Love Finds You in Hershey, Pennsylvania (2 page)

“Sadie. Just call me Sadie, all right, Jimmy?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t notice. With a toss of her long chestnut hair, she whirled on her heel and headed to the kitchen door, stopping to stare out the clear oval frame at the restaurant’s main dining room.

Where was I? Oh yes…Dmitri.

At first she had feared he was another food critic. There had been a whole slew of them the first week she’d opened. It seemed everyone wanted to critique the very first restaurant endeavor of the renowned Sadie Spencer.

Well,
minimally
renowned, maybe. After all, she’d briefly had her own cooking show, and her two cookbooks had competed moderately well on the big market. She had thought of herself as up-and-coming before…well, that had been nearly five years ago. Now she was simply Sadie Spencer once more—back at square one and working her way up the ladder to her dreams. Her restaurant venture was just over one year old and so far a great success…except for Dmitri Velichko.

Once she had realized that Dmitri was not a food critic come to criticize her efforts, she had simply assumed him to be one of her restaurant’s biggest fans. The modest-sized café in her hometown of Hershey, Pennsylvania, drew all sorts of customers—locals and tourists alike, though she’d never had a regular customer who set female hearts to fluttering quite like Dmitri did. In a town where chocolate reigned supreme, Dmitri was considered an extra-sweet treat. Until yesterday, that is.

Sadie had known Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jones from her preschool days, when they cotaught her Sunday school class at the Holy Water Evangelical Church. For as long as she could remember, the two had possessed an exasperating knack for eroding her confidence and showering pessimism on any sunny moment that came her way. She suspected it was all because of the time when, at seven years of age, she had been asked in front of the entire congregation who was older than Methuselah. In retrospect, maybe “Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jones” hadn’t been the right answer.

But twenty-two years later, one would have thought it wouldn’t matter any longer. Still, whatever the reason, Smith and Jones seemed to go out of their way to rile Sadie. She supposed that at their age they didn’t have many other forms of entertainment.

Being two of her most regular customers, they took every advantage of their self-appointed positions as chief tormentors of Sadie’s life. Every Tuesday at precisely twelve noon, the two shuffled in and took up residence in the corner booth, beneath the display of butterfly suncatchers, and ordered their usual—the roast-turkey-and-spinach panini with garlic red lentil soup and an extra pickle with one glass of water and one cup of peach tea for Mrs. Smith and the same, minus the pickles, for Mrs. Jones. The two routinely turned up their noses at dessert, having informed Sadie long ago that her range of confectionery delights was not quite suited to their discriminating palates.

Sadie snorted at the memory and slipped out the kitchen door to keep a closer eye on her Russian adversary.

It had been at 12:49 p.m. yesterday when Smith and Jones were working their way through the dregs of their teas and Dmitri Velichko had shadowed the doorway of Sadie’s restaurant. For three weeks, he had been coming and going at any hour of day or evening for a meal and a mug of coffee. That day, however, his appearance sent the old ladies tittering with delight.

Wiping down the table beside them, Sadie had rolled her eyes at their reaction. Sure, Dmitri’s darkly handsome looks made quite the impression on the teenage waitresses, but Smith and Jones were pushing eighty-four and eighty-six, respectively. Sadie had shrugged at this thought.

“You’re dead if you stop looking,” she had once heard them say.

It was the thread their conversation began to weave, however, that caused her to linger over the table, tidying the salt and pepper shakers and carefully arranging the sugar packets.

“Russian, you know,” Smith was saying.

“His parents, yes,” Jones corrected. “However,
he
was born in America.”

Smith’s bristly gray brows rose a notch. “Are you sure, dear? His accent sounds pure European, if you ask me.”

Jones had remained adamant. “I heard someone ask him the other day at the grocer’s. That young girl on checkout 12 who’s always flirting with any man under fifty-five.” Jones clicked her tongue in disapproval.

Looking was never a crime, but apparently flirting was.

“It would seem that his parents came over from Russia before he was born. After his birth, they saved money to have his grandparents brought over, as well. Comes from the big city, as I hear it.”

Smith’s eyes widened. “However did he end up here?”

Jones slurped the last of her tea and daintily placed the cup back on its saucer. “Apparently smaller town life appeals to him.” She leaned in conspiratorially, and Sadie took a decided interest in the tabletop she was wiping, leaning down and over to catch what was being said.

“He’s opening up an eatery of some sort. The place just across the street.” Jones had cackled. “Likely to send Sadie into a straitjacket when she finds out! You know how she hates competition.”

Straightening up, Sadie coughed. Jones glanced over her shoulder and did not appear in the least surprised.

“Oh, Sadie dear, hello. We won’t be needing anything but the check, thank you.”

Sadie plastered a smile on her lips. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in the dessert menu? Just this once, ladies?”

Smith shook her head. “No thank you, dear. You know your confections are simply too rich for our preference.” She placed a thin, bony hand to the side of her mouth and whispered loudly, “Have to watch our figures, you know.”

“And our blood sugar,” Jones added.

Sadie glanced into the mirror above their heads where a flock of butterfly suncatchers reflected the afternoon light. She checked her reflection to be certain her smile remained tacked into place.

“Of course. I understand. I’ll have the check brought right over.”

They smiled with enough sweetness to send Sadie’s own blood sugar soaring and chorused, “Thank you, dear,” in perfect unison.

She had walked off in the direction of their waitress to remind her of their check and then settled herself at a booth in the back with a stack of papers in front of her, watching Dmitri Velichko as he ordered from the menu.

The full impact of Smith and Jones’s conversation had slowly begun to sink in. A restaurant? Dmitri Velichko planned to open his own restaurant? Right across the street from her very own Suncatchers? The injustice! She had watched him with renewed suspicion, her eyes narrowing to slits as she contemplated how this would affect her own business.

Sure, it might create a stir at first, but then eventually things would die down, wouldn’t they? And her customers would be back, ordering their same favorite dishes every day of the week, right? But as Sadie watched her female clientele drooling more over Dmitri’s presence than her own mouthwatering entrees, a sinking stone of doubt had settled itself firmly in the pit of her stomach.

Dmitri Velichko could shut her down with a smile, if he so chose—but only if she gave him the opportunity. And that, Sadie Spencer would not do.

Slipping from the booth, she approached his table with a dazzling grin of her own and sweetly asked, “Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?”

Dmitri glanced up, clearly startled. The first several times he had come into Suncatchers, Sadie had tried to be unfailingly polite, though she knew she still possessed a faint edge of steel beneath her soft exterior. Of course, she had assumed he was a captious food critic at the time and had been doing her best to smooth the way to a glowing review without allowing her distrust to show. Once she realized she was mistaken in her assumption, she had thawed a bit and genuinely insisted that if there was ever anything he should need to please let her know.

But never had she greeted him with the syrupy grin she presented now. She noted he recovered instantly, however, and smiled that engaging smile that sent half her staff to swooning.

“My order hasn’t arrived yet, but I am sure it will be to my liking as always. Thank you.”

Sadie swallowed and fought the heat flaming up her cheeks. Maybe he would think she’d just come from the kitchen. The heat in there always left her flushed.

He turned his attention back to the article he had been reading. Sadie swallowed a second time and ventured, “W–what is that you’re reading, if I may ask?”

Dmitri glanced up again, his expression puzzled. He held up a newspaper. It was the business section. Her resolve stiffened.

“I see.”

His eyebrows dipped together in confusion. “I’m sure you do.” Clearly,
he
didn’t see whatever it was
she
was seeing.

His pale blue eyes were clear, but Sadie fancied a challenge in them. Well, if he thought Sadie Spencer was going to give up without a fight, he was dead wrong. She straightened to her full, magnificent height of five feet eight inches.

“Please enjoy your lunch,” she offered in a tone that indicated he should choke on it. She turned on her heel and marched away.

That had been yesterday, and now Sadie stood well away from Dmitri’s table, covertly watching him take bites of his creamy shrimp tart and mentally casting about for a plan of attack.

She had checked at the county courthouse yesterday and managed to ascertain that the worst was true. One Dmitri Velichko had indeed recently purchased the property across the street from Suncatchers.

What to do, what to do?
Sadie sighed.

“Isn’t it about the time you head for home, boss?”

Sadie looked up as Jimmy spoke to her from behind the counter. Sparing a glance at the wall clock, she nodded. Six o’clock. Time to head home and relieve Jasper of babysitting duty. She smiled at the thought and lightened considerably.

Gathering her paperwork, she purposely kept her back to Dmitri’s table as she left final instructions with her evening shift manager, Glynda, before slipping out the back door, successfully sidestepping her Russian competition.

She reveled in the late spring air, savoring the dewy warmth brushing her skin. The last remnants of winter had been swept out with the spring rains, and now there was only heat and sunshine to look forward to for the next several months.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Sadie set out toward her house, only a few blocks away from Suncatchers. Although she still possessed a driver’s license, she hadn’t bothered to purchase a car upon her return to Pennsylvania some three years ago. In fact, she hadn’t driven much at all since her husband’s death from a car accident several years before. The lack of a vehicle didn’t bother her much, however. “Practically born walking” had always been her mother’s motto for her. Sadie smiled at the memory. Amelia Cameron used to assert that Sadie had taken her first faltering steps at a mere nine months of age. Since Sadie’s father hadn’t been a very constant figure in her life, there had never been anyone to dispute Amelia’s claim.

Thoughts of Mac Cameron brought a momentary shadow to Sadie’s features, but she forcefully locked away the memory of her father and concentrated on more recent remembrances.

There was Kylie, her daughter, who would be turning five years old on Saturday. And Jasper, her best friend since those early days when she truly had taken her first steps. Sweet, constant Jasper who had been with her through the worst of it all. For with the sweet also came the sour—a lesson, she had learned, that applied to cooking as well as to real life.

Kylie’s birth had ushered in an entirely new world of joys and fears, and Sadie’s time of bliss as a wife, mother, and cooking show host had been purchased with several subsequent years of failure, death, and change: Ned’s death in that tragic accident…the swift ratings plunge for the cooking show…her mother’s diagnosis of cancer and Sadie’s move back to Hershey…reconnecting with Jasper and learning to laugh and cry in side-by-side moments…and Amelia’s last breath, drawn as Sadie held her hand and promised to never forget the lessons her mother had taught her.

The ache in Sadie’s chest prickled sharply as she drew in a lungful of fresh evening air. Expelling the breath, the ache eased and happier memories began to buoy her. The down payment on her restaurant… Jasper helping her choose the name
Suncatchers
and decorating the mirrored walls with dozens of colorful glass art pieces…Kylie’s first day of kindergarten…Suncatchers’ grand opening…

Life could be bitter. But it could be sweet too. And no one knew better than Sadie how well sour balanced sweet.

She smiled beneath the glow of the street lamps and picked up her pace a little. She had paid her dues for this sweet time in her life. Nothing and no one—not even Dmitri Velichko—was going to take that from her now.

Sadie slid her key into the lock and turned it with a satisfying click. She entered the warm comfort of the home she had grown up in— now hers, since her mother’s death—and dropped her bag to the floor. It fell with a reassuring
thud
as she tossed her keys onto the hall table and slipped out of her jacket.