by Morgan Henry
“Your store is a success, isn’t it? It’s popular and getting more attention all the time. You have good employees. Now you’ve expanded into supplying ice cream for The Cottage. You’re respected as a responsible businesswoman around town. What more do you need? Are you trying to become the McDonalds of the chocolate world?”
“No,” Karen said, crushing the last bit of her cone in the napkin like it was a nasty insect that needed to be eradicated from the face of the earth.
“But it takes a lot of energy and effort to have your own business. I have to be on top of it all the time. I can’t allow it to fail.” She stood up and stepped away. “I’m sorry. I can’t be what you need.”
Zander leapt up and took her hand, not allowing her to go. “Hey, how do you know what we want or need? It’s not like we’ve discussed it, or even tried. You shut us down before we could get that far.” His voice was gentle as he looked into her eyes but he didn’t try to disguise the hurt.
Karen broke eye contact with him and looked at the blue waters of the bay. “I should go. We all have to work tomorrow.”
“Okay, we’ll walk you home,” Allan said as he stood, too.
They walked to the back entrance of Karen’s Kandies in the uneasy silence of people who weren’t really mad at each other, but didn’t know what to say next.
Allan knew Zander wasn’t going to let Karen just say goodnight and head up to her apartment. He watched his friend pull Karen toward him and wrap a muscled arm around her waist. Allan appreciated the way Karen’s curves fit against Zander’s body. He watched for now, waiting for his turn to feel her softness against him.
Zander lowered his lips to Karen’s. Allan was a little surprised she didn’t protest. Instead she was stiff at first, but as Zander gently kissed and licked her lips, she softened and opened for him. Allan watched Zander plunge his tongue into her mouth and coax more of a reaction from her. Allan would bet that her nipples were hard against Zander’s chest as he slowly wound up the kiss and released her. Allan was hard just from watching his best friend kiss their woman.
“My turn,” Allan murmured as Zander handed Karen to him.
Allan pressed her body against the door, caging her with his body and pressing up against her. She did feel amazing against him. Her soft breasts, belly, and hips cushioned the hard planes of his body. And yeah, her nipples were their own hard version of the wood he was getting.
The feeling of rightness in her arms was incredible. It was like the security of being at home, warm and comfortable on a winter’s night as the wind howled around the house and beat at the windows.
He could feel the bulge in his jeans rubbing against her belly and knew she felt it, too. He nuzzled her cheek and drifted over to her full lips. He felt her tremor just a little as his lips met hers. He savored the contact of their mouths, slowly increasing the friction and pressure until Karen opened to him with a little whimper.
He slipped his tongue inside her mouth. He could still taste the chocolate ice cream on her tongue, as well as a flavor he could only identify as Karen. He explored the recesses of her mouth, twining his tongue with hers. By the time he was ready to slowly withdraw, they were both panting.
He pulled off her lips but still had her pinned against the door. “That was better than I could have dreamed,” he said softly. He made sure her eyes were captured by his when he spoke, wanting her to see the truth in him.
Karen’s breathing returned to normal. She quickly glanced at each man and said quietly, “I did have a good time tonight. I’ll see you at the game next week.” She opened the door to her apartment and slipped inside.
Allan made sure he heard the lock click into place then turned to Zander. “Well, that could have gone better but I don’t think it was a total disaster.”
They started to walk back toward the truck. Zander walked quickly and stiffly, the stride of a man who wasn’t getting what he wanted and was trying to move faster just to get somewhere.
“She just won’t consider any relationship. Why is running her business more important than her happiness?”
“I don’t understand what’s going on with that, but I think we’re going to have to find out.”
Chapter 5
Karen couldn’t avoid a family visit forever.
The following Saturday night found her driving to her parent’s cottage further up the peninsula for dinner. She had left the store in the hands of Marg, her longest employee, for the final two hours before closing. Marg had Sara with her as well since Saturdays tended to be busy. There was no doubt in Karen’s mind that Marg could handle whatever came along.
Karen turned onto the side road that led to the cottage. Cottage was a relative term. The places in this area ranged from well-maintained but tiny cabins that would have two or three rooms at best, to a couple of million dollar mansions with huge docks, big boats, expensive water toys, and outbuildings for guests or staff.
Her parents place was more of a summer-home type establishment. It was a three-bedroom, year-round dwelling with a large open area in the middle that served as family room, kitchen, and dining area. It was oh-so-tastefully decorated in bland colors, minimalist furniture, and subdued fabrics. No kitschy canoe-themed knick-knacks or crossed wooden snowshoes over the mantle allowed.
There were times when Karen wanted to somehow spill red wine everywhere just to add a splash of color. The dock and boat were modest compared to the mansions, but were still well built, tasteful and appropriate for the setting.
Karen pulled into the driveway and saw her sister’s car there as well. Oh goody, she could really use a refresher course on how she didn’t measure up to her successful and perfect sister.
Karen envisioned putting on a suit of armor over her beige shorts and plain minty green blouse. She had toned down her wardrobe for full-on family fun time.
She had brought a rhubarb pie for dessert, knowing her parents would eat it because rhubarb was currently fashionable on the foodie scene right now. She had also brought a box of her chocolates as a gift, and had the foresight to bring an extra in case Mary was there.
The boxes were a generous size, holding about twenty-five of her specialty chocolates each. The boxes themselves were sturdy recycled cardboard to protect their contents with her logo embossed on the top in red. She had secured each with colorful ribbon and attached a wrapped gerber daisy candy to the middle of the bow.
She got out of the SUV and juggled her offerings in her hands, trying to find the best way to carry them and not crush everything. Finally sorting it out, she walked slowly up the path to the door.
She rang the doorbell and looked around at the small garden beside her. Even it was bland—brown mulch and three identical hostas. Boring hostas at that. Hanna had educated her a little on the astounding variety that the leafy green plants came in, and these were medium sized, medium green, largely boring hostas. They might as well be beige.
Mary answered the door. “Oh my God, let me take something!” she exclaimed, reaching for the pie balanced in Karen’s hand. She removed it, allowing Karen to shift one of the boxes of chocolates from her other hand.
“Thanks. I guess I should have made two trips,” Karen said as she stepped into the house and immediately removed her shoes.
“It’s really good to see you,” Mary said warmly. She put her arm around Karen’s shoulders. “I’ve made a huge mistake in not talking to you more often.”
Karen couldn’t speak for a moment. Was that a glimmer of tears in Mary’s eyes? She must be mistaken.
“Um, well, I could be calling you more often, too, I guess,” she finally said lamely.
They walked into the great room together.
“Karen brought this amazing smelling pie,” Mary informed the group cheerily as she waved the dish in the air.
No one got up to greet her.
“That’s nice, dear,” her mother said from her chair by the unlit fireplace, a glass of doubtlessly expensive red wine in her hand. “Wher
e did you get it?”
“I made it. A friend gave me some rhubarb from her garden this morning, so it’s as fresh as can be.”
“Well, that’s being frugal. Of course, you’d be good at that.” Bob, Mary’s fiancée, gave her one of his typically backhanded compliments.
Ah, Bob was here. Boring Bob. He went well with the boring garden, boring décor, and what was sure to be a boring dinner.
Karen stood at the entrance to the room as Mary took the pie into the kitchen. “I brought boxes of chocolates for you as well,” she said, holding out her gifts like a child knowing her handmade card wasn’t as nice as the version from Hallmark but hoping it was appreciated.
“Homemade gifts. You always did like homemade things, Karen.” Her father was lounging on the sofa with his feet up on the ottoman, a glass of what was probably whiskey by his side. He had a book open on his lap that appeared to be a textbook of some sort.
At the silence from the rest of the room, the familiar feeling of not-good-enough from childhood sucked her into its all-consuming whirlpool.
“I guess I always appreciated the effort that people put into them,” Karen responded, her tone and words carefully neutral, concealing the little stab of hurt she should have expected.
“I’ll just put these in the kitchen then.” She placed them on the little used spot by the phone on the back counter.
“Well, I appreciate them,” Mary stated firmly. “Who’s enough of a fool to turn their nose up at specialty chocolates?”
She walked over to the boxes. “Is one specifically for Mom, or does it matter?”
Karen stared at this person who was pretending to be her sister. Had she started taking happy pills or what? Had the pole been surgically removed from her ass?
“Um, no, take whatever one you want.”
Mary grabbed the one with orange and green ribbon that Karen had tied without thinking of her family’s preference for bland. The other was tied with pale yellow and white. Mary opened the package and inspected the contents.
“Hey, you even have a map!” she exclaimed, looking at the guide that Karen had printed with pictures of her chocolates and their flavors.
“You’ll spoil your dinner if you eat too many chocolates, surely,” piped up boring Bob from his position at the other end of the couch from Karen’s father.
“Oh, one won’t kill me,” Mary said, her hand waving in complete dismissal as she pored over the map and contents of the box.
“Karen certainly seems to be alive, and of a, um, healthy size. And we haven’t heard that you’ve poisoned anyone yet,” her mother noted helpfully, giving a little laugh that was meant to take the sting out of a sarcastic comment, but yet never really did.
“Nope, not yet.”
Though Karen was starting to wonder if there was any rat poison she could sprinkle on her dinner. A quick trip to the hospital for food poisoning was looking more inviting than this.
“Help yourself to some wine. Dinner won’t be too long.” LeeAnn went back to reading the journal she had in her lap.
Karen stayed in the kitchen.
“I’m assuming you’re cooking,” she said to her sister. “Do you want any help?”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it under control. Why don’t you sit down and chat while I get the broccoli started and toss the salad? I opened some white wine, do you want a glass?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
White wine was a scarcity around the Winsor’s. Her parents only drank red and didn’t bother to stock anything else for their guests. Mary must have brought it.
Mary set a generous glass of wine in front of Karen.
“So, have you two set a date yet?” Karen asked cautiously.
“No.” Mary stabbed the salad tongs forcefully into the salad. She tossed the greens vigorously for a few moments. “We haven’t.”
Okay. New topic needed.
“How’s work?” Karen asked, trying again for a safe topic.
Mary was a CPA in a big firm in Toronto. Very busy, lots of responsibility, a big-money type position.
“Fine.” More violent stabbing of helpless baby spinach.
Okay, no help there.
“Is Sammy well?”
Sammy was Mary’s cat. They had all been shocked when Mary had brought home a little orange tabby to her pristine condo. Mary loved the little rascal who turned out to have a big personality in a tiny body.
Mary stopped torturing the salad. “He’s great. He’s so cuddly and he still plays fetch with the paper balls.”
She leaned over to Karen and lowered her voice. “He pissed in Bob’s shoes the other day, though. I sent them out to be cleaned, but I haven’t told him yet. I’m hoping he won’t notice.”
Karen opened her mouth but nothing came out. Holy crap, who the hell was this woman across from her? It sure as hell wasn’t her sister, the woman who normally couldn’t unbend far enough to tie her shoes. She glanced over to the living room at the silent trio lost in their own pursuits. The urge to start laughing like a deranged hyena bubbled up insider her and she managed to quell it with great difficulty.
“Here, put these on the table.” Mary handed her the salad and broccoli and turned to grab the potatoes and chicken.
“Dinner’s ready,” she called to the rest of the family.
Karen was a little distracted through dinner. The food was tasty, if hardly original. The conversation was mostly between her parents and Bob. They were debating some academic policy at the university.
Bob had serious aspirations to lecture with her mother at the law school. Boring Bob was a corporate lawyer at the firm Mary worked at. Figures he couldn’t even be involved in interesting law, like prosecuting war criminals or something.
Okay, that was a little unfair. Not all lawyers were boring, regardless of field. It was just too easy to criticize Bob.
Certainly Sammy found it easy to criticize, but unfortunately Bob didn’t know about Sammy’s rather moist disapproval. Karen wondered what it would be like to be able to pee on something to show your dislike. What did she dislike enough to actually pee on?
She was brought out of her deep yellow thoughts by someone asking her a question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Bob asked when you expected your store to start turning a profit.” Her mother sat straight in her chair with both palms on the table, staring at Karen like she was three years old, a sure sign she was in trouble.
Karen couldn’t answer. Her three-year-old self was too busy writhing under her mother’s gaze.
At her silence, LeeAnn went on, “If you’re finally able to admit the store isn’t a viable career option, there is a place as a personal assistant at Bob and Karen’s firm you could apply for. It’s suited to your level of education.”
Now instead of feeling like the child who had been found less-than, Karen felt the thistlelike prickles of irritation abrade her soul.
“I’ve been turning a profit since six months after I opened. I may not live a lavish life, but my start-up loan is almost paid off. I turn a profit every month and my business continues to grow. You might know that if you actually bothered to visit the store. I work hard and I’ve got a thriving business to show for it.” She looked at each member of her family, then stood and took her plate to the kitchen.
“You’re right, Karen,” Mary said loudly. “I’m really sorry I haven’t visited your store before now. I checked out your website and the store looks fabulous. I’ll be stopping in tomorrow on my way back to the city.”
Karen stared at her sister across the counter that jutted into the main room, sort of separating the kitchen from the rest of the space. Her sister, normally serious and verging on cold, a carbon copy of their mother, was really acting out of character.
Mary had sat beside Karen at dinner, not Bob, and she didn’t think Mary had spoken to Bob directly all night. They must have argued and maybe this was Mary’s way of getting back at Bob. After all, Bob was the perfect addition to LeAnn a
nd Howard’s family.
“Mary, I believe we are quite tight for time tomorrow. I can’t imagine how we would be able to stop for a tour, however small the store may be.” Trust Bob to have a schedule for a weekend at the cottage.
“I plan on making the time, Bob. Since you’re so concerned about getting back to the city, you can ride with Mother and Father.” There was an edge to Mary’s voice that reminded Karen of one of those little paring knives that were small but could give you a wicked cut if you weren’t very careful.
Karen forgot her irritation as this little family drama played out in front of her. It was the first time in a very long time that she hadn’t directly been the cause of or involved in a family disagreement.
Now there was an outwardly civil conversation going on about how Bob was getting back to the city. The stiff shoulders, thin lips, napkin fussing, and avoidance of each other’s eyes told an entirely different story.
Karen gathered the plates and watched this in fascination. She wasn’t used to being on the outside of the drama and it really was like a car wreck. Looking away was like chocolate—not optional.
Mary had the final word as Karen served the pie.
“Karen opens at ten in the morning. I think I’ll be at her place at eight thirty and take her out for breakfast, then have coffee while she opens the store. The three of you can do what you want.”
She picked up her fork and took a giant bite of pie in a most unladylike fashion. “Oh my God, this is fabulous,” she said with her mouth full, spewing crumbs over the table.
Her mother’s look of horror was the funniest thing Karen had seen in a long time, rivaled only by boring Bob’s slack-jawed shock. Karen had to bend over and pretend to look for something in a cupboard to hide her silent, body-wracking laughter.
On second thought, she was glad she hadn’t poisoned herself to avoid this.
The next morning Karen received a text from her sister. Not able to stop in. Sorry. Family being asses.