by Ciara Knight
“That’s why any time I ask you a question about your dating life, you open that laptop.” Lori flopped down in a chair near him and crossed her foot over her other ankle. That meant she’d be staying until she decided the conversation was over. If she wasn’t so good at her job, he wouldn’t tolerate such distractions.
“You’re exaggerating.” He blew warm air over his hands, trying to get his fingers to thaw enough to type.
“Really? The minute I mentioned your personal life, you ran for your laptop.” She held a red-mittened hand toward his computer.
She had a point. He didn’t have to admit it, though. “Since you’re not going to let this go, talk.” He swiveled to face her.
“Tell me what happened with the last woman. All I know is you decided your schedules didn’t work. That isn’t a reason.”
Drew threw his hands up, rotated in his chair, and kicked the radiator, but there was no response. “We dated for a few months. She’s in finance. We communicated mostly via text and email, and we dated on a schedule to avoid having to cancel and reschedule.”
“She sounds perfect. Schedules, spreadsheets, stone-cold communication, oh my.” Lori removed her gloves and moved to the radiator beside him.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t, so we ended it.” He shot up from the computer. Enough was enough. He didn’t need to work under these extreme conditions. They needed to give them offices with heat.
Lori cut off his path to the doorway. “Nope. Not getting off that easy. Why didn’t it work out? Did she schedule a date on the wrong day? Did she forget to wear matching earrings?”
Irritation nipped at his temper, but he refused to let her get a rise out of him. It would only prove her point. “You think you know me so well. No, that wasn’t why.”
“Then why?”
“She ended things when I was thirty minutes late one day,” he huffed.
“Why were you late?” Lori asked, as if referencing a normal day.
“You know why. I was at the hospital with Knox after his girlfriend went crazy. That man needs your help picking a woman. Go bother him.”
Lori followed him down the stairs and out the front door. “You just wait. You’ll fall in love someday, and you’ll understand why a man can make a fool out of himself over a woman.”
“I’ll never get hit over the head with a garden gnome. And I will never make a fool out of myself over some woman.” He marched down the street and up past the receptionist for the county offices, up the stairs, and into the mayor’s office. “Do you realize that Knox Brevard is doing you a favor by choosing your town for this segment? You should be rolling out the red carpet for us. Instead you have our offices nowhere near our accommodations, I’ve been almost set on fire by one baker, and I was grossly disappointed with the product of another. Now I return to the offices to discover the heating doesn’t work. If you don’t want us here, we can leave now.”
Ms. Horton rose from her chair behind her desk with a school principal expression. “First, Mr. Lancaster, we did roll out our welcome mat to you. I’m sorry that it doesn’t meet your city expectations. As for the mishap earlier, the towel caught fire, not you. And if you had tasted Carissa’s amazing product, you would’ve been able to do your job better. Perhaps if you knew what it tasted like, you could give her pointers on how to present it.”
His agitation didn’t waver. The woman was playing some sort of small-town games with him, and he wouldn’t stand for it. “We need offices with heat in this cold. If not, I can assure you we will be leaving.”
“I guess if that is Knox Brevard’s wish, we cannot stop you.” Mayor Horton turned her computer screen around to show Knox with a sour, deep-grooved forehead staring him down. She headed for the door. “I’ll let you two speak about your plans, and you can let me know what you decide. Oh, but if you do decide to stay, you might want to turn the heater on. The valve is on the side of the radiator, and the directions are in the packet of information I presented you when you arrived.”
Drew ran a hand through his hair. He’d forgotten about that silly manual. The door shut, and Knox cleared his throat on the video chat. “This is your idea of selling me and my brand to this town? Didn’t you say I needed this if I wanted to restore my good name after Samantha lied to the media and made me look like a womanizing monster?”
Now wasn’t the time for Drew to point out that Samantha had a point. Instead he swallowed his pride, yet again, for a man he owed his life to and his future. “It was a misunderstanding. I’ll smooth things over. Don’t worry about it.”
“I hope I don’t have to come to that town to do your job. The one I hired you to do when you had no other employment opportunities when you returned to the States. It’s been five years now; I shouldn’t have to hold your hand to keep your temper from getting you in trouble anymore.”
“I don’t have a temper.” Drew lifted his chin. It had been five years of him working on cleaning up Knox’s messes and less about his actual job.
The door creaked behind him.
“I’ll keep you posted on how things are going.” Drew wanted to click end for the video conference, but since Knox had been on with the mayor, he let it be. If only he could break free of Knox and his controlling ways, then he wouldn’t be frustrated all the time. Sure, he’d had a temper and a mouth on him when he’d left the military, but now he could be polite and as smooth talking as Knox any day.
He turned to see Ms. Horton at the door tapping her foot. “Everything worked out?”
Drew didn’t like it when someone controlled the situation. Not at all. “Of course.”
Ms. Horton opened her door wider. “That’s good news, because the town elders are waiting for you in your office. They are the ones you still need to win over.”
“Win over? What are you talking about?” Drew fisted his hands and shoved them into his pocket before Knox could see his anger boiling to the surface. “I thought you were the mayor of this town.” There… He knew a woman who held such a prestigious position had to be into the power.
“That’s right, I’m the mayor, but I’m far from the one who runs this town. I answer to the town elders. If I were you, I’d get moving. They don’t like it when people are late. They are old school.”
“What are you doing still standing there? Move it, soldier,” Knox commanded as if he were his commanding officer.
He swallowed the agitation and put on a fresh smile. “I will win over the esteemed elder committee with no issue. I can deal with professional, mature people.”
“Right. I’m sure you can.” Mayor Horton approached the desk, turned her screen around to face away from him, and sat down.
“Is he still standing there? If so, tell him to drop and give you fifty.”
Drew right faced and marched out of the room before he could say how he really felt. This was it, the last project he’d work on for Knox. He needed as far away from his womanizing, crazy ways as he could get.
Why was January the unofficial Everyone Diet month? It had been three hours since a customer entered, an hour since Carissa took a cat nap, and thirty minutes since she stopped scrubbing everything clean.
The aroma of cinnamon, pumpkin, and baked crusts was bittersweet. Enough. She wasn’t going to let her hard work go to waste. If no one came by today, she’d take some to those who’d appreciate it. Her favorite sweet tooth locals.
She packaged up all the leftover baked goods, flipped the sign over to Closed, put on her winter coat, and marched across the town square. The sleet stuck to the brown grass and sidewalk, making it slick. The cold froze the end of her nose and ears, so she trudged faster. Not that she was in a hurry to enter the building Mark used to live in, but Ms. Horton was right. It was time to move on.
Three parking spaces were taken up by the white minibus. Good, they were there right on time. It was convenient that the recreation center was under construction and the elders had to meet in the old abandoned storefront. Ms. Horton probably planned it so the
square would be a little less empty when the Knox show people arrived.
Carissa entered, set her boxes on the entryway table, and removed her coat and hat. The sound of the commotion lightened her heart. Some people saw therapists, others talked to friends, but when life was tough, Carissa would bake and deliver her special creations to people who truly appreciated it.
“Carissa! Hey everyone, Carissa’s here!” Davey shuffled out with knobby knuckles raised to the height of his chest and arms wide open. “Let me help you with that.”
“I think I better carry them inside. Last time, half the box was gone by the time you reached the table.” She leaned into half hug Davey and lifted an elbow to greet the others since her hands were full.
“You’d deny a dying old geezer like me his sugar fix?” Davey puckered out his bottom lip.
“Please, you move better than a five-year-old at a dance recital.”
“You got that right, little missy.” Davey tapped his way to the table. His joints were frozen in position, but his feet sure did move with lightning speed. He removed his gray, pinstriped driving hat and took a bow.
The elder women flocked around Davey, hooking hands into the crooks of his elbows. He didn’t mind. He plopped his hat back on his thinning silver hair and escorted the ladies to their seats.
“What do we have today? Oh, my word, they smell delicious. Did you get the job, Cassie dear?”
She loved how they all called her that, as if it were her name. “Not yet.” The entire town knew their financial future rested on her shoulders. If only she could pass the torch. She’d try to convince Mr. Lancaster the minute she spoke to him alone, but for now, she was their only shot and she wouldn’t let them down.
“Job? You mean that Hollywood donkey manure they are slinging at us? I, for one, say no to the uppity movie people. They’re gonna ruin this town if they can. Trust me.” Davey folded his arms over his chest and grunted.
Ms. Gina fluffed her orange hair and offered a tight-lipped coral smile. “Well, we were chatting, and we think that if we all decide to give the green light, we know you would be perfect for the big first episode they planned.”
“We better do the production, ’cause Grandma needs a new Bingo basket.” Mrs. Malter thumped her way over with her walker.
Ms. Gina, a former Las Vegas show girl, waved a theatrical hand in the air. “They should film a segment with us. After all, we’re the true heart of the community.”
“You mean true headache,” Mrs. Malter grumbled.
Carissa opened the boxes, and the other ten seniors moved like they were twenty-two instead of eighty-two plus. She loved seeing their eyes light up. If only people would sit and have a cookie for five minutes instead of being buried in their phones or computers, the world would be a better place.
Perhaps she should tap on the door upstairs and offer some to Drew and Lori. She abandoned the idea, deciding one rejection of her desserts was enough for now.
“Ah, I should’ve known it was you.” Thelma, their nurse, waved her hands about, shooing all the elders away from the sweets. “Only take one. Last time it was like I brought back toddlers from an amusement park. Talk about sugar high.”
“Stop treating us like children,” Mrs. Malter snapped.
“You’re not children. You broke your hip doing a high-kicking routine when we returned to the center after your last sugar binge.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mrs. Malter snagged a cookie, a cupcake, and a brownie, shoved them into her pocket, and scooted her walker faster than a getaway rocket.
“Sorry, Thelma. I hope you don’t mind. I made all this for the production team as part of a pseudo-audition, but apparently the main guy doesn’t eat sugar.” The bitterness in Carissa’s voice obviously caught Davey’s attention.
He dropped his cookie and put up his fists. “Who’s this despicable man? I’ll put him in his place.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered. For the next tasting I’ll use cayenne pepper instead of cinnamon.”
“Oh, you got Jackie so good that time.” Davey doubled over with a dramatic laugh. One that ended with a dry cough.
“Calm yourself, Mr. Samson.” Thelma snagged a cookie. “Better get some before the others devour them.”
“I’m calm. Don’t fret. It makes lines on that pretty face of yours, Thelma.” Davey was such a flirt. “Don’t trust a man who doesn’t eat sugar. Next thing you’re gonna tell me is he only eats salads with dressing on the side. Sissy.”
“Now, Davey. That’s not nice,” Carissa scolded but in a lighthearted, I-totally-agree tone.
He knew it, too, because he did a tap routine over to Ms. Gina, where he handed her a cupcake and snuggled into her side.
Carissa rolled her eyes. “You know, I think he was born a player.”
“I think you’re right.” Thelma took a bite and offered an eyebrow raise. “Yum. Are these a new recipe? I love the sugar maple kind of flavor.”
“Thanks. I’ve been experimenting. With flavor, at least.”
“You’ve got a winner here.” Thelma took another bite.
“Now if I could just make them look as pretty as they taste.”
“Why you gotta do that for?” Davey asked.
“You can’t hear me tell you to go to bed at night when I’m standing a foot from you, but you heard that from across the room?” Thelma huffed.
“I got my hearing aid turned on. I always turn it off when I know you’re gonna tell me to do something I don’t want to do.” Davey reached up and turned his hearing aid off.
“Davey had a good question, though,” Thelma said.
“Well, it needs to look pretty, according to Mr. Lancaster, the man who’s in charge. He says viewers can’t taste or smell the product, so I have to make them look like they taste and smell good.”
“What’s he want you to do? Put pretty flowers on top? Told ya, he’s a sissy.” Davey reached for his ear again, but who knew if he actually turned it off or not. He spun away from them to face the wall, giving Thelma and Carissa his back for added emphasis that he wasn’t listening any longer.
Thelma didn’t bite anyway. “Ignore him. If you give him attention, it only reinforces his behavior.”
They both waited for a reply, but nothing, so Carissa sighed and sat at the table. “I know how to bake and make things taste good, but let’s face it, in the superficial department, I get a big fat F. I’m not one to even fuss over myself. Heck, half the time I can’t even find my hairbrush, let alone curl my hair or put on makeup. Who has time for that stuff anyway?”
Thelma drummed her fingers on the table. “Hmm…I wish I had an answer for you, hon.”
“I have an answer, but no one ever asks me anything.” Mrs. Malter picked up her walker and slammed it down against the old wood floor like a judge’s mallet.
Carissa knew Mrs. Malter was once important and now she struggled with being in a home, especially when her family never came to visit her except on her birthday. “What’s that? I could really use your help.”
Mrs. Malter’s peach lips curled into a devious grin. “We tar and southernize him.”
“Those are fighting words.” Thelma shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”
“Southernize him! Southernize him!” Davey chanted, and Ms. Gina joined in, a little off on the rhythm, though.
“Okay, okay, calm down. I’m surprised at you, Davey. I thought you were a gentleman.” Carissa winked at him.
He put his fists up. “I can’t let some stranger get you upset. I’m your knight with shining hair.” Davey removed his cap and bowed.
“Remember, we need Mr. Lancaster to want to be here. I don’t think what you guys are planning is going to help the situation.”
“Told ya, we don’t need those stuffy city folks. We’ve been just fine here in Sugar Maple for well over a hundred years. Done just fine, and we’ll keep doing just fine.” Mrs. Malter stood and waved her hand, spitting with her enth
usiasm.
“Calm down. Remember your heart condition,” Thelma said.
“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Lancaster entered the room with his perfect hair, pressed shirt, and tight jaw.
“Take off your shoes. You got mud. I ain’t gonna pay for a cleaning crew to come clean up after ya,” Davey yelled.
Drew studied his shoes, but despite the fact there wasn’t a speck of mud on them, he still removed them, something Carissa wasn’t expecting, considering his earlier attitude.
She had to admit though, Drew looked more relaxed and approachable standing in his wool socks. “You need to be careful down here. The floor is old and worn. You could get a splinter.”
“Good. Then he’ll be easier to tar and southernize!” Davey hollered.
Mr. Lancaster strutted farther into the room. “What does that mean?” Two steps into the doorway, he hollered, grabbed his foot, and bounced around until he fell into the wall. “Ow!”
“She warned you, but those big city folks never listen.” Ms. Gina waved her partners in crime over to a table to play some more bingo.
Carissa raced over to Mr. Lancaster. “I’m sorry about that. Here, sit down.” She helped him over to the chair. The large man was leaning on her and hopping on one foot.
He collapsed and held his foot up to his knee. “This place is a hazard. Why hasn’t it been torn down? The radiator upstairs doesn’t work well, and now I’ve been impaled by a spear.”
“Shh. Don’t say such things. They might hear you.” Carissa knelt in front of him and analyzed the damage. It was a large piece of wood, but it didn’t appear to be too deep. It was hard to tell through the sock, though.
“Why? What is this tar and southernize thing they were chanting? Should I be worried?” Drew smiled and looked over at the elders.
She took advantage of his distraction and yanked the piece of wood out. “Yes, you should.”
He rubbed his toe and grimaced like a schoolboy. So much for looking like he was perfect.
“Wait here, Mr. Lancaster. I’ll be right back. You should clean your foot and make sure there aren’t any small splinters left.”
