by Rachel Astor
He stuck in his headphones and started up his favorite jazz playlist, pulling out a notepad for brainstorming.
He drew a cupcake, labeling the drawing with the flavors that came to him so easily, then sighed, ripping the page out and balling it up, tossing it in the trash.
Candy. This has to be about candy, he reminded himself.
He fell into daydreams of candy, all right, but it was not the designing of candy that was on his mind. It was a certain gorgeous candy girl making all the treats a person could eat, and she was making them for him.
An hour later, his father burst into the room, disappointment and frustration all over his face.
It was a look Nick was far too familiar with. He pulled off his headphones.
“The entire warehouse can see you in here, staring off into space with that goofy grin like you have nothing better to do.”
“I was just trying to find my muse,” Nick said, relieved his father couldn’t read his mind. “You know, brainstorming.”
His father crossed his arms and glanced at the empty sheet in front of Nick. “So what have you come up with, then?”
Nick looked around. “Uh…I don’t know, like, white chocolate coated cookie bits or something.”
His father threw his hands in the air, looking to the ceiling for help. “A very well known candy bar company has already done that, Nick. I really don’t think copying some low-grade chocolate bar is going to cut it with the judges.”
Nick took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t mean that we should use low-quality chocolate…or cookies for that matter.”
“Ridiculous,” his father said, turning out of the room, muttering under his breath.
Nick only caught a few words: “son of mine,” and “so lazy,” “no vision at all,” but he was pretty sure he got the gist.
Chapter Four
Lila put her hands on her hips. “Sign up for the damned contest already. It’s tradition; you have to do it. Think of all the things you could do with the prize money, not to mention the satisfaction of kicking that jerk’s ass.”
Dulcie sighed. “I can’t. Too risky. What if I make a complete fool of myself again?” She had filled Lila in on the disastrous contest year. It had been far too painful and embarassing to tell her when it had happened. Thankfully, Grams had kept her secret for her.
“How on earth is that even possible? Your stuff is amazing.”
Dulcie’s first instinct was to say, How would you even know? You’re no expert, but she stopped herself. Lord knew Lila could probably kick her ass.
“Thanks, but…I don’t think anything in the Spell Book is special enough anymore. Everyone’s already seen everything.”
“So make something new,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple.
Dulcie stared.
“Oh my God, maybe you should listen to your Grams for once. Think outside the box.”
She rolled her eyes. “If Grams ever found the guts to come into the store, we might stand a chance, but with her issues, I don’t see how we can compete.”
“Why not? You make candy every day. Just make another batch.”
Lila didn’t get it. She never would. “I could completely ruin our reputation…again.”
Lila tilted her head, looking doubtful. “Your reputation? You think your Strawberry Marzipan is going to hook up with the competition’s Hazelnut Fudge or something?”
Dulcie tried not to laugh, but the idea was kind of hilarious. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was getting to her, like the fact she’d rather jump off a cliff than actually make one of her own creations, especially in front of the world. “I can’t… I mean…” She sighed.
Lila leaned in, like she wanted to pull the answer out of her. Then she shrugged. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. You think I’m just a friend who likes sugar, but I’ve tried those other guys’ stuff. Dulce, you can compete. For real.”
Dulcie waited for the punch line, but nothing came. Lila looked straight at her, as serious as she’d ever seen her.
Dulcie groaned. “I can’t. I just can’t,” she said, and walked away, straight through the kitchen and out the back door.
Lila would watch the counter for a few minutes. She’d done it a million times before, when Dulcie had to make sure a batch of caramel didn’t burn or a cream base didn’t curdle.
She flopped on the ground, landing on some of the cardboard Jess used for sitting.
“Rough day?” Jess asked.
Dulcie leaned her head back on the wall. “Rough life.”
“I hear ya,” Jess said, taking a swig from her water bottle.
Oh God. She was complaining about her life to a homeless person. How much lower could she get? Dulcie looked at her. “I’m so sorry. Ignore me.”
Jess swiveled to face her. “Look, I know because of my”—she motioned around—“situation, you probably don’t want to talk about your problems, but believe me, I would love five minutes thinking about somebody else’s shit instead of my own.”
“Really? Like for real?”
“Bring it on,” she said, turning to lean back on the wall.
Dulcie sighed. “God, where to start?”
“Start at the start,” Jess said, shrugging.
She took a deep breath. Start at the start. Right. “So my mom got sick a couple years ago and the store kind of fell to me to take care of after she died.”
Jess took a deep breath, raising her eyebrows. She looked Dulcie in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Dulcie gave that it’s okay smile she was so used to giving.
Jess leaned back on the wall. “I was wondering how someone so young had a store all by herself.”
“Yeah, well, my grams is half owner, and anyway, a lot of stuff is piling on, the rent on this place, supplies, upkeep…everything else. I just really don’t want to lose my mom’s store.”
Jess kept nodding.
“And then there’s the whole time issue.”
“Time issue?”
“Yeah. There’s never enough.”
Jess laughed. “Right. You do kind of rush around like a chicken with no head sometimes.”
Dulcie raised her eyebrows in agreement.
“So what’s the deal? Why can’t you just keep doing what you’re doing?”
She sighed. “The thing is, Grams is totally fine with me keeping the store open and everything, but it has to be self-sufficient. I mean, she takes care of a lot of the house and makes sure we have food and everything, but we don’t have a bunch of money to put into Candy Land. And if I can’t turn a profit, I have to let it go.” She dropped her hands to her sides in defeat.
Jess drew in a big breath. “Well, I’m no expert in the money department, obviously, but you should do everything you can to save the store. Anyone can see how much you love it. And I seriously doubt that has anything to do with continuing your mom’s legacy or whatever.”
Dulcie crinkled her brow. “Why?”
“Like I said, anyone can see you love it. And you can’t fake that.” She paused. “Besides, where would I sleep? Everywhere else in this city smells like sewer.” She grinned, and Dulcie found herself smiling, too.
She’d never really thought much about it before, but she realized Jess was right. “I do love it. It’s kind of insane how much, actually. How many twenty-two-year-olds have their dream job?”
“Not too many, I imagine,” she said.
“I mean, there’s this one thing that could help…”
Jess turned to face her. “What one thing?”
Dulcie shrugged. “It’s this competition, for the best new flavor or whatever, and the prize money would really take the pressure off.”
“Is it expensive to enter?”
“No, it doesn’t cost anything.”
“Sounds like a no-brainer.”
Dulcie pulled her knees in, hugging them. “But what if I’m not good enough?”
Jess sighed and leaned back. “I may not be an expert at
too many things, but I am an expert at regret.” She turned to face Dulcie again, serious. “It sticks with you. For a long time. Believe me, if you have a chance to save this place, you’ve got to try. It might be hard, but you’ll be so mad at yourself later if you don’t.”
Her eyes bobbed back and forth, looking from one of Dulcie’s eyes to the other and back again, like she really wanted to get through to her.
And it worked. The way Jess talked about regret…she obviously knew from experience.
Except…Dulcie was still terrified.
She took a deep breath. Jess was right. If she didn’t at least try, she’d hate herself. And honestly, what did she have to lose? At least, that’s what her head thought. Her heart, on the other hand, was thinking she’d lose customers, the store, her mind, perhaps…
Then again, those were all things she stood to lose already.
The day tumbled downhill from there, and as Dulcie opened the web page showing the grade on her last Economics paper, any confidence and ambition she may have had in that alley shriveled to the size of the raisins she was cooking that morning for their Butter Tart Slice, special because it was drizzled with white chocolate.
The only thing her mother had ever asked of her was to get her degree. Every bit of money she’d had in the world had gone into education savings, and all Dulcie could seem to do to repay her was let her down. If she couldn’t figure out a way to get her grades up, there was a very good chance her hopes of a Masters would be over, along with any chance she had of learning something that might help her run the business.
Chapter Five
For as small a city as Port Leyton was, Nick thought they had one of the best open-air markets around, especially during tourist season. Cocoas and spices from all over the world, fresh fruit waiting to be made into essences for frosting, and some of the best sugars you could find. Living relatively near a major international trading center certainly had its advantages, and Nick sometimes spent his lunch breaks wandering the booths. He was hoping to find some inspiration for the contest recipe, but instead he found himself studying the people more than the booths, secretly wondering if he might run into a certain maddeningly adorable brunette.
As he glanced up, his breath caught.
The wind blew her hair, but she didn’t seem to notice, an expression of utter contentment washing over her.
Nick didn’t want to be the one to wipe that expression from her, but he found himself paying for his purchase as quickly as possible, his feet rushing toward her before the rest of him caught up.
He shouldn’t talk to her; she was the enemy. His father had made that point clear over and over again. Nick didn’t know why his father was so adamant about the feud, but Nick remembered well when it started. Several years ago, before Nick had left for Harvard, his father had been happy, maybe for the first time since his mother left. He was a new man, though Nick never did find out what had changed. Maybe nothing, and his father had just decided to finally start living.
Then one day, as if a switch had been flipped, his father became withdrawn again.
Around that time he became obsessed with Candy Land Confections, calling them the enemy. Vowing to take them down one chocolate-coated candy at a time. And now all this crazy talk about sabotage? Although…he had to admit that the idea of getting closer to Dulcie didn’t sound so bad.
Nick supposed his father needed a hobby or something. And the feud had kept him busy for a while, building up business for How Sweet It Is at the rate of a madman. Nick began to think of him as the crazy candy king, but he never said it to his face.
He just sat back and rode the wave of sugar, assembly lines, and discount pricing.
Nick’s feet moved almost as if they were separate from the rest of him, getting closer to Dulcie, watching her hold her hair back as she leaned into a cart of spices. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful?
“Having fun?” he asked as she sniffed some fresh ground cayenne pepper, which almost made her choke and cough right into the stand.
Fortunately, she turned away before a coughing fit ensued. He cringed at his impeccable timing.
“Thanks a lot,” she said, glaring.
He put his hands up. “I can’t help it if you can’t hold your pepper.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but she obviously didn’t take it as one.
“You come here a lot?” he asked. Oh God, the same stupid thing he’d said at the club. Did he really have only one line?
She shook her head like he was the densest thing since sponge cake.
He chuckled, pretending they were having the most jovial of conversations. Of course, he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and not waltz right up to her, knowing she hated his guts and everything, knowing he was supposed to hate hers, but he couldn’t help himself.
She sighed. “Yes, I come here a lot. They have the best ingredients.”
At least she was still talking. He said a silent thank-you for small miracles. “I’m checking out some stuff for the big contest this year. Got the invitation last week,” he said, patting the white paper bag he held, keeping it tightly closed, which was pretty ridiculous considering anyone a mile away would have smelled the fresh lemons.
She scoffed. “Lemons? How very original.”
He squirmed, remembering the days when the family used to invent new recipes together. But that was a long time ago.
“Oh, don’t worry, it is,” he said, unable to stop himself as he forced a grin.
He wondered if the heat bubbling up inside him showed on his face. Maybe that’s why he said what he said next, to cover up his own embarrassment. “I see you don’t have any watermelons in your basket yet.”
Shit. Why? Why are you so stupid?
Dulcie’s face simmered. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab the bag right out of his hand and stomp until lemon juice flowed down the street.
Instead, she took a long, slow pull of air, letting it out slowly though her nose, closing her eyes, like she was trying to meditate her anger away.
Nick silently begged for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
“Har, har,” she said, which was about as much as anybody could expect after such a low blow.
He tried babbling to fill the silence, yet another byproduct of his fat days. “So,” he said, patting his bag of lemons like an idiot. “Are you entering this year?”
She shrugged, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t decided yet. ”
He smiled. “I don’t blame you. After your last entry, it would take a lot of guts to put yourself out there again.”
She glared like he had never been glared at before and for a moment, Nick didn’t understand, until, of course, he replayed his last comment over in his mind and realized how awful it sounded. His eyes widened.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it must be hard…”
Yeah, that’s better, he scolded himself.
“Oh, sure,” she said, a surprise smirk spreading across her lips. “And what about the Raspberry Truffle of yours? How very original.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing her ground, her eyes challenging.
Nick thanked the Universe she was still talking to him. The electricity pulsing between them was a living thing, his adrenaline soaring with each exchange. Sure, they were both acting like they hated each other, but something else, something stronger, simmered below the surface.
“It won first place!” he said.
She shrugged. “Still wasn’t very original.”
Was it his imagination, or were her eyes sparkling? Was she enjoying this?
He tested the waters, clearing his throat. “What did yours come in? Oh, right,” he said. “It didn’t.” He shook his head, but he was grinning.
She pulled her shoulders back. “Whatever,” she said. “You won’t be coming in first this year.” She flicked a phantom piece of lint off her shirt.
Nick had met
his match. If his thoughts wandering to Dulcie when he daydreamed weren’t enough, this exchange had pushed him over the edge. She was so feisty, so determined.
“Oh, we’re going to win again,” he said. “In fact, you should enter something ridiculous just so you can watch me hold the trophy.”
…
Nick’s eyes danced. He was enjoying this, Dulcie realized.
She hated that she was, too, just a little. Even more, she hated that he knew about the watermelon catastrophe and that she just couldn’t bring herself to let it go without doing something stupid. “Don’t worry, I’m going to enter,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “And I can guarantee it won’t be you hoisting the trophy.”
Prickles squirmed up her back almost immediately at the thought of being there again, standing under those lights with everyone staring. It was like the humiliation had happened yesterday.
“I guess we’ll have to see,” Nick said, unable to completely mask his grin anymore.
Dulcie felt her defenses melting. The air changed direction and the lemon scent wafted toward her again, along with something else. Clean crispness, like a day at the beach sipping lemonade. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and breathe Nick in. “Really?” he said, plastering on a smirk of his own. “It’s on, then,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Oh, it’s on,” she said, taking his hand and shaking once.
She could have held on to his hand forever, but all too soon, he let go. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t held on just a moment too long after he’d opened his hand.
Her face burned as she watched him walk away, reminding herself he was the enemy.
The next day, all hands were on deck for candy-making time and Dulcie was more determined than ever.
The store had closed early on Sunday as usual. Ava and Constance, who had both said they wouldn’t miss it, were there, plus Lila, who was an easy bribe with a promise of all the candy she wanted. Even though Dulcie feared they’d have a Lila explosion to clean up by the end of the day.
Well, that and they’d never find the perfect chocolate for the contest.
