by Elder, Jan;
After stretching to an exercise video, followed by a hot shower, she perused her to-do list over a crème brûlée cappuccino. She couldn’t cook worth beans, but at least she knew how to do coffee right. Her high-priced machine did most of the work.
She should start going through Savannah’s possessions, but she didn’t have the strength to face it. Instead, she’d scope out her sister’s new store. Savannah had left her the house, a little money for start-up, and a big dream. Before she’d died, Savannah had planned to open a chocolate truffle shop in town. Cassidy would honor her wishes no matter what. She had to for her own sanity.
Cassidy knuckled her eyes, staunching an unbidden flow of tears. Savannah had tried to contact her, but Cassidy had hardened her heart and put off responding. Even though they’d lived together as siblings for the few years of their parents’ mutual marriage, she hadn’t talked to her little sister in ages. Their estrangement was all her fault. Why hadn’t she visited the only sister she’d ever had? Why hadn’t she worked harder to reconcile?
She pulled a copy of Savannah’s last will and testament from her briefcase, smoothed the dog-eared papers, and skimmed the highlights for the umpteenth time. Her sister had rented a storefront and purchased a wealth of equipment and provisions for making chocolates. All business permits had been signed, stamped, and delivered. Savannah had done all the work. And left it for Cassidy to finish the job.
Cassidy hung her head. This time, she let the tears flow unchecked. Her chest hitched and she hiccupped. She dried her eyes on a paper napkin—one covered with quilted yellow and blue cornflowers—and poured a second cup of coffee into a travel mug.
On the way out, she found a plastic bag smelling suspiciously of baked goods anchored over the doorknob. Mmm. Her sensitive nose hadn’t lied. Inside a foam container, apple pie with a crumbly topping stared her in the face.
There was a note. “Compliments of Marigold. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Hunter. Welcome to the neighborhood indeed. She stomped into the house, the package dangling from her fingertips. She didn’t want to deal with this today. Savannah was gone and Crystal Falls was a hick town filled with mean people. With the possible exception of Gabby, but still. Mean.
Her stomach twisted into a knot. Hadn’t she put this heartache behind her?
She considered chucking the bag in the trashcan, but she hated to waste good pie. She’d give it to Gabby. Gabby looked like a pie person.
As she headed to her car, she promised God they’d have a good long talk.
Maybe tomorrow.
4
Cassidy’s GPS led her to a shop with a generously-sized plate glass window in the middle of town. The old two-story red brick building was the last in a row of mom and pop businesses on Main Street. Time had halted, at least in this part of the town, and everything was just as she remembered.
Her stomach growled. She should have brought the pie.
The brass key the lawyer had given her turned the lock. Savannah had gone first class all the way. The place was decorated with red café tables and chairs, freshly tiled black-and-white floors, top of the line appliances, and dehumidifying glass display cases nestled under a black marble countertop. All Cassidy needed to do was hang a sign, hire someone to make the chocolates, and open the doors for business. Simple, right?
She stepped behind the counter and her breath caught. A cream-colored sign, Savannah’s Sweets, written in brown curlieques, was propped against the refrigerator. Glossy, maroon foil-wrapped chocolates decorated the corners. She clamped down on her bottom lip and traced a fingertip over the writing. She would do her very best to make this business work. For Savannah.
Cassidy was checking out the rest of the space when she heard strains of country music drifting from the second floor. There’d been no mention of a tenant. Light footsteps on stair treads rumbled, a door in the corner creaked open, and there stood Gabby, beaming.
Cassidy came close to jumping out of her argyle trouser socks. Her hands flew to her mouth. “You scared me!”
“Sorry. Didn’t you know I lived here?”
“Somehow that fact escaped me. Why didn’t you mention it at dinner?” Cassidy would have to read over all of the lawyer’s paperwork including the fine print.
“I thought you knew. Savannah leased this place to me rent-free since I’ll be making the chocolates.”
Savannah was leasing…making the chocolates…what planet had she been living on? “You’re a chocolatier?”
Gabby smiled, using her whole face, sparkling eyes included. “Well, of course. Savannah told me boiling an egg was a real challenge for you, so she found me.”
She supposed she should have been insulted, but her sister was right. Expertise in the gastronomic arts was not her forte.
Cassidy dropped down on a red-padded café chair. Savannah had thought of everything. Except she hadn’t told her she was dying until it was too late.
More caffeine. “You wouldn’t happen to have coffee brewing, would you?”
“No, but I can fix some. Come on up.” Gabby vanished through the door, and Cassidy followed up a narrow flight of stairs.
Thank the Lord for huge favors! She’d blown the dust of this town off her feet when she and her mom had moved away. But now life had changed, so she’d better make the best of it.
Hunter Gray was a non-issue. She’d rinse him from her mind. Again.
There was a lot to do at the store, so Cassidy whipped out her notebook, complete with detailed, itemized lists. She wrote up a job description for counter help, and then she and Gabby toured the town to shop for extra supplies.
After they’d stashed away the rest of the groceries, Cassidy and Gabby shoehorned a quick break in Gabby’s homey apartment.
Cassidy plunked down on a comfy couch and propped her designer shoes on an ottoman. She made a mental note to quit trying to impress the locals and think of her feet. They’d appreciate sneakers, or at least flats. “Gabby, I am woefully in the dark as to what it will take to run this business. What exactly did you and Savannah have in mind? And how’d you get to know so much about chocolate?”
“My mom has a candy store in Baltimore and all six of us kids helped. I loved it. We made all kinds of candy—creams, nougats, caramels—and we scraped by.” Gabby fidgeted. “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty. Oh, yeah, I was supposed to make coffee.”
Cassidy squelched a smile. “Sounds divine.”
Gabby hopped up and moseyed to the kitchen. In short order, the sweet drip drip of the promised caffeine filled the room. “Mom always said I had an artistic bent. I liked to make the chocolates look pretty, but we didn’t have the tools. Or—what was most important—the high quality chocolate. When I answered Savannah’s ad, we decided to concentrate on making something extraordinary. We were after a chocolate where amazing taste meets exquisite beauty—the full sensory experience.” Gabby’s eyes lit up. “The perfect truffle.”
Cassidy reached for her computer to take notes. If this venture was to work, she needed to know everything concerning chocolate…and a lot more. “So what does it take to make truffles? I’ve been reading up on how to run a small business, but I haven’t had much time to study the product.”
Gabby leaned back in her chair and cupped her hands behind her head. “Weeelll, your sister arranged for me to apprentice at an upscale truffle shop in New York City. I had a blast getting my hands dirty. Then Savannah and I traveled to fancy food shows, met with suppliers of superior grade chocolate from around the world, talked to vendors about fruit purees, nut pastes, and all that, and figured out what to do from there.”
The aromatic scent of fresh coffee called, and Gabby brought over the entire pot, setting the cups and saucers on the coffee table along with cream and sugar.
“Thanks, Gabby.” Cassidy sugared her coffee and blew across the surface.
“Oh!” Gabby shrieked and Cassidy flinched. “I’ll be right back.”
Gabby scampered down the stai
rs. The thumps and bangs of cupboards opening and closing reverberated from below. She raced back into the living room, centered two small chocolates on a china saucer, and presented the pretty plate to Cassidy. “Here. Try these.”
Cassidy gasped and rotated the saucer, admiring every angle of the mini-masterpieces. The truffle on the left with the flat-topped pyramidal shape looked as if it had been hand-painted with shimmering shades of red, orange, and yellow. The second truffle resembled a purple-petaled flower with a bright yellow center.
“Oh, Gabby.” Cassidy whistled. “They’re gorgeous. You made these? What flavors are they?”
“Maple-infused with milk chocolate caramel. The flower is lavender-scented steeped in cream.”
No wonder Gabby was excited. “Your creations are objet d’art.”
A glow suffused Gabby’s cheeks. “Savannah said the same thing.”
Now for the taste test. Cassidy picked up the light purple chocolate first and inhaled a tantalizing trace of lavender. She nibbled on an edge. A delicately sweet essence strolled through her senses invoking visions of wildflowers. The maple truffle was equally as inviting. A subtle burst of rich maple blended with the smoothest milk chocolate she’d ever tasted.
What a rush! Cassidy had caught the vision. She couldn’t wait to write all about this sensory extravaganza in her journal. Gabby chattered on about the creation of superior product, and Cassidy’s fingers flew as she typed up notes.
After they’d finished their coffee, Gabby dashed downstairs to experiment with more sweet delights while Cassidy knocked out a tentative budget and balanced her bank statement. Before long, the divine scent of chocolate floated up the stairs, and her eager nose inhaled pure pleasure.
The whole thing was thrilling—and daunting. Making the perfect truffle was a great deal more complicated than Cassidy had ever dreamed. There was so much to consider…and so much that could go wrong.
~*~
Hunter drove around town delivering pies and cakes, cookies, and muffins. He enjoyed this part of the job a lot more than being stuck at the bakery with his sister. Maybe someday she could afford to open a storefront, but the chances of that were slim. Getting a business off the ground was hard work, and she was barely turning a profit now.
Monday morning, when he’d walked in, she’d given him a rueful half-smile. The respite from the habitual tension was a welcome change of pace.
He drove past the soon-to-be-opened chocolate shop and recognized Cassidy’s red car. Gabby had filled his ears with how kind and sweet Cassidy was. Cute, absolutely. Kind and sweet? He wasn’t so sure. But she certainly intrigued him. And the way she had stamped her designer-shoe-clad foot at Marigold. Now that was sweet. He’d tried so hard not to laugh.
He was tempted to stop in to say hello. Maybe he could find an excuse to talk to Gabby about something church related. Gabby did attend his Sunday school class.
Had Cassidy enjoyed the peace offering pie? Just seeing her pretty face peering from the window that morning had brightened his world. Even in a bathrobe with spiky morning hair and sleepy eyes, she still managed to make his pulse race.
Reluctantly, he drove on. Maybe later. He should be done in a couple of hours, and then he’d be free for the day. He turned right at the stop sign and grabbed one of the chocolate chip muffins from the bakery box.
Yes, Cassidy was undeniably cute even if she did exude a certain anxious energy. That woman needed to learn how to relax, enjoy life.
He wanted to see her smile. And he wanted to be the one to make it happen.
5
After approving four of the five truffle flavors Gabby concocted—Cassidy’s favorite was the cherry puree dipped in dark chocolate‒she headed over to the Crystal Falls Courier office still smacking her lips. A bell tinkled as she pushed open the door of the small brick building. The small space reeked with the literary odor of paper and ink. No one seemed to be around so she called out a hearty, “Hello?”
A young man with a neat goatee and round glasses hurried into the room. “Can I help you?”
Cassidy had donned a smart but not too dressy suit for the occasion. She wanted these townspeople to think of her as a professional, not a pushover. “I’m Cassidy Cooper, the new owner of Savannah’s Sweets. Can I see the head of the advertising department, please?”
He tipped his head and shot her a sideways stare. “Well, ma’am, I guess that would be me. There are only three of us, and my mom and dad are out to lunch. I’m Blake. What can I do for you?”
Yet another example of how the small town she remembered hadn’t grown much.
“Savannah’s Sweets is having its grand opening soon, and I’d like to make a splash and take out a full-page ad. The back cover would be best, but I’ll settle for page two. I’m thinking the font I’d recommend is Swiss 721 Black Condensed. Do you have a good photographer? As for copy, I have a press release right here.” She opened her purse, pulled out a couple of printed pages, and handed them to him. “You’d probably prefer to have me email the copy, though. What works for you?”
“Hmmm.” Blake was a man of few words.
“Oh, and I also need a help wanted ad for counter help. I’m thinking twenty hours a week to start. I’d prefer the applicant have at least five years of retail and cash handling experience—ten is better—and be totally flexible on the hours. Oh, and a positive, enthusiastic attitude and he or she will need superlative people skills.”
“Ph.D.? Or is a Master’s Degree enough?” Blake raised his eyebrows.
“As to salary, I guess I don’t even know what minimum wage is.”
“So you want a person who will blind the public with her smile, one who will drop everything to come at your beck and call, someone who has plenty of experience and those elusive people skills, and you’ll pay minimum wage? Yeah. That’ll fly.”
Well, Blake did have a few words left in him, but he could have a point. “I might have to rethink that part. Just leave the pay scale out for now.”
“Good thinking.”
The door behind her swung open, and a chilly spring breeze sliced through her suit coat. When would it warm up? Blake peered past her, and she swiveled to see who’d interrupted her spiel.
Hunter, sporting a turquoise long-sleeved shirt, closed the door and nodded at her. Twice in one day. She shuddered inside.
He angled his head and grinned. “Hi, Cassidy. Don’t let old Blake here talk you into the full-page spread. Doesn’t pay off.” He chuckled and draped his arms on the counter. “Nice to see you actually working for once, Blake. So what’ll it be? The muffins of the day are cranberry-orange, lemon-poppy seed, and chocolate chip.”
“You have to ask?”
“Chocolate chip it is. One or two?”
“Two. And do you have coconut cream pie? Mom’s Bible study is tomorrow afternoon, and you know she always serves something amazing. Oh, and is it too early to order a birthday cake for Lindsey? Her big day is a week from Sunday.”
Hunter laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “Lindsey? Surely, you don’t mean to say you have a girlfriend?”
“What am I? A troll? I can have a girlfriend.” Blake lifted his chin in the air and turned to Cassidy. “She’s having a birthday soon, and I want to make it special. Women like that, right?”
Nice of him to ask her advice, but why he posed the question to a perfect stranger was a mystery. Must be the friendly, small-town vibe again. She really didn’t mind giving assistance as long as no one expected her to be as forthcoming. She shrugged. “Yes, most women like a man with a plan. When a guy goes to a lot of trouble just for her, she feels special.”
Hunter pushed away from the counter and flexed his broad shoulders. “My track record with women could be vastly improved, but thinking ahead seems to count for a lot. And it’s never too early to order. Any particular kind of birthday cake?”
Cassidy tucked her short hair behind her ears and smoothed her skirt. She didn’t know why bumping into Hunter
bothered her so. With the town being so small, she’d have to run into him eventually. She just hadn’t thought it would be today.
Blake pursed his lips. “You choose the cake, Hunter. You’re the expert. Her favorite color is burgundy—or is it merlot? It’s some type of wine. I think.”
“That’s an easy one. Red velvet cake, white icing, red sugar sprinkles.”
This was not the sort of man-talk Cassidy was used to, but it was refreshing.
“Perfect. I’ll take it.”
“Be right back with your muffins. I’ll let Hillary know about the coconut cream.” Hunter tipped his baseball cap and closed the door behind him, letting in another draft of chilly air.
Cassidy cupped her hands and blew on her fingers. She remembered his bratty sister only too well. Hillary had been Savannah’s best friend when the two of them were in seventh grade. Hunter had been a senior at South Washington High, when Cassidy was a sophomore. Then Cassidy’s mom and stepdad divorced, and she’d moved far, far away to start a new life.
Hunter shoved the door open, and stuck his head in. “Sorry, Cassidy. You want anything?”
“Nope.” Gee, that sounded terse.
Hunter left, and the tension trickled from the room.
She was alone with capable Blake. “Page two or back cover?”
Blake splayed his hands on the counter and leaned in closer. “We don’t do full-page ads anymore, we don’t have color, and we don’t use fancy fonts. I’d recommend a local business highlight article. In that case, I’m your man, and I can take photos, too.” He grabbed a sheet from under the counter and presented it to her. “Here’s the price list with particulars. Since you’re new in town, I’ll give you a ten percent discount. Call me when you want me to stop by. Work for you?”
They shook hands to seal the deal. She liked this guy. Not only was he nice to his girlfriend, he seemed to know what he was doing.