Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

by Jean Oram

  Gran just smiled and slipped into the growing crowd, a Cheshire grin toothy with dentures.

  Chapter 13

  Unable to take sitting around the big city hospital for another second longer, Mandy burst out of the hospital and headed to Blair's Wrap It Up franchise to get lunch for her family. It would be another hour before they heard how her brother's surgery had gone. She squinted as the sun scorched her retinas, tucked her textbook under her arm and sped off with purpose. Not working to get things ready today was making her want to yank her nerves out of her body, one by one.

  Seven weeks. Seven weeks until the opening and she was back to nagging Seth for equipment. Things trickled in just often enough that she felt bad nagging him, but if things continued being this slow she'd find herself in dire need of one of those makeover shows on which they magically remade an old building into a buzzing business overnight.

  She stopped on the sidewalk outside Blair's Wrap it Up, doubts niggling at her. What if Blair wasn't in? And if she was, would she talk to Mandy? What would she even ask?

  The glass door opened and Seth stormed out. Mandy sucked in a breath and froze, as if she could make herself instantly disappear.

  Seth stared at her for a second, then flashed her a smile that didn't soften his expression. "Mandy, hi. Wow." He stepped to the side so the restaurant patrons didn't have a view of him, and ran a hand through his hair. "What are you doing here?"

  "Grabbing lunch for my family. My brother just had surgery and—"

  "Nice. Good. Support the franchise. I like the loyalty."

  "Is there something wrong? You seem stressed."

  He laughed lightly. "Blair always stresses me out. That girl thinks the world should run the way she wants, rules and agreements notwithstanding."

  "Oh," Mandy took a step back, peering into Blair's store, expecting it to look better than it did. It was slightly gaudy looking and way too bright. Just like the average Wrap It Up.

  "Anyway," Seth said, his business persona falling into place like a veil. "Glad to run into you. I was wondering how you were getting on with the book. Has it helped? Or do you need more time before opening?" His eyes landed on the book tucked under her arm with about a zillion sticky notes peeking out of pages she'd marked.

  "I need décor," she said lightly.

  "It's been ordered."

  "When's the delivery date?"

  "Soon, I'm sure. I'll send you an e-mail." He stepped away. "Good bumping into you. Be sure to convince Blair to play by the company rules, if you get the chance. She's setting a bad example." He gave an imaginary hat tip and sped off down the sidewalk.

  Mandy watched him until the door jostled her as someone exited Blair's. She made her way to the bright orange counter, which had been plastered with peeling posters for local bands (a rule breaker, for sure—and one that could work to her benefit if she sent Blair a poster for the upcoming Blueberry show and shine). Blair snapped out orders to the two 'creators' who were working in tandem to make wraps for a young family.

  "More pineapple! Less cheese! More sauce. This is a California Pleaser, not teaser." She rolled her eyes, cheeks pink as she turned. "Oh my goodness! Mandy!" She hurried around the counter and clutched Mandy in a full hug that seemed to count each and every one of Mandy's rib. "Let's feed you. You're too skinny. Although, I have to admit, that outfit wouldn't look nearly as great if you were ten pounds heavier.

  "Like you're one to talk," Mandy said. "You'd get blown clear across the mountains if a high wind came through."

  "I always knew I liked you," Blair said, pointing at her. "Even though you are a big fat liar."

  Mandy gave her a small smile and said, "Gimme your specialty." The last thing she wanted to do was get busted reading the menu—something that still hadn't been delivered, despite Seth saying he had them in his office.

  Blair laughed until she clutched her sides. "Very funny. There is no specialty in this place except lies and deceit." Her upper lip curled. She lifted a well-manicured hand to the side of her mouth and whispered, "The old man thought I should have a hobby. But what good is a hobby when you have a boss—" she shot dagger-eyes at the door through which Seth had exited minutes ago "—telling you exactly how to run the place? How absolutely bor-ring." Blair snapped her fingers at the wrap makers and snapped out a few commands and within seconds, was passing Mandy a thick wrap.

  "Oh! I forgot. I need five," Mandy said apologetically. "Sorry."

  Blair shot her an assessing look, as if she was expecting Mandy to pull out a secret shopper badge or something.

  "Family." Mandy gave a feeble wave in the direction of the hospital. "We're waiting for my brother to wake up from surgery and I said I'd bring lunch."

  Blair gave her a short nod and shot a few commands at her creators. She shoved the wraps in a bag, and wiggled her ringed fingers at Mandy, leading her to a table near the restroom. "Got a minute?" she asked, not waiting for a reply before sitting with her back to the restroom wall, her eyes flitting around the restaurant briefly. She slid the bag of wraps to Mandy. "You sign the agreement?" she asked, as if they were discussing something illicit.

  Mandy nodded, her hands folded over the cool wraps almost as though she might have to flee at any moment.

  "You're not freaked out by the news about Lexi's joint?"

  Mandy shrugged weakly.

  "Well, good. You shouldn't be. We have enough independence in our contracts and if you're a half decent manager, you'll survive." She glared at the textbook Mandy still had tucked under her arm and Mandy felt her armpits prickle. She was such a stupid newbie. Blair continued, her lips curving into a frown, "I hope you added a clause about keeping everything if the chain goes belly up."

  Mandy leaned back in her chair. "Of course," she said offhandedly, feeling somewhat confident that John had added something like that. "Have you heard anything?"

  Blair nodded like an evil leader who had just hatched a plan to overthrow a monarchy. "I had a good feeling about you, Mandy Mattson."

  "Um. Thanks. So those rumors?"

  "Between you and me and the john back there?" Blair thumbed toward the restrooms, raised an eyebrow and lowered her voice. "I just hope you get your doors open in time. If your doors are open, you'll have more rights."

  Mandy leaned closer. "What do you mean?"

  Blair pursed her lips. "Well, I guess with you only in the planning stages, Seth wouldn't legally have to give you the notice."

  Mandy's breath seized and she clutched the wraps tighter in her grip.

  "What notice?" she choked out.

  Blair leaned even closer so Mandy was forced to inhale her Chanel No. 5. "Seth got busted."

  "What?!" Mandy sat back, then hurried to lean in again. Jailbait on his boat. She knew it. There was going to be some teen running the show while he did time.

  Blair waved her hand. "Don't worry. They'll never get enough to pin him. He's a smart cookie." Blair shifted on her hard chair. "The deal is, when you have a franchise, you can only expand at a certain rate. It's to prevent scams. Suddenly, he's been signing with a ton of noobs like yourself."

  All the blood drained out of Mandy's body and she gripped the table for support. "What?" she asked weakly.

  "Oh, relax," Blair laughed. "They won't find him guilty of anything other than a little unethical behavior, such as not having an impartial third party do his market analyses. It's all good."

  "How do you know?" Mandy asked, embarrassed by the way her voice squeaked. Some businesswoman she was proving to be. Tough as Jell-O—that was what she was.

  "Private eye," Blair said with a wink. "Don't tell anyone I said anything. The papers won't know for weeks yet, but investigators are working on him."

  The door jingled and Blair popped up, a smile on her face. She gave Mandy's shoulder a squeeze and leaned down and said in a flash, "Learn what I didn't, kid. Depend on yourself. Nobody else. And never take what anyone says at face value—not even your own mother. And always make sure you
have a key to the back door."

  "What back door?"

  "Call me if you need anything and get your doors opened lickety-split," Blair called to her before greeting the new arrival in the flashy suit.

  On trembling legs, Mandy made her way out onto the street, her worries, instead of being laid to rest, flourishing in the hot midday sun.

  * * *

  "Things are fine. They're fine. Just keep knocking things off your to-do list, that's all. Keep moving forward. You're in this far. No point in turning tail now," Mandy muttered to herself quietly.

  There was so much to do in the twenty-eight days until her opening that it made her head throb, and her appetitive take a massive hike. She was wearing the same old jeans and sweater she'd worn yesterday because it had been the closest outfit between her and the door this morning when the fridge installer had buzzed her at five-thirty a.m. One thing after another had piled up like a freight train, snaffling up her time until she'd spent the whole day here—no makeup, teeth un-brushed. She felt gross. Exhausted and gross. She sat on the dusty old couch and stared at the still mostly empty space. Things were trickling in, but there was still so much to do and Seth wasn't being nearly as helpful as she thought he should be.

  The front door creaked open and Beth's head peeked around the corner, a draft of cool, damp air swirling in, her still-new wedding band winking in the light. "Wow," she said, slightly awed. "This place." She shook her head. "Liz was right."

  "About what?" Mandy asked, narrowing her eyes.

  "About you becoming a big businesswoman. To own a place like this. I mean, it isn't some dinky diner, it's like, a real chain. A real restaurant. I can totally see it." Beth looked at Mandy as if seeing her for the first time. As if Mandy had become some sort of amazing celebrity. Not some overextended woman about to collapse into failure.

  "Thank you," she said finally.

  Beth shook her head and smiled. "You've always looked the part, too. Well, not today, but usually. I just never—"

  Everyone in town was suddenly treating her as if she was some big thing—which was what she had wanted, but she was also still just Mandy. The whole 'big businesswoman' thing was really starting to make her uncomfortable.

  "Okay," Mandy said, ushering Beth to the door. "Thanks so much for stopping in. I'll be opening in a month."

  Beth stopped at the door, not allowing Mandy to push her out. "Actually, I have a package for Ethan and your mom said he was here."

  "Oh. Sorry." Mandy stepped back and gestured toward the kitchen area. "He's through the doors making up snack bags for Jen. Go ahead in. You'll know him by his lighthouse grin."

  Not only had her brother's surgery gone well, giving him fairly reliable arm movement, but he was finally—finally!—smiling again. His physiotherapist had said he needed to get out and moving and with a big thanks to Jen, he was. Plus, he was even reaching out to Beth's outreach rehab program that she ran out of the local hospital. It was all finally lining up for him.

  Mandy returned to the couch and her to-do list.

  The front door creaked open again and Mandy sighed. The "Opening Soon" signs on the windows may as well have said, "Come on in and snoop around!"

  "We're not open yet," she called, wishing she could afford to crank the heat. The chill of the rainy day was seeping into her tired bones.

  "Not even for some free burnt bread?" Frankie asked with a grin.

  "Ha-ha." Mandy rolled her eyes and tried to take the joke lightly—the stupid ovens that arrived finally two days ago hadn't been calibrated correctly and had burned her test batch. And of course, the townsfolk, smelling the fresh bread, had come waltzing in and then laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

  "I brought you some lunch." Frankie passed her a Styrofoam container. "I'm guessing you haven't eaten."

  "Thanks." At least one person was still treating her normally.

  "So?" Frankie asked, plunking onto the couch beside her. He coughed and waved away the dusty air. "This couch smells like sardines."

  "I know. I found it in the alley." She slurped her cream of potato soup. Man, that was good. Sometimes Benny made the world feel right again with his cream-based soups.

  "Are you worried?" he asked.

  She paused, her shoulders tightening. "No," she said, keeping her head down. Maybe if she said it enough times, it would be true.

  "Maybe you could forget about Wrap It Up and open this place as your own?"

  "Frankie," Mandy sighed, irritated. "I signed a contract."

  "I know, but—" Frankie shifted "—what if things with Seth get worse and it all goes down and he takes you with him? The chain is crumbling and you're diving in."

  She kept her head down as she spooned the last drop of soup into her mouth. It was a guaranteed loss if she backed out now—and he knew it.

  "It's wearing you down," he said, staring at her makeup-free face.

  "Thanks for lunch," she said, standing. She brushed her bangs out of her face and walked him to the door. Rain fell in sheets against the roof and front windows, making the building sound as though it was being run through a car wash.

  "Mandy, I think you need to cut your losses."

  "Take a look around!" Mandy swept her arm around the building, which was buzzing with, well, pretty much nothing but half-done jobs. "Don't you think it's a little late for that? And I'm not quitting."

  "You could make this place your own," he repeated.

  "It is mine. Maybe you shouldn't have put up your building as collateral if you weren't down with it housing a Wrap it Up."

  They stood facing each other, hands on their hips. He held her challenging gaze before giving his head a short shake as he turned to leave.

  "Don't walk out on me, Frankie! You're in this, too!"

  The door shut behind him as Beth and Ethan came into the room.

  "Trouble in paradise?" Ethan asked.

  * * *

  Phone stuck to Mandy's ear, she repeatedly pointed at the cucumber that needed slicing for Jen's sandwiches. But it didn't matter how many times she pointed to them, her brother didn't get the friggin' hint. He'd done fine with last week's snacks, but today he seemed happier to just sit and watch the supplies he'd requested, as if they were going to get up and do a little dance if he waited long enough. If this was his normal working speed, Mandy was going to be chasing after a herd of canoes, waving lunches in the air like a mother chasing a school bus. Hiring a family member had been a very dumb move. Even if it had been the right thing to do. Even if he was good at it—when he actually did it.

  Mandy left another message for Seth and tried not to panic about things not arriving fast enough. She needed flooring. Tables. Menu signs. The rest of the kitchen equipment. Goddamn that equipment. Where were they sending it from? Timbuktu by Pony Express?

  She'd call Frankie. That's what she'd do. They hadn't hung out since he blew out of here a week ago but that didn't mean anything—they were both busy with life and the upcoming cruise night. Maybe she'd make him some brownies as a token of—

  Oh, crap! The brownies.

  She whipped open the oven door and sagged in relief. Just in time. She pulled out the brownies, which were just pulling away from the pan's edges, and set them aside to cool.

  "Those smell good," her brother said, rolling closer, hands on his wheels.

  "If you get the sandwiches done in the next twenty-five minutes, you can have one."

  "Are those your prize-winning ones?"

  She shook her head and hung her oven mitts on the hook by the newly calibrated oven. "New recipe. And it looks like the calibration is dead on. Finally. These are my new whiskey brownies. I'm going to add mini gumdrops before they cool as well as a thick chocolate icing. The recipe is just about where I want them. Total contenders for the fall fair."

  She turned her back, hoping Ethan would finally get the hint and get back to work. She dialed Frankie at the shop, hoping to catch him during his coffee break.

  Dodger picked up the
phone, sounding slightly harried.

  "Hey, Dodger, is Frankie in?" Mandy asked, knowing he would be.

  "Uh, no," he said carefully. "He left yesterday."

  Mandy frowned. "Um?"

  "For the show."

  "The show?" Mandy scratched her head. What had she missed? And why did it feel as though she was in an elevator and the cable had just snapped?

  "The TV show? The guy who was going to do up the Mercury roadster ended up in the hospital and so Frankie's doing it. Cool, huh? That's great that you let him go."

  "Uh, yeah. Right. Of course. I don't own him." Mandy drew in a breath. "Uh, do you know how long he'll be gone?" She shut her eyes, the letter from the show room coming to mind. He was going to be gone a very long time.

  "Oh, quite a while. He told Alex he needed four months off, but that he could come home on his weeks off the project and help out. If you're worried about the show and shine, he finished up a pile of his stuff and said he can do the rest from the city. And I can help if you still have stuff to do. But I'm definitely gonna need you to explain some of this stuff. His handwriting is bad." He gave a chuckle.

  He was going to miss everything. The show and shine. Her opening.

  He didn't say goodbye.

  But he was following his dream and doing what he should. That was good.

  But he just...left.

  She closed her eyes and hung up the phone, pushing it against her forehead, desperately wanting to talk to Frankie in person.

  Flat slapping noises disturbed her thoughts and she turned to see her brother slapping slices of bread into a row on the low, adjustable counter their father had made.

  "Argh!" Mandy snatched the bread and tossed it in the trash. "How would you like it if I dragged my hands across this floor and then smeared them all over your sandwich?"

  "What?" Ethan leaned away from her flailing arms, a mixture of emotions flitting across his face.

  "What do you think are on your wheelchair wheels? They've been everywhere from bird poo to God only knows what, and you were just touching them to get to the table and now you're handling food. How many times have we gone over this? Don't you understand that this isn't your house, where you can make a sandwich any old way you want? People are paying for this! There are guidelines I have to follow. You're supposed to wear gloves."