Читать книгу Better Than Chocolate - Sheila Roberts - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Your biggest asset is your family.

—Muriel Sterling, Mixing Business with Pleasure: How to Successfully Balance Work and Love

Two hours later, friends and extended relatives had exhausted themselves on the topic of Waldo and consumed all the potato salad and cold cuts. The party was over. Sent on their way with one final hug from Olivia Wallace and a paper plate containing half a dozen lemon bars, the three sisters and their mother stepped outside to a cold, cloudless night.

Mom looked as drained as Samantha felt. Only Mom’s exhaustion was from pure grief. Samantha’s was contaminated by a less pure mixture of feelings.

“I’ll follow you guys back to the house,” she said, and went in search of her car.

It was now five-thirty on a Friday afternoon and the old-fashioned lampposts along Center Street stood sentinel over a downtown shopping area about to go to sleep for the night. Nearby restaurants like Zelda’s and Schwangau would open for business, but here, on what the locals dubbed Tourist Street, the shops were closed and only a smattering of cars remained.

Samantha loved their little downtown, its park with the gazebo and multitude of flower beds, its cobbled streets edged with quaint shops, the mountains standing guard over it. Normally this time of year the mountains would have worn a thick blanket of snow, and both cross-country and downhill skiers, as well as snowboarders, would be in town for the weekend, shopping, eating in the restaurants, enjoying the little outdoor skating rink and admiring the Bavarian architecture. But these days there were few visitors. It had been a lean year for snow. Heck, it had been a lean year, period, and several once-thriving shops were now shuttered.

Businesses going under—don’t even think about that.

Too late. That was all it took to make her angry once more about her own company’s troubles and she had to remind herself that her world, unlike her mother’s, had not come to an end. Somehow she’d manage to pull the business from the brink but Mom would never have her husband back. This was the second one she’d lost in five years. What was that like, to be in love and happy and lose it all not once but twice? Samantha thought back to her own romantic troubles and realized she had no point of reference. She could only imagine.

She needed to be a supportive daughter, lock any negative thoughts inside her head and keep her big mouth shut. Mouth shut, mouth shut, mouth shut. She chanted it for the last several steps to her car. Then she got in, closed the door and said it one more time. “Mouth shut.” Okay. She was ready.

She got to the house to find Cecily starting a fire in the big stone fireplace, the sound of crackling cedar already filling the great room. Bailey was arranging cards along the mantelpiece where Waldo’s ashes reposed in a brass urn, while in the kitchen Mom made tea. The plate of lemon bars sat on the granite countertop. It was a regular postwake party.

Bailey turned at the sound of the door and knocked the urn, making it wobble and their mother gasp. Fortunately, Cecily grabbed it before it could tip.

“Sorry,” Bailey said.

Mom shot a look heavenward. “Put him on the hearth, honey.”

Cecily nodded solemnly and moved Waldo to safety.

Samantha shed her coat and hung it in the closet, then forced herself to walk to the kitchen and ask her mother if she needed help.

Mom shook her head, her gaze riveted on the mugs lined up in front of her on the counter. “Would you like some tea?”

The offer came out stiffly. No surprise. The way they’d been not getting along lately, she could almost envision her mother lacing hers with arsenic. “No. Thanks.”

She suddenly longed for the comfort of her little one-bedroom condo at the edge of town, where she’d find no emotional undercurrents and the new man in her life would be waiting to welcome her—Nibs, her cat. Everyone would be fine here without her. Mom had Cecily and Bailey to keep her company and listen to her Waldo stories. And they could do it guilt-free.

“I think I’ll take off.”

“Stay for a little while,” Mom said.

Or not. Samantha nodded and went to slump on the couch.

“Tea is ready,” Mom announced. Cecily and Bailey both picked up their mugs and returned to join their sister, Cecily taking up a position on the couch next to Samantha and Bailey settling on the hearth beside Waldo.

Mom followed and sat on the yellow leather chair she always read in. She took a sip of her tea, then set the mug on the coffee table, laid back her head and sighed deeply. “I just want you girls to know how much I’ve appreciated the moral support. I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that Waldo is gone.”

“He’ll be missed,” Bailey said.

“Yes, he will,” Mom agreed, giving Samantha a look that dared her to say any different.

No way was she taking that dare. “I need a lemon bar,” she muttered.

“Never mind that. Let’s get the hard stuff,” Cecily said. “Break out the chocolate.”

But there wasn’t so much as a shaving of chocolate in the house. Mom had gone on a binge. So Bailey stayed with her while Samantha and Cecily made a run to the shop.

Sweet Dreams Chocolate Company occupied prime real estate a few streets back from Center Street on a block the locals nicknamed Foodie Paradise. Across from them was Gingerbread Haus, Cassandra Wilkes’s fantasy bakery, specializing in fanciful baked goods. At Christmas she was swamped with orders for her gingerbread houses and shipped them all over the world. Next to that was the Spice Rack, which carried every exotic spice known to man. Every time the door opened, the scent of lavender or sage drifted out to tickle noses and tempt shoppers inside, and whenever she was in town Bailey practically lived there. On the other side of Gingerbread Haus sat Bavarian Brews, where everyone went to chitchat and indulge in great coffee—very convenient when Samantha needed a quick pick-me-up. Down the street they could see Schwangan’s, a five-star restaurant and another popular destination. Its owner and head chef, Franz Reinholdt, made a mean schnitzel.

The Sterlings had the biggest piece of land, though—so far, anyway—and an inspiring view, with their second-story offices looking down on the town from one side and out over the Wenatchee River from the other. The factory and retail store occupied a full block. The warehouse, part of the company’s pre-Waldo expansion, occupied another. It should have been full of a lot more supplies and inventory than it currently was. Sigh.

Samantha unlocked the store, flipped on the light and turned off the alarm as Cecily strolled in.

“Sometimes I miss this place,” Cecily said, taking in the gift shop with its various shelves and display tables of treats. There was plenty to drool over—goodie bags of enrobed fruit, chocolate-dipped apples, potato chips and cookies, boxes of mixed chocolates, gift boxes of salted caramels, cognac truffles made from Great-grandma Rose’s secret recipe, fudge and hot fudge sauces (Mom’s contribution to the line) that ranged from spicy Mexican to chocolate mint. Over in the corner under the TV that played a video feed of the gang in the factory hard at work, shoppers could find all manner of nonedible goodies, including candy dishes, chocolate scented candles, little kitchen signs with chick-centric statements like “The Best Kisses Are Chocolate” and “I’d Give Up Chocolate but I’m No Quitter.”

“You can take the girl out of the chocolate company but you can’t take the chocolate out of the girl,” Samantha teased, snagging a box of truffles and walking over to the cash register. “Have you got any money? All I have on me is a five.” And she was lucky to have that.

Her sister looked at her in shock. “Since when do we have to pay?”

“Since we went broke.” Samantha held out a hand, palm up.

Cecily frowned and dug out her wallet. “I have to pay for chocolate from my own company? This sucks.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“Keep the change,” Cecily said, and handed over a twenty.

“Thanks. I will.”

“It really is bad, isn’t it?”

“No,” Samantha said firmly. Maybe if she said it enough she’d believe it.

As a little girl she’d loved hearing the stories of how Great-grandma Rose started the company in her kitchen, of the recipes that literally came to her in her dreams, how she and her husband, Dusty, used their life’s savings to buy this piece of land and build a modest shop back when Icicle Falls was nothing but a rough-and-tumble collection of mismatched buildings. Sweet Dreams wasn’t just a company. It was a family legend. It was also a source of income for thirty families and she was going to pull them out of this tailspin no matter what it took.

Cecily leaned on the counter and gave her an assessing stare. “Are you lying to me?”

“Yes, but things could be worse. We still have inventory.” Samantha stowed away the money, then opened the box, pulled out a truffle and popped it in her mouth. It hit her taste buds like a drug and she let the sweetness travel over her tongue. She could almost feel a troupe of endorphins doing a happy dance through her body. A girl could bite off even the biggest challenge if it was coated in chocolate.

“So what are we going to do besides eat the inventory?” Cecily asked.

Cecily had been the one dissenting voice way back when they’d talked about taking out a loan and expanding the company, ignoring both Samantha’s charts and Dad’s confidence. At the time Samantha had accused her of a lack of vision.

That was both ironic and stupid, she now had to admit, since Cecily had uncanny instincts. In high school she could always sense a surprise quiz lurking around the corner, and she knew when her sisters were going to break up with their boyfriends long before they ever had a clue. After Dad died, she’d predicted Mom would be remarried within the year. She’d only been off by a few months.

But when it came to business Samantha had prided herself on her expertise and bulldozed over all objections, dreaming big and ready to gamble big, and Dad had backed her. Now, between her ambition and the disaster that was Waldo, she was in danger of losing big. Her father’s confidence had been sadly misplaced. Suddenly the box of truffles was looking all wavy, like they were underwater. She blinked and a tear dropped on the counter.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” Cecily said. “You’ll sort things out. I know you will.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Do you really believe that or are you trying to make me feel good?”

“A little of both. Meanwhile, though, maybe you could talk to Arnie over at the bank, see what he can do?”

“Arnie’s on his way out.”

Cecily blinked. “What?”

“I heard Cascade Mutual is bringing in a new manager. I have no idea what that person will be like.” Maybe he’d turn out to be as nice as Arnie. She could hope. But realistically, she suspected that the good old days of having a community bank that cared were gone. Arnie had cared a little too much, which had a lot to do with why the bank was under new management.

Cecily twirled a lock of blond hair. “Maybe I could get a loan.”

“No,” Samantha said. “We could be on the Titanic here and if we are, I don’t want you going down with us.”

“We’re family and this is a family business. We stick together. Remember?”

“Thanks.” Her sister’s words were comforting, but when it came right down to it, Samantha was both captain and crew of this ship and steering clear of disaster was going to be her responsibility.

“I’m sure I could come up with something,” Cecily insisted.

L.A. was not a cheap place to live and do business, and Samantha had no intention of saddling her sister with a big chunk of debt. Anyway, Cecily would never be able to come up with the kind of money they needed. “I’ll manage.”

“You always do, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this alone. After all, I still owe you for stealing your diary,” Cecily said with a smile.

Samantha couldn’t help smiling, too, at the memory of finding her sister reading her deepest twelve-year-old thoughts to her friends. Pretty darned funny now. Not so much at the time. “You were lucky you lived to see middle school.”

Cecily sobered. “I want to do something to earn my share of the profits when they start coming in again.”

“If I think of something, I’ll let you know,” Samantha told her, but they both knew she didn’t really mean it. She’d already had one person—Waldo—“helping” and that was enough for a lifetime.

Cecily reopened the box and bit into a truffle, then offered another to Samantha. “I know things will turn around.”

“I hope you know as much as you think you know,” Samantha said. Otherwise… Oh, no. She wasn’t going down that rocky road. Not yet, anyway.