by Jean Oram
Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance
Title Page
Table of Contents
Champagne and Lemon Drops
Copyright Notice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
End Note From the Author
Book 2 Bonus Sneak Peek: Whiskey and Gumdrops
Cali MacKay's The Highlander's Hope Sample
About the Author, Dedication
Champagne And Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance
By Jean Oram
One woman. Two men. One meddling small town.
Raised by her older sister in the small town of Blueberry Springs, all Beth Wilkinson wants is to create a family so big she'll never be alone. Things are going great until her accountant fiancé, Oz, experiences a family trauma, forcing him to rethink everything from his own career to their nuptial plans—leaving Beth alone.
As Beth works to rediscover her former bold and independent self in hopes of reattracting Oz, she catches the eye of the charming new city doctor, Nash. Not only does he see her as she'd like to be seen, but he knows exactly what he wants from life—and that includes Beth.
Torn between the two men, as well as two versions of herself, Beth discovers that love and dreams are much more complicated than they seem.
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Champagne and Lemon Drops
A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance
By Jean Oram
Copyright 2013 Jean Oram
ISBN: 978-0-9918602-0-3
Smashwords Edition
Contact Jean Oram by email at [email protected]
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Cover created by Cali MacKay www.coversbycali.com
Part 1: The Not Too Distant Future
(April)
Chapter 1
Beth worked to pull in a deep breath against her gown's sleek fit. If she could breathe properly, everything would feel exactly the way she had always dreamed it would. She would know, without a grain of doubt, that today was more than just a reaction to the events over the past thirteen months. That this moment was her true destiny.
That she wasn't being a spaz. That she was marrying the right man.
Because when life handed you an opportunity you didn't turn your back or drag your feet. You made a choice and you leapt.
Did Cinderella hesitate? Hell no. That girl took the leap with both feet.
And right now, Beth was leaping. No parachute required. Both feet in.
Well, almost.
Her sister, Cynthia, stepped closer to adjust the veil around Beth's shoulders. She closed her eyes as she breathed in her sister's familiar, reassuring perfume. "Here goes nothing, right?"
Cynthia shook her head with a smile. "You know, it's funny, I thought Gran and I would be giving you away to—"
"I know." Don't say his name.
Cynthia added quickly, "I just didn't expect it."
"And I didn't expect Dad to be stuck overseas and unable to give me away."
"Sure you didn't," Cynthia said, shooting her a wry look. "He couldn't make my wedding, why should he make it to yours?"
Beth stuck out her tongue. "He always liked me best." She clasped her trembling hands, trying to force all thoughts from her mind. Bad Cynthia. Stirring up thoughts and worries. Bad, bad sister. Beth concentrated on happy images of walking down the aisle. Her and her hubby would say their vows and live happily ever after in a nice home and have a family so big she'd be surrounded by people—her people—just like she'd always wanted.
Cynthia fussed with the veil and Beth batted her sister's hands away.
She ignored Cynthia's raised eyebrow which meant she was trying to read Beth's mind. Her snoopy big sister always had to know everything. Beth flashed her a smile. Cynthia relaxed, tossing her head in a way that tousled her wavy hair leaving it sexy and perfect and making Beth think of champagne and movie stars and an easier life. Beth patted her slick chignon and glanced in the mirror. Maybe she should have left her hair down.
"You look fine, quit worrying," Cynthia laughed.
Shouts erupted outside and Beth turned to the window, her sister leaning over her shoulder. "What's going on?"
Beth gave the foggy window a swipe with her hand. "I can't see anything." She plunked down in the church's window seat, her dress puffing up around her like a sea of whipped cream. Below, a flash of crows bobbed on the walkway. No, tuxedos. More shouts filtered up through the snow-laden trees.
She stood again, pressing her nose against the cold glass to get a better look, and gasped.
This could not be happening.
Stupid pigheaded, testosterone-driven men!
"What?" Her sister crowded against the glass. "What?"
Beth gathered the folds of her skirt and shouldered past her sister.
"You can't go! It's bad luck if he sees you!"
"Oh, I'll show those men some bad luck," Beth muttered, wrenching open the heavy door. She took the stairs as fast as she could, restricted by her heels and fluttering tulle. She reached the front doors of the church in time to witness her fiancés—past and present—position themselves to duke it out.
One fit form ducked, dodging a punch from the other. Shoes lost traction on the icy steps and a body twisted and arched through the air. A man's mouth stretched into a perfect, comical O. In slow motion he landed head first, his body grinding into the walkway like a broken bird falling from the sky.
A scream broke the silence. Hers. She screamed, unable to stop, the terror of the scene freezing her in place before adrenalin kicked in, propelling her through the gathering crowd and toward the unconscious heap—the man she loved. Gingerly she touched the fallen man's face as the other man she loved was herded back by a dark wall of groomsmen.
She looked at her blood-covered fingers. This was going to change things. She could feel it. Her nuptial bad luck had caught up and snared her like an unsuspecting mouse heading for its free cheese.
There wasn't enough oxygen. The world spun rapidly to the right and she couldn't breathe. A blurred vision of dress hems and shiny black shoes was the last thing she saw before collapsing on top of the wounded man.
PART 2: Where It All Begins
(13 Months Ago)
Chapter 2
Beth dropped her purse and work ID at the door and, not smelling any hints of soup being heated in the kitchen by her fiancé, entered the trailer's cozy living room. Seeing Oz slu
mped on their worn velvet couch, she plunked down beside him, her stomach grumbling for its lunch. She leaned against his arm, but instead of wrapping it around her like he usually did, his posture stiffened.
"What?" she asked. She surreptitiously sniffed her armpits. Not her favorite scent, but it sure beat body odor.
Oz subtly shifted from side to side, his broad shoulders leaning into her as he echoed the movements of the football player on TV. When they were teens, his size and strength intimidated her before she saw him using it to gently retrieve Mrs. Everett's kitten from the oak on Main. Watching the sixteen-year-old hand the fluffball back to her owner with a sweetness she hadn't seen in other boys, her heart had grown warm, and she'd vowed to find a way to catch his attention as something more than just his kid sister's best friend and to have those beefy arms wrapped tight around her. While she figured out how to go about doing that, Mandy had swooped in with her long mane of glossy blond hair, lithe body, and a knowledge of all things mechanical that Beth had absolutely no interest in matching. When Oz, smitten with Mandy and her seemingly bold sexuality as well as her divine homemade brownies, took Mandy to the end of year dance Beth had bowed out gracefully—before Oz had even noticed her shy attempts. For almost eight years Beth had ignored her persistent crush and dated others, disappointed as each of them failed to compare to the man she saw in Oz.
Fresh out of college two and a half years ago, Beth returned home to take the recreational therapist position at the town's hospital which served the surrounding semi-isolated mountain and foothill areas. She'd thought she was over her childhood crush until a freshly single Oz came in to visit his elderly aunt in the continuing care wing—which was simply an old folks home tacked onto the hospital for those requiring medical monitoring and attention. When Beth began the physical therapy dance session for her patients he was still in the common room, patiently watching his aunt flip through an old photo album. Always in need of more male partners, he'd obliged her request with a broad smile and stepped in to dance with his aunt as well as a few others. Watching him move smoothly around the room, smiling and laughing with her beloved patients, she'd fallen harder than a 400lb gorilla trying to ice skate. She invited him for coffee and pie in the cafeteria afterwards as a thank you and he'd never missed a dance session since.
Well, until two months ago when his father had a heart attack, forcing Oz to spend insane hours in the shared accounting business in order to keep it afloat. But beyond the busyness, there was something up. She couldn't see it, smell it, or put her finger on it, but it was there like a flash in her periphery. It felt like a breakup. Which was silly. Completely silly. They were planning their upcoming wedding and even saving up for a bigger place.
But she still couldn't shake the feeling.
It was as though something she couldn't see had shifted. Lately Oz had been concerned about her following her dreams even though she told him she was following them. Her future was mapped out. She loved her job. But Oz kept telling her there was more to her life. To their life.
She pulled her Dream Home scrapbook off the coffee table and set it on her lap as reassurance. She flipped to the photo of a wrap-around veranda with a double swing where they would sit and talk about their days. She needed a picture of a white picket fence to keep the future family dog in the yard and maybe one of a Golden Lab as well. Oz had sketched in a floor plan that included enough bedrooms for a couple of kids and a guest and she studied his tight writing, smiling at the walk-in closet where she could store her wardrobe without taking over Oz's side. Two and a half months ago, Oz had given her the latest clippings that she'd added to the yard section: a hot tub and a gazebo. And that was the last time he had expressed interest.
"Hey, Oz?" she asked, looking at the loose clippings of 'undecideds' in the back. "What do you think? Oak or maple cabinets? And apple trees or lilacs in the front? Or both?"
Oz shrugged. Beth shifted to face him. There was something beyond him being overwhelmed with taking care of the business going on. More than his father's heart attack and the fact that the air between father and son was strung so tight with live wires that she worried one of them would trip and cause an explosion.
"We lost another client yesterday," Oz said, not looking away from the TV.
Beth froze. "A big one?"
Oz slowly nodded. "Moved their business over to Ed's."
Beth held her breath. Lately it seemed as though the town was favoring the new accounting firm in town rather than the staid and true offices of Reiter & Son. Which was downright unneighborly of them.
"How did your dad handle it?" Despite Dr. Nesbit telling Barney to take it easy, he wasn't the kind of man to step aside and let Oz do things his way or within his own timeframe. Barney was constantly telling Oz on how to run the place via emails, phone calls, and even going as far as sending Oz's mother to check up on the place and deliver instructions.
Oz fished in the pocket of his worn dress pants and handed Beth a set of keys.
She frowned at the gift. "Aren't these your father's work keys?" She met Oz's brown eyes momentarily before he sank further into the couch, his gaze back on the screen in front of him. "Did you lock him out so you could get your work done?" She smiled at the thought of Oz finally taking a stand against his father and booting him out.
After a long pause Oz replied, "He resigned."
"What? How can he resign? He owns half the business." Beth stared at the warm keys weighing heavy in her hand.
Oz shrugged, his expression darkening.
Beth leaned back against the couch and watched Oz's favorite team get tackled, two yards from a touchdown. Was Harvey for real, or was this one of his games to make Oz do as he wanted? And if he was actually resigning, what would cause him to leave the business he'd built up over the past twenty-five years? Surely it couldn't be the heart attack. He was supposed to be coming back to work in two weeks. He wouldn't just give it all up. There had to be something she wasn't aware of.
"Life's too short." Oz sighed heavily and wiped his face with a rough hand.
"Yeah, I know." Her thoughts immediately jumped to her late mother as they always did whenever anyone used the expression. Her mom used to pop a lemon drop candy in Beth's mouth, any time of day, and chirp: Life's too short to wait for the right moment. Get it while you can.
By the time her mother passed away, her dad had been long gone for eleven years and wasn't too keen to step in the unfamiliar daddy role as his work took him all around the world in a perpetual quest for new oil. Their gran had taken the girls in, moving them all into the big apartment over the corner store whose owner supplied the girls with free day-old donuts and Beth with an extra ten pounds she never seemed able to lose. She reached over and snagged a lemon drop out of the bowl she kept on the coffee table and waited for Oz to explain why he thought life was too short. She'd learned over the past eight weeks that if she probed him too much he'd act like a clam being chased with shuckers and a pot of boiling water.
Oz stared at the photo of the house Beth had glued to the cover of her scrapbook and sighed. "He delivered full ownership papers this morning."
Beth grinned and perched on her knees, facing him as she hugged the scrapbook. "You mean you own all of it? Oh my God, we should celebrate! Think of all the things we can do with the business as full owners! All those ideas you've had over the years. You'll make more money and we'll be able to have kids right away. This is so great! We can do it all, Oz." Her smile faded as Oz's expression remained grim. "What? What's wrong?"
His jaw clenched and he drew in a long, controlled breath, giving his head a brisk shake. "Nothing."
"Oz, what? He just gave you this amazing business that you rock at, but you look like he gave you an embalming business and told you to go at it." She softened her tone. "You finally have him out of your hair."
Oz snorted.
"We're Team Wilkineiter, remember?" She laughed, trying to lighten the mood with their bowling league nickname, which com
bined their last names Wilkinson and Reiter. Wilkineiter (verb): to meet and conquer. "Tell me what's going on in that handsome head of yours so we can conquer whatever it is." Oz leapt off the couch like an uncoiled spring when she reached to touch a lock of his hair.
"You wouldn't understand. Your father doesn't expect anything of you. None of the postcards he sends come with strings attached. You still get to live your life however you want."
She squelched the sting of anger that swirled up at the mention of her father and his abandonment. "So do you."
"It's hard to disappoint someone who doesn't care and is never around."
Beth sucked in a sharp breath and carefully set her scrapbook aside. She headed to the kitchen, ignoring his apology. She ate last night's leftovers straight from the container before checking the clock and hurrying back to the living room. Leaning over Oz, she gave him a light peck on the lips.
"Better hurry or you're going to be late for work," she said, wondering if that was a silly thing to say to a business owner.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark. "What would you say if I said I wanted to trade it all in?"
She eased onto the couch beside him, knowing she'd be late for her afternoon shift, but wanting to hear him out. "Trade what in?"
He glanced around the trailer. "Everything. Move. Start fresh with everything. Hold off on getting married. Go explore. Find new jobs. Live off of nothing?"
Start fresh with everything? "Hold off getting married?" Her pulse picked up as fear surged through her.
"Yeah." He caressed her hand, a hopeful look in his eye. "There's no rush."
She lined her scrapbook with the coffee table's edge. "But... everything?" She had a cousin who had waited to have kids and now, not even at thirty years old, her cousin was looking at in vitro in order to have kids. What if it was a genetic flaw? What if she waited and missed her chance? She swallowed hard, watching Oz pace in front of the TV.