have any questions, let me know.”

  She watched her sister set her phone down on the worktable and open the box. Becca still looked bored as she got to work, but she knew her sister would do her best to have everything in place.

  When she walked back into the front room, she was greeted by the two smiling face of Allison and Conner just outside the front door. She rushed to open it for her friend.

  “Wow, look at what you've done so far. The place looks wonderful!” Allison said as she wiped her snow-covered boots on the large mat that Sara had set out. It was just an overly large black work mat, but it kept the floors clean for now. She planned to buy a better looking one for when she opened the doors.

  “Thank you. Would you like a tour?” Sara reached over and grabbed Conner from Allison's arms. The little boy had his arms reached out for her and the second she held him, his chubby fingers reached up and intertwined with her dark curly hair.

  “I'd love one.” Allison hung her coat on the coat rack Sara had placed by the front door. She planned to replace it with hooks that would line the wall next to the door. For now, the coat rack and her small desk and folding chair were the only furniture in the large front room besides her display cases.

  “Actually, maybe you can help me out.” Sara turned to her friend.

  “Sure, anything.” Allison looked eager.

  “I need some tables and chairs and possibly a couch for this room. I don't want anything new, since I think most people in town appreciate a little history. I was planning on hitting the antique stores in Edgeview this weekend. If you have a free day, maybe you'd like to go with me, since it is what you did before you became a world-famous artist.” Sara smiled at her friend.

  Allison laughed. “World famous, huh? I'd love to go shopping with you. Let me text Iian and make sure he can schedule a day at home with our little joy here.” Allison tickled her son’s stomach and was rewarded with a fit of giggles. While Sara tried to hold the wiggly boy, Allison text her husband and arranged it all.

  “There, we're all set. Saturday, I'm all yours. I can't wait. I haven't been antiquing since…well, since I ran Adam's Antiques.” Allison laughed.

  “Do you miss it?” Sara set Conner down and watched him run circles around the room. Looking up at Allison, she saw a tear slip down her friend’s face. “Oh, no. Don't do that.” She rushed to her friend’s side. “I didn't mean to make you sad.”

  “You didn't.” Allison smiled. “Seeing this old place being fixed up, it does me good knowing that it will be used again. I have nothing but fond memories of this place. Of my parents and of Abby during happier days.”

  Allison's sister Abby had died; cancer had taken her quickly after they'd graduated high school. They’d lost their father a few years before, and Abby and Allison had pretty much taken over the family business. The antique store had shut down a few years back when Allison's art career had rocketed to huge proportions.

  “I'm sorry.” Sara knew what her friend had gone through back then.

  Allison spun in a slow circle, much like her son was still doing. “It makes me happy knowing you're turning this place into something great again. It's sat empty for too long.” She was smiling when she stopped. “I can't wait to see it all when it's finished.”

  Sara smiled. “Let me show you the kitchen. You'll get a kick out it. They just finished installing my stoves.”

  Allison picked up her son and they started walking to the back room. When she swung open her new doors, she was shocked to see her sister in a heated embrace. She recognized Nick Becker and coughed loudly, watching as the pair jumped apart. Hearing Allison giggle behind her, she straightened her shoulders and tried to stifle a smile. She needed to keep tighter reigns on her sister, as it was beginning to look more and more like her mother wouldn't do it.

  “Becca, I'm sure Nick has other thi
ngs he needs to be doing. I know you do.” She turned to Allison, dismissing the couple as she started talking about everything that she'd done in the back room.

  After Allison left, Becca made some excuse and said she was heading home, which left Sara alone in the store. She didn't mind being alone. Actually, it was the first time she'd been left alone in the place since she'd taken possession.

  She had a dozen or more emails she had to reply to. Her menus were completed and she'd emailed the company with her approval and order. Her website was almost done and she had emailed the designer a photo of herself. Now all she needed was pictures of some of her creations and an image of the building. She was waiting to take that picture until after her sign was delivered next week. Then there were the emails to her suppliers. By the time she was done, her head was a little dull and it was full dark outside the large front windows. She still had to put the shelves together in the kitchen, and was excited to use the new tools she'd purchased just for this occasion.

  She was about to shut her laptop down when she was notified of a new email. Opening it without a thought, she was shocked when an old image of herself crossed the screen. The picture had been taken almost five years ago, just after she'd moved away from Pride. Her hair was shorter then and she had an extra ten pounds on. But what shocked her and made her hands shake was that the image had been altered. Her head was pasted on someone else’s body, a very naked body. Red splashes had crossed the woman's wrists and naked breasts. Her legs were at an odd angle, thanks to editing software. All in all, whoever had altered it had done a terrible job. But the meaning was clear. Sara's hands shook as she picked up her phone and punched the number she knew by heart.