He rolled down the window and called, “Do you need a lift?”
She nodded and gratefully got in.
“I was just on my way home from the grocery store when I saw you,” he explained.
“Well, thank you for stopping,” she said. “You saved my life. My feet are killing me.”
Arnie wasn’t the handsomest man on the planet. He was thin and his hair was doing a disappearing act. But he had a beautiful heart and he knew shoes. “Those are nice,” he observed, “but not exactly walking shoes.”
“I hadn’t intended to walk,” she said. She removed one of the offending heels and rubbed her aching toes. “I left a dinner engagement early.”
Arnie didn’t ask questions. He merely nodded as if that was the most normal behavior in the world. “How are you doing these days, Muriel? I haven’t seen you since the memorial.”
Samantha had told her not to talk about the business but surely that didn’t include Arnie. He knew about their loan. But did he know they were behind? Maybe not. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything. “I’m managing,” she lied. She didn’t have to tell him that she was managing to ruin everything she touched.
He looked over at her and frowned. “All right. Now, tell me how you’re really doing.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “Awful. Waldo didn’t keep up the payments on his life insurance, I’m upside down on the house…” She stopped herself there. What she’d already shared was depressing enough.
“Oh, Muriel,” he said sadly.
She sounded pathetic. How humiliating! “I’ll work things out.”
“I have a little money set aside.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t going down that road again.
“I couldn’t ask it of you, but thank you for being such a good friend.”
He wanted to be more. He’d wanted to be more well before Waldo came along. She supposed if she’d married Arnie she would never have had to worry about money. He was gainfully employed, now working as a claims adjustor for an insurance company in Wenatchee, and he could balance a checkbook. Still, that was no guarantee of stability. A man could lose his health and his mental faculties, leaving both his wife and his checkbook vulnerable. There really was only one person a woman could depend on—herself. It was time she learned that lesson.
“Isn’t that what friends are for, to help?” he countered.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to have to figure out how to fix my problems without borrowing from anyone. I could use some advice, though.”
“I’ll be happy to do that,” he said. “And if you do find yourself in a pinch, don’t hesitate to call.”
She was already in a pinch.
That will change, she told herself. Life was always changing, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. As bad as things were now, they had no way to go but up.
* * *
Samantha and Cass sat at Bavarian Brews, fortifying themselves with caffeine. “I swear I’m going to end up in a straitjacket if my daughter has anything to do with it,” Cass said.
Oh, no. Had Amber already broken her promise to reform? Samantha suddenly felt like an accomplice to a crime. Maybe she should have told Cass. If she were a mother, would she want a friend keeping this kind of information from her?
“What’s she done?” Samantha asked cautiously.
“Cut class,” Cass said in disgust.
“I can think of worse things,” Samantha said. Smoking. Shoplifting. Failing to tell a friend you’d caught her kid sampling coffin nails.
“I know.” Cass nodded. “I cut a couple of classes in my day. It’s the kids she was with. I don’t like who she’s hanging out with these days.”
Samantha didn’t, either.
“God knows what she’ll do next. By the way, she came home with a box of your chocolates. She says you gave them to her.”
“I did,” Samantha said, and hoped Cass wouldn’t ask why.
“Why? What was that about?”
“Call it a bribe.”
Cass took a sip of her mocha. “A bribe, huh?”
“Well, you were worried about her grades, weren’t you? Chocolate can be a powerful motivator.”
“There’s more to this than you’re telling me, isn’t there?” Cass was studying her as if looking for the hole in her story, and that made her squirm.
“A little,” she admitted, “and I guess I should have asked you before I gave her that chocolate.”
“No. I trust your judgment.”
That should have been a comfort but it only added to the weight of responsibility on Samantha’s shoulders. She should have ratted out Amber. She still could.
But then she remembered the look of relief on the girl’s face when she promised to give her a break. Everyone deserved a second chance, especially erring daughters who wanted to shine in their mothers’ eyes.
“We all need a mentor, I guess,” Cass said, “and sometimes a second mom. And I’ve got to admit I’ve been so crazy with the business, I haven’t given her as much attention as I should.” She shook her head. “Ever since she spent Christmas with her dad she’s been a handful.” Cass set aside her half-finished mocha and frowned. “Sometimes I want to run away from my life.”
Samantha could more than identify with that. “Living isn’t for sissies.”
Cass grinned. “Thank God for friends, that’s all I can say. And thanks for being a friend to my daughter.”
“Any daughter of yours is a friend of mine,” Samantha quipped.
But a certain fourteen-year-old had better watch her step. Samantha had enough stress in her life. She wasn’t about to let Amber add to it.
Be glad you didn’t have children, she told herself. Imagine having kid problems on top of her business woes. She’d have gone completely insane.
Or maybe not if she had a husband to help stave off the insanity, a big man with broad football shoulders to cry on.
Where had that come from? Once again she had to boot the image of Blake Preston out of her mind. Get out and stay out!
He left but she could hear him saying in an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, “I’ll be back.”
* * *
The permits finally surfaced from the sea of red tape at city hall. It was a sign, Samantha told herself. The permits were in place and the rockslide would be history. Now they just needed visitors.
If you have it they will come. At least she hoped so. “Let’s push forward aggressively,” she told her festival committee. “We need to get every service club and church signed up for a booth, as well as the restaurants. That will bring out our people and the ones from nearby towns. Who has a list of all our local artists and crafters?”
“We’ve got one on file over at the Chamber office,” Ed replied.
“Great,” Samantha said. “I think, instead of emailing, we should make phone calls. It will be more personal that way and easier to get a commitment.”
“Oh, my,” Olivia said weakly. “I’m already busy with the tea, although if this mess doesn’t get cleaned up I don’t know who’ll come.”
“I’m not good at that sort of thing,” Annemarie Huber said.
Ed shrugged. “Sorry, Samantha. The virus I had really took it out of me. I can email you the list of contacts but that’s about all I’ve got the energy for.”
After doing whatever he’d done to nudge the permits along, Ed was off the hook. Still, some of the others could pitch in. She lo
oked hopefully at Heinrich.
He shook his head. “We have several arrangements to do for Frank Reinhold’s funeral and I have two birthdays. And I’m busy planning decorations for the ball. I won’t have time to make so many calls.”
Where was everyone’s team spirit? Well, never mind. She’d rather make all the calls herself. That way she’d be sure they got done. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she said.
“I’ll help,” Cecily told her.
What would she have done without her sister? She smiled gratefully at Cecily, then asked briskly, “Okay, what else do we need to cover?”
“Publicity,” Cecily said. “I’ve sent out press releases to the papers both on this side of the mountains and in Seattle saying that the slide will be cleared in plenty of time, and I’ve called and left messages for the producer of Northwest Now. But I haven’t heard back.”
“We need to take out more ads,” Samantha said.
“Are we sure the highway will be cleared this week?” Annemarie fretted.
“It will,” Samantha assured her. That road would be cleared even if she had to get out there with a borrowed truck and haul away boulders with her bare hands.
“How much can I spend?” Cecily asked. “I checked and it’s not going to be cheap to run an ad in a Sunday paper in Seattle.”
“My goodness, that’s steep compared to our Icicle Falls paper,” Olivia said after Cecily quoted prices.
“But think how many people will see it,” Samantha countered. “We have to spend something. Much as we all love free publicity—” except when it involved embarrassing situations “—papers are more interested in printing bad news than good. If it bleeds it leads.”
“We can’t afford a fortune in advertising,” Annemarie cautioned. “Not after all the money we’ve already spent.”
But if they didn’t get the word out, they wouldn’t have any visitors. All this would wind up being for nothing. “One ad? Can we do one ad?” Samantha pushed.
Ed turned to Cecily. “Get me all the information. We’ll see what we can do. And meanwhile, keep trying to get hold of that TV producer. Now, there would be some great publicity.”
As long as no one told Bill Will that TV people were in town they’d be fine.
The meeting broke up and Samantha reminded Ed to send her the list of artists.
“Will do,” he said. “Then I’m going to go home and crash with a good book.”
No surprise there. He was Pat’s best customer. “I hope you feel better soon,” she said. “And I don’t know what you did to get those permits through, but thanks.”
He shook his head. “I’d love to take credit but I didn’t do a damned thing. I went home and hit the sack.”
“Oh. Well.”
Ed smiled. “The wheels of progress move slowly in our city hall sometimes, but they do move.”
Still, getting those permits had begun to feel like the impossible dream. So what had happened?
Who cared? They’d finally sailed across the sea of red tape and that was all that mattered. She was just grateful to whatever good fairy had helped with the crossing.
Now, if they could get people to come…
Chapter Nineteen
Every successful person encounters roadblocks, but when your family is with you, you can always find an alternate road to success.
—Muriel Sterling, When Family Matters
The Department of Transportation had the rockslide cleaned up by Thursday but the damage had been done. Most of the people who had booked rooms at the town’s B and Bs had canceled, and no one was calling in with fresh reservations.
“Our poor town,” Olivia lamented to Blake when she came in to draw money out of her savings. “First no snowpack and now this. You know, I was booked solid until this happened. Now I’m down to one couple. And Annemarie is in the same boat. So are Gerhardt and Ingrid over at Gerhardt’s Gasthaus. Samantha is trying to let people know we’re still having the festival, and her sister made I don’t know how many calls to newspapers and even that Northwest TV show, but she hasn’t had any success. And at this late date who will come?”
With the festival less than two weeks away, it didn’t look promising for the Sterlings or the town. Restaurants, B and Bs, stores—everyone was paying the price for this travel scare. But the ones Blake was most concerned about were the Sterlings. One Sterling in particular.
Samantha Sterling couldn’t seem to catch a break.
Could he catch one for her? He didn’t know if he could succeed where she and her sister had failed but he was willing to try. Heck, he owed it to them and his other bank customers to enter the publicity fray.
The next morning he was up and out the door by 4:00 a.m., headed for Seattle. Sometimes phone calls weren’t enough. Sometimes it took a little face time to make things happen.
* * *
“Have you seen the Seattle paper, chica?” Elena greeted Samantha when she came to the office on Friday.
Samantha didn’t care if she ever saw another newspaper again. But Elena was smiling, so it couldn’t be bad news.
“Look,” she said, holding it out. “It’s on page two but that’s okay.”
Samantha took the paper. The words in big print above the article made her eyes pop. D.O.T. Clears Up Pass in Time for Town’s Festival. “Oh, my gosh,” she gasped. Free publicity—it was a miracle!
It appears chocolate-lovers will be able to get over the pass to enjoy the chocolate festival scheduled to take place in Icicle Falls the weekend before Valentine’s Day, after all, thanks to the Department of Transportation crews working overtime. A major rockslide recently made it a challenge for travelers going over the pass via Highway 2, but D.O.T officials say the pass is once more clear for travel. “We’re open for business,” says Ed York, Icicle Falls resident and owner of D’Vine Wines. Ed’s business is one of many participating in the upcoming festival.
“Not bad, eh?” Elena said again.
Ed must have contacted the paper. Go, Ed!
Samantha’s lips tugged upward. What was that unusual movement? Oh, yes, a smile, the first one she’d managed in days, and it felt fabulous.
She went into her office and started emailing. The clock was ticking and she had a festival to promote. Thank God.
She was in the middle of putting a tweet on Twitter when Elena buzzed her. “The producer of Northwest Now is on line two and wants to know if you’ll do an interview about the company and how you got the idea for the festival.”
Would she!
On Monday it was lights, camera, action as the film crew from Northwest Now hit town. Samantha had asked Mom and Cecily to join her, partly for family solidarity, partly as an olive branch to Mom. She’d been pretty hard on her mother the past month, and considering how sweet Mom had been it grated on her conscience. This seemed like one way Samantha could make that up to her.
So now here they sat in the gift shop on soda fountain chairs borrowed from Cass’s bakery with piles of chocolate boxes for a backdrop, lights and cables everywhere, about to talk to Kiki Long, host of Northwest Now. Kiki looked impressive in her red suit but she couldn’t hold a candle to Cecily, who was pretty in a pink cashmere sweater and dress jeans, or Mom, who was wearing a pencil skirt and cream-colored silk blouse accented with gold jewelry. Samantha had opted for her favorite embroidered green jacket over a white blouse and jeans—Icicle Falls business casual. She still could hardly believe that their luck had turned a
nd this was happening.
Now, if she just didn’t blow the interview. She’d never been on TV and her deodorant was working overtime.
“Don’t look at the camera,” Janice, the producer, instructed them. “Just make eye contact with Kiki.”
Samantha nodded and swallowed in an effort to hydrate her dry throat.
“And smile,” Janice added, giving her arm a pat. “This is supposed to be fun.”
Yes, fun. Relax. She glanced over at her mother. Mom was as serene as the Mona Lisa. Of course, she’d done this sort of thing before. She’d had a radio interview with a Seattle station when her last book came out.
She smiled encouragingly at Samantha and Cecily and said, “Think how proud your Great-grandma Rose would have been.”
That made Samantha smile. Yes, Great-grandma, we’re still hanging in there fighting.
The camera started rolling and Kiki kicked off the interview by sampling a lemon-white-chocolate truffle. Her reaction was worth a fortune in advertising dollars. Her eyes widened and she actually groaned. “Oh, my God, this is amazing,” she said, fanning herself in typical dramatic Kiki fashion.
“That’s actually my mother’s recipe,” Samantha said. Before she channeled her creativity into writing, Mom had contributed a recipe or two. Unlike her eldest daughter, who was obviously recipe-challenged.
“So tell me about your company,” Kiki began. “Is it true that your great-grandmother, who started it, literally dreamed your first recipes?”
And with that they were off. Mom was charming, Cecily was beautiful and Samantha couldn’t stop smiling. What woman, seeing their cute pink boxes and bonbons wrapped in gold foil and secured to little satin pillows with magenta bows, wouldn’t want to visit the gift shop or go online and order Sweet Dreams Chocolates? They talked about the company, about Icicle Falls and, of course, the festival.
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