Vodka and Chocolate Drops: A Blueberry Springs Sweet Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

by Jean Oram

  She picked up her purse and turned, just about slamming into a man about her height.

  “Oops.” John Abcott steadied her, smiling at Amber’s mom. “Hello, Gloria.” He placed one hand on the back of the vacant chair beside Delia. “Mind if I join you?”

  Gloria blushed, her palm on her chest as she gave a small shoulder lift of acquiesce, and Amber just about stopped breathing. They were back together.

  “Tell me about the cruise,” Amber said, not quite ready to leave, but not quite ready to stay. “You were on the same ship?”

  “We were,” John said, still smiling at Gloria, who was all but preening and giving flirty looks. Amber had never seen her act that way.

  Her mom was in love with John Abcott.

  He’d been through two wives.

  He had a daughter.

  He was a lawyer. Her mother was a waitress.

  But they’d dated when they were younger. Before she’d dated Philip the second time.

  No, no. The connections didn’t fit.

  There was no reason for them to date secretively.

  It was my idea to date secretly, as he needed his family’s support. Getting a law degree wasn’t cheap.

  He was starting a business. Legal office.

  He’s successful.

  He came from a different world.

  Hello.

  Amber fell into the chair she’d vacated, her mind spinning, knocking threads of old conversations together like a high-speed jigsaw puzzle.

  But John had always been so accepting of everyone. It was difficult to think of him as judging her mother so harshly. Of them breaking up over a secret baby that wasn’t even his.

  He had his own family by then. A wife. A kid on the way.

  His daughter, Marisa, had been in the same grade as her.

  “When did you start your business?” Amber whispered.

  John watched her for a moment, a sad look in his eyes as he contemplated his answer. And she knew. Right there. Right then.

  John Abcott was her father. He had known. He’d always been there, looking out for her. Sponsoring soccer. Coaching her team. Joining her for vodka and peanuts.

  He had been a father figure in her life because he was her father.

  He hadn’t rejected her, only accepted her and helped her in the ways he could, while respecting Gloria’s wishes.

  But Amber had hurt him. She had lashed out like a spoiled teenager and told the town she hated him.

  She tried to whisper an apology, her vision narrowing as the force of the knowledge hit her hard in the chest. She gripped the edge of the table so she wouldn’t topple out of her chair, and tried to force herself to glance up at her mother, to look for confirmation.

  A warm, strong hand gripped her shoulder. “I think you need some fresh air,” said a familiar voice. It wasn’t her father. It was Scott.

  He whisked her away from the table before anyone could protest. Instead of taking her to the front door and out onto the Main Street sidewalk, he pulled her through the kitchen area, waving away Mandy, who looked up in concern as they passed.

  Scott closed the steel door behind them, leading her down the alley’s uneven asphalt, around potholes filled with murky rainwater, before finally pushing her against a brick wall behind a dumpster.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Was John really her father? Was she just grasping at straws, wishing for him to be?

  But the look in his eyes. His expression. The things he’d done in their shared history. It all lined up.

  And her mother loved him. They smiled at each other in a way that said something.

  Amber looked nothing like John. Because she looked so much like Gloria.

  Scott pulled off his police jacket, draping it over her shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, the thick and sturdy material weighing her down, grounding her. She pulled it closer, savoring the warmth from Scott’s body, as well as his scent.

  He said nothing, but his gaze stayed on hers.

  “I think John is my father,” Amber said, feeling silly as she said it out loud.

  “I think so, too.”

  She looked up so quickly the barrette holding back her bangs slipped out of place. “What?”

  “I think he is.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “A few years. But everyone figured it was Philip. Then when John divorced again and didn’t step forward, I decided it was probably best to keep my thoughts to myself.”

  “What do I do? What do I say?”

  “Nothing.”

  Amber thought about that for a moment. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  She had to say something to her mother. Had to. She couldn’t let this one sit around, waiting for her mother to be ready.

  Amber shrugged out of Scott’s jacket, handing it to him, shivering when their fingers produced jolts of electricity at the touch. She already missed his jacket’s comfort and heat, wishing she could wrap herself in him.

  “Scott?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Will I ever be ready?” She placed her palms against his chest, needing the security that only he could give. “For us? For forever?” Her voice cracked on “forever” and she hated that she wasn’t stronger. That she wasn’t yet the woman Scott needed her to be. It felt as though every step she took to bring them closer did the opposite. She felt crushed and broken, and wished she was more. So much more.

  He wrapped his hands around hers, bringing them to his lips for a light kiss. “You may not feel as though you are first in there right now.” He tipped his head toward the café they’d abandoned. “But you’ll always be first in here.” He pulled her hands over his heart. “Always.”

  * * *

  Whoever said being the youngest meant having privileges was so full of crap.

  All anyone in town wanted to do was talk about her sister. Yes, Amber got it. Her sister was new and exciting even for the non-gossips. A long-lost daughter that no one had known about. Surprise!

  But the worst was that her mother was just as absorbed in her long-lost daughter as everyone else was. She kept asking Amber if she was okay, and what was she supposed to say? “No, I’m feeling replaced, jealous, and am having a difficult time dealing with sharing you—my only parent?” She needed to suck it up. Grow up. Get over it.

  What she really wanted to do was ask if John was truly her father. Amber was freaking out, not knowing what to do, say, or how to act.

  She needed to focus on what she did have. She’d always wanted a sibling and now she had one. Delia was wonderful and wanted to be a part of her life. And her mother had accepted her, as well. It was completely natural that the two of them wanted to spend time together.

  So after her poor behavior at Mandy’s café, Amber had felt the need to make it up to her mother. To prove to her and Delia that she really was okay with this new relationship despite her insecurities, but also to show her mom that she could handle tough situations. If she pulled that off, then maybe her mother would confirm whether John was her father or not.

  And now, instead of watching a matinee in the local theater, Amber was serving tables at Benny’s while her mother and Delia went on a hike through Blueberry Springs’s beautiful meadows, laughing and bonding. Which kind of made Amber feel like a forgotten stepchild.

  “Amber?” called Elsie Nagorski, a resident of the local nursing home who came to Benny’s for the Tuesday night special more often than not. She was seated by the window so she could “see the gossip go by” with her visiting sister. “Come over and meet my sister, Wilma Star. She lives—”

  “In Windermere, Ontario, right? Muskoka? I remember. Nice to see you again.”

  “Are you still playing soccer?” asked Mrs. Star. The last time she’d come to visit, Amber had been about twelve and had been practicing for a tournament. She was impressed the woman still remembered her, let alone that she’d played soccer.


  “No, no.” Amber held her order pad and pen poised, hoping that they wouldn’t get into where her life had taken her since their last meeting.

  “She was in a book,” Elsie said.

  And there it was.

  “That’s terribly exciting.” Mrs. Star smiled. “Did you hear about the excitement in my neck of the woods?”

  Amber shook her head, realizing it would be some time before the women were ready to order. The sisters were always making bets and trying to outdo each other, and she had a feeling this conversation would only serve to highlight that.

  She hoped she and Delia never got to that point. Although not having grown up together might help the competition aspect—that was, if Amber got over her jealousy.

  “Hailey Summer, my friend’s daughter―you remember her? She came out here a few summers ago.”

  Elsie and Amber nodded.

  “Well, she’s dating—”

  “Finian Alexander, the movie star,” Elsie said, fidgeting with her cutlery, obviously feeling outdone. “I lost that bet, but you lost the one over who started the Blueberry Springs forest fires.”

  “I was thousands of miles away! How was I to know it wasn’t Jen? All I had to go on were the things you told me, as well as the newspapers.”

  “And I was thousands of miles away when you started in about Finian Alexander checking out your garden gnomes.”

  “Ladies,” Amber interrupted.

  “Oh, it’s okay.” Elsie patted her gray bun, adjusting a wisp of hair that was out of place. “Just a little sibling rivalry. You’ll get used to it.” To her sister, she added, “Amber just found her long-lost sister last week.”

  Mrs. Star looked up, her eyes alight. “Oh, that is terribly exciting.”

  “It is. So, today’s specials are—”

  “We already know what we want,” Elsie said, ordering for both of them.

  “You can’t go wrong with our burgers,” Amber said.

  “Unless you have dentures,” Elsie laughed, popping hers out and waving them around before putting them back into place.

  Amber shuddered at the unexpected reveal. “I’ll make sure to bring you a knife and fork.”

  Scrawling in her notepad as she walked between tables, she spotted John entering the restaurant.

  Dad?

  She was going to have a heck of a time acting natural around him. She didn’t know for certain, but as their eyes connected, she knew that John believed he was her father, too.

  He quickly took a table by the door, and Amber couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been hoping to see Gloria.

  Amber took extra time placing the sisters’ order, then collecting cutlery and a menu for John.

  What would he order for supper? Did he favor the cheese-and-basil pizza, too? Would he want a vodka shot as he did when they hung out at Brew Babies? How many times had the two of them sat elbow to elbow at the bar, knocking back a shot and eating peanuts while shooting the breeze? With her father.

  As she walked to his table, half wishing there was another waitress on tonight, she studied him with fresh eyes. Amber had her mother’s long fingers. Her eyes, her chin. She looked a lot like Gloria, just as Delia did. However, John had a slight cowlick to the left just like she did. She studied his ears as she set down his cutlery, wishing she could remember what her own ears looked like.

  “You figured it out, didn’t you?” John said with a slight smile.

  “Sounds like you did, too?”

  “I’ve always wondered, despite what your mother said. But in Mandy’s the other night it was like a light bulb went off. There can’t be any other explanation.”

  “My mom doesn’t know I figured it out,” Amber said in a whisper, knowing that others were likely eavesdropping—as they always did.

  “She hasn’t said anything?” he asked in surprise.

  “No. You?”

  “Never. Liked to chase me away whenever I broached the topic,” he said in a low voice. He looked up from studying the menu. “What’s on tap tonight?”

  “No shot? Benny has several brands of vodka.”

  “I’m planning on having the new burger. The California something-or-other? I thought maybe a beer would go nicely with it.”

  “We carry Brew Babies pale ale and it’s been popular with the burger.” The fact that he wasn’t ordering vodka left her feeling inexplicably hollow and as though their shared shots and companionship hadn’t been real. She realized now just how important his company had been to her.

  “Sounds good. I’ll take a pint.”

  The usual joy that came with customers accepting her recommendations didn’t arrive. He was being so official, a proper customer. Not warm or casual. He was putting up barriers.

  Was he trying to make sure other diners wouldn’t pick up a hint in his body language? Or maybe he’d solved the mystery and now the reality of having her as his daughter didn’t seem so bright and shiny.

  Amber half wondered if this was how he’d acted when Gloria had told him about Delia. Just slowly withdrawn and shut her out. Suddenly, John as her mother’s dismissive ex-boyfriend, the man Amber disliked for his treatment of her mom, didn’t seem quite so impossible.

  Amber glanced at the neighboring tables, ensuring that customers weren’t trying to get her attention, and said, “I can see it in the way my mom looks at you that she never got over you. She had no other viable choice when Delia was born. She was a teenager with a crappy home life and no education. You decimated her with your actions, your words. She is a strong, capable, kind, and caring woman who did a fine job of raising me.” Amber rested her fingers on the tabletop, leaning close enough to whisper, “So whatever happens and whatever you choose to do, don’t you dare judge her again and make her regret everything good she’s done for her daughters.”

  John froze, and for a moment Amber thought he’d had a stroke, he was so still.

  “Okay,” he said with a nod, looking at her with a mix of pride and surprise. “Okay.”

  She straightened her spine, realizing that she was strong enough to say what she needed to say. Strong enough to stand up for the people in her life who mattered most. Strong enough to help right a past mistake.

  “I was the one in the wrong, not your mother.” John’s hands slowly closed into fists, his eyes growing stormy. “I was so focused on myself and my career that I did and said some very hurtful things. I’m not proud of who I was or how I acted.” His voice was getting louder and he quickly lowered it again. “Your mother was very brave. I betrayed her trust.” His eyes filled with moisture and Amber realized he’d likely been kicking himself for a very long time, and had probably been trying to make amends in any way he could. “I was a fool. If I’d stood up to my parents things would have been different. So different.”

  “You wouldn’t have Marisa.” Amber pressed her hand over his, silencing him. There was no point walking the what-if road. It only led to dark caves and forests with gnarly looking trees that left you so unsettled you couldn’t sleep at night.

  “The past is the past,” she said. “I’m staying in Blueberry Springs. There is plenty of time to talk about the future, if that’s what you’d like to focus on.”

  She was staying.

  She was staying!

  She needed to talk to Scott. She needed to stop him from leaving.

  John nodded, his composure back, and Amber focused on her job, not running off after the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

  “I’d like that,” John said, clearing his throat, pulling it together. And in that moment, Amber realized that he needed her just as much as she’d always thought she’d needed him.

  * * *

  “You can’t leave Blueberry Springs.” Amber felt desperate, but she sucked in her courage, placing her hands on her hips to show she meant business.

  Scott looked up from his desk, a mechanical pencil poised between his large fingers. “That’s something I normally say to people who are part of an ongo
ing investigation.”

  “In the name of love, I am telling you not to leave town.”

  “Love?”

  “Shut up. I have a speech and you’re throwing me off. I already had to wait for Dispatch to take a smoke break so I could do this in private.”

  He gestured for her to continue.

  “Stay. Don’t take a job somewhere else. Blueberry Springs is home. For you. For me. I’m not going anywhere and I don’t think you should, either.”

  Scott leaned back, quiet for the longest moment. Finally, the corner of his lips lifted into a smile. “Want to know a secret?”

  Amber flopped into the chair across from him in an exasperated heap. “No.” He was supposed to sweep her into his arms, see that she was ready.

  He played with his pencil, clicking it, then pushing the lead back in by pressing it against his muscular thigh, watching her. “I applied out so I could move to the city when you did. But I pulled my name from the application pool a few days ago.”

  She groaned in frustration. Why didn’t he speak the same language she did? Blunt and straightforward.

  Right now he was supposed to be pulling her close, kissing her, loving her. Not speaking in riddles, where she had to wait to find out what he meant. Because him withdrawing his name could mean one of two things: either he’d figured she was going to stay, so he would, too, or he’d decided she wasn’t worth moving for.

  “I had a feeling there would be a reason to stay.”

  He came around the desk.

  She perked up. “Such as?”

  “Stand up.” Scott’s voice was gruff and commanding.

  She complied, and he gently slipped his fingers across her jaw before tangling them in her loose locks. Her head tilted toward his involuntarily as he angled his mouth, drawing them close. He stopped an inch from meeting her lips, his breath soft on her cheek.

  This was where it all happened. It all came together.

  She met his gaze, and worlds and history passed between them. For years she’d denied his true feelings, pushed him aside and made him feel as though he wasn’t good enough to be more than a friend. She’d dismissed him, as well as herself and her true feelings. She’d allowed fear to hold her back. She’d allowed herself to feel as though she wasn’t enough for a man like Scott.