Then he turned to Jon. “And you, sir. Allow me to offer you a selection of our most popular products.”
Labron was a little over-the-top, but he appeared to genuinely enjoy what he was doing. Many retail workers would be annoyed to see customers right at the end of the day. Not this man.
Jon picked a light brown piece of taffy.
“Excellent choice, sir.” The man’s smile got even wider. “Our buttercream saltwater taffy is a classic. We make everything on site and the cream for this flavor comes from a dairy down the road.”
“Delicious,” Jon said, as soon as he could speak. The candy melted on his tongue but had a delightful chewiness as well.
“What’s this one?” Abby pointed to a white candy flecked with blue and red.
“Ah, that’s our cherry-vanilla.” Labron nodded approvingly. “A sophisticated little candy perfect for someone with sophisticated taste.”
Abby blushed. “I don’t know about that.”
Labron was a born salesman. He probably repeated that line a dozen times a day, every day. But Jon didn’t care. Abby was enjoying herself immensely.
“Is there really saltwater in it?” Abby asked, sniffing the cherry-vanilla piece.
“I’m so glad you asked!” Labron rubbed his hands together. “Recipes vary from one candymaker to another, and are highly guarded, by the way. But they all contain sugar, corn syrup, cornstarch, water, butter, salt, color, and flavorings.”
“Salt and water, but not saltwater, per se? So where did the name come from?” Abby persisted.
“The first soft taffy was made back East, in Atlantic City, New Jersey, in the 1880s. It caught on quickly and shopkeepers up and down the coast began to sell it. According to Jersey Shore legend, it got its name in 1883, when a storm hit Atlantic City. Have you ever been there?”
“New Jersey? No.” Abby shook her head. “California and Oregon, that’s where I’ve been.”
Jon frowned. “Not even Las Vegas?”
She gave a little shudder. “Why would I want to go there?”
“Um, because it’s fun?”
“If you say so.” She turned her attention back to Labron. “What happened when the storm hit Atlantic City?”
“Well, the boardwalk at the time was smaller and lower than it is today. During the storm, waves washed right over and flooded several businesses with sea water, including a candy shop. A young girl came into the shop looking for taffy right after the storm, and the proprietor looked around his waterlogged store and jokingly told her all he had was ‘saltwater taffy.’ The girl didn’t realize he was being sarcastic, so she bought some and went on her way. Someone recognized that the name was catchy and good for marketing so they kept it.”
“Advertising,” Jon said. “It really does run the world.”
Abby elbowed him in the ribs. “Jon, don’t be rude.”
But Labron only laughed. “Your young man has a point. However it came about, I’m grateful that this candy made it to the West and that I get to come to this store every day and make it for good people like you.”
“You really enjoy your work, don’t you?” Jon said. No one at Diversion ever said they were grateful to come to work. Probably not Sunset Bay Chronicle, either. What did that say about his chosen profession?
“I really do.” Labron reached behind the counter again and brought out another small tray. “Taffy is the specialty, of course, but my wife convinced me to start making fudge, too. Second best decision I ever made. Here. Mocha hazelnut.”
Abby bit into a small piece of the dark confection and moaned. “This is amazing. Jon, you have to try this.”
Labron looked at Jon with his head tilted to one side. “I believe the gentleman is more suited to the smooth peanut butter milk chocolate version.”
Jon put the candy in his mouth. The slightly salty peanut butter mingled on his tongue with the sweet creamy chocolate just like something his mother used to make at Christmas when he was a boy. The flavor instantly transported him back to a time he’d all but forgotten, when his parents were happy together and they were a family.
“How do you know I’m a peanut butter fan?” he asked, once he could speak.
Labron’s dark eyes were full of compassion, as if he knew what Jon had been thinking. “I’ve been doing this a long time, son. I have a feeling about things.”
Abby selected a box of each fudge they’d tasted, plus a variety of different saltwater taffy flavors. Labron packaged them up prettily and handed them to her with a little bow.
“Thank you for stopping in. It’s been delightful chatting with you. Please feel free to visit again.”
At the doorway, Abby paused and turned back. “You said taking your wife’s advice to make fudge was your second best decision. What was your first?”
Labron grinned, flashing a mouthful of straight, white teeth. “Not taking no for an answer. It took me three years to convince her to marry me. Everything good in my life followed that. The right things are worth waiting for. Worth fighting for too, if it comes to that.”
Jon looked at Abby. She’d fought hard all her life. Maybe it was time someone fought for her.
* * *
Jon opened the back passenger side door and watched as Chaos leaped onto the seat, sliding on the quilted cover that protected the leather.
“Good boy,” he said. Chaos wagged and grinned. A day that included a car ride was the best thing ever, to him.
It was a good day, period, Jon thought. Perfect for a road trip. Light cloud cover with breaks of sunshine, calm air perfumed with early summer. Roman was in a good mood. They had three stops planned, all of which would be right for the restaurant round-up.
“We’ll hit the bakery first,” Jon said. “Then we’ll head north to Coos Bay, have lunch at a microbrewery I’ve been told we must try. How does that sound?”
After that, they’d check out the famous sand dunes. On the way back, there was a cheese factory and a lighthouse diner.
“I’m sick of Goldie’s,” Roman grumbled. “I’d rather stop at the ranch for snacks.”
“Yeah, well, Daphne has paying customers to feed,” Jon replied.
“Abby would get me something.”
“This isn’t Goldie’s anyway. It’s a new place outside of town. Come on, Dad. Let’s have fun today, okay?”
There was a lot to see in Oregon but for someone who’d lived in the area for as long as Roman had, he’d experienced very little of it. But that was the lifestyle he’d chosen.
Would he have done more, if Jon had been around to go with him? Had his father been lonely, all those years?
He felt the guilt, then shifted it away. He couldn’t change that. Roman had made his choice. Now, since his fall, they were doing things together, and getting along better than they had in years. For the first time, Jon allowed himself to consider that maybe it wasn’t Roman who needed to move closer to Jon, but Jon who needed to move closer to Roman. He’d been here for several weeks already, he was getting enough work from Elliott to get by, with far less stress than he had in Los Angeles, and as they said, two can live as cheaply as one.
His father didn’t want to leave his home and Jon could understand why, now. If Jon stayed around to help, who knows how many more years Roman could stay here?
And then, there was Abby.
“Don’t forget my cane,” Roman said. He eased himself into the passenger seat, already adjusted to his comfort.
“Got it.” Jon tossed it into the back. Chaos thumped his tail approvingly. “Anything else? You’ve got your pills? Your jacket? Your hat?”
“When did you get to be such a mother hen?” Roman complained. “I’ve got what I need. Let’s go.”
The bakery was about an hour north of Sunset Bay and by the time they’d reached it, Roman was stretching and shifting uncomfortably.
“You feeling okay, Dad?” he asked, as he handed Roman his cane.
“I’m fine.” Roman gripped the cane in one hand and
Chaos’s harness in the other. “Nothing a cinnamon bun won’t cure.”
The aroma inside was redolent with yeast and spices and sugar. And coffee.
They purchased their treats and took them to a nearby gazebo where they could see for miles and miles, all the way down to the water.
There was a young family picnicking on the grass between the shelter and the parking lot. Father, mother, and two boys. Chaos looked at them longingly.
“He likes kids, huh?” Jon said.
“Loves them.” Roman grunted. “He ought to be a family dog, instead of being stuck with me.”
“He adores you.”
“He’s a good boy.”
Chaos looked at Roman and thumped his tail at the words.
“He’s a young dog,” Roman said. “He’ll probably outlive me. If that happens, I want you to have him.”
“Geez, Dad, way to take the shine out of a nice day. Of course, I’ll look after your dog. But you’ll be around for a long time yet. Only the good die young, remember?”
Roman reached down and patted Chaos. “You never know.”
He was not a man given to sentiment and the exchange troubled Jon. Roman had been quieter than usual the past few days, not snapping as much, not complaining about Jon’s cooking, or the times when Jon and Abby had gone out, leaving him behind.
In fact, he’d encouraged them to go, practically pushing Abby out the door, promising her he’d do nothing more strenuous than watch television while he was alone. Her concern was touching, if a little over-the-top. But Roman tolerated it from her. In fact, they seemed to understand each other in a way that made Jon feel like an outsider.
He took half of the cinnamon bun they’d ordered and put it in front of Roman. “Here,” he said. “Tell me what you think. Something I can use in the story.”
Roman took a bite, then gave an indifferent shrug. “Bigger isn’t always butter. I mean, better.”
“Awesome.” Jon burst out laughing. “But either way, I can’t use it. Say something good.”
“I taste cinnamon? They’re not burned?”
“Let me get my notepad so I can write all that down. Come on, Dad.” He looked down at his half of the pastry. “Are they that bad?”
“Probably not,” Roman allowed. “But once you’ve tasted the baking at Sanctuary Ranch, nothing comes close.”
Jon took a bite. Dad was right. “I guess Daphne’s spoiled us.”
“And Abby.”
Jon nodded.
Roman napped on the way to the microbrewery, where he ordered a large meal that he claimed he couldn’t eat because of the earlier pastry.
Instead of walking the dunes, they sat at an overlook. Chaos stuck close to Roman’s side, nudging him frequently, and one time, Jon had to repeat himself twice before his father responded.
At the cheese factory, he nibbled on samples, feeding most of them to the dog, while Jon chose from the menu and purchased a few items for Daphne.
Roman was asleep again when they hit the lighthouse, so Jon ordered a couple of meals to go and went straight home.
But when they got there, his father was too stiff to get out of the car. He seemed dazed, in pain, and angry, batting away Jon’s helping hand.
Jon called Abby. “Do you mind coming out? Dad’s being difficult.”
With Abby’s cajoling and help lifting, they got Roman upright, after which he made his way into the house unaided.
But his mood remained surly, and given the lateness of the hour, Abby left almost immediately. Their previous closeness was gone, as if it had never been there.
Not exactly the successful outing Jon had envisioned.
Chapter Sixteen
From Abby’s notebook:
HEAVENLY COCONUT PECAN COOKIES
There’s nothing like these delectable goodies to round out a cookie platter. The cracked caramel tops and chewy, nutty interior are a textural delight and the flavor is simply heavenly.
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
⅔ cup lightly packed brown sugar
⅔ cup white granulated sugar
2½ teaspoons vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon almond extract
1 egg
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup toasted pecans, chopped
3 cups fancy shredded coconut
Cream butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add vanilla, almond extract, and egg. Mix well.
In a separate bowl, combine flours, baking soda, and salt. Mix to combine. Add to creamed mixture and mix just until combined. Stir in pecans and coconut.
Cover and chill the dough overnight in the refrigerator.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Remove dough from refrigerator and form a log two to three inches in diameter. Cut into slices approximately ½ inch thick and place on cookie sheet spaced ½ inch apart. Bake 10–12 minutes, until lightly browned and set in the center.
Makes approximately three dozen cookies.
Quinn pulled the covers tight against her body and hoped Abby would think she was sleeping. She didn’t feel like answering any questions and Abby seemed to think it was her right to know every little thing about Quinn’s life.
Maybe once, that had been okay.
But it wasn’t anymore.
She heard the key in the cabin door, and Abby’s soft footsteps as she moved about, putting her purse away, hanging her jacket, refilling Tuxedo’s food dish.
She’d been watching for signs that things were progressing between Abby and Jon, but if it had, the two of them were being sneaky about it.
Abby was twenty-eight. It was high time she had something to do besides worry about Quinn.
“Quinn?” Abby knocked gently on her bedroom door. “You awake?”
Quinn said nothing.
Abby pushed the door open and peeked inside. “Quinn?”
She held herself still for a moment, willing her sister to go away, to move on, to leave her alone for once. Anger bubbled in her veins and she felt herself trembling. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t a child and she wasn’t stupid. But how could she prove it with Abby looking over her shoulder every damn minute of every damn day?
She threw back the covers and sat up. “What?” she demanded.
Abby jumped back. “Oh! I thought you were sleeping.”
“Really?” Quinn flipped her legs over the side of the bed. “You were just staring at me sleeping, then? That’s super-creepy, you know.”
“No, it’s not.” Abby stepped aside as Quinn pushed past her. “It’s affectionate.”
Quinn groaned. “Please, love me less, I beg you.”
She went to the small kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. Wine would be better, but Abby wouldn’t keep it in the house. Said they could drink wine with everyone else in the lodge, when they wanted.
She didn’t trust Quinn with wine, is what she meant.
Because of their mother.
“I just came back from Roman’s place,” Abby said, taking a seat at the table. “He’s pretty sick.”
“He’s been sick the whole time we’ve known him.”
Abby was quiet.
“What?” Quinn said. “Are you crying?”
Abby shook her head.
“You are.” Abby never cried, which meant she was pulling out all the stops. Did she know about the texts from Carly?
No, surely not. She steeled herself against another guilt trip. She’d always hated disappointing Abby, but sooner or later, she had to stop caring. Yes, she’d done some stupid things in the past, but how long did she have to pay for that? Would Abby ever trust her to look after herself?
Abby couldn’t possibly know that she had been in touch with Carly again. Quinn missed her friend and had always felt awful about leaving without saying good-bye. Carly didn’t blame her. She was so sweet and kind and Quinn had never found another friend lik
e her.
She was becoming friendly with Sage, but she had a kid. Jamie was cool, but she was all about Gideon and Blake. Huck was nice. Some days she even thought he liked her. But he was a cowboy and probably closer to Abby’s age than hers. Quinn just wanted to be a normal person, to go out and have normal fun, with normal people her own age.
And she wanted to fix things with Carly.
She wanted to do the right thing, something she should have done a long time ago. Abby would not approve but Abby had no right to make Quinn feel guilty about anything.
Abby couldn’t read minds, Quinn reminded herself. She didn’t know about her and Carly. So she leaned against the refrigerator and huffed out a sigh. “What did I do now?”
Abby looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on, Abby. I must have done something. You never cry.”
Except in L.A. She’d cried then.
Abby shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“So am I.”
“I know.”
Quinn wanted to scream. Abby never wanted to face things. She always wanted to pretend everything was okay, she never let herself be angry or afraid or wish for anything. And she expected Quinn to be the same.
“Actually,” Quinn amended, “I’m not fine. I’m bored to tears, but the second I try something the least bit different—even babysitting, for God’s sake—you freak out.”
“I didn’t freak out.”
“Then there’s my birthday.” A weighted silence fell between them. “You probably think it’s going to trigger all sorts of memories, that I’ll go off the rails again, run away, I don’t know.”
“You just admitted to being bored,” Abby said in a tight voice, “and you expect me not to worry?”
Quinn tried another tactic. This wasn’t going the way she thought it would.
“You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Abs. I’m tougher than you think. I’m more mature now. I’m not that scared kid I was. I’m . . . not going to do anything dumb.” She lifted her left hand, showing her tattooed wrist. “I promised, remember?”
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