“Oh?” Taffie looked across the table at his mother, whose eyes lit up at once. “You have a dog?”
“Dog, my eye.” His pop shook his head. “It’s a fourth child.”
“Only more expensive,” Ryan threw in.
“Snickers is not that expensive,” his mom argued. “Besides, she’s worth every penny.”
“Snickers?” Taffie repeated, her brow beginning to wrinkle.
“She’s a schnoodle,” Ryan explained. “Half schnauzer, half poodle.”
His mom’s expression brightened. “I just love to pamper her. She goes to the Doggy Spa occasionally to have her hair and nails done, and the vet bills are a little higher than most dogs because she has some rather, er, peculiar allergies.”
“Peculiar is putting it lightly.” Ryan laughed. “She’s allergic to grass.”
“Wow.” Taffie laughed.
“And dust mites,” he added. “And my father’s deodorant.”
“Hey, I switched brands,” his father threw in. “Didn’t want Snickers to suffer on my account.”
“Heavens, no,” Ryan said. “The dog will never suffer, not with all of the attention she gets. They’re even using a new fabric softener because Snickers was allergic to the sheets on their bed. Heaven forbid, the dog would sleep on the floor. And Mom makes Snickers’ dog food. Homemade. From scratch. She’s definitely more like a child than a dog.”
“Well, now. . .” His mother gave him a stern look. “My boys are all growing up and leaving me. I need someone, er, rather. . .something to occupy my time. It’s hard to be an empty nest mother.” Her eyes filled with tears and Ryan watched in amazement as Taffie’s mother slipped out of her chair and went to the other side of the table to wrap her in a warm, I-hear-you-sister embrace.
For a moment, no one at the table breathed a word. When the women finally loosened their hold on each other, they apologized for the emotional outburst, dried their tears, and handed the conversation back to the others. Ryan didn’t quite know what to make of it. He rarely saw this side of his mom.
“Wow.” Taffie looked at him and smiled. “We all seem to bring out the best in each other, don’t we?”
“No kidding,” Ryan echoed. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Like we’ve all known each other for years.”
“Like we were destined to meet.” Taffie’s eyes locked onto his as she gave voice to the words he’d been thinking and feeling all night long.
He would have said something in response, but suddenly found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. This time, he couldn’t blame it on the taffy.
SEVEN
On Monday afternoon, Ryan rushed to get to Carini’s before they closed for the day. He got hung up in traffic and found himself arriving just as Mr. Carini locked the door.
“I’m too late.” He groaned, holding up the part his brother had spent all day working on. “Sure you don’t want to let me in?”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Carini looked down at her watch. “We have a Sunday School party to attend.”
“What about Taffie? Is she─”
“Taffie’s got a business class tonight. She won’t be home till after nine.” Mr. Carini sighed. “Would it be too much to ask you to come back tomorrow?”
“If you can wait, I can wait. I’ve got to work with my pop until after three, but I can come then.”
“That would be great.”
He noticed that Mrs. Carini carried a box in her hands. “Taking candy to the party?”
“Oh yes.” She laughed. “Our pastor is something of a sugar-a-holic. Not a good thing, since he’s recently been diagnosed with diabetes. So I take him some of our sugar-free candies, just to put a smile on his face.”
Ryan joined them as they walked toward the parking lot. “So, Taffie tells me you two are nearly ready to retire.”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Carini’s face beamed.
“What will you do? Work in the yard? Travel to Europe?”
Mr. Carini laughed. “I know it’s hard to believe,” he said. “Most people our age want to go to Europe, to travel the world. Our families are from Europe and we’ve traveled back and forth for years.”
“It’s the rest of America we want to see,” Mrs. Carini explained. “In all the years we’ve lived here, neither of us has been west of the Mississippi.”
“Wow. Are you serious?”
“Yes. Our whole lives are wrapped up in our children and that candy shop.” A look of longing came into her eyes as she spoke. “But we’ve seen the Grand Canyon in pictures.”
“And Mount Rushmore. And the Redwoods of northern California,” Mr. Carini added.
“We want to see them up close.” Mrs. Carini sighed. “As much as we love candy-making, we also want to spend part of our time traveling.”
“We bought a used RV last spring and I’ve been fixing it up,” Mr. Carini explained. “We plan to head west sometime next month, but we’re waiting to see if Taffie comes up with a plan to bring in new business before we do.”
Ryan nodded in understanding. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll do fine. You’ve all done such a great job with Carini’s over the years. Everyone in town knows you’ve got the best candy on the boardwalk.”
“The best in the country, you mean!” Mrs. Carini laughed.
“Of course!” Ryan agreed.
“Well, what can I say? Candy gets in your blood. There’s just no better way to explain it.” Mr. Carini spoke with a far-away look in his eyes. “My pop was a candy maker and his father before him. In Italy, of course.” He shook his head, as if remembering. “There’s something about the smell of sugar. And the look on a child’s face when he sees something sweet. . .there’s no job in the world greater than sprinkling sunshine in someone’s eyes.”
Ryan tried to remember the last time he’d seen a client with joy radiating from his or her face. Mr. Petruzelli—the pizza shop owner. Hmm.
“This is how I look at it. . . .” A peaceful look came over Mrs. Carini as she spoke. “We’re believers. We love the Lord wholeheartedly. We want to serve Him and have prayed about how to accomplish that. Some might look at our candy shop and ask, ‘How is that a ministry?’ We see it as such because God draws the people in, and we spend time sharing His love with them.”
“I would imagine candy is a great door-opener,” Ryan said.
“Always has been,” Mrs. Carini said with a smile. “All you have to do is read the Bible to see that. Think of all the scriptures about honey—and the sweetness of God. Candy has always been a special treat—something served up on only the nicest of occasions. Now it’s not so rare.”
“The dentists are happy about that, no doubt,” Ryan added.
“No doubt,” Mrs. Carini said, “but sugar isn’t all bad! Think of how it’s used to bring people together, after all. A man will give his sweetheart chocolates to show that she’s precious to him. Hosts serve decadent desserts to their guests as a special gift. I can’t help but think that God knew what He was doing when He gave us sweets. That’s what we are to Him after all. . .precious.”
“Wow.” Ryan paused a moment, then looked Mrs. Carini in the eye. “Have you ever contemplated preaching, Mrs. C.? You teach a great lesson.”
She laughed. “I teach a women’s Sunday school class every Sunday morning at Grace Community Church. But I’m afraid you might feel a little out of place with the older women in the room.”
“Maybe, but it might be worth it, just to sit in on a teaching with such depth.” He offered her a playful wink and her cheeks reddened.
“Aw, go on with you. I just do what comes naturally.”
I just do what comes naturally.
The words ran deep. Was he doing what came naturally? Repairing appliances? Not really. If he had to admit the truth, what came naturally would be stepping up to take the bull by the horn. Owning his own business. Using every tool available to promote it. Managing the details. Not fumbling around with heating elements and broken dishwasher disposals.
&n
bsp; Lost in his thoughts, Ryan almost missed Mrs. C.’s next statement. He managed to catch the end. “The safest place to be is in the center of God’s will.”
“Yes, but how do you know you’re there?” He turned to her for the answer.
“There’s a peace that passes understanding. It’s the only way I know to describe it. When you’re in that place, you feel safe. And right.”
“That’s not to say you won’t have problems,” Mr. Carini threw in. “This shop has been God’s will for our family for years. And we’ve had our share of problems. That’s why we’re a little hesitant to leave right now, before we’ve got things resolved.”
“Resolved?” Ryan paused before asking the next question. “What sort of problems. . .if you don’t mind my asking.”
“Don’t mind at all,” Mr. Carini said with a shrug. “Here’s the primary thing—it’s hard to keep the doors open during the winter. The products we sell are mostly summertime specialties.”
“Even with the coffees?”
“Yes. Most of our sales come from candy and ice cream. Summer specialties. After years of only keeping our doors open in the summer, we tried a winter run. But we couldn’t seem to draw in the customers, so we ended up closing just after Thanksgiving. When this boardwalk falls silent. . . ,” he pointed out to the shore, “then the people don’t show up. Oh, sure, the casinos are full. But we haven’t figured out how to draw those customers into our shop like we do the kids in summertime.”
“What else is going on?” Ryan asked.
“Well, we’re not as computer savvy as we should be,” Mrs. Carini added. “We should be selling a lot more through our Web site. But getting the word out across the World Wide Web takes time.”
“And it’s time we don’t have,” Mr. Carini threw in. “We’re all so busy right now. But if we could up our Web traffic, then we could increase sales during the off season. And if we could find a way to run specials online, then we’d probably do a lot more shipping, which would be great.”
Ryan paused to process the information he’d just received. Is that why you’ve brought me to this family, Lord? Do you want me to offer my services to help them out? An idea took root, one he couldn’t seem to let go of. Maybe he’d never own his own business. Maybe he’d go on working with appliances forever. But perhaps. . .just perhaps. . .the Lord had opened a door for him to use his marketing skills on the side. What would it hurt, anyway?
He glanced over at Mr. Carini, took note of the pride in his eyes as he talked about the candy store, and made his decision. He would do whatever they needed him to do. And he would do it with joy leading the way.
With books in hand, Taffie crossed the campus, the night sky crowding in around her. Tonight’s business class, though tough, had gone better than expected. If she could just ditch the guy with the blue-streaked hair. He seemed to be drawn to her, and yet he refused to stop making fun of her name. Why did she always find herself the brunt of so many jokes? And what could she do to stop it?
As she neared the brightly lit parking lot, Taffie slowed her pace and thought about the class. She’d somehow muddled through tonight’s lessons. And finally, though she hated to admit it, the numbers in the columns were actually adding up.
Not that she enjoyed it, even when things worked out on the spreadsheet. Now, she’d rather toss the idea of managing the shop’s finances out the window. If only she could do that and still give her parents the freedom to drive cross-country in that new RV of theirs. She drew in a deep breath and made up her mind to make it through her last few classes.
Locating her car among the rows and rows of vehicles proved to be a bit of a challenge. She finally managed, and climbed inside, then leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed. After a few moments of deep breathing, Taffie turned on the car and turned up the volume on the radio. She caught the tail end of a worship song, one about God’s greatness. Instead of slipping the car into gear and pointing it toward home, she took a couple of minutes to drink in the music. Afterward, she leaned her head against the head rest once more.
“Lord, I know you’re big enough to handle every problem. I don’t know why I keep taking things into my own hands, anyway. I usually just mess everything up. But God. . .” She looked out of the window, up into the starry expanse. “God, I really, really don’t have a plan of action to promote the business. My heart just isn’t in it.” She exhaled deeply, realizing the truth of it. Was this going to turn out to be a battle of wills—hers against God’s? Or did the Lord have something—or someone—else in mind?
All of these things she contemplated as she slipped the car into gear. . .and pointed it toward home.
EIGHT
On Tuesday afternoon around three, Taffie stood at the front window of the shop, staring out at the skies. She recognized the ominous color from years past. “Pop, come look at this.”
As he gazed upward, a look of concern seemed to sweep over him. “Hmm. Doesn’t look good.”
“Did you hear anything on the news about an incoming storm?” she asked. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been paying attention.”
“Yes, there’s a storm creeping its way up from Virginia. But I don’t think they’re expecting it to do much damage.”
She peered outside once more, unconvinced. The usually bright colors of the shops around the boardwalk were clouded over, the gray skies hanging eerily low. Off in the distance, the tide did its usual late-afternoon thing, but with more force than usual. The white peaks on the water made her wonder if something of a greater magnitude was about to blow ashore.
“Do you think we should board up the windows?” Taffie turned back to her father. “Something about this doesn’t look—or feel—right.”
“Hmm.” He stood beside her, staring outside. “I don’t know. From what I saw on the news, it’s going to pass over pretty quickly. I think we’ll be okay. I’ll just close the shutters.”
Taffie turned to Pop, anxiety building. “When I think about what happened during Hurricane Sandy. . .” She gave a little shiver. “I get nervous all over again.” She stared out at the beach once more. “All we have are piles of sand. No levees. No seawall. Nothing. And we’re at sea level. It’s just scary.”
“We can’t live in fear,” her father responded, “but I have to admit, the thought of getting hit by a big storm occasionally crosses my mind, especially on days like today. All of the buildings are so close to the shore. Too close. Thank goodness the waters of the Atlantic are colder than the Gulf of Mexico. Otherwise, I think we’d see more activity. I do remember the big storm in ’62. Tore up a section of the pier and destroyed thousands of homes. Thankfully the shop didn’t suffer much damage. Your grandpa always said there was a guardian angel looking out for Carini’s.”
Taffie thought about that for a moment. “Maybe he was right. We’ve been really blessed, especially when you consider how close we are to the water.”
“We’re going to be fine, honey. And trust me, there are plenty of other things to worry about, if you’ve got your heart set on worrying.” He flashed a smile. “But I’d suggest focusing on the good things.”
“Good things.” She thought at once about her business class and her inability to come up with a plan to get the shop through the winter months.
“Did I mention that Ryan Antonelli is on his way over here with the part for the taffy machine?” Pop interjected. “Should be here any time now.”
“No. Really?” Yikes. Did she have time to slip into the back room and touch up her makeup?
“Yes, and I have it on good authority he wants to learn how to run the taffy machine, once we get it back up and going.”
“No way. He told you that?”
“I read it in his eyes.” Pop winked, and then headed back into the shop.
“Sure you did.” Taffie took another look at the darkened skies and prayed Ryan would get there before the storm did. Then, determined to remain in good spirits, she stepped away from the front wi
ndow and went back to her place behind the counter of the candy shop.
Two storms were brewing at once as Ryan headed back to the boardwalk area—one in his heart and mind, the other in the Atlantic. He needed to get back to the candy shop before high winds blew out the electricity in the area.
As Ryan made his way toward the car, his cell phone rang. He recognized Mallory’s number right away. Her words sounded rushed, almost frantic. “Ryan, I hate to ask this, but I’m tied up in a meeting at work and need someone to pick up Casey from school.”
He glanced at his watch and did his best not to groan out loud. Not today, of all days. “What about Vic?”
“He’s on a deadline with a new client. They’re paying him double to get their site up and running quick. He could go, but with our current situation, well. . .”
He knew she would’ve finished the sentence with “we really need the money now that we’re living apart,” so he saved her the pain. “Say no more. I’m only five minutes from the school right now. Will you call the office and let them know I’ll be picking her up instead of you?”
“Already done.”
“I’ll have to take her with me to my next repair job, but I’ll bring her home after.”
“No problem. And thank you. I’m so grateful.”
As the skies continued to darken overhead, he pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school. Rows of cars made maneuvering the parking lot next to impossible. I’ll just have to wait it out.
About ten minutes later, after inching his way forward, Ryan finally located Casey. She waved and bounded toward his work van “Uncle Ryan! I’m so glad you came and got me. Can we get ice cream before you take me home?”
“Actually, I’m headed to the candy shop on the boardwalk,” he explained. “And they’ve got the best ice cream in town. Want to spend the afternoon with your old uncle Ryan, watching him fix a broken taffy machine?”
“Will that girl be there?” Casey’s eyes sparkled as she posed the question.
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