by Nicole Ellis
He sighed. “I guess.” His thoughts darkened. It was irritating how she always waltzed in and expected him to drop everything for her. But she was his mother and he hadn’t seen her in a while. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, but they’d never really connected. She’d always been so busy with her own life that she didn’t have time for him.
When he hung up the phone, his mood had soured. “I’m sorry, I can’t do lunch today. Something’s come up. Maybe some other time?”
Dahlia’s face had fallen, but she said, “Okay, no problem. Thank you for all your help.” She rose from the couch and gathered her belongings.
He wanted to tell her to stay, to call back his mother and tell her he couldn’t meet her, but he couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth. He walked her to the door instead.
“You’re welcome.” He closed the door behind her.
Ever since they’d kissed, Dahlia had thought Garrett might be interested in a relationship, but he hadn’t pursued it further. Now that she was planning to stay in town, she intended to take matters into her own hands. He’d looked as though he was about to say yes to her lunch invitation until he’d received the mysterious phone call. After that, he’d been distant and she hadn’t known how to respond. Next time she saw him, she’d try again.
She called Adam at the newspaper office and found out from him that the Chamber of Commerce had the forms to fill out to join the summer market. When she got there, she was greeted by a friendly volunteer, who promptly handed her the forms.
“The deadline for this weekend passed yesterday, but you can request an exception. The contact for exceptions is on the bottom of the second page,” the middle-aged woman said.
Dahlia thanked her and left the office. When she got back to the bookstore, she sat down at the desk to fill out the forms. She wanted to have a booth at the coming weekend’s market so she looked at the second page for the person to ask for an exception.
Well, okay, this wasn’t going to happen. She flung the paperwork on the desk and buried her head in her hands.
The contact was Agnes. There was no way Agnes would make any special exceptions for her.
But then she remembered what she had told her mother about making an effort to surmount obstacles. She picked up her phone and placed the call to Agnes.
“Hi Agnes.” She hadn’t told her yet that she planned to stay in town. How would she take the news?
“Dahlia,” Agnes said. “I’m surprised to hear from you. What can I do for you?” She was surprisingly pleasant, and it gave Dahlia hope.
She took a deep breath and plunged in. “I’m staying in Candle Beach. I think I’m the best person to manage the bookstore and Ruth wanted me to be here.” She paused. “As such, I’d like to join the summer market to promote the bookstore. And I’d like to start this weekend.”
“I’m sorry, the deadline for that has already passed. You’ll need to wait another week,” Agnes said.
She mentally counted to ten before responding. “But that’s almost two weeks away. I need to get started now. What can I do to make that happen?”
“I’m sorry,” Agnes said again. “I’m not able to make an exception.”
“Not able, or not willing?” she asked, her temper flaring.
“Have a good day, dear.” Agnes disconnected the call.
Dahlia stared at her phone, tempted to throw it across the room. It seemed like every time she made an effort, Agnes was always there to throw a wrench in her plans.
Usually, she would have given up and moved on to the next thing. But this time was different. She was tired of Agnes pushing her around. She got up and stormed out of the bookstore.
Dahlia pushed open the glass door to the newspaper office. Good, Adam was in.
He circled a selection of text on a document and then put down his red pen. He smiled at her and removed his reading glasses.
“Hi.” She sat down across from him at his desk. “Are you always here?”
“No, not always,” he said. “Sometimes I sleep at home.” His eyes twinkled at his joke, but from what she’d observed, it was close to the truth. “What can I help you with?”
“How’d you know I needed something?”
“You look like you’re about to explode,” he said. He offered her a maple bacon donut and a cup of coffee. “These will help.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t had anything to eat yet that day. After leaving Garrett’s house, she’d gone straight to the Chamber of Commerce and then come to the newspaper office. She bit into the donut and the salty-sweet flavor filled her mouth, and for a moment, erased all of her troubles. “I want To Be Read to have a booth at the summer market.”
“So you’ve decided to stay in town?” he asked, regarding her shrewdly.
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
“News travels fast.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother to put out a weekly newspaper. Most things are old news by the time the paper goes out.”
She smiled. “Only the really juicy gossip. I don’t think the Ladies care much about real news.”
“True,” he said. “So what can I do to help? Did you already sign up for a booth?”
“That’s the problem. I want to start as soon as possible, but the deadline for next weekend’s market was yesterday. I tried to get an exception, but the person in charge of that is Agnes Barnes, and she refused.”
Adam laughed. “So you need me to pull some strings?” He bit into a maple bar of his own while waiting for her response. A few crumbs stuck on his lips and he brushed them off with the back of his hand.
“Would you?” She had hoped he’d offer, but she wasn’t sure he would. By the end of her first year owning the bookstore, she’d owe favors to half the town.
“No problem.” He turned around and picked up the phone from the other side of his L-shaped desk.
“Hey Kirk,” he said. “How are you and the family?” He covered the phone and smiled at Dahlia, nodding his head as the man on the other end chattered on and on.
“Say, I was wondering if you could possibly approve Dahlia Winters for a booth at the summer market? She was hoping to get To Be Read on the docket for next week, but she’s having some trouble with Agnes.” He laughed. “Yeah, she’s staying in town. So she’s all set for next Saturday?” He nodded again. “Thanks so much Kirk. Let me know if you need anything.” He hung up the phone and held up his hands.
“It’s taken care of. All you need to do is submit the paperwork directly to the Chamber of Commerce and Kirk will stamp it himself.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you, thank you.” She went around the desk and leaned down to hug him.
He awkwardly patted her back. “No problem.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
“Well, you’re friends with Gretchen Roberts, right?”
She nodded. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.
“Can you put in a good word with her for me?” He looked hopeful.
“I will.” She turned to leave. “Thank you again. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
She exited the office and did a little jump in the air. Finally, something was going right for her.
15
After she’d received her food and beverage permit and reopened the bookstore on Monday, she’d proceeded with her plans to remodel it. The handyman had promised to refinish the floors sometime that week and she’d made arrangements for him to install the espresso bar after it arrived the next week.
By Saturday, her first day at the summer market, she was feeling pretty good about things. Gretchen had volunteered to manage the bookstore for the weekend, leaving Dahlia to run To Be Read’s brand new summer market booth. She leaned back in a metal folding chair inside the booth and surveyed her surroundings. On an average summer weekday, children and dogs ran amok across the grass of the Francisco Lorenzo Memorial Park, or as the locals called it, the Marina Park, for its location just above th
e town marina. During summer market weekends, canopied tents offering a variety of wares covered half of the park. This close to the water, the briny ocean air mixed with the blossoming white gardenias that bordered the park, creating an intoxicating seaside aroma.
Tourists and townspeople alike milled around the booths, hoping to find the perfect locally crafted accent piece for their home or to fill their basket with organically grown produce. Their chatter filled the area and shop owners smiled in anticipation of big sales. A nice sunny day like this could work wonders for their bottom lines. She hoped her sales would increase as well. Unfortunately for her, mixed in with the heavenly scent of flowers and salt was a hearty dose of the meaty odor of bratwurst.
Agnes had assigned her a booth at the far corner of the market, sandwiched between a recycling coalition and the local non-profit animal shelter, on a small offshoot pathway at the edge of the food vendors. On the plus side, she didn’t have to leave her booth for long to grab lunch, but the location left much to be desired for a for-profit bookstore.
She straightened her display of bestsellers and stood as a tourist straggled over to her booth.
“Hello,” the woman said. Her tone was bright, but there were dark bags under her eyes. “I’m so glad to see there’s a bookstore in town. We arrived late last night and after I unpacked, I realized I’d forgotten to bring something to read while the kids play on the beach. If I have to spend the whole afternoon watching them bicker about the other child destroying their sandcastle, I’ll scream.” She frowned at the thought.
“Oh, no,” Dahlia said. “Well, I can help you with that. What are you looking for? I have some mysteries, some local history books, and some romances here, but I have more at my bookstore, To Be Read. It’s just up the hill.” She held up a few books, but the woman waved them off.
“Oh, this one will be fine.” She surreptitiously picked up the latest Susannah Garrity novel. Her children joined her and she flipped the book over to hide the steamy cover image.
“A very popular choice,” Dahlia said. “You know, I’ve met the author.”
“Really?” The woman’s eyes widened and she handed Dahlia her credit card. “You met Susannah Garrity?” Her children tugged at her shirt, but she brushed them off, intent on hearing Dahlia’s response.
“Yes, Susannah was very nice and accommodating. A pleasure to meet.”
“Is she as pretty as her picture? She looks so glamorous.” She had a far-off look in her eyes, as though imagining Susannah living it up at a cocktail party, surrounded by gorgeous men.
“Uh…” Dahlia said, flipping open the back cover of the book to see an image of a forty-something woman with lustrous auburn hair and full makeup.
Where did they get that photo? It definitely wasn’t Garrett. She placed the book in a paper sack emblazoned with the bookstore’s logo before answering.
“Yes, the author is quite attractive.” She tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk as she ran the customer’s credit card through her point of sale system, but the woman didn’t seem to notice her amused expression.
“Oh, I knew she would be.” She accepted her bagged book and allowed her children to drag her away.
By noon, only one other customer had made a purchase. Most of the shoppers didn’t venture off the main pathway unless they were stopping at one of the food booths. Agnes was winning again, which Dahlia didn’t like. She opted to close her booth for lunch and made a stop at the Bluebonnet Café, armed with a plan.
Dahlia’s grin stretched from ear to ear when she left the Bluebonnet Café. She carried a half dozen bakery boxes back to her booth and pushed the stacks of books to one side of the table. She opened a box and the aroma of Maggie’s freshly baked cinnamon rolls wafted out of the box. From one of the boxes, she removed a paper sign that read ‘Desserts’ and a handful of napkins. She hung the sign from the top canopy of the booth. Most of the food offerings at the market were savory, and people soon flocked to her booth for dessert. At least half of them left with a book as well. Ironically, having obtained her food license due to Agnes’s complaint to the county health department was the reason for her success.
At the end of the day, she retrieved a caramel apple muffin she’d ferreted away in an otherwise empty box and unwrapped it while surveying the other booths. The sellers appeared exhausted, but an undercurrent of satisfaction reverberated through the aisles. She bit into the muffin, savoring the crunchy brown sugar topping and the slight tang from the juicy nuggets of apple buried in each bite. Thank goodness she’d hidden the treat. Every pastry box lay empty, save a few forlorn crumbs. The baked goods had been a rousing success, drawing patrons to her booth who wouldn’t have visited otherwise.
She calculated her earnings in the bookstore’s office and was pleased with the total. What would Agnes throw at her next? Whatever it was, she could handle it.
For Sunday, Dahlia restocked her booth with a fresh supply of pastries and books. The local history books had proven popular the day before, so she doubled her inventory of those. On the way to her booth, she passed Wendy’s booth. A boldly lettered sign proclaimed her as a purveyor of hand-restored furniture and custom upholstering services. Wendy smiled and waved at her as she walked by with her armload of boxes containing books and baked goods.
After she set up her booth, she returned to see Wendy. She ran her hands across a striking carved oak end table.
“You can’t afford it, remember?” Wendy teased her.
“Yeah, yeah.” Wendy had a point. “But I already bought the best piece.” She still loved how the green velvet sofa set the tone for the bookstore. Once her handyman installed the dark espresso bar over the next week, the store’s remodel would be near completion.
“Hey, my son is stopping by this morning,” Wendy said. “I’d like for you to meet him.”
“Sure, I’d love to. I didn’t realize you had a son here in town.” Although Wendy had mentioned having family in Candle Beach, she’d been uncharacteristically secretive about them. Dahlia sat down in one of the matching blue-and-white striped high-back chairs. “When’s he coming?”
“There he is now,” Wendy said. She pointed at a man picking his way through the piles of inventory strewn throughout the aisles as the vendors set up their booths.
“Garrett Callahan is your son?” Dahlia asked. They didn’t share a last name, so she’d never have put that together on her own. What were the odds?
“Yes, why?” Wendy cocked her head to the side. “Do you know him?”
“He comes into my store every week for more books.” Had Wendy been the mystery caller?
Wendy laughed. “Sounds like my son. He always was a reader. Oh, and he’s a writer, you know.” She put her hand up to shade the side of her mouth and lowered her voice. “Although, I can’t tell you what he writes, but let’s just say he’s passionate about his work and is wildly popular.” A proud mama smile lit up her face.
Garrett approached, wearing a noncommittal expression. “Hi, Dahlia. Wendy.” He nodded at them.
“I’ve just learned Wendy is your mother,” Dahlia said. “Did she tell you she’s living in the apartment over To Be Read?”
“No, she didn’t mention that last time I saw her, or say much about why she’s here,” Garrett said. “Wendy, are you staying in town for a while?”
“I’ve decided to stay at least a few months, maybe put down some roots. Dahlia’s been kind enough to rent me her apartment until the end of September.” Wendy eyed him. “Is that okay with you?”
“Of course.” His wooden speech contradicted his affirmation. “It’ll be nice to see you living in the same place for more than a week.”
Wendy smiled faintly at him, in a very un-Wendy-like way. Then she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He stood straight, with his arms pressed to his sides.
“I’m so glad to see you again. You left so abruptly after our lunch on Monday,” Wendy said.
Garrett’s jaw clenched and irritation flicke
red in his eyes. “So what did you need me for today?”
Wendy didn’t seem to notice his attitude and motioned to the panel truck parked behind the booth. “I need help moving the last piece of furniture. I thought maybe you could help.”
“I can do that,” he said.
Wendy pulled car keys out of her pocket and walked toward the truck. Garrett turned to Dahlia. “Nice seeing you again.”
Dahlia looked at him. She’d never seen him so on edge. Usually he gave the impression of being at ease in all situations, but something about Wendy had him rattled. “Nice seeing you too,” she said with equal politeness. “Thank you again for your help with the bookstore. Maybe we could get together sometime this week to discuss some other ideas?”
“Yeah, sure.” His expression softened. “Give me a call and we’ll set something up.”
“Garrett?” Wendy called from the back of the truck. “I’m ready.”
“Coming,” he said, shaking his head.
Behind him, the other vendors had cleared their wares from the aisles and people were gathering around the market entrance. Nearby, the kettle corn vendor had started the giant rotating vat and the sound of popping corn echoed throughout the marketplace.
“I’d better head back to my booth. The market’s about to open,” Dahlia said. “I’ll call you soon.”
“I’d like that.” He smiled at her, then turned back toward his mother.
She watched as he made his way over to the truck. His muscles were tense as he strode through the grass and he held his head so stiffly she’d be surprised if he didn’t have a killer headache later.
From Wendy and Garrett’s interaction, she’d gleaned that they weren’t exactly close. She remembered him talking about his mother when he drove her home after her car broke down. He’d mentioned his mother’s flightiness and inability to stay in one place for very long. Wendy’s history fit his assessment, but she did seem to be trying to make amends for past wrongdoings.
Was Garrett painting her with the same brush as his mother? That would explain why he ran hot and cold around her. Dahlia wasn’t like Wendy and she didn’t know how to make that any more apparent to Garrett. However, she wasn’t about to change anything about herself to please someone else. She’d done that before and never would again.