Sweet Beginnings: A Candle Beach Sweet Romance

by Nicole Ellis

  “Really?” He wiped paint off his face, smearing it in the process.

  “Uh, huh.” She swiped the brush across his face, adding to his war paint.

  “Oh, you did not just do that.” He grabbed her arm that was holding the paintbrush and pulled her close against him.

  Her eyes met his and her breath caught. The paintbrush dropped to the floor. He smiled and dipped her back to kiss her.

  She put her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the kiss. After a bit, he gently moved her back to a standing position. She stared into his eyes.

  “Well, if that’s my punishment…”

  She picked up the brush and flicked him again. In response, he grabbed his paintbrush, doused it with paint and stroked her face with it as she bent down to get more ammunition from the can. She wobbled and toppled over, falling to the floor laughing.

  “How do you like that?” He held his hand out to help her off the floor.

  She yanked on his hand, pulling him to the floor beside her. “I like this better.” She covered his mouth with hers.

  The next day, Garrett arrived ten minutes early to meet Dahlia for lunch at SushiGo, the new Japanese restaurant in town. They’d agreed on the time the day before, and he wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t there yet. But when twenty minutes had gone by and she still wasn’t there, he tried calling her. No answer.

  Maybe she had the time wrong, he thought. He shook his head to clear the negative thoughts. She wasn’t Lisa and he couldn’t let his past affect his future. And he did want a future with Dahlia. She brought out something in him that he hadn’t felt in a while, a sense of joy in the everyday. Whenever she’d think of new ideas for the bookstore or talk about her friends, her whole face would light up and lift him out of even the foulest of moods. He hadn’t realized how boring his life was until he met her.

  But where was she now? He told the hostess he didn’t need a table after all, and walked over to the bookstore. It was open and Gretchen sat behind the cash register. She waved him over.

  “Hey, Garrett. How’s it going?”

  He looked around. “Good, but Dahlia was supposed to meet me for lunch. Have you seen her?”

  Her mouth formed an ‘o’ and her eyes narrowed. She pointed to the new children’s area. “Uh, she’s over there.”

  Dahlia was balancing on a short ladder with a small paintbrush in her hands. On the wall in front of her, she’d painted a few woodland creatures and a meadow full of wildflowers. She swayed a little to the beat of the music playing through her earbuds, completely engrossed in what she was doing. A smile formed on his lips. He loved seeing her so happy. He stood to the side of the ladder so she could see him.

  She pulled the earbuds out. “Garrett. What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at noon.” Panic filled her eyes as she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh my gosh. I had no idea it was so late.” She climbed down from the ladder. “I’m sorry. I got so caught up in my drawing, I lost track of time. Can we still go?”

  “That’s okay. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. Let me just tell Gretchen I’m leaving.”

  She was back in a moment and looped her arm through his. “Ready.”

  They walked to the restaurant and were seated immediately. He and Dahlia chatted easily during the meal, but he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that he’d been through this before with Lisa. She’d be so wrapped up in what she was doing that she’d completely forget to pay a bill she’d promised to pay or fail to remember plans she had with him. After a while, it took a toll on their relationship. He didn’t want that to happen with Dahlia, but he wasn’t sure how to stop it. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the beautiful woman in front of him.

  As she looked around the bookstore on Thursday morning, pride surged through Dahlia. To Be Read now reflected more of her personality, while retaining some of Aunt Ruth’s as well. The brightly colored walls and emerald sofa melded perfectly with the rug Aunt Ruth had loved and the front window display invited customers to discover the perfect beach read.

  Flying high on the success of the summer market weekend, Dahlia hadn’t thought much about increasing weekday sales. She grabbed a legal pad off Aunt Ruth’s desk to jot down ideas. What would draw people in? An ad in the weekly newspaper? A sale? Or maybe a contest of some sort?

  All of those ideas had merit, but she wanted something to draw in people who were already shopping in town. Perhaps something outside the store that would increase attention. Maybe a sidewalk sale? She hadn’t seen many around town, but knew they were popular in other places.

  The piles of hard-to-sell books stacked up in the back room would work well for a sidewalk clearance sale. The idea gathered steam. If memory served her correctly, there were a few tables leaning against a wall in the storage room. She found the tables, dusted them off and set them up outside of the store. On the tabletops, she artfully arranged the clearance books. Now, to bring in more people. She tapped her finger against her chin. Candle Beach Real Estate used wooden sandwich boards to attract customers. She called Gretchen and arranged to borrow a few.

  About twenty minutes later, Gretchen lugged two sandwich boards into the bookstore. “Here you go,” she said. “What are you using them for?”

  “I thought I’d put one up here in front of the store to attract attention and maybe one down on the corner. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re going to provide a lot of free advertising for Candle Beach Real Estate.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Dahlia.

  Dahlia laughed. “I’m going to make a sign on poster board and tape it to the sandwich boards. I want to advertise To Be Read’s sidewalk sale.”

  “Good idea,” Gretchen said. “Keep them for as long as you need. We have tons of them for open houses.”

  “Thanks. Now, back to the salt mines. I’ve got a ton to do.”

  Gretchen said goodbye and left, and Dahlia reviewed her to-do list. She wanted to promote the bookstore’s sidewalk sale in the weekly paper. If she remembered correctly from Aunt Ruth’s advertising notes in her master guide to To Be Read, advertisements needed to be in by Thursday morning to get in Friday’s print run. She called Adam to confirm.

  “Hi Adam. It’s Dahlia.”

  “Good morning,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “It’s not like I always need something, right?” She laughed. He was right. When she called or showed up on the newspaper’s doorstep, she usually needed his help.

  “I want to place an ad for this week’s paper. Is it too late to do that?”

  “No, you’re fine. What size advertisement were you thinking about?” he asked. They discussed the ad sizes and she decided on a quarter page ad featuring the sidewalk sale.

  “You’ll have it by tonight,” she told him. She hung up the phone and placed her palms flat on the table, sliding them forward to deepen the stretch. The day had barely started and she’d made considerable progress on her marketing plans. Garrett would be proud.

  In between customers, she opened the new bookstore laptop on the front counter and researched website design before diving into creating one. She wanted to create a sales site where customers could purchase books through a secure website. Her long-dormant design skills popped to the surface and she was proud of what she accomplished in a short time. She also set up a few social media pages and included those links on the advertisement to give to Adam.

  Mid-afternoon, she came up for air and went outside. She thought she’d sold a lot of books off the clearance table and the almost-bare table confirmed her suspicion. She refilled the empty spaces and took a deep breath. The fresh air renewed her energy and she started to go back inside to make final edits to the ad.

  Before she could do so, Mayor Chester Raines, Marsha’s husband, walked up to her.

  “The town’s been talking about your remodeling at the bookstore and I wanted to see for myself,” he said.

&nbs
p; “Wow, that’s great. I’d hoped to get some excitement going about the changes,” Dahlia said. “Let me show you the inside.”

  Mayor Raines followed her inside. As he viewed the bookstore, a slow smile spread across his jowly cheeks. “The floors look wonderful, and I love the new seating area,” he said. “Ruth would be proud of you.”

  Her face glowed. She hoped he was right about Ruth. Part of the reason she’d taken on the big project was for her own benefit, but the other part was to honor her aunt’s legacy.

  He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I have some bad news for you.”

  She groaned. What now?

  “The Candle Beach town code doesn’t allow for sidewalk sales. As a tourist town, we try to portray a more pleasing image for tourists,” he said. He looked down at the floor. “Dahlia, I’m really sorry. I know you’re in a tough spot having to compete with the Book Warehouse and all.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “What about the benches outside of Hank’s Grocery or the patio tables outside of the Bluebonnet Café?”

  “Those are within code. Tables of this sort aren’t. Perhaps you could move them inside the door?” He looked at her hopefully.

  “But the whole point of a sidewalk sale is for it to be on the sidewalk.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mayor Raines said. “We’re required to ask you to remove the tables. I wanted to come by and tell you myself because I’ve heard so many good things about your remodel.”

  “Did someone report me to the town council?”

  “Well, yes,” Mayor Raines said. “We did receive a complaint. I’m not at liberty to divulge who that was though. You understand.” He flicked his fingers against his hand and avoided eye contact.

  “I think I have a good idea.” Agnes had struck again.

  “Someone will be by later to check and make sure the code is being followed. Thank you again for understanding, and keep up the good work here.” He walked over to the romance novels and perused the selection. “While I’m here, I think I’ll pick up a book for my wife.”

  “Let me know if you need any help.”

  He nodded and continued checking out the titles.

  Dahlia returned to her laptop and stared at the ad she’d designed for the sidewalk sale.

  Not going to need that anymore, she thought. She held the cursor over the ‘delete object’ button on the free design program she’d downloaded to create the ad, but she couldn’t bring herself to click on it. She was getting sick of Agnes’s efforts to keep her from making the bookstore profitable. First it had been the visit from the health inspector, and then the blatant refusal to give her the money she needed. When those tactics had failed, she’d tried to keep her from selling at the summer market and stuck her behind the food booths when she’d obtained a spot. Now this.

  If she could get past those trials, she could figure out a way around this as well. Inspiration struck. But she’d need help from another friend.

  “You want to do what with my patio tables?” Maggie asked. She efficiently sorted out the baked goods that remained after the morning rush and repositioned them in the glass bakery case, adding some freshly baked pies to the bottom row.

  “I want to have baskets of books on the tables. They’d remain outside of your store, but I’d have books available for sale and people could walk down the street to To Be Read to purchase them.” Dahlia fairly bounced in excitement. “It’s a win–win. Your customers get to have reading material while they’re drinking their morning coffee and I hook them and reel them in to the bookstore.”

  “Hmm,” Maggie said, coming around to the same side of the display case as Dahlia. “It sounds interesting, but I’m still not sure.”

  “Here, let me show you.” She picked up the rectangular basket of books she’d set on the floor and led Maggie out to the patio tables. Of the four tables, one was empty, and she placed the basket on the edge of the tabletop nearest to the brick wall. She pulled a small sign out of the basket and flipped it over to the side of the basket for customers to see. It informed them that the books in the basket were for sale and they could purchase them at the bookstore.

  “But what if someone takes it without paying?” Maggie asked.

  She shrugged. “These were extra books in my inventory that I was going to dispose of next week. If someone takes it without paying, I won’t be out much money. But, if they decide to purchase it and come in to the bookstore, I may gain a new customer.”

  “Okay, works for me,” Maggie said. “Let’s try it out this week and see how things go.”

  Dahlia hugged her. “Thanks a million, Maggie. I’ll go get the other three baskets.”

  She returned to the bookstore and made up the other baskets. This idea was going to work. She’d adjusted her ad to reflect the sale being at the Bluebonnet Café. She anticipated gaining new customers not only from immediate book sales, but from the free advertising she received having the baskets on the tables at the popular town hangout.

  Someone knocked at the back door and she let in the handyman who would be constructing the espresso bar.

  “Hi, Elvis.”

  “The bar’s here, Miss Winters. Where would you like me to install it?” he asked.

  She directed him to the area she’d cleared and showed him where to hook up the plumbing. “I’m already receiving compliments on the floors,” she said.

  He blushed. “Glad to hear it. I’ll get started on this now.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said. She ran the other baskets down to the Bluebonnet Café. A middle-aged man was sitting at the table with the basket, already reading one of the books.

  She felt confident she’d bested Agnes again and knew she could handle anything the older woman could dish out. She only wished she knew why she hated her so much. As far as she knew, she hadn’t done anything to personally offend her, and Agnes couldn’t possibly be holding a grudge for something she had done as a teenager.

  The patrons at the other tables accepted her offer to place books at their tables and she rushed back up the hill to check on Elvis’s progress.

  Propped against the front door of the bookstore was a small white envelope. Dahlia picked it up and turned it over. Wendy’s name was scrawled across the front in black ink.

  Why was Wendy getting mail left on the welcome mat, and how many people even knew she lived above the store? Weird all around. She carried the envelope into the bookstore.

  The construction zone at the back had fallen into shambles.

  “How’s it going?” She was afraid she wouldn’t like the answer.

  Elvis frowned at her. “You’ve got the wrong size pipes for this type of work. I’m going to need to replace the pipes in the wall all the way back to the bathroom intersection.”

  “Are you kidding? How much is that going to cost me?” she asked.

  “It’ll take me at least an extra day and with materials…” He screwed up his face as he calculated the total. Dollar signs flashed across his face.

  When he named his figure, she had to sit down. The espresso bar project would be at least twice the total she’d figured. She looked over at the bar, which sat forlornly in two pieces off to the side of the front desk. There was no going back at this point.

  “Okay, let’s do it. I need to get this up and running before the weekend. I don’t want customers seeing this mess and thinking we’re closed.” She gestured at the sawdust and tools strewn across the hardwood floor in the construction zone. Thankfully, Elvis had tied up rudimentary ‘Do not enter’ tape around the project so no customers could enter the area and be hurt.

  She got up and strode into the back room, gripping Wendy’s envelope. This would take some reworking of her plans. Thank goodness her mom had loaned her extra cash in case things went over the initial estimates. How had she known? She grinned. Her mother knew everything. Although she often joked about Vanessa being prepared for anything, she secretly hoped she’d inherited a portion of
her talent.

  After entering the new estimate for the espresso bar into her remodeling spreadsheet, she pushed the desk chair back and chugged water from the bottle on her desk. Things would be okay. It may have felt like one step forward, two steps back, but she was making progress. Next week, with the construction finished, this would all seem like a bad dream.

  The envelope on the desk caught her eye. She picked it up and headed upstairs to Wendy’s apartment. The door was closed. She knocked twice and Wendy opened it, with her unruly hair tied up in a knot. Her face was flushed and a yoga mat lay unfurled in front of the TV.

  “Hey,” Wendy said. “Sorry, was I too loud? I didn’t think my downward dog pose barked that much.” She chuckled at her own joke.

  “No, I wasn’t sure you were even up here.” Dahlia held out the envelope. “Someone left this for you on the front door mat.”

  “Weird. I wasn’t expecting anything.” She took the envelope and ran her finger along the sealed seam to open it. She pulled out a plain white index card and read the few words inscribed on it in red ink. The color drained from her face.

  “What is it?” Dahlia had never seen Wendy so pale.

  “Nothing.” She stuffed the card back into the envelope and dropped it in the recycling bin. With her back to Dahlia, she braced herself against the kitchen table and took several deep breaths.

  “Wendy, who was that from?”

  “Nobody. It’s not a big deal. Somebody I used to know.” She turned around, a fake smile pasted on her face. Fear quivered behind the edges of her smile.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Dahlia plucked the note out of the recycling bin. Scrawled across the plain white index card were the words I found you.

  She held the card up to Wendy. “Who left this for you?”

  Wendy shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sat down in a kitchen chair and shrank back against the seat.

  “We’ve got to tell the police about this,” Dahlia said.

  “Tell them what? That someone left a note for me at the bookstore?” Wendy sighed. “They’ve got better things to do than investigate a vaguely threatening note.”