Sugar Rush

by Rachel Astor

  “You’ve still got your good sense,” Grams said, patting Constance on the hand. “You’re right. We’ve got some issues to take care of, to say the least.” She glanced at the customers and Constance seemed to understand she couldn’t say more.

  “We’ll be in the back if you need us. When Ava gets here, can you come to the kitchen for a few minutes? We’ve got some things to discuss,” Dulcie said.

  “Of course,” Constance replied, though the little worry lines on her forehead deepened. But Constance was nothing if not professional, and quickly went back to her usual customer service friendly self.

  Grams remained a little dazed as they made their way to the kitchen. “It’s exactly the same,” she said, her voice shaky.

  “Yeah, haven’t changed much of anything,” Dulcie said. “Well, except for Jess here.” She motioned to the girl, who stirred something in one of the giant pots.

  “Oh, you’re Jess?” Grams said, startled.

  Dulcie’s face turned a little red, since it was obvious she had explained Jess’s situation to Grams. But Jess was as gracious as ever, wiping her hand on her apron and holding it out to Grams.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Carter,” she said. “Dulcie’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Don’t you believe any of it,” Grams said, winking, almost back to her usual self.

  Jess laughed.

  “So um…,” Dulcie said, “we ran into a bit of a snag at the competition that we hoped you could help us with.”

  Grams snorted. “A bit of a snag? I’d call it a giant pile of dung hitting the fan.”

  Jess’s eyes widened, obviously not sure how to react to a statement like that coming from a delicate-looking older lady.

  She managed a fairly blank expression.

  Dulcie relayed the entire story, Jess’s eyes growing wider, then filling with anger as it went on.

  “The contest is bound to hold some sort of meeting or inquiry over what happened, but it will end up being our word against the word of How Sweet It Is,” Dulcie finished.

  “Well, you’ve got the original recipe, right?”

  Dulcie nodded.

  “So why not use it as proof?”

  “I thought of that,” Dulcie said. “But it’s only a handwritten piece of paper. Anyone could have written it. There’s nothing to prove it was Mom’s.”

  Jess nodded, and the wheels looked like they were turning in her head. “There must be some old documents…something your mother wrote that could prove her handwriting.” She glanced at Dulcie. “So, you just left the competition?”

  Dulcie nodded. “I couldn’t stay with everyone talking about me. I’ve been through that kind of humiliation before and was not keen to go through it again.”

  Jess nodded, chewing her lip. “Well, from a damage control stance, it doesn’t look too good that you left.”

  “Damn,” Grams said, pacing. She wasn’t even looking around the kitchen anymore. All those months of staying away and apparently, she already felt at home again.

  “And I suppose Nick and his father stayed?” Jess asked.

  Dulcie nodded. “I assume so.”

  Jess started to pace, too, rubbing her bottom lip in thought. “Well, they seem to have the upper hand at the moment,” she said. “But you’ve got the truth on your side, which, in my experience, almost always comes out on top.”

  Dulcie didn’t let herself become too hopeful. “Maybe we should forget about the contest and concentrate on damage control with our customers.” It almost killed her to say it, knowing how much had been riding on the prize money.

  Jess shook her head. “You need to file a formal statement with the contest, though. Otherwise How Sweet It Is can run with the lie that it’s their recipe. That would be the worst thing that could happen, since then you won’t even be able to sell the Salted Caramel Apple Enchantment here in the store.”

  Dulcie’s heart sank. She hadn’t even thought of that.

  “The second you put it up on your shelf, at best How Sweet It Is will be calling you out all over the local blogs.”

  Dulcie was afraid to ask. “And at worst?”

  “He could sue,” Jess answered. “Especially if he moves forward in the contest. The longer he goes with everyone thinking it’s his recipe, the worse it is for you.”

  “So what do I do?” Dulcie asked.

  “First things first. Send over a formal complaint to the contest with your side of the story. Don’t go into anything too personal, just that you thought you and Nick were friends, and he’s been over to your shop on several occasions. Mention how it’s your late mom’s recipe. A little sympathy never hurt anyone.”

  “Okay, I can do that.”

  “Then we’ll start finding ways to prove it’s your mom’s.”

  “Okay, that’s good,” Dulcie said.

  “Once we have all that, we’ll go to the press.”

  Dulcie tilted her head. “I’m not really sure if this is newsworthy.”

  Jess raised her eyebrows. “I bet the food blogs who helped out sales over the past few weeks would be interested in a story like this.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Good, I’ll keep brainstorming. Don’t worry, Dulcie, we’ll figure this out,” Jess said.

  “You go do your e-mail,” Grams said, “and I’ll get to work making some more candy for all those customers you got out there.”

  “We have Jess to thank for that, too,” Dulcie said.

  Grams turned to Jess. “You are one multi-talented girl, I must say.”

  Jess shrugged. “I’ve heard the same about you,” she said, smiling.

  Lila came through the swinging door, munching on a Lemon Squeeze. “These things are so good,” she said between chews. She glanced around and gasped, causing some of the Lemon Squeeze to go down the wrong pipe. She coughed for a good three minutes while everyone stood there watching. “Jesus, Grams, you’ve got to warn a person before you just show up and shock the shit out of everybody!” she finally spit out, coughing some more.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t send you a memo, dear,” Grams said, rolling her eyes and grinning.

  Jess stood quiet like her usual self, enjoying the show.

  “I’m so happy you’re here!” Lila said, her whole face lighting up as she smothered Grams in a giant bear hug. “Things were not the same without you.”

  Glad that Lila and Grams were busy with their reunion, Dulcie snuck out of the kitchen to compose her e-mail.

  …

  Nick had to get to Dulcie. She wouldn’t return any of the million phone calls he’d made. In fact, he was pretty sure she’d blocked his number.

  He couldn’t believe his father’s “all’s fair in love and war” attitude, like the whole sabotage was nothing but a big joke. But it was Dulcie’s life he’d played with. He didn’t even get that it barely had anything to do with Ms. Carter at all, even though she was the one he’d wanted to hurt.

  Right now he needed to find Dulcie. She had to understand it had nothing to do with him. He was a little ticked she didn’t realize it already, but if her grandmother was anything like his father, no doubt she filled Dulcie’s head full of suspicion and reminders about the feud. God, he’d been so stupid just standing there when the How Sweet It Is chocolate was revealed. He’d still hated that he hadn’t come up with the chocolate himself, but he couldn’t believe the sense of pride he’d had for his father, thinking it was his best work yet.

  He should have known his dad wasn’t inspired enough to come up with something like that.

  He’d expected Dulcie to be happy for him, to support him when the judges nodded their approval—hadn’t they promised as much to each other back at the market? But she’d only looked upset, like she was begrudging his success. Of course, now he realized why, but at the time he’d been so hurt he had to leave the room. Get some air. Wonder if Dulcie was the person he’d thought.

  Then, of course, everything had gone down the way it did.
<
br />   How could things get so messed up in such a short time? He knew the answer, of course.

  His father.

  These same thoughts played over and over in his mind the entire ride home. It wasn’t a long flight, but the waiting at the airport for the first flight back was the worst torture he’d ever faced. He must have worn a path in front of the boarding gate with his pacing.

  About a thousand scenarios spun through his mind like webs of cotton candy. In one, Dulcie would jump into his open arms, realizing the mistake she’d made, coming to understand it was all his father and had nothing to do with him. In the next, she slapped him across the face. Each scenario had varying levels of hope, from ecstatic making up to a vat of hot caramel nougat being poured over his head.

  As he stood in front of Candy Land Confections, he hoped her reaction would be toward the kiss-and-make-up end of the scale, though he couldn’t stop wringing his hands, thinking it could be a massacre of sugar.

  He took a deep breath and pushed the door, the little bells sounding more ominous than ever.

  Dulcie noticed him right away as she came out from the kitchen with a tray of her new Coconut Brittle. Any bit of hope he’d been holding out on came crashing down in the second it took for their eyes to meet.

  Her expression said it all.

  She hated him with every fiber of her being.

  His feet wanted to stick right there on the floor, but he forced himself to take a step. Then another.

  “Can we talk, please?”

  “No.”

  In all the scenarios, Nick could honestly say that reaction had not crossed his mind.

  “Come on. You’ve got to know this was all my father, not me.”

  As if on cue, Dulcie’s grandmother waltzed out from the kitchen.

  His eyes widened. “I…I thought you never came in here?” he said, without thinking.

  Ms. Carter narrowed her eyes, leaning toward him with her hands on her hips.

  “Well, I guess I do now. Dulcie can’t run this place on her own and clean up the mess you and that rat father of yours spewed all over our front door.”

  Nick blinked. “It…it wasn’t me. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Oh, please,” Dulcie said, taking a stance in front of her grandmother. “You had a million opportunities to steal my mother’s recipe. I bet you could hardly wait to go running back to your father with it. But what I really can’t believe is that you actually went through with trying to destroy my chocolates. Why would you even bother when you’d already copied the recipe? Did that little niggle of guilt finally get to you? Or maybe you thought I’d never find out if I didn’t have a chance to enter.”

  “Dulcie, it was my father—”

  “Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know. How could you have seen what your father was making and not realize I had the exact same thing in my box? You know, the one you crushed?” she spat.

  “I…I didn’t see what they were exactly, I swear. I-I was busy watching you,” Nick sputtered.

  Ms. Carter scoffed. “We don’t appreciate you coming in here with your lame little attempt to figure out what we’re going to do about all this. I’ll tell you flat out what we’re going to do. We’re going to sue your asses off if you try for one more minute to pass off my daughter’s last recipe as your own.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Carter—”

  “And I don’t care what you think. Now, get the hell out of our store.”

  He turned to Dulcie. “Please, let’s talk about this. Won’t you at least let me plead my case? I…I really thought we had something special.” He hoped his look of desperation might help soften her.

  She shook her head. “Nick…,” she said reluctantly. “This could ruin our entire reputation. It’ll be all over the blogs. Who’s going to shop at a place that would stoop so low as to steal its competitor’s recipe? I sure as hell wouldn’t. My store might be in real trouble,” she said, her words going quiet as she glanced at her customers, who luckily weren’t paying any attention. “Just, please…just go.”

  “But I need to—”

  “It’s too late for that,” she said and turned away, walking into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.

  Nick’s mouth hung open, wanting so badly to finish his sentence, but Ms. Carter was steadfast, staring him down. Daring him to make things even worse.

  He closed his mouth and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, turning, realizing it might be the last time he ever stepped foot through the door as the little bells chimed their mocking song.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dulcie’s hand shook as it hovered over her computer mouse. First, she’d checked her latest test scores on the college portal site and discovered she’d failed her marketing midterm.

  Another stellar addition to the week.

  Then she opened the reply to her e-mail from the Assembly of Chocolatiers and was not at all prepared for what it said.

  Dear Ms. Carter,

  Thank you for your correspondence. The situation at this year’s preliminary judging was perhaps the most perplexing we’ve ever had to deal with in all our years of running this contest. It was a rather serious and alarming matter, and we did not relish in having to decide on a course of action going forward.

  Because of the past relationship this competition has with Candy Land Confections and How Sweet It Is—both stores having placed in our finals almost every year entered—we have made the decision to look the other way in this instance only and allow both of you to save face with another chance as finalists in the competition. Each of the Salted Caramel Chocolates was above and beyond many of the other competitors in quality. However, there is one stipulation: for obvious reasons, we must ask that you come to the challenge in two weeks with a fresh, brand-new entry.

  We hope to see you in two weeks with a creation worthy of your history in this competition.

  Sincerely,

  Edmund Layton

  Assembly of Chocolatiers, President

  A sense of relief flooded through Dulcie. Of course, it was matched by a healthy dose of sadness and a bone-deep sense of dread.

  She printed off the e-mail. It felt heavy in her hands as she wandered into the kitchen.

  “It’s over,” she said, setting the paper on the table in front of Grams, Jess, and Lila. Constance came into the kitchen. Ava must have just gotten there for her shift.

  “What’s over?” Constance asked as the rest of them leaned toward the paper. She quickly joined them.

  “This is great news!” Jess said.

  Constance jumped in, her tone artificially chipper. “You get another chance at the contest. Everything can work out after all.”

  Dulcie snorted. “Yeah, right. Except I can’t use Mom’s recipe, and we’ve already marketed the hell out of the other recipes I found. We can’t use any of those now; they’re too exposed already.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s over,” Constance said.

  Dulcie squinted. “Of course it does,” she said, daring them to contradict her. With everything that vibrated under the surface, there was no controlling her reactions at that point.

  Grams came out from behind the table to stand in front of Dulcie, staring.

  “You listen to what I am saying,” Grams said, her hands finding their way to her hips. “And listen good.” She took a deep breath. “You have more talent in you than I’ve ever seen, even more than your mother. As a kid, she didn’t go around drawing pictures of candy every time she had a crayon in her hand. She didn’t make up songs about all the sugary treats in every color of the rainbow.” She shifted, her eyes narrowing. “It’s in your blood, Dulcie, more than anyone, and I know damned well you have a million recipes in that head of yours.”

  Dulcie stood, her mouth slightly open, on the verge of arguing. The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Even the regular noises of the shop out front seemed to still.

  Grams’s arms flopped dow
n. “It’s time,” she said quietly. “Time to find some balls and step up to the plate. It’s time to save the one thing in the world you love the most.” She gestured around the room. “It’s time to take care of these people who count on this shop. It’s time,” she finished. “It’s just God damned time.”

  She stared at Dulcie a moment longer, then turned and walked back to the others. All eyes were on Dulcie, the room like a pressure cooker waiting to blow. Tears began streaking down Dulcie’s face, silent ones, flowing fast.

  Finally, catching her breath with a little hiccup, she whispered, “Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

  The entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  The door swung open into the silence. “Do we have any more of the…” Ava glanced around the room, taking in the ominous atmosphere. “Um…what’d I miss?”

  “Dulcie’s going to try to design some chocolates!” Constance said.

  Ava’s face morphed into excitement. “Eeeee! Finally!” she yelled, almost plowing Dulcie over, wrapping her arms around her and jumping up and down.

  It was a rather bumpy ride, especially when everyone else joined in.

  Dulcie was glad her friends and family were happy, but the feeling she would screw up in a very big way stuck to her like the coating on a candy apple. And it would be at the same stinkin’ contest.

  Again.

  Was she really ready to do this?

  No. No, she was definitely not ready. But what else was she supposed to do?

  “It’s not like we have anything to lose, right?” she said as everyone let go.

  Grams gave her a stern look like she didn’t want to hear that kind of talk, but any confidence Dulcie had once established had disappeared long ago. Her decisions lately had not been stellar. First sneaking around behind Grams’s back instead of listening to her, and what about taking time off school for the shop, only for business to start slowing down all over again, and then possibly flunking out because of it?

  How was someone with such poor life choices supposed to save the store and all the people it could affect? How could she be trusted?

  But there was only one answer as Dulcie peered around at the hopeful faces.