Candace Sweet’s Confectionery

by Dee, Bonnie

  “I don’t believe it is the business arrangement with Moreau that has you distracted. He is a rather attractive fellow, isn’t he?” Hattie teased.

  Rose nearly dropped the sugar bowl. “You’re right! Our Candace has been struck by cupid’s arrow. That Frenchman is just the sort I would expect to win her over with his gallant manner and charming accent.”

  “Nothing of the kind,” Candace said airily. “Stop it, both of you. Enough about me. We must discuss the details of the reception. How many people do you expect? I want to know how large my truffle mountain needs to be.”

  Hattie sighed. “I’ve tried to keep the number low. I would be satisfied with only our small group of friends since neither Guy nor I have relatives we care to invite. But he has a wide circle of acquaintances around town. His old rowing crew chums for one and others I scarcely know.”

  “A wedding is a personal thing,” Rose responded. “If you don’t wish all these strangers to attend you shouldn’t have to have them.”

  “But it is Guy’s wedding too. He so often accedes to my wishes. This time I will yield to his desire for a larger affair. It will not be a huge society event by any means. Only our dearest friends at the ceremony and around thirty at the reception banquet.”

  “The flowers for your bouquet are nearly at their peak,” Rose reported. “Growing them in Will’s conservatory allows me to control temperature and slow their blooming somewhat. The purple asters will complement your ensemble nicely.”

  “My thanks to both of you for contributing to the celebration. I could not imagine the day without you both there.” Hattie rose to gather the tea things. “Last winter I would never have imagined I would be married before the year was out. But Guy entered my shop and pursued me with the tenacity of a bulldog. Look what he has wrought, a woman in love with no more secrets souring her life.”

  “Last winter, I had been working with you but a short while,” Rose mused. “Finding love must be catching for I cannot imagine my life without Will. Such a shy and awkward fellow I thought him at first, but now…” The dangling sentence and her impish grin suggested a secret life that only lovers knew.

  Candace wondered if she would ever have that. Sometimes she felt very young compared to her more experienced friends.

  “I was still in school last winter. How much I’ve grown since then. I have you two and the WSPU meetings to thank for opening my eyes to what a woman is capable of. Owning a confectionery was a daydream I never imagined I would achieve. It is enough for me right now. Falling in love is for some time in the far future.”

  “That’s what I believed, until Will took me by surprise. Sometimes love comes barreling in when it is least expected.” Rose gave her a cheeky wink.

  That was precisely what Alain Moreau had done, erupted into her life and knocked all sense out of her. Before him, Candace had never really considered romance much. She had not fallen into raptures over glimpses of boys like most of her schoolmates. Upon her return to London, fear of her guardian’s designs occupied her thoughts. Alain was her first crush, and she’d been naïve enough to imagine that meant love. She must banish schoolgirl fancies and embrace reality.

  With that firm resolve, she continued to chat with her friends a bit longer about their holiday advertising plans, then she returned to the shop where Mary was presiding. The girl had taken to sales like a duck to water, listening to what customers said and intuiting what they wanted. Hardly a single browsing patron left without a purchase thanks to Mary.

  In the early afternoon, a little girl who looked similar to Vivienne entered the shop with her mother. She acted very immaturely compared to Moreau’s clever, well-spoken daughter. The fact Candace would not likely see Vivienne again before her return to France caused a greater pain than it should have. Although she’d spent only a short time with the child, she would miss her bright presence. She would quite like to be a mother one day, but not to a child who smeared handprints all over the glass display cases, Candace thought as she polished the glass clean.

  Mary emerged from the back to announce a delivery truck was unloading. “It’s the Moreaus!” she exclaimed. Although she’d only been employed a short time, she understood the importance of the shipment.

  After the truck driver unloaded numerous boxes and Candace signed for them, she opened one of cartons containing stacks of gold-embossed white boxes. They gleamed and beckoned her to open the lid and taste their treasures. Candace could not deny that siren call and soon inhaled the rich aroma as she surveyed the embellished candies. Not as nicely decorated as mine.

  Choosing a raspberry-filled truffle, she bit in. Bliss exploded on her tongue along with memories of the woman who had been like a mother to her. Madame Lisette had provided calm and temporary shelter from the painful pecking order of school. Although Candace had escaped most of the teasing and cruelties that rained down upon a girl like Shrinking Violet, she’d never been fully at ease during her time at the academy. With Madame Lisette, she always felt welcome and cherished. How easily one taste of chocolate brought her back to those days.

  Candace’s elation dissolved into melancholy as she composed a note to let Alain know the shipment had arrived safely, the boarding house possessing no telephone. He would come to check on it and then he would leave. Although he might come back to England on occasion, he would more likely communicate with her from a distance.

  After sending the note in the afternoon post, then perused what the postman delivered. Among advertisement cards, a cream-colored envelope stood out. It was identical to the one Merker had sent on the day of her opening. Her name in his handwriting was like a blow to her stomach. Why wouldn’t he let her be? She would have thrown away the offensive correspondence unread, but, like witnessing a carriage accident, one could not look away.

  The card inside depicted another curly-haired lass holding a fluffy kitten. Candace skipped over the saccharine verse inside to read Merker’s note.

  Since sending my congratulations on your opening, I have not heard from you. I pray your big day was a success. I should greatly like to visit your establishment. Let me know when I may stop by. I’m certain we may mend our divide if you will but trust in me once more, dear heart. Should your grand adventure fail, know that you will always find a home with me, your dearest Papa,

  Edward Merker

  Candace read the note three times before crushing it in her fist. Any casual reader would take his kindly words at face value, but she recognized his games now. He would like to lure her into trusting him once more and return her to compliant obedience. The imaginary reader would not perceive I will stop by as a threat or should your grand adventure fail as a tool to undermine her self-confidence.

  She tossed the crumpled ball into the waste bin. Merker would not crawl under her skin or slither into her mind. She would not allow him to have any part of her attention or her fear. But if he actually entered her shop, she could hardly cast him out in front of customers. She would be forced to deal with him. But for now, she would simply ignore him and burn all further correspondence he might send.

  After closing, Candace checked the locks and turned off the lights before climbing the stairs to her flat. She forced her mind away from imagining figures in the shadows and foreign noises in the silence. At the very least, fretting about Merker had evicted sadness over Alain from her head.

  But of course, the moment she thought of him, he was back to haunt her too. They were twin ghosts; a false guardian who had broken her faith and a love lost before it could grow beyond a bud. If this was the sort of heartache men brought, she would do well to avoid them completely.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alain paused before opening the door of Candace Sweet’s Confectionery. It seemed impossible that until recently, he had not known the proprietress or felt any trepidation upon entering other than that of attempting to woo a new client. He could not have imagined the smiling woman who greeted him that day would become so very important to him. He certainly
hadn’t counted on desiring her with such intensity or experiencing an emotion he had believed extinguished in him forever. But he could not allow his feelings to show today as he must bid Candace goodbye.

  Inhaling a bracing draught of cold air, he walked into the warm, sweet-scented shop.

  The equally warm and sweet owner stood with a customer agonizing over selecting chocolates. Candace promised the lady her assortment would please even the most discerning palate. Glancing toward the door, Candace nodded at Alain, but her expression remained neutral. They had not spoken since the day of the fair. Alain had been too caught up in managing Geneviève over the past several days to stop at the confectionery. Nor did he know how to explain all that had happened to Candace. They had resumed a professional partnership at the end of their outing. It would be odd for him to share his woes with her, even though he wanted nothing more than to blurt all his troubles. So, he had remained silent, except for a note excusing his distance and explaining he had other matters to attend to.

  He waited with fidgety unease for her to have time for him. The lack of shoppers on her opening day was more than remedied now. Whether from word of mouth or advertising, customers crowded into the small shop, but eventually Candace turned her attention to Alain.

  “I plan to move the jars of stick candy from that unit,” she indicated a stand in the center of the room, “and highlight the Moreaus. Please come with me to check the shipment which arrived this morning.” Her brisk manner put Alain in his place as her business partner and not a figure of romance.

  He followed her to the storeroom, very aware of her presence beside him, his sleeve almost brushing hers. Words pressed against his lips, struggling to get out. I must leave. I don’t want to. I will miss you terribly. I have fallen in love with you. I know any romantic relationship between us is impossible, but if I circumstances were different, I would give myself to you, heart and soul.

  “What do you think?” Candace’s crisp question interrupted his reverie. “I’ve counted the boxes and checked on the chocolates. Everything appears to be in order.”

  “Yes.” He surveyed the small stack of packing boxes on the table, lacking interest to pick up one of the Moreau assortments to examine the product. “It appears fine. Have the advertisements we discussed been scheduled?”

  “Here is the artwork for the display.” She retrieved a folio and opened it to show him the poster. It incorporated the Moreau logo and tagline, and announced, Exclusive French import of sublime chocolates. Your taste buds will thank you.

  “Very original,” Alain enthused. “Nothing like the stodgy advertising we have had in the past. My father would despise the casual tone, but I believe customers will respond to it.”

  There seemed little more to be said. For several awkward seconds they remained silent, staring at the flyer, then both began to speak.

  “I should like to thank you…” Candace began.

  “I wish to tell you…” Alain said simultaneously.

  Their exchange made them both smile, melting the wall of reserve a little.

  “Please, what did you wish to say?” he asked.

  She drew a breath. “I never imagined I would have the opportunity to work with such an illustrious company. Thank you again for offering me this proposal.”

  A nice sentiment but not the declaration he had hoped to hear—nor the proposal he wished he could give her.

  She stared at the floor as she continued. “I would also like to thank you for introducing me to your lovely daughter and for the time we spent together. I shall always treasure our carriage ride and visit to the fair.”

  Alain clapped his hand to his chest as if it would still his racing heart. “And I thank you, mademoiselle, for making this foreigner feel at home in a strange city. I, too, will not forget our time together, or how sweet you were with Vivienne. I wish I could have brought her to say goodbye to you, but circumstances”—how could he explain the explosion that had erupted in his life—“have changed.”

  He was on the verge of confessing everything—Geneviéve’s astonishing appearance, and the divorce and custody battle that might ensue. He wanted Candace to know he would court her if he weren’t so hopelessly entangled.

  He lurched into a declaration. “If we had had more time … if I did not have to return to France… I should have liked to know you better. You are a very unique and special woman, Miss Sweet… Candace. Cher á mon coeur. I—”

  What else he might have poured out like a heartsick youth, he never knew, because suddenly Vivienne burst into the room shouting, “Miss Sweet, there you are! I wanted to show my maman to you. She hasn’t golden hair and a crown like I remembered after all, but brown hair like mine. See?”

  Vivienne flew to Candace’s side and extended one hand to indicate her mother as if presenting a circus act.

  Geneviève glided across the floor like royalty—or a slithering snake. Her cold gaze riveted on Candace. Alain felt an urge to step in front of Candace to protect her.

  Before he could ask what in the world they were doing there, Vivienne explained. “Nounou and I took Maman to the park today to visit Lutin and the other pigeons. Maman said they are dirty birds and I ought not to encourage them by feeding them, and I definitely shouldn’t touch them, but I think that’s silly.” Vivienne rolled her eyes. “When she asked why you were not with us today, Papa, I said you had gone to Miss Sweet’s shop. Maman wanted to come and see it, so here we are.”

  “But where is Madame Bernard?” Alain knew she would never have allowed Vivienne to go off alone with her mother. The nurse understood Geneviève might be impulsive enough to take the child and leave the country.

  “Maman and I went to use the public toilet and afterward Nounou had returned to the boarding house with a headache. Maman said she would bring me to the sweet shop, et voila!”

  A magic disappearing trick. Somehow Geneviève had escaped Madame Bernard’s watchful gaze in order to follow after Alain. Perhaps Vivienne had hinted at her father’s affection for Candace, which would surely have prompted Geneviève to want to meet a potential tool she might use against Alain.

  He was almost too shocked by their sudden arrival to speak, but etiquette carried him through. “Miss Candace Sweet, may I introduce Madame Geneviève Moreau.”

  Candace might have been carved from ice as she inclined her head with a reserved countenance. “Pleased to meet you, madame.”

  “As am I to meet the woman who has taken my daughter’s fancy. What a charming little shop you have, so deliciously quaint. Rather like the gingerbread house in that old fairytale. No wonder Vivienne has been seduced by you.” Geneviève gave a merry little laugh as she suggested Candace was a witch.

  Candace did not hesitate to dig back. “How was your trip from America? Such a very long distance to travel! I don’t know how you have borne being separated from your daughter by an entire ocean, but no doubt you had your reasons for leaving her.”

  “I am here now and ready to show the world to my little girl. We have much to catch up on, don’t we ma tendre? You will adore New York, I promise.”

  As the two women spoke, Vivienne’s gaze shifted back and forth between them, her furrowed brow suggesting she felt tension even if she did not fully understand the reason for it. At Geneviéve’s words, her frown deepened.

  “You want me to go with you to America, Maman? I wouldn’t mind someday, but I couldn’t possibly go now. Papa needs me to help run the factory, and we’ll be working with Miss Sweet, so we must travel between Marcoussis and London quite a lot.”

  “These are matters best discussed in private,” Alain interrupted. “Let us leave Miss Sweet to her work and return to the boarding house to check on Madame Bernard, eh? She will be worried that you have been gone so long.”

  If looks could kill, his glare would lance Geneviève right through her treacherous heart. He had not had a chance to say all he wished to Candace, and now he never would.

  As he turned to bid Candace go
odbye, her veiled eyes indicated that she had already moved far away from him. With no opportunity to explain himself and no possibility of wooing her, he must simply let her go and walk away.

  “Good day, Miss Sweet. Until we meet again.” He bowed and would have taken her hand, but she did not offer it.

  “Good day, Monsieur Moreau, Madame Moreau, Vivienne,” she responded. “Safe travels to you all.”

  Vivienne’s lip trembled and tears glistened in her eyes. “What is the matter, Miss Sweet? Don’t you wish to give me a hug goodbye? I shall miss you.”

  Her glacial façade melted and Candace crouched to put her arms around the child and draw her close. Cheek to cheek they embraced. Candace kissed Vivienne before letting go. “Je t’adore, chére. I pray we will see each other again one day.”

  “Of course we will. We are in business together so we must come here often,” Vivienne proclaimed confidently.

  Candace smoothed Vivienne’s hair and smiled at her, breaking Alain’s heart.

  I want that. I want her in my life. For Vivienne but even more so for me.

  Candace rose to face Alain, her eyes shuttered once more. “I will keep in contact concerning sales. If you have any questions or concerns, do let me know.” She glanced at Geneviève. “Madame Moreau, I pray you have a safe return journey to America.”

  “I shall be spending time in France, reacquainting myself with my family.” Geneviève gave Candace a thin smile and rested her hand on Vivienne’s shoulder. “Who knows? Perhaps I might stay with my handsome husband. My traveling days may be behind me.” She moved closer to Alain, as if to claim him.

  He stepped away from her, wishing he could tell Candace this was merely Geneviève putting a perceived rival in her place.

  But he remained quiet as Candace escorted them through the shop. Then the door closed behind him and it was far too late to say anything.

  On the sidewalk, Alain leaned close to Geneviève to murmur what he would not have Vivienne overhear. “Do you know how much I despise you? If you had severed things cleanly I might be able to forgive you, but you continue to exert your will across an ocean. Divorce me, and set me free.”