“That sounds like a good idea,” their mother said as she filled a serving bowl with biscuits.
“Do you like that better than ‘Icicle Falls, Your Mountain Destination’?” Cecily asked.
“Either one would be lovely,” Mom said noncommittally.
Their mother used to love to brainstorm clever slogans and advertising ideas for the company. No storm tonight, just a calm Stepford Wives smile. She didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation, either, other than agreeing with Cecily that Bailey’s soup was excellent.
“So, should we watch a movie?” Cecily asked after they’d finished eating.
“Why don’t you girls go out and enjoy yourselves?” Mom suggested instead.
Because we’re broke, thought Samantha.
“We’d rather stay here with you,” Cecily said. “Let’s watch a movie.”
Mom shook her head. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed and read.”
“Oh. Sure, if you’d rather.” Cecily sneaked a look at the cuckoo clock in the kitchen.
“Mom, it’s only seven,” Samantha protested. Mom never went to bed before eleven. But then she never used to sleep in till noon, either.
“I know. I’m tired,” Mom said. “You two go have fun.”
Like they could have fun with disaster hanging over their heads, held off by mere threads of hope and determination?
Their mother kissed them both on the cheek, then scooped up a photo album and disappeared into her bedroom.
“She’s really struggling,” Cecily said as soon as Mom was out of earshot. “I kept trying to interest her in coming up with ideas for ads but I couldn’t hold her attention. Hardly surprising, but still.”
“I know,” Samantha agreed. “She seems like a ghost of her former self. I thought having you here would help her perk up.”
“You can’t rush grieving. It’s going to take time.”
The one thing they didn’t have. Samantha raised a finger to her mouth to gnaw on a nail and then remembered she didn’t have any left. She frowned at her mangled fingertips.
“I see your old habits have returned,” her sister observed.
“Yeah, well, it beats eating the inventory,” Samantha retorted, then sighed. “I need a new vice.”
“You wanted to take up drinking. Why don’t we go over to Zelda’s?”
“I’m too broke to take up drinking.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy. I still have money in savings.” Cecily walked to the coat closet and got her jacket. “Let’s go cheer you up.”
“The only thing that could cheer me up would be winning the lottery,” Samantha muttered, and followed her out into the cold.
Zelda’s wasn’t packed, but Friday night had brought out a few more warm bodies. A retired couple finished up their meals with coffee and pie. Several younger families were still eating, the parents digging into their smoked salmon chowder while their kids devoured gourmet burgers and sweet-potato fries.
Samantha saw Pissy and one of her underlings from city hall at a table by the window and feigned blindness. Instead, she went to say hello to Heidi Schwartz, who sat toward the front with her new husband. Baby James was in a high chair, slapping the tray in excitement at the sight of a spoon loaded with mashed potatoes.
Cecily came over, too, and Heidi greeted them both enthusiastically. “Sit down. Join us.”
“No, you guys go ahead and enjoy your meal. We’re heading to the bar, anyway,” Samantha said. “Girls’ night.”
“Sounds like fun,” Heidi said agreeably, but from the way she’d been smiling at her husband, Samantha could tell she wouldn’t trade her former single life for the one she had now.
A little ping of jealousy hit Samantha—but she brushed it off. Yes, it would be nice to settle down someday, if she could have the kind of happy ending Heidi had found. But there were no guarantees. She could as easily end up with a loser like Charley had.
Blake Preston, with his big shoulders and his small heart, came to mind, giving her a ping of a very different kind. Oh, no. Men like Blake Preston were why she was single. She was happy with her life just as it was. Well, just as it was going to be once she got everything back on an even keel.
“Are you here for the festival?” Heidi asked Cecily.
“I am.”
“That’s so cool that you can take time off to come up.”
Cecily nodded, offering no other information. Samantha couldn’t say that she blamed her sister. She wouldn’t be announcing it all over town if she’d closed up shop. That thought led to more sobering ones, which she quickly shoved aside.
“Well, enjoy your meal, guys,” she said again, and turned to leave. That was when she discovered that while they’d been visiting, Charley had seated some new customers at a table they’d have to pass en route to the bar. Crud. There had to be a way to skirt around that table. More fake blindness required. They should’ve stayed at Mom’s and watched a movie.
“Samantha,” Ed York called, smiling and waving at her.
She could have pretended blindness, maybe even deafness, too, but with her sister standing right next to her, smiling in Ed’s direction, that would have been pushing it. She swore under her breath, pasted on a smile and waved back at Ed, who was seated a few tables over with her nemesis, Blake Preston.
“Charm,” Cecily said under her breath, and led the way to their table.
“Samantha, this is becoming our second home, isn’t it?” Ed greeted her. “And, Cecily. What brings you back to town so soon?”
“I’m here to help with the festival,” she said.
“We’ll take all the help we can get, won’t we?” Ed stood and pulled out a chair. “Join us for a drink ladies. We can talk.”
That was what Samantha wanted to do, all right, sit down for a chummy little drink with Blake Preston, business killer.
“Maybe they have dates,” Blake said. He probably didn’t want to get cozy any more than she did. Or was he insinuating she couldn’t get a date?
“If not, you could join us for dinner,” Ed offered.
“Oh, no. We’ve already eaten,” Samantha said.
“Well, a glass of wine, then.”
“A glass of wine sounds wonderful,” Cecily said, making the decision for them and instilling in her sister a desire to throttle her. Blake stood to pull out another chair and she held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m Cecily Sterling. I was a few years behind you in school but—”
“I know who you are. Everyone knows the beautiful Sterling sisters,” Blake said gallantly.
Blech. This man was wasted in banking. He should’ve been a salesman. On a used-car lot. Or at a fair, selling overpriced kitchen gadgets.
“So I think we’re making real progress, don’t you?” Ed said heartily.
“Absolutely,” Samantha agreed. “Everyone’s on board with this,” she added, practically daring Blake to even hint otherwise.
At that moment, Charley walked by with Samantha’s downstairs neighbor, Lila Ward, and another older woman in tow. Lila was a retired teacher, skinny as a pencil, with short gray hair and thin lips. She told everyone she was widowed. Samantha didn’t believe it. She suspected the former Mr. Ward had run away.
Tonight Lila wore gray slacks and a heavy fisherman knit sweater—a scarecrow bundled up for winter. At the sight of them seated all together, her lips pursed and Samantha braced herself for an unpleasant encounter.
Sure enough
. Lila stopped at the table, leaving her friend and Charley to move on without her. “I hear you’re planning some kind of festival, Ed,” she said, ignoring his tablemates. Lila obviously hadn’t taught manners.
“As a matter of fact, we are,” he said jovially. “If all goes according to plan we should have a town full of people next month.”
“And there goes our peace and quiet,” Lila snapped. “I didn’t retire up here to see the place overrun with yuppies and hoodlums. I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
“We’re thinking it’ll give our town’s economy a boost,” Samantha put in, unable to resist entering the fray.
“You’re a smart woman, Lila.” Ed spoke in a soothing voice. “You understand economics. No business, no town. And then where will you buy your groceries?”
“We don’t need crowds and crowds of people to stay in business,” Lila said.
Ed sobered. “You didn’t notice? We haven’t had any crowds this winter.”
“Of course I noticed. And we’re all still here, aren’t we?”
“Not all of us,” Ed said, his smile completely gone.
“This won’t help. It’s foolish and silly.” Lila shot a disapproving look at Samantha. “Chocolate festival, indeed.” And with that parting shot she took her skinny self off.
“Well, almost everyone’s on board,” Ed murmured.
Just then Maria arrived to take their orders, ending the conversation.
“I’d love a glass of pinot grigio,” Cecily told her.
While Samantha had been busy being a stellar overachiever, her sister had been learning the art of sophisticated social drinking.
“How about you, Samantha?” Maria asked.
“ChocoVine.”
“You’ll have to go to a party at Charley’s for that, amiga,” Maria said. “Why don’t you try the huckleberry martini? It’s a little sweet. You’ll like it.”
“Okay, I’ll try it.”
“We should get Hank to make up a signature chocolate drink for the festival,” Cecily said, giving a lock of hair a thoughtful twirl as Maria left to fill their drink orders. “A chocolate kiss. Doesn’t that sound good?” she asked the table in general.
“A kiss sounds good to me,” agreed Blake.
Samantha ignored him.
She continued to ignore him as they sipped their drinks, and Ed and Cecily tossed plans back and forth. The men ordered dinner and Ed insisted the sisters have another drink on him. He didn’t have to force Samantha. She decided she liked huckleberry martinis.
But she still didn’t like Blake Preston. He was a snake.
“Lila Ward is definitely in the minority when it comes to the festival,” Ed was saying.
“Few ideas get one hundred percent support,” Blake said. “I hope this flies for you, though.”
Samantha cocked an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“Of course I do,” he said earnestly.
She took a giant-sized sip from her martini. “Well, of course. Silly of me to doubt you. The bank has already been so supportive.”
“We should probably get going,” her sister said.
Excellent idea.
There was no enjoying herself after that. (Not that Samantha had planned on enjoying herself, anyway. Stress and fun didn’t mix.) Running into Blake the Snake had been enough to curdle her entire weekend.
She tried putting him out of her mind by going for an early-morning run on Saturday, but with every slushy footfall she could hear his voice. Hope this flies, hope this flies. Did he? Really?
Attending Cass’s weekly chick-flick night on Sunday evening didn’t improve Samantha’s mood. It had been Charley’s turn to pick and she brought You’ve Got Mail. Samantha found herself squirming as she watched Meg Ryan’s character fall for the man who’d ruined her business.
Well, unlike Meg, she wasn’t going to give in to temptation.
Chapter Eleven
Every day brings something new. But if you don’t open your arms to receive it, it will pass you by.
—Muriel Sterling, Knowing Who You Are: One Woman’s Journey
Samantha had work to do before the festival committee meeting. She didn’t have time to hand-deliver the chocolates she’d promised to Todd Black. So Cecily, being a good sister, volunteered for gofer duty.
“That’s the only reason, right?” Samantha asked, regarding her suspiciously. “I mean, I’ll admit he’s a hunk and a half, but I’d be willing to bet that man has a trail of broken hearts stretching from here to Tahiti.”
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Cecily said, tucking the pink box tied with gold ribbon under her arm. “I’ve been vaccinated.”
“I’m not sure the vaccine for that one has been invented.”
“I’m just going to drop it and run,” Cecily assured her.
“Okay. If you’re not back here in twenty minutes I’m sending out a search party.”
Cecily smiled and shook her head. Really, sometimes Samantha could be so overprotective. But there was no need. Cecily had weathered two crappy relationships. She wasn’t about to strike out a third time. And she was only running this errand to be helpful. That was why she was here, to help.
Anyway, he probably wouldn’t even be there. It was morning. Taverns never closed until the wee hours and he was probably home, wherever that was, in bed.
Bed. Todd Black in bed. What did he wear to bed?
What did she care? She was so going to drop this candy and run.
She got to the tavern to find the neon beer sign in the window turned off and the potholed parking lot deserted except for one lone car—a mud-spattered Jeep. One caveman left in the Man Cave. It wasn’t hard to guess who it belonged to.
She didn’t see any lights on inside, though. Maybe Todd Black had been too drunk to drive home after work. Maybe he was passed out on the floor somewhere.
Cecily got out of her car and picked her way across the parking lot. As she got closer she could see through the window into Todd Black’s kingdom. Chairs were upended on top of tables, waiting for someone to sweep the floor. In the dingy light she spied a dartboard hanging on a wall and a vintage pinball machine in a far corner. The requisite TV hung over the bar, which held upended bar stools that looked like they’d been imported from some old movie set. Places like this always seemed so seedy and forlorn in the daytime.
She’d heard this one really hopped at night, attracting a rowdy crowd, mostly men. No surprise there. What woman in her right mind would come in here when she could be drinking wine or huckleberry martinis at Zelda’s? Maybe a woman who liked to play pinball, she thought with a smile, and then added, But not you.
She knocked tentatively on the door. No one came.
Just as well, she told herself. She didn’t want to see Todd Black.
She knocked again, a little louder. She was here, after all, and she hated to leave the candy outside to get ruined by the weather or eaten by a passing dog. Chocolate was poisonous to dogs. She owed it to the canine population to make sure this candy got to Todd. She knocked one last time—and was rewarded by the sight of a shadow moving across the room toward the door. A moment later it opened and there stood Todd Black in jeans and a black sweater, unshaved and scruffy and tempting.
He leaned one hand on the door frame and treated himself to a lazy perusal of her from head to toe. “Well, if it isn’t the California girl.”
When a hot guy was single after a certain age there was usually a reason. Now
she knew why this one was on his own. He had a real gift for irritating a woman.
She decided not to respond in kind. Instead, she simply smiled and handed over the box of candy. “I’m dropping off a thank-you from my sister for changing her tire.”
He grinned. “Pink, just my color.”
“I thought so.”
He swung the door open wider. In the distance the vintage pinball machine beckoned. “Want to come in and help me eat these?”
Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. “I’m sure you can handle that all by yourself.”
“Yeah, but it won’t be as much fun. Anyway, I could use a break. Couldn’t you?”
She’d come up here to get a break. From men. “I really need to go,” she said, and took a step back.
“I bet girls like you don’t go in places like this,” he taunted.
“What kind of girl am I?”
“Stuck-up?”
All because she’d turned down his invitation to enter his seedy domain—talk about conceit. “Nope, just busy,” she said, and turned to go back to her car. “Lucky for you because I’m a wizard with a pinball machine.” And that was something stuck-up girls didn’t play. So there.
“Anytime you want to come by and show me what you’ve got…” he called after her.
She picked up her pace. The sooner she was in her car and away from here, the better. Todd Black was obviously an expert at getting women to show him what they had.
* * *
“We’re almost at full occupancy for the weekend of the festival,” Olivia announced to the rest of the committee as they met over breakfast at Dot’s Breakfast Haus.
“I’m a little over half full now,” Annemarie said. She smiled at Samantha. “This was a great idea.”
“And the Mr. Dreamy contest was positively inspired,” Olivia said. “I’m going to enter both my sons.”
Samantha could feel Cecily’s superior smirk without even looking at her. The elbow in the ribs was quite unnecessary.
Sweet Dreams on Center Street Page 13