Sweet Beginnings

by Nicole Ellis

  No matter how hard she tried to calm her thoughts, she couldn’t forget the sadness on Wendy’s face when she spoke about her son. Before she could help herself, she blurted out, “Maybe you could have a real talk with your mother while she’s in Candle Beach and discuss everything in your past.”

  He pulled away from her and looked out to sea. She stiffened. What had she done? She hadn’t meant to upset him. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “She wants to make things better between the two of you,” she said, watching him carefully. “Maybe you should give her a second chance…” Her voice trailed off as the expression on his face turned stormy.

  In carefully measured tones, he turned to her and said, “My relationship with Wendy is complicated. Too complicated for you to understand.”

  “But you could try? People do change, you know.”

  “People don’t change.” He slid off the log and planted his feet in the sand.

  She looked down to where he stood. “People do.”

  “No, they don’t. Thank you for the nice evening, but I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”

  She followed him with her eyes as he walked down to the shoreline with his hands in his pockets. He continued on down the beach until he became nothing more than a black streak highlighted against the waves glittering in the moonlight.

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. The fullness of success she’d felt earlier had evaporated, leaving only a hollow pit in its absence.

  What did he mean by “people don’t change”? If he didn’t believe that, what did he truly think about her? He’d once accused her of being flighty and compared her to a woman she’d later learned was his mother. Now that she’d decided to stay in Candle Beach, had his opinion changed? And if it had changed once, would it change again?

  Just when she thought life had started to even out, it had suddenly become more complicated. She packed up the remains of her snack and trudged up the steep flight of stairs. She arrived at her house without even registering the rest of the walk. After stashing the food in the fridge, she flopped down on her bed. Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it did, it was full of nightmares about growing old alone.

  17

  The next morning, bleary-eyed and badly in need of a cup of coffee, Dahlia stopped in at the Bluebonnet Café. Maggie was manning the cash register, never seeming to lose her cool as the line continued to grow. In the lobby and the main dining room, townspeople huddled in groups, chatting about something. One woman pointed out the window in response to whatever her companion had said.

  When Dahlia reached the front of the line, Maggie handed her a to-go cup of coffee before she had a chance to order. “Thanks. What’s everyone talking about?”

  Maggie brushed an errant curl away from her eyes and stopped what she was doing.

  “Oh, it’s awful. You know how Wendy parks her truck in the lot across from the bookstore?” Her eyes widened and she leaned in toward Dahlia.

  “Yeah, what about it? I told her it was okay to park there. Did someone complain about it?” Dahlia wasn’t surprised that Maggie and everyone else in town already knew Wendy, but even in Candle Beach a parking violation wasn’t big news.

  “Someone vandalized it,” Maggie said.

  “You’re joking, right? In Candle Beach?” she asked, although she could tell from Maggie’s expression that it wasn’t a joke. “Do they know who did it?”

  “Probably kids or some drunken tourists,” Maggie said. “Do you want your usual?” She moved over to the bakery case and picked up the tongs as she waited for Dahlia to respond.

  “No, I think I’ll go with a sausage roll today. I’ve had enough sweets for a while. Can I get an extra cup of coffee and a Danish for Wendy? She probably hasn’t had a chance to eat yet today. I feel so bad for her. That truck is how she makes a living.” A thought occurred to her. “Oh no, did they get the furniture in it too?” Wendy had told her she’d sold most of her inventory at the summer market, but Dahlia would bet she’d left any remaining pieces in her truck overnight instead of unloading them. She handed Maggie her credit card.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie said as she swiped the card through the reader. “I’ve heard bits and pieces from customers today, but haven’t seen the damage myself. We’ve been slammed with business. Everyone seems to be out and about today.” She sighed. “You know how things are in Candle Beach. Something like this is big news.”

  Dahlia nodded. “Thanks Maggie.” She grabbed the bag of pastries and the two cups of coffee. “Hey, do you want to have dinner or lunch together sometime this week?”

  Maggie smiled and nodded yes before greeting the next customer in line.

  Dahlia knew exactly where Wendy parked her truck, but she wouldn’t have needed to guess if she hadn’t. A crowd of people had gathered around the truck and one of the two Candle Beach police cars was parked near it. Adam milled around near the police car, snapping pictures of the truck and the surrounding crowd.

  When she grew closer to the truck, she gasped at the damage. The front windshield had been smashed and chunks of safety glass covered the pavement like glittery green pebbles. The perpetrator had slashed the two left tires and the truck leaned drunkenly to that side. Wendy stood next to a police officer, talking animatedly, but Dahlia didn’t want to bother her.

  She circled the truck. Other vehicles were parked near it in the lot, but none of them appeared to have been damaged. Wendy’s furniture truck had been singled out. What was going on here? Did someone have it out for Wendy as a newcomer to town? Or was it completely random?

  While she was deep in thought considering the possible vandals, Wendy tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Aah!” She jumped and accidentally jostled the coffee cups she held in her hands. Drops of the dark brew splashed on the ground.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Wendy’s green eyes were dull and rimmed with red, and her bouncy curls hung in a tangled mess down her back.

  “No worries.” She handed Wendy a cup of coffee and a Danish and used a napkin to wipe off her hands.

  “Thanks,” Wendy said. “I came out to the truck this morning before breakfast to get some paperwork and I found this.” She waved her hand at the broken glass. “I haven’t had a chance to eat yet today. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “Wendy, I’m so sorry. This is awful,” Dahlia said, scanning the mess again. “Do the police have any clue who did this?”

  “No, at least not that they’re telling me. I know this type of thing probably isn’t high on the police department’s radar.”

  “Maybe not in a big city, but in Candle Beach, this is huge. This will make the front page of the Candle Beach Weekly for sure,” Dahlia said. “Did you hear anything from the apartment last night?” She looked up at the apartment over the bookstore. The parking lot across the street was close enough that Wendy may have heard the glass breaking through the open window.

  “No, I had headphones on and was listening to a new Tibetan meditation track,” Wendy said. “I woke up feeling so relaxed, and then I found this.” She frowned at her mangled truck.

  “I’m so sorry. I feel responsible, since I brought you to Candle Beach and everything.”

  Wendy hugged her. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. These things happen.” She added with false cheer. “And insurance will cover it, so everything will be fine.”

  “Did they get to your furniture in the back?” The back of the truck had been closed when she looked at it, but there appeared to be scratches around the lock.

  “No, thank goodness, I’d locked it. The police said they’d tried to pry open the door handle, but they were unsuccessful. Someone may have scared them off.”

  “Well, that’s one good thing,” Dahlia said. “I know you’ve put hours into each of those pieces of refinished furniture.” She used her foot to grind dirt into the cracked pavement of the parking lot. “Did you call Garrett about it?”

  �
��I called him, but he didn’t answer.” Wendy’s face fell. “Not that I expected anything different.” She grabbed Dahlia’s arm. “Let’s talk about something happier. Isn’t your espresso bar going in today?” She guided Dahlia over to the bookstore entrance, and Dahlia unlocked the door.

  “It is,” she said. She flipped on the lights and smiled with pleasure when she saw the store. The floors gleamed in the daylight, creating a warm glow throughout To Be Read. “Do you want me to tell Garrett about your truck if I see him?”

  “Nah.” Wendy waved her hand in the air. “It’s not a big deal. Probably better if he doesn’t know.”

  “Okay.” It seemed like a big thing to her, but she didn’t want to get in between Wendy and her son when their relationship was already tenuous.

  “I hope you have a wonderful sales day,” Wendy said. “Now that the police have finished with the truck, I’m off to find someone to fix the windshield and replace the tires. And once that’s done, I need to find some furniture in need of reupholstering if I want to have something to sell at next week’s market.” She waved goodbye and strode off toward the back room.

  At six o’clock on the dot, Dahlia flipped over the sign on To Be Read’s front window. The store was closed for the day, but she planned to work on some new book orders. Before she reached her office, someone rapped on the front door. She paused in the entry to the back room, trying to see from there if it was someone she knew.

  “Dahlia, it’s me,” Garrett called out.

  What was he doing here? After he’d stalked off at the beach last night, she hadn’t been sure she’d see him again. She crossed over to the door and unlocked it, holding it open for him.

  He stepped inside and presented her with a bouquet of red roses. Her pulse quickened. Was he giving her another chance?

  She inhaled their fragrant aroma and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk. I know you were only trying to help.” He stared down at his feet. “As you may have noticed, things between my mother and I are a bit strained.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business either,” she said. “Apology accepted.”

  “I was hoping you might want to have dinner with me tonight.”

  She looked over her shoulder toward her office. The orders could wait. “I’d like that. What were you thinking for dinner?”

  “The Seaside Grill?” he suggested. “It’s a nice evening.”

  “Works for me.”

  He reached for her hand and wrapped his fingers around her palm. His touch sent bursts of happiness through her body. She gazed at him for a moment as they walked down the hill toward the Seaside Grill. Candle Beach had brought some good changes to her life. A business on its way to success, and a new relationship.

  At the restaurant, they opted to sit at one of the outdoor patio tables. A blue umbrella shaded them from the sun and a gentle breeze came off the water. After placing their dinner orders with the waitress, Dahlia leaned back in the wrought iron chair, enjoying the warmth and the view of the ocean.

  “Are you glad you stayed?” he asked her.

  Her eyes locked with his. “I am.”

  He smiled. “Me too.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes while looking out to sea, both of them enjoying the atmosphere and company. The urge to tell him about his mother’s truck being vandalized kept welling up inside of her. She managed to quash it, but felt more and more uncomfortable about not telling him. She didn’t want to jeopardize their new relationship by keeping it from him, but she didn’t want to betray Wendy’s confidence either.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” He reached across the table and put his hand on her arm.

  She trailed her gaze back to him. “Sorry. I was thinking about everything I still want to do with the bookstore.” Her stomach twisted. There it was, another lie. If Wendy didn’t tell him about the break-in, she wasn’t sure how long she could keep it secret from him.

  “Is there anything I can do to help? I’m a little ahead on my editing and I’d love to help out.”

  He was being so nice that it completely tied her stomach up in knots. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to eat the shrimp pasta she’d ordered.

  “I was thinking about painting the walls tomorrow. Tuesdays are slow at the bookstore and I’m going to close early. Are you up for it?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be there around four if that works for you.”

  “Well, thanks. I appreciate the help.”

  The waitress brought their food. He dug into his steak, but she couldn’t do much more than twirl strands of angel hair pasta around her fork and take tiny bites.

  “Do you not like your pasta?” he asked. “Would you rather have some of my steak and veggies?”

  She smiled. He was so sweet. Why had she ever doubted this guy?

  “No, it’s good. I’m just not very hungry tonight. I’m sure the leftovers will make a great lunch for me tomorrow.”

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said. “So how was your first summer market weekend?”

  “It was great.” She sighed. “You and my friends were right. I think it will really help promote the bookstore to tourists.”

  A self-satisfied grin crossed his face. “I’m glad.”

  He asked her more questions about the summer market and she relayed the story of the woman who asked about Susannah Garrity. As expected, he got a big chuckle out of it.

  After finishing dinner, they walked up the hill to their homes. She paused in front of his cottage. “Thanks for dinner.”

  He put his hand on the small of her back, turning her away from his house. “You may live close by, but I’m still making sure you get home okay.”

  She wasn’t going to complain. Being with him tonight had been wonderful and she didn’t want it to end. They’d both been careful to avoid any talk of Wendy during dinner and she didn’t intend to change that anytime soon. She’d learned her lesson to stay out of his personal business, and had decided that extended to not telling him about the vandalism of Wendy’s truck. His mother would tell him when she was ready.

  Soon, they were standing on her porch.

  “Do you want to join me out here for a while?” she asked him. “The night is so beautiful that I don’t want to turn in yet. I could make coffee or open a bottle of wine.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Wine would be nice, thank you.” He followed her inside the house.

  They returned to the porch with glasses of white wine and she snuggled up against him on the porch swing. There was something magical about being out in the evening with the sun down, the streets quiet, and the crashing of the waves on the beach. He put his arm around her, pulling her even closer.

  The next afternoon, Garrett showed up at the bookstore ready to paint.

  “Nice jeans.” Dahlia laughed. She’d never seen him wear anything so disheveled. His denim jeans were covered with paint splotches and there were holes in the knees. His white undershirt wasn’t any better, although it did emphasize his biceps, which she couldn’t help noticing.

  “What, you don’t like my best Sunday clothes?” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed in amusement.

  “Let me change into my painting clothes.” She closed the shop and went into the bathroom to put on her full-length overalls and a tank top. She tugged her hair back into a ponytail and checked out her reflection in the mirror. Not too bad. Although they hadn’t been dating long, she felt more comfortable with him than she had with her ex-husband. There was something about Garrett that put her at ease.

  She lugged the two large cans of paint she’d bought in Haven Shores back into the main room. It was strange to think that it hadn’t been that long ago that she was still mad at him, although now that she looked back on it, him picking her up in the storm had been the turning point in their relationship. He’d made her realize that while she didn’t need to bow down to anyo
ne else’s ideas for her future, there was room for compromise in any relationship. She set the paint down in front of him.

  “So what colors do you have for us today?” he asked. “Chartreuse? Neon pink?”

  She slugged him lightly on the arm. “Ha-ha, very funny.” With a spackling knife, she opened up the paint cans, revealing the turquoise and baby-blue shades she’d selected. “I thought the tourists would appreciate the sea-like colors.” She shrugged. “Plus, they’ll brighten the store and offset the dark espresso bar nicely.”

  He nodded. “I like it. Where should we start?”

  She pointed at the wall behind the cash register. “Here. Let’s go with the turquoise.”

  They’d covered the floor with plastic and painted half the wall when she caught him eying her brushstrokes.

  “What?”

  He stopped painting. “Nothing.”

  “I can tell you want to say something. Spit it out.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything, but have you thought about blending the strokes more? It looks a little streaky in places.”

  She stared at him, her blood starting to boil. Was he really trying to tell her how to paint her own store? This was her project. To calm herself, she took a deep breath and stepped back. He was just trying to help. And from this angle, she had to admit, his side did look nicer. He may have a point.

  “I’ll try it. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He smiled at her and went back to work.

  They finished painting the wall and she stepped back to admire their handiwork. “Looks good. Time for a break?” she asked.

  “Gladly.” He set his brush down on the paint tray.

  She gave him an evil grin and flicked him with paint.

  “Really?” He wiped paint off his face, smearing it in the process.