Read, Write, Love at Seaside

by Addison Cole

  Simple. Efficient. Friendly.

  That was one of the reasons Leanna had decided to try to meet with them first. She figured that they’d be an easy sell. She was simple, efficient, and friendly. It seemed like a good match.

  She walked through the glass door and into their office. A red and white hand-painted sign that read MAMA’S MARKET hung above a reception desk. The pretty blonde behind the desk smiled as she greeted Leanna.

  “Welcome to Mama’s Market.” She glanced briefly at her computer. “You must be with Luscious Leanna’s Sweet Treats.”

  “Yes. I’m Leanna Bray. I have a meeting with Leslie Strobe.”

  The blonde nodded. “I’ll get him for you. You can have a seat if you’d like.” She picked up the phone and notified someone of Leanna’s arrival.

  Him? Leanna had pictured Leslie as Mama, the elderly wife of the couple she’d envisioned.

  A man about Kurt’s age, wearing dress slacks and a white button-down, short-sleeved shirt, appeared in a doorway behind the reception desk. He had closely shorn dark hair and squinty dark eyes.

  “Leanna?”

  And a voice as soft as butter. The muscles in her neck tightened as his eyes slid to the basket she carried. She felt underdressed and underprepared. “Yes. Hi.”

  “Leslie Strobe. Nice to meet you. Come on back, and we’ll get started.”

  She followed him through a hallway lined with photographs of Mama’s Markets—several of them, not just the one in Wellfleet. She swallowed hard. Breathe. Oh please, breathe. I can do this. She remembered a story Al had told her about the first time he brought his jams to the flea market, and she drew on the memory. They were good, Leanna. That’s all I had to remember. It wouldn’t matter what I said, as long as I could get customers to taste them.

  He led her into a conference room where two men and a woman, all dressed in business attire—starched collars, dark suits—sat around a large conference table. The woman wore high heels and lipstick. Lipstick? No one wore lipstick on the Cape. No one wore business suits, either, at least not that she’d ever witnessed in Wellfleet and the surrounding small towns. I’m so out of my league. She ran her hand down her dress, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in an effort to calm her nerves.

  “Leanna Bray, this is Teddy Strobe, my sister and partner in Mama’s Market; Chester Magnus, our CFO; and Brian Warren, our marketing manager. You probably already know that we cover fifteen states and thirty-seven cities, and as of next week, we’ll be in two additional locations.”

  She contemplated telling them the meeting was a big mistake and leaving, but if she was ever going to make her mark, she had to at least try. Al’s words pulled her forward. It wouldn’t matter what I said, as long as I could get customers to taste them.

  “Hi. It’s very nice to meet each of you.” With her heart in her throat, she set the basket on the table and did her best to envision them wearing shorts and T-shirts and sitting around a picnic table. It didn’t work. They sat with their hands politely folded on the expensive conference table in a room that smelled of success and intimidation.

  In the space of a breath she thought of Kurt—You’re perfect—and used his faith to anchor her confidence.

  “Thank you for meeting with me today.” To settle her nerves, as she spoke, she emptied her basket of the samples, plates, and silverware she’d brought. “I make all of my own jams, and I’ve got a number of flavors that I think you’ll find unique.”

  She opened the jars and the bread she’d baked and sliced and set them in the middle of the table. Leslie reached for a slice of bread and spread jam thickly over the top. The others followed.

  “I work with fresh berries during the summer, and I plan on using frozen berries in the winter. There’s no difference in the final product, as the frozen berries will be whole and packaged without sugar or syrup.”

  Leslie took a bite of the bread and his eyes widened. He glanced at Teddy, who smiled and nodded as well; then they both turned their attention back to Leanna.

  With her confidence bolstered, she continued. “I make my own pectin, and I only use it when making low-pectin fruit jams, such as apricot, blueberry, peach, or pear. With higher-pectin fruits like ripe apples, cranberries, plums, or gooseberries, there’s no need for added pectin. If they’re not overripe, of course, then they have enough natural pectin and acid for gel formation with only added sugar.”

  “Leanna, this jam is remarkable. Very sweet, perfectly textured, and the bread is delicious. You made the bread as well?” Leslie’s voice was serious, and as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, he held her gaze.

  “Yes. I make the bread and the jam.” Breathe. Breathe.

  “And where are you manufacturing the product?” Teddy asked.

  The word product threw her off. “The jam? I make it in my cottage, which is in Wellfleet—another reason I thought this might be a good fit.”

  “And do you have backup for power outages during the winter?” Teddy asked.

  “Backup? No. I’m afraid I don’t, but my kitchen has been certified by the town of Wellfleet for summer production.” Has the cottage ever lost power in the winter? Will I be here in the winter?

  “How do you handle returns? If we were to purchase a batch of jam and it was found to weep, we assume that would be easily and expediently replaced.” Teddy glanced at handwritten notes in a notebook on the table and then met Leanna’s gaze again.

  “Weeping? I control weeping with the acidity of the juice and ensure that the jars are properly stored. Without temperature fluctuation, there should be no loss of liquid, or what you refer to as weeping.” Aw, heck. I don’t control the temperature of the cottage. I don’t even use air-conditioning. She made mental notes about their concerns to address later.

  “If weeping were to occur, how quickly would we see the replacement stock?” Teddy made a notation in the notebook.

  Leanna’s pulse raced. “I could have a batch ready in twenty-four hours, assuming I had the appropriate ingredients in stock.”

  “Do you have an ingredient list, product list, and preparation outline that we can review along with prices and delivery times?” When Teddy asked the questions, Chester and Brian leaned forward and picked up their pens.

  “I…um…No. I’m sorry. But I can get that to you next week.”

  Brian and Chester made notations on their notepads, and Leanna felt as though she were being sucked into a dark hole and clamoring to remain on level ground. I can do this. I can do this. I’m perfect. She took a deep breath. Okay, clearly not perfect, but good enough to do this right.

  “I apologize. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I approached your company with the proposal. To be honest, I thought I’d be meeting with an elderly couple in their home. They’d sample my jams and bread and maybe agree that we were a good match.” She crinkled her nose out of habit and silently chided herself for doing it. She knew it made her look young and inexperienced.

  “Then our branding worked perfectly,” Brian said as he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. When he smiled, it softened his chiseled features, and instead of looking fifty-something he looked to be in his late thirties—and maybe not quite so stoic.

  Leslie laughed. “That it does, Brian. Mama’s was actually named for our great-grandfather’s cow. It’s a long story. It started out as a milk market, but by the time we took it over, the name was well known and respected.” He shrugged, as if that was all the explanation she needed.

  Which it was.

  Lesson learned. Research is important. She made a mental note not to take Bella’s word for anything ever again. Mama’s Market is owned by this old couple out in Yarmouth.

  Leanna drew her shoulders back and began gathering her supplies, leaving the jams and bread for them.

  “I believe in my products, and though this business is quite new to me, I plan on making a career out of it.” She hadn’t realized how certain she was, or that she even had a real plan, until tha
t very moment, and she was as sure of it as she was about loving Pepper, which spurred her to continue.

  “I will address each of these issues, and if you liked my product, then I’d appreciate the opportunity to discuss this with you further in the near future, when I have addressed your concerns.” She surveyed their expressions as they exchanged looks she couldn’t read any better than she could sweep a sandy deck.

  “Your products are excellent. We’d welcome a future meeting with you.” Leslie and the others stood, indicating a clear end to the meeting.

  “Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief and tried to hide her trembling hands by holding the basket against her hip as she shook hands with each of them.

  “The first bite of the strawberry-apricot jam has a strong strawberry taste. How do you achieve such a smooth apricot finish?” Leslie asked.

  “Leslie.” She flashed her sweetest smile. “You’re not asking me to give away my secrets, now, are you?”

  A smile found his serious eyes.

  “If you thought that flavor was interesting, wait until you try Frangelico Peach.” She pointed to the jars of jam on the table. “The one with the peach ribbon around the jar. Try it. I’d love to know what you think.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. I’ll drop you an email and let you know. In the meantime, good luck. I think you’ll have a killer business on your hands once you see it as a business rather than a hobby.”

  Ouch.

  “Honesty. I like that.” Leanna shook his hand again, trying her best to mask the pain of his comment. “I assure you, this is far more than a hobby. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  KURT LOOKED AT his watch for the hundredth time that afternoon. He tried to concentrate on writing, but climbing into the dark recesses of his mind proved to be problematic when he was so excited and worried, in equal measure, to hear how Leanna’s meeting with Mama’s Market went. He finally gave up on hammering out more than five thousand words and drove over to wait for Leanna at her cottage.

  He parked in the driveway, and even before he turned off the car, he heard Pepper barking. His nose was pressed against the window screen, and when Kurt stepped from his car, Pepper began whining.

  “I hear you.” He went to the window and touched his finger to Pepper’s nose. The dog licked the screen and whimpered. Kurt tried the door and wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked.

  “So now you’re breaking into her house?”

  He spun around at the sound of Bella’s voice and found all three of Leanna’s girlfriends standing in their bikinis with their arms crossed and their mouths pressed into tight lines.

  “No. I came to wait for Leanna and heard Pepper barking.”

  As if on cue, Pepper barked.

  “And I thought I’d see if it was unlocked, so I could take him for a walk.”

  Amy was the first to lose her scowl. She burst into laughter. “If you could only see your face.”

  Bella and Jenna laughed with her.

  “We know you’re not breaking in.” Bella opened Leanna’s door and walked inside.

  Kurt and the others followed.

  Amy crouched down to love-up Pepper. Pepper’s tongue hung from his mouth as he rolled around on his back.

  Kurt found Pepper’s leash on top of the pile of shoes beside the door. “Why aren’t you guys at the beach?”

  “And miss Leanna’s big news? No way. You know there’s no cell reception on the beaches.” Bella grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and held it up. “Anyone?”

  “Not me, thanks,” Amy said as Pepper wiggled from beneath her hand and began pawing at Kurt’s feet.

  “No thanks, Bella. Sit, Pepper.” He hooked his leash. “I’m just going to take him for a walk.”

  “I want to go,” Jenna said. “And I want a wine cooler please, Bell.”

  “She has none. Beer or jam?” Bella held up both.

  “We’ll stop at my place for a cooler.” Jenna looped her arm into Kurt’s. “Shall we?”

  “We’re coming, too.” Amy and Bella followed them out.

  For a guy who was used to spending almost every waking hour alone, Kurt wondered how he’d ended up walking around a complex with a dog and three women pawing at him. Strangely, he didn’t have the urge to run back to his keyboard, which would have been his reaction a week earlier. These were Leanna’s friends, and Pepper was Leanna’s dog, and for that reason, he wanted to be near them all.

  His cell phone rang, and he had to disengage from Jenna’s hand on his arm to dig his phone from his pocket.

  “Is it Leanna?” Bella asked.

  “No, Leanna and I haven’t exchanged numbers.” He hadn’t realized that until this moment. “It’s my sister.” He answered the call. “Hi, Siena.”

  “Hey, Kurt. I had an idea of what you could buy Jack and Savannah.”

  “Give it to someone else. I’ve already bought them something.” On their way out of Provincetown, he and Leanna had stopped into a gallery and picked out a nice marble sculpture depicting a couple embracing. It was perfect for Jack and Savannah, and even more perfect because Leanna had helped him pick it out. They walked by the pool, and the women began laughing about chunky-dunking.

  “Where are you?” Siena asked.

  “Walking a dog with three beautiful women.” He knew that would throw her for a loop.

  “That’s right; he is,” Jenna said.

  “You know it,” Bella added.

  “Shh. He’s on the phone.” Amy waved her hands at them.

  “Oh my gosh. You’re not lying. How did they get you to leave your house? You won’t even stop writing for me.”

  He imagined her eyes narrowed, and where any other woman might stick out her lip and pout, Siena would be more likely to shoot steam from her ears.

  “I stopped writing when we all got together to meet Savannah, didn’t I?”

  “Are you really out walking a dog? Whose dog?” Siena asked. “I wish I was there so I could see it for myself. Take a picture. Text it to me.”

  “You’re so weird. Okay. I will. My girlfriend’s dog.”

  Siena squealed so loud he had to pull the phone away from his ear.

  “Wow, seriously?” Bella laughed.

  “I’ve never heard you use that word before,” Siena said. “Is it serious? I guess it has to be if you’re walking her dog. You. A dog. A girlfriend. Oh my gosh. Kurt?”

  “Yes, Siena?” He had no idea why, but he enjoyed her reaction.

  She sighed loudly. “You know girlfriends need attention. We’re not like plants that you can water once a day and then ignore. We like when guys think about us, and we love to talk, and we—”

  “Siena, I’m thirty years old. I think I know how to treat a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, he does,” Jenna yelled toward the phone.

  “Who’s that? Is that her?” Siena asked.

  “That’s one of Leanna’s friends, Jenna.”

  “Leanna? Is that your girlfriend?”

  He knew that Leanna’s name would be on the tongues of every one of his siblings within the hour. “Yes. Leanna Bray.”

  Another call beeped through on Siena’s phone. “I’ve got to take that. It’s my agent. Love you, Kurt. You sound happy. I’m happy for you.”

  “Love you, too.” He ended the call to the tune of the three women saying, Aw. They circled up to Leanna’s cottage.

  “Let’s sit on my deck and wait for her,” Amy offered.

  “I want to get a cooler. I’ll be right over.” Jenna hurried across the grass to her cottage.

  “I’ll see you guys later,” Kurt said as he headed for Leanna’s deck.

  “What?” Bella grabbed his arm. “Come on. You can wait with us.”

  There were worse things than sitting around with three bikini-clad women waiting for the woman who had made quick and efficient work of stealing his heart. He followed Bella up to Amy’s porch.

  LEANNA SANG ALONG to the radio as she pulled int
o Seaside and parked by the laundry room. She was still singing as she crossed the grass and heard Kurt’s laugh, followed by Bella’s and Jenna’s. Her stomach fluttered as she picked up her pace in anticipation of seeing Kurt. She followed the sound of their voices to Amy’s deck, where she found them eating chips and dip and drinking wine coolers. Her heart squeezed a little at the sight of him sitting so comfortably with her friends.

  “What are you doing here?” She lifted up on her tiptoes and peered over the deck railing. Kurt rose to greet her with Pepper’s leash in hand. She reached through the railing and petted Pepper’s head.

  “I couldn’t concentrate. I was so busy wondering how your meeting went that I decided to come wait here instead.”

  She came up on the deck, and he took her hand as he pulled out a chair for her.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “Good.” She watched their hopeful eyes widen. “And bad.” Their smiles faded. “But overall I think I’d say it was a really good first meeting.”

  Kurt reached for her hand. “Really good sounds promising. Do you want to share any of it with us, or do you need time to process it all?”

  “Oh no, Kurt,” Bella said firmly. “We don’t work that way. We’re women. We process by sharing.”

  “I’ve already processed most of it. You were right, Kurt. I needed to be far better prepared. I should have researched Mama’s Market, prepared a product brochure, ingredient list, price list, expected turnaround times, come up with a sound refund policy, a contract.” She shook her head.

  “Oh, babe. I’m so sorry.” Kurt’s eyes filled with compassion.

  “Sorry? You were trying to help, and I should have listened.” She glared at Bella. “By the way, Bella, Mama’s Markets are in fifteen states and thirty-seven cities. How could you tell me the business was run by an old couple in Yarmouth and they only had the Wellfleet location?”

  Bella pointed at Jenna.

  “I’m sorry. That’s what I’d heard,” Jenna explained. “Or I read it somewhere.”

  “Or you made it up.” Amy rolled her eyes. “Do you want a cooler, Lea?”