Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

by Jean Oram

  "Hey," she said as he turned off the grinder and lifted his safety goggles. "Um." She glanced at the rusty old roadster frame in the middle of the room and, unable to think of something brilliant to say, shoved the brownies in Frankie's direction and said, "I brought you brownies."

  His eyes flickered to the other workers, who had stopped their projects to check out what was happening with him and the dame with a plate full of goodies.

  "Brownies," she said, giving the plate a light lift in the air, answering their unspoken question.

  "All right!" The men moved in and she teased them with the plate.

  "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." 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 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. "I tried, Mandy. But what if it's too late now?"

  Chills ran up her spine and she cast a glance around the room. And there she was, holding some sort of mini blowtorch that didn't burn nearly as brightly as the torch Mandy had burning for her best friend. The woman stood in overalls, feet set wide apart, watching them with more than a mere onlooker's interest.

  Mandy glanced at Frankie, who had been watching the woman, as well. She 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 asked, 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?

  But it had only been days. How could he fall that quickly?

  "Is it real?" she asked, facing Frankie, looking deep into his eyes to delve out the truth.

  He kept his eyes averted. "You only want me because I'm not there to hold you up and you think you're going to lose me as a friend. 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 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."

  Chapter 16

  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.

  And she hadn't taken Seth's bankruptcy warning and found a way to protect herself. And now, she would lose Frankie's building in just over two weeks—and 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 her ass—or at least, Frankie's building.

  How could she have trusted Seth? How dumb 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.

  Basically, his franchise was a scam. A well thought out scam she had fallen for like a needy teenager out with her first boyfriend, who wanted only one thing.

  Stupid, needy Mandy.

  The door to her restaurant creaked open and John hesitantly popped his head around the open door. "Ah, there you are. Mary Alice thought she'd seen you come in but not leave."

  Mandy pushed the weight of all her failures off her chest and reminded herself not to think. Just act like everything was all cool.

  John continued from his spot at the door, "I heard the news and, as your lawyer, came to chat about your options."

  "I should have stayed happy as a waitress, John. I'd been fine until stupid Oz went and got stupid married and then stupid Gloria opened her big fat stupid yap so I, in turn, opened mine. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

  Her head collapsed onto the counter and she heard John take a hesitant step closer. She raised her head, along with a hand to ward him off. The last thing she needed was sympathy. She would crumple faster than a brick wall being hit by a bulldozer.

  Mandy faced the papered windows again and held her head up by placing her fingertips to her temples. "Why the hell did you let Frankie put his building up as collateral? You knew how risky it was." She blinked back tears. If she'd held strong, she wouldn't be carrying the burden of knowing she'd tossed his inheritance to the wind.

  John shrugged. "He's an adult." His shoes clicked closer to her. "Now, about your options."

  Mandy rubbed her forehead. "John, I'm sorry, but I can't afford to pay you."


  "Pro bono," he said quickly, pulling up a stool next to her.

  "John, I really..." Mandy shook her head. "I tried being a big fish and life placed its oversized thumb on me. I stepped out of bounds and reached too far."

  She was just a waitress.

  An unemployed waitress, to boot. She shouldn't have tried. Now she'd get to live in town as the big business flop who'd tried to trap Oz and made Frankie fall off the tower.

  Lovely.

  Frankie was probably right. Her feelings for him were probably a result of the fact that she was drowning and he had always been her reliable life raft. But if that was true, it didn't explain why it was so hard to breathe whenever she thought about him. It was like an iron fist had clenched over her heart and refused to let go.

  "You okay?" John asked, flipping open a document.

  "Yeah," she wheezed.

  "You should read this," he said, running a finger down the page before tapping on a clause.

  Sighing, Mandy took the offered page and skimmed the clause. "So?"

  "What does it say?" he prompted.

  "A bunch of mumbo-jumbo about how shitty it is when a chain goes under." Such a ray of sunshine. It was a wonder he was still married.

  "Yes," John said patiently, turning the page, "but it also says you have the option to buy out your outlet and carry on independently. And here—" he tapped on another clause "—is that clause we added about you being able to buy your outlet for a lower price rather than market value, should there ever be a reason to go independent." He beamed at Mandy as though he'd just presented her with a new truck. "I thought you understood all of this?"

  "I don't have money, John. It's all fine and dandy that you thought to put in all these clauses, but I don't think you and everyone else really wants free subs for the next twenty years as payback for getting me into business. And that's about all I could offer." She pushed away from the counter, anger fusing her muscles together. "I have to pull out."

  The man had been a well-off lawyer for so long, he didn't understand that having no money really meant no money. As in nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. As in, what am I going to put in my gas tank when the needle hits E? She had nothing to her name other than a pile of loans that were coming due for a half-finished restaurant that couldn't be opened. She was one missed rent check away from sleeping on her mother's sofa and wondering how many soap stars had had Botox.

  How could she have forgotten that strutting around with rose-colored lenses made you unable to see how life was ninjaing up on you with its shitkickers?

  John sat back, assessing her—probably trying to comprehend how on earth she could be so broke.

  "Right," he said at last. He cast a look about the half-finished place. He stood, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. "You are a creative problem solver. Always have been. You can pull this out of the hat."

  She let out a snort, then glanced at the letter from the chain's lawyers again. "There's no way I can I raise the kind of cash I need in two weeks." Interest was already piling up on her debts and it would take ages to pay it off with or without a paycheck and all she had to show for it was a cold, hard life lesson.

  "You'll think of something." John hefted the document, saying, "You know where to find me if you need help."

  She snorted. "Getting help at this point is like asking the coast guard to help the Titanic. About a zillion years too late," she muttered.

  "Mandy," John said, "where is that hopeful, optimistic girl I know?"

  "I think she may have been crushed by that brick wall that fell on her." She sighed and turned to look at her restaurant. So close. Yet so very, very far.

  John exited, saying, "When you get your plan in place, you know where to find me."

  She stuck her tongue out at the closed door and made snippy little comments to herself before sighing and giving herself a shake. She needed to stop moping and take action. Any action. She grabbed her purse and keys and locked the door, taking a walk around town, brainstorming idea after useless idea on how she could raise enough money to save it all—in only fourteen days.

  * * *

  Mandy bolted upright and flung the covers off her legs. That was it! The timeline was incredibly tight, but if she could manage to write a decent pitch and a miracle occurred, it might work. But she had to move. Fast.

  Tucking Portia under her arm, she headed to her laptop. Flipping it open, she rubbed her hands and typed in the URL for Kickstarter. Gran, bless her heart, may have been on to something with her mumbo-jumbo at her quitting party. Everything was a longshot right now, but maybe this could buy her enough time to pull things out of the fire and keep them there until she could get the restaurant going and an income started.

  Printing off several pages, she began scrawling down ideas and lists of things she needed. Nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  She scratched Portia behind the ears and let out a long sigh. If she used Kickstarter, she wouldn't be able to pay people back, which didn't seem fair. She'd already pulled Frankie into the mess and there was no way she could live with herself if she widened her net of financial destruction—and using donations wasn't about her need for independence, as Frankie would assume. It was about being responsible and honest about the fact that she was a shoddy investment. But if she could be more accountable to her backers by being able to pay each and every one of them back whether things worked out, or not, that was her ticket—not handouts.

  Oh. My. God.

  That was it. She picked up her phone and tapped in a number from her files.

  "Lexi?"

  "Wha?"

  Sleep coated Lexi's voice and Mandy spoke slowly and urgently. "Lexi, it's Mandy Mattson. I have a plan to save our asses. Can I come over? 'Cause you're not going to want to sleep once you hear my plan and I'm not letting you off the phone until I've told it to you."

  "Try me," said Lexi, her voice hard.

  Mandy quickly outlined her plan.

  "You're nuts, girl."

  Mandy's hope waned.

  "But I happen to like your brand of nuts. I'll text you my address and call the girls. Get over here and let's get this thing moving."

  Mandy smiled and hung up the phone. They were going to take back the night. Okay, maybe not the night, but at least their investments and show Seth a thing or two about women. Namely—you didn't cross them. Especially in groups.

  * * *

  Mandy sifted through the papers spread out on the thick oak table and accepted the cup of coffee Lexi plunked beside her. She rested her free hand on her lower back and slowly arched away from the table. The six of them had been poring over papers for hours in Lexi's grand dining room, hashing out the best course of action they could take to ensure they didn't lose their investments.

  She found the page she was looking for and passed it to Blair, who, surprisingly, had been the hardest to convince. Well, until they'd mentioned they wanted to get back at Seth, and Blair, having recently discovered the real reason her husband had gone in for hair plugs—a pretty young thing at the accountant's office—suddenly wasn't so against nailing the man to the wall, balls first. In fact, she had started pricing out nail guns on her phone, which had left Mandy more than a little worried that Blair was taking the expression quite literally. All they wanted to do was humiliate him into releasing the trademarks and licensing to them. The other four—Lexi, the twins Stacy and Dacey and even Rachelle—had been surprisingly easy to convince.

  "After I talk to my lawyer to ensure we have a leg to stand on, we can start the process of garnering micro business loans online. Once that's under way, we hit the press." Mandy held up a photocopy of the franchise agreement with the appropriate clauses highlighted in pink. "I'll call John in a few minutes. He usually jogs by my place around six."

  "Oooohhh," said Blair with flirty eyebrows. "Someone likes you!"

  Mandy laughed. "He's old enough to be my father."

  "All the better. You want a man who's been around the block and knows
how to treat a woman right." Blair shot her a wink. "They appreciate a pretty young thing like you on their second go round. No taking that firm ass for granted!" She slapped Mandy's tush and let out a bitter laugh.

  Mandy cleared her throat, moved out of Blair's reach, and continued, "I think we've covered all the angles. Despite being a complete publicity hound, I don't think Seth will have any way of turning this around. There's no way he can look good other than to comply with our demands and free us from the chain. But we need to play our cards carefully so it looks like a good deal for him, too. We get to keep everything but him as the boss while he gets to look like the big guy by setting us free instead of crushing us. But we have to hit the media and pull all our connections."

  "I know one of the newscasters at W7 personally." Blair studied her fingernails and Mandy was certain Blair's inner cougar was alive and well. She shuddered as mental images flashed through her head. "He has a lovely scar on his leg now," she said with a throaty laugh that seemed slightly mad to Mandy's weary mind.

  She rubbed her eyes and took another swallow of coffee. It was going to be tricky, using Blair and her connections but keeping her in the background. They didn't want a crazy, vindictive spokesperson. While the media would love it, it would kill their engine faster than sugar in the gas tank.

  "Even though we parted on uneven terms," Blair continued, pulling her attention away from her nails, "I'm sure he'd still pull a few strings for me. Men are funny that way. They love you when you hurt them. Especially when you get them what they've been dying for."

  "Okaaaay." Mandy watched Blair down the rest of her red wine and tried to focus on the task at hand. "In the meantime, we have our scripts to practice for the media and, Lexi, did you look over the micro business loan page?"

  "Good to go. One typo." She handed Mandy's laptop back to her. Through an online micro business loan program, people could lend small amounts to business owners and over time, be paid back with interest. Anyone could back the entire group or an individual member with twenty-five dollars or more. They'd need one hell of a lot of backers if they were going to save themselves as there was absolutely nothing micro about the amount of cash they needed. Even Blair had admitted that in order to do a quick buyout, she'd need financial help—especially since her restaurant was one of the best earning ones in the group, meaning her buyout cost would be higher.