Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

by Jean Oram

  Mandy might not be rich like these gals with assets to liquidate, but she would not lose Frankie's building. Even if it meant borrowing money from a thousand strangers.

  Her mind, tired after the past three and a half hours of pure adrenalin, panic, and planning, began wandering down Worst Case Avenue. "What if this doesn't work?" Mandy whispered, dread wrapping her like static cling.

  "It's sink or swim, girls and we're sinking fast," Blair stated. "Grab a hand or drown." She fluffed her hair. "And just so you all know, the drowned rat look does not suit me whatsoever."

  "I'm going to call John." Mandy pushed her chair away from the table and moved into the adjoining room for more privacy. She faced an abstract on the wall, her pride jabbing at her with what felt like a sharp stick. Asking people she knew—and didn't know—for help by digging into their wallets was going to be hard. Really hard. And what if Blueberry Springs didn't even want a Wrap it Up?

  She rubbed her face. It was all happening so fast.

  "Hello?"

  Mandy blinked herself back to the present. "John! Hey. Hi. I hope I'm not calling too early."

  "Just on my way out for a jog," he replied.

  "Great. I won't keep you. I just wanted to make sure I'm interpreting Clause 21-a correctly in my franchise agreement."

  She heard John's thoughtful intake of breath through the phone. "Is that the one on buy-outs I brought to your attention...when was it? Was that only yesterday?"

  "That's the clause." Mandy crossed her fingers and asked, "Can I buy the place and go independent if I have the money by their deadline?"

  As he paused, Mandy held her breath, her chest cinched tight with fear. "If you succeeded, financially, you would be untouchable to the chain. You could break away without going into receivership. However, you would need enough money to pay off your loan in full, as well as whatever they determined to be fair value for your...er, business."

  Mandy let out a sigh of relief. She glanced at the dining room full of jilted, jittery women. "What do you think would be fair value for my business?"

  "Well, seeing as it isn't really much yet, I'm guessing considerably less than market value. Document everything the chain has done for you so far and everything you've put into it and we'll see what we can finagle. Don't drag your feet. If we're going to do this, we need to proceed ASAP. But my guess is that if you can manage to pay off that loan, you're going to be well on your way."

  "And what about the other franchisees—can they do buyouts as well?"

  "Depends on their agreements. If they have the same phrasing you do, then yes. But, as you recall, we did add some changes in order to protect you. It's hard to say whether their lawyers advised them to do similar things. I was actually fairly surprised Seth agreed to the changes. That said, there were some options in the base contract that could help them out. It really depends on Seth and the banks, though. Tell them to get ahold of their lawyers right away."

  "Thanks."

  "And Mandy? I'm glad to hear you're looking into things."

  Mandy nodded, emotion making it difficult to speak. She leaned against the doorjamb and hung up her phone, taking a moment to compose herself. It was time to do this. She moved into the dining room and toasted the women with her empty cup. "Let's go kick some ass."

  Chapter 17

  Mandy shifted from foot to foot beside the table of brownies under the oak tree in Main Street's square and rubbed her hands down the legs of her jeans. All she had to do was convince everyone she saw today to lend her money. No problem. It wasn't asking for help. It was... Well, okay. It was asking for help. A lot of help. But she could do it. Asking for help and feeling like you owed someone something was normal, right? Everyone did it. It would be okay. She could do it in the name of Frankie's inheritance. So really, she was asking them to help Frankie, not her.

  "Hey, is that your entry?" Jen asked, sidling up beside Mandy. "The brownies with the gumdrops?"

  Mandy nodded and nervously scanned the table. "I don't know what I was thinking, changing my recipe." She swiped her bangs off her sweaty forehead. Today was going to kill her. But she had eleven days to meet the deadline and save Frankie's building and nothing but a lonely twenty-five dollar backer for her micro loan thus far. She needed to step out and get things done.

  Jen blew a bubble with her gum. "You said the ladies were getting closer to matching your recipe, so this is smart. Even if you lose, it's not because of your prize-winning ones. It's because you changed the game on your own terms by taking away their real win—beating your old recipe."

  Mandy took in the table of sweet goodies. She leaned over and whispered to Jen, "There's also a bit of spiced whiskey in it and the judge has a thing for all things fermented."

  "If you win, I'm totally selling that tip to the highest bidder."

  Mandy gave Jen a mock scowl and a shove.

  "Either way," Jen said wisely, "you are leaving the game before you lose." She added with a half shrug. "It's basic self-preservation. I do it all the time."

  Her cheeks flushed as Mandy studied her, but before she could ask more Jen, her nose ring glinting in the sunshine, said, "Everyone on the trip was fighting over the last brownie—did I tell you? People were talking about signing up for another hike just to have those at lunch! And it was a horrible hike in the pouring rain. Your brownies could totally be my best advertising." She pretended to put Mandy in a headlock. "These brownies are not allowed to become available anywhere else—they have to remain exclusive to my trips. Understood?"

  Mandy laughed and pulled away. "You're crazy." She smiled, thankful for the way Jen was not only distracting her, but for making her feel as though changing up her entry was a smart move. But she still couldn't help but wish Frankie was there. This year, he hadn't even sampled the recipe.

  The light pre-fall breeze brought with it a hint of heavenly chocolate and she resisted the urge to throw herself over the table and devour everything in sight. Breathe, girl, breathe. Just don't inhale near the table.

  "So, um," Mandy began nervously. Precious time was ticking away and the media had completely ignored her and the other franchisee's efforts so far.

  She turned to Jen and took a deep breath.

  "Nervous?" Jen asked.

  "A bit. But um, I started another web page for my Wrap it Up."

  "Oh," Jen's eyes widened and she glanced around, as if looking for an escape route.

  "With the other franchisees. There are a couple of us banding together." Mandy fought the instinct to stop breathing and reminded herself that if she told a few friends around town, the word would spread in no time, helping her gain some support. And if not, well, then, at least she'd know Blueberry Springs didn't want her restaurant.

  "Great. Good idea." Jen cleared her throat. "So, why do they call this a fall fair, anyway? It isn't even fall yet. It's more like a big baking contest. Shouldn't there be pumpkin growing contests or something?"

  Mandy sighed at Jen's change of subject. "The weather is better in August. Usually." She tried to add a bit of perkiness to her voice as she said, "I'm really pumped about this new idea."

  Jen's attention drifted to a group setting up a screen in the shade of the large oak. "Look at that. They managed to finagle some footage after all."

  "Footage for what?" Mandy asked.

  Jen frowned at her GPS watch. "For Frankie's show. A sneak peek of raw footage or something."

  "But they're still filming." He was still in the city with Miss Blowtorch and would be for another two months. Her mind refused to imagine what else the woman might be blowing during their time off. Okay, that was a lie. Her mind was refusing not to think what the two of them might be doing.

  "You okay?" Jen asked, resting a hand on Mandy's back.

  Mandy tried for a smile. And failed. She really needed to think about something else. Anything else. Certainly not about how she'd mucked everything up.

  "Aw." Jen gave Mandy a half hug. "He hasn't been talking to you, has
he?"

  Mandy shook her head and blinked rapidly. She would not cry. After all she'd been through in the past few weeks, and as shredded as her soul felt, she would not let herself cry. Not here. Not where everyone could see the tears fall.

  The screen lit up and there was Frankie. Grinning. Her knees weakened and her head swam. Tears pricked her eyes and she quickly shoved them away, vowing not to think, not to feel.

  The photo was one Ed, from the paper, had taken when Frankie opened his restoration business a few years ago. Frankie looked so happy. So free. So unlike he had over the past few months. How had she not noticed how unsatisfied and unhappy he'd been? How had she become so consumed in her own messed up world?

  Liz took to the stage and began chatting about Frankie, sharing gossip and news about his adventure on the TV show that hadn't reached Mandy. She found herself moving closer to the screen—so close, it felt as though floppy-haired, kind-eyed Frankie was looking right into her.

  God, had she ever blown it. How had she ever taken that for granted?

  Jen mentioned something about having to go, as she had a canoe lesson in thirty minutes and Mandy nodded absently.

  The screen lit up with the show's opening credits and theme music filled the air. How many times had she watched this show with Frankie, leaning against his arm, bingeing on gumdrops? And now he was on the show and she was in the crowd as some girl he used to know. Her chest clenched and she tipped her chin a little higher.

  "We managed to wrangle a few clips from the show as a special sneak peek," Liz said into the microphone as a clip with a short interview from Frankie started. He looked confident, at ease. A man who was secure and confident in his knowledge of all things cars.

  Her Frankie.

  Damn it if she was going to let some other woman stand in her way. Her mind began spinning plans and she lost track of the show until she felt the heat of a thousand stares. She blinked and processed what was on the screen: her.

  Professing her feelings.

  Oh, God. Her body felt as though it had been slammed into a wall. She staggered, not sure whether to duck or run.

  The camera's microphone had picked up her whispers when she told Frankie there had only ever been a place for him in her heart.

  The camera zoomed in on the pixie-like woman on-screen, the blowtorch in her hands sagging as she stared at on-screen Mandy like she'd just broken some major law of humanity. Mandy the villain; Blowtorch the heroine. It was as though the television producers thought Mandy wanted Frankie now that he was on TV. Superficial. Fake. Not at all like the insecure woman she'd been while standing there, baring her soul to her best friend.

  She lowered her head in shame, her face feeling as though Frankie's new girlfriend had turned the torch on her. How was she supposed to know he'd hooked up with someone?

  The person beside her wrapped an arm around her shoulder in support and whispered something she couldn't process.

  She'd been shamed on television. Shamed in the town square.

  The shame of Blueberry Springs.

  Again.

  The villain. The bad guy. When all she'd wanted was love.

  * * *

  Mandy tried ducking out of the square, but every time she got close to the edge of the crowd, someone brought her back into the fold with a hug or a gentle tug. At one point, someone slipped a spiced whiskey in her hand and she'd gladly consumed it, but the drink had done little for her inner turmoil, her abject humiliation. Nobody breathed a word about what had been witnessed on the big screen, just friendly hands gently pressing her from person to person. They were now pressing her in the direction of the stage and all she knew was that she didn't want to go anywhere near front and center unless they were sending her to a secret escape hatch.

  Her feet lifted her up the stairs, any attempts at sliding away foiled by the hands directing her. She sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders, even though her heart had torn into jagged pieces. Her head swam; her vision was broken by stars and blackness. The judges, beaming with excitement and pride, handed her the ribbon for first prize.

  "Congratulations Mandy! Eighth year in a row and with a new recipe, no less!"

  Doubt hit her straight in the gut. Was it a pity win? Or were her new brownies just as good as the old ones?

  "Will you be serving these in your new restaurant, Mandy?" asked the main judge.

  Mandy snapped to. "I'm sorry?" she asked.

  He licked his lips uncertainly and paused to lean close to the microphone again. "Well...I'd heard you were going to open independently."

  But everyone had been avoiding the topic whenever she tried to bring it up. How did he know?

  "Yes. That is the...plan."

  "So? Will you serve your new brownies?"

  Mandy assumed her businesswoman stance, head held high and back straight, despite her worn out pair of jeans and flip-flops. She hardly looked like someone to trust with a micro business loan. But then again, on the big screen she'd looked like someone else. Someone she didn't like. And what she was wearing right now was certainly more relatable for the Blueberry Springs crowd. She needed every face in this crowd to get behind her. It was time to trust herself. Trust her instincts.

  "As you may have heard," she said in a low voice and the judge nudged her closer to the mic and suggested she speak louder, "the chain I was supposed to open—Wrap it Up, a healthy fast-food alternative—is in dire financial trouble. My restaurant, which was supposed to open at the end of the month, will not be opening. It will be seized by bankers, along with Frankie's building." Her voice caught and she forced herself not to think, just to dictate everything to the crowd. "In eleven days." She looked at the crowd, who had gasped and begun murmuring. "Several other franchisees in our area are in a similar situation. In an attempt to save what Frankie and I have invested, I've teamed together with these businesswomen. We've developed a plan to get our businesses back so we can continue on, or in my case—" she gave a little smile and a pause "—open my doors, and serve the people we love the best food we can."

  Her mind went blank. Where was she going with this? Her sales pitch was turning cheesy. She needed to get to the point before she plopped down on the makeshift stage and started bawling.

  She clenched her trembling hands. The crowd already knew she'd failed. They already knew she'd asked Frankie to be hers and had been rejected. What did she have left to lose? Where could she go from here other than up? If she was at least honest with them, they could decide whether to support her or not.

  "I really want to do this. More than anything. You know how much I loved working at Benny's and I wouldn't give up working with him for anything that wasn't dear to my heart. As a waitress at Benny's—" she pointed to Benny, who was standing close to the front of the crowd "—I loved serving people. I truly enjoyed being able to serve each and every one of you." She looked to Mary Alice in the crowd, grandkids clustered around her. "After you had a long day in the store, I enjoyed being able to give you a cup of coffee and a piece of Benny's Chocolate Maven Pie. I felt as though I was able to give something back to you, a woman who has given so much to our community." She blinked back the emotion that was threatening to expose itself. She addressed Sophie, the harried mother who was now expecting number four and straining to keep her young son from storming the stage while her husband held his sister on his shoulders. "Being able to help a tired mom so she could stay on top of at least one thing in her day was gratifying. It might sound cheesy—" she gave a self-deprecating laugh "—and it kind of is! But truthfully, I love to serve people. It's my way of helping and contributing. And with Wrap it Up, I thought I might be able to do that for you in a new way with menu items that fit a variety of dietary needs. But in my heart—despite the financial issues with the chain—I knew they couldn't give you what you really wanted. So while Wrap it Up is closing its doors, I'd like to open mine—as a Wrap it Up, but with a Blueberry Springs flair. We franchisees are working to buy out the chain and go
independent. If I can raise enough money to pay off my franchise loan, I can save my investment and Frankie's building. I want to serve healthy food on the go, keep on catering for Jen's adventure tours, and have a coffee bar where you can meet up with your family and friends." She held up her ribbon with pride. "And enjoy a good brownie.

  The crowd hooted. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and glanced at the judge beside her. "But I can't do it alone," she said, her voice lacking the strength it had a moment ago. The crowd grew quiet.

  "I know I've failed so far in trying to open my own place. It's been hard." Her voice shook. "Unbelievably hard. I've lost a lot." She paused to gulp air. "And I've tried to do it without the help of Blueberry Springs, but the truth is, I need you. I need help." She looked down at her feet. If only she'd had the courage to say those words to Frankie months ago...

  "How can we help?" the judge prodded.

  She looked out at the town. How could she ask these people who had so little to help her? How could she expect them to step up and help make her dream come true? What made her so special?

  "What do you need, Mandy?" he repeated.

  "I need a loan. It's a lot to ask, I know," she apologized quickly. "But there's a website where you can make a micro loan. Even twenty-five dollars can help me open my doors. And I'll pay it back. With interest." She held her breath. She'd said it. She'd admitted she needed help. And she was still standing. Albeit on shaky legs, but she was still standing.

  The judge took the mic. "Mandy will provide Ed with the information you need in order to help her, Blueberry Springs." He glanced down at Ed, the newspaper's editor, who was standing by the steps. "Isn't that right, Ed?"