Sweet Promises

by Nicole Ellis

  Sweet Promises

  A Candle Beach Sweet Romance

  Nicole Ellis

  Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Ellis

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art by: RL Sathers/SelfPubBookCovers.com

  Cover typography by: Mariah Sinclair

  Editing by: Free Bird Editing —

  Serena Clarke and LaVerne Clark

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Thank You for reading Sweet Success!

  1

  “Albert, I need those turkeys by Wednesday.” Maggie Price leaned back in the chair with the phone pressed to her ear and tapped a pen against the wooden desk. The phone beeped insistently to alert her to another call. Whoever it was would have to wait. This call with her supplier was too important to interrupt.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” The man on the other end of the phone call sighed. “You’re not going to have them by Thanksgiving. I might be able to get you something else, but with that storm dumping snow in Portland, there’s no way that we’ll be able to get the turkeys to you in time. Nothing’s getting through.”

  “I’ll see if I can get someone else to deliver them,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Maggie, you know I’d get them for you if I could, but my hands are tied. I’m sorry.” He sighed again.

  “I know. Thanks for trying.” She hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling in her tiny office. Although no cobwebs hung from the corners, the paint had worn thin in places and the office showed its age. When she’d bought the Greasy Spoon from the former owner and revamped it into the Bluebonnet Café, she’d put all her money and efforts into the customer-facing portions of the café and kitchen, leaving no spare cash for anything behind the scenes. She shook her head. There were bigger problems at the moment than scratched paint.

  What was she going to do with no turkeys to serve for Thanksgiving dinner at the café? There’d be a rebellion in Candle Beach. Many of the townspeople didn’t have relatives close by and they counted on having their holiday dinner at her restaurant. She stared blankly at the computer screen, which showed her order for the turkeys that wouldn’t be arriving any time soon.

  Someone knocked on the door. She regarded it wearily. What now?

  “Come in.”

  “Maggie?” Her lead waitress, Belinda, pushed the door open, sending the aroma of freshly baked apple pies throughout the office. Maggie’s stomach grumbled. Lunch had been hours ago. She pasted an ‘everything’s alright’ smile on her face for her employee’s benefit.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s your mom. She said she can’t watch Alex any longer today—she’s got to get to work.” Belinda looked apologetic. “She said you were supposed to be there an hour ago.”

  Maggie shot a glance at the old-fashioned analog clock on the wall and jumped out of her chair. Dealing with the supply snafu had taken longer than she’d thought.

  “It’s six thirty already? Is she still on the phone?”

  “Yeah, I put her on hold,” Belinda said. “You’ve been in here since I started my dinner shift at five. Is everything okay?”

  “Things are fine. Can you please tell her I’ll be there in less than ten minutes?” She threw on her winter jacket and rushed past Belinda. “Thanks!”

  “Sure, I’ll let her know,” Belinda called after her.

  Everything was not okay. A winter storm south of them in Oregon had ground all of her suppliers’ trucks to a halt. She’d been trying to improvise on their daily menu, but something had to give. She’d even had to send someone to the local grocery store to scrounge for hamburger buns that morning. The way it was going, they’d be having Spam and frozen peas for Thanksgiving dinner in two days. That would not go over well with her regulars.

  The big holiday meals were always a pain to coordinate, but people in town who didn’t have family or friends nearby appreciated her having the café open for them to eat at. She knew most of the people in this small town, either through the café or from growing up there, and she didn’t want to let anyone down.

  She drove the mile to her parents’ house, her mind spinning with everything she needed to take care of. Juggling the schedule for the café and care for her six-year-old son, Alex, was a constant struggle. In a few weeks, he’d be off school for winter break and things would become even more complicated. She wasn’t looking forward to that. As soon as she reached her parents’ house, she parked crookedly in an empty parking spot and ran inside.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Charlene Johansen, Maggie’s mom, said. “I’ve got to get to work at the market. I was supposed to be there thirty minutes ago.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I totally lost track of time. Things have been crazy at the café.” Maggie felt horrible about being late. Having her mom babysit Alex was a lifesaver and she couldn’t get along without her.

  “It’s okay, honey. One of my co-workers is covering for me, but I need to get there soon. Dad had to work late, or I’d have him take Alex.” She searched her daughter’s face. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, everything is fine.”

  “Really? Because you don’t look so good.”

  Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but Alex came barreling around the corner. “Mommy! You have to see the new Lego set Grandma bought me. It’s Minecraft!”

  “Mom…you bought him more Legos?” She narrowed her eyes at her mother.

  Charlene blushed. “He had the first of the two sets, so I bought him the second. He’s my only grandchild. Let me spoil him a little.” She kissed the top of Alex’s head and patted her daughter’s hand. “I’ve got to go. Lock up when you leave.”

  “Bye. Have fun at work.” Maggie called to her. Then she turned to Alex. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get home and you can show me your new Legos while I make dinner.” He ran off to the family room to get his toys and she leaned against the open door to wait for him.

  “Got ’em.” He pushed past her and she locked the door behind them. He ran ahead of her out to the driveway, opened the car door and got into his booster seat. Maggie sat in the driver’s seat and stared at her son in the rearview mirror. Her husband Brian would have been amazed to see how much Alex had grown over the last five years. Brian had been an Army soldier. He died in the Middle East when Alex was a baby and never had the chance to see what a wonderful little person his son had become.

  She put the car in reverse and drove home to the tiny two-bedroom apartment she shared with Alex. Candle Beach didn’t have much in the way of large apartment complexes like in the big city, but she’d been lucky to find a place in a fourplex less than a mile from the café.

  After admiring Alex’s new Lego set, feeding him and getting him to bed, she was bushed. She grabbed her planning notebook and flopped on the couch, covering her legs with a l
ightweight afghan. She flipped on the TV while she worked on an updated menu for the café’s Thanksgiving dinner. The TV provided background noise but she barely heard it.

  The unsettled feeling she’d had all day kept nagging at her. She’d made the Bluebonnet Café a success, but she wanted something more. She’d volunteered to cater her friend Dahlia’s wedding to test out a new catering business, hoping that it would fulfill her Type A personality’s desire for a new challenge. And challenging it had been.

  Running the café, starting a new catering business, and being a single mother wasn’t easy. Would she be able to do it all? She dropped her head to the pillowy couch arm and closed her eyes. Things would work out. She’d always found a way to get everything done in the past.

  The next morning, Maggie dropped Alex off at school and headed for the café. Only one day remained before Thanksgiving and she still didn’t have a main course for the big holiday meal. She called every supplier in her notebook, but understandably, they were either sold out of turkeys at such late notice, or they had the same problem with the snow as her original supplier. Finally, after a few hours, she procured some hams that a supplier assured her would get there by the next day. They weren’t what her customers would expect for Thanksgiving, but they’d have to do.

  With that crisis averted, she finished planning the rest of the menu. Thank goodness they had potatoes. If there were no mashed potatoes as well as no turkey, there would be a riot for sure.

  Her best pastry chef and right-hand woman, Bernadette, stuck her head past the half-opened door.“Maggie? Do you have time?”

  “Time for what?” Maggie set down her notebook. “If there’s something wrong with the latest food shipment, I don’t want to hear about it.” She smiled to let her employee know she was kidding.

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” Bernadette grinned and approached her desk. “I’m scheduled to work on Friday, but my boyfriend invited me to go away for the weekend. Lily said she’d take my shift in the kitchen. Is that okay with you?”

  Phew. Nothing major. She didn’t think she could take anything else.

  “Of course, go ahead. I hope you have fun.” Lily wasn’t as hard of a worker as Bernadette, but business should be slow on the Friday after Thanksgiving.

  “Thanks!” Bernadette turned and sailed out of the room.

  Maggie thought about starting in on the schedule for the week after next, but a quick glance at her watch changed her mind. Alex had a half day at school and she needed to pick him up soon.

  “I’ll be back after five,” she called to her kitchen staff. They waved to show they’d heard, but continued working on orders from the lunch rush.

  After she got Alex home, he ran off to his room to play and she collapsed on the couch. Her split shift days were exhausting. She always intended to rest on the couch while at home, but household chores or other projects tended to grab her attention. Today was no different. She’d stacked her supplies for Dahlia’s bridal shower decorations and party favors in the corner, and the half-finished boxes for the petit fours mocked her.

  She sighed. At least if she got them done today, there would be less to do on Friday night. She flipped on the TV and mindlessly watched an old Friends episode while folding the small boxes. She’d ordered the boxes and lids from a craft supply store in Haven Shores, but it hadn’t occurred to her how much time it would take to assemble them. Gretchen had volunteered to help with the party favors, but she’d told her not to worry. In hindsight, she probably should have accepted the help.

  Making the petit fours should be fun though. Before she’d had Alex, she’d been a bored Army wife, living in a community far away from all of her friends and family, with the exception of Brian. At their last duty station, she’d taken pastry-making and cake-decorating classes at the local culinary school. Now, other than the desserts she helped make for the café, she didn’t have much call to make fancy cakes. She’d searched YouTube and found a ‘how to’ video for making petit fours. She planned to place four in each of the paper boxes. Then she’d wrap a ribbon around the outside and tie it neatly with a bow. She brightened. The final product would be worth it and the guests would love them.

  By the time she needed to take Alex to her parents’ house for the evening, she had finished forming the boxes, but there was still a long list of things to do for the shower. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and after she worked a morning shift, she and Alex would go to her parents’ house for dinner. That left Friday. She eyed the pile of decorations. Yeah, plenty of time.

  She brushed off her hands and called down the hallway. “Alex! Time to go.”

  “Do I have to?” he whined.

  “Yes. Sorry buddy, but you’re only six. I can’t leave you home alone and I have to work.”

  “But Dylan’s mom stays home with him. He gets to stay at home and play all day after school and not go anywhere else.”

  Maggie mentally counted to ten. “Well, I have to work. Now get your shoes on.”

  He grumbled more at her, but reluctantly did as he was told. At times like this, Maggie really wished she had a partner to help parent Alex. Being the sole provider and caregiver for her little family was stressful, and having someone else to share things with would make life much easier. Her parents were a big help, but it wasn’t the same as having her husband home to help. She hadn’t dated anyone since Brian and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to, so gaining a partner was a far-off dream.

  If business continued to do well at the café, she might be able to afford a house cleaner or a full-time nanny soon. That would help, but it wouldn’t be the same as having someone to share everything with. If wishes were horses, she thought. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but her mother said it often and it seemed appropriate for her current situation.

  “I’m ready.” Alex yanked the door open and sprinted out to the car, waiting impatiently for her to unlock it.

  She beeped it from the front porch. At five o’clock, the sky had already darkened. The short days of winter were rough and she wished for some summer sun to brighten her day. At least winter meant the holidays, and after Thanksgiving was over, she was free to put up the Christmas tree and decorate with lights. Christmas was her favorite time of year. There was something enchanting about seeing lights adorning buildings and hearing Santa Claus ringing the bell for the Salvation Army outside the grocery store. Sometimes, it even snowed in Candle Beach, although being on the ocean, they didn’t usually get much accumulation.

  This year would be extra special with Dahlia’s wedding a week before Christmas. Not only was she catering the wedding, but she and another friend, Gretchen, were Dahlia’s only bridesmaids. She pulled her coat closed and hurried to the car. There was so much to do—all the bridal shower and catering prep for Dahlia’s wedding, the holiday decorating, and she still needed to buy a few stocking stuffers for Alex. She took a deep breath to calm herself and opened the car door, ready to receive another tongue lashing from her sixteen-year-old in a six-year-old’s body.

  2

  Jake Price knocked most of the snow off of his winter boots, then removed them and set them outside the door of his parents’ house. Portland, Oregon, had been hit unusually hard by a recent snowstorm and the historic Craftsman homes on the block looked like a Norman Rockwell winter scene. He didn’t bother to knock before entering.

  The telltale scent of a turkey roasting in the oven tantalized his senses as soon as he pushed the door open. His mother’s voice led him to the kitchen, where she perched on a barstool with her back to him, talking to someone on the phone.

  “We’ll still see you for Christmas, right?” Barbara Price slumped slightly at whatever the caller said. “Only for two days? Can Alex stay longer?”

  Jake could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “Okay, honey, we’ll talk to you later.” She set the phone on the counter and slid off the stool, resting against the bar.

  “Mom,” he said.

  She put her h
and to her chest and spun around to face him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I’m an old woman.”

  “Not so old,” he said, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She returned the hug and scrutinized him.

  “Did you come by to do laundry? Thanksgiving dinner doesn’t start until one o’clock.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s only ten.”

  “No,” he laughed. “I came by to give you a hand.” He grabbed a red-and-green apron from a hook on the wall. “What can I do? Put me to work.”

  She beamed. “You can peel and quarter the potatoes. Your father usually does it, but I sent him to the store for butter.” She shook her head. “I forgot to add it to the grocery list when he went to the market yesterday. Ah, I’m getting old.” She rolled out a mound of dough sitting on the floured counter.

  Jake tied the apron strings around his waist and sat down across from her at the bar. The potato peeler felt tiny in his large hands, but he quickly got the hang of it. He peeled a few potatoes and then asked, “Was that Maggie you were talking to? She’s not coming to Thanksgiving this year? I’d hoped to see her. It’s been a long time since we both came to a holiday meal.”

  His mother’s smile slipped. “No, she’s in charge of the restaurant today. She and Alex will come down to Portland for a few days at the end of December.”

  “But not for as much time as you’d like to see Alex, right?”

  “Maggie’s really busy. She’ll bring him down here when she can. That girl has a lot on her plate.” She hesitated. “She sounded more stressed than I’ve ever heard her. I wish I could go up there and help out with Alex, but I’ve got my job at the library. I think she may have bitten off more than she can chew this time. You know Maggie.”