Sweet Dreams on Center Street (28 page)

Well, he wasn't going to own it. She'd blow it up before she
let that cheap candy maker get his greedy paws on it. Jaw set, she marched to
the warehouse and grabbed a case of their salted caramels and one of their
sampler boxes, as well as the last of their four-seaters. Then she set the whole
mess on a dolly and made her way back to the booth.

And there he was, right in front of it, chatting up her baby
sister.

She narrowed her eyes and entered the booth to stand next to
Bailey. “Mr. Brown, what brings you up here?” As if she didn't know.

He smiled at her. “Just thought I'd check it out. You've done a
great job of pulling this festival together.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I couldn't have done it without
the rest of the town. We all pull together in Icicle Falls.”

“Do you?”

She raised her chin a notch. “Yes, we do.” Now she shifted her
gaze to Blake's boss. “That's how we've always worked here.”

“That so?” he said. “Well, let's try some of your chocolate.
What do you recommend?”

That you go jump in the river.

“They're all delicious,” Bailey said, clueless that she was
talking to the enemy. “Try the salted caramels. They're sweet but they have a
bite.”

“Actually, I think we're out,” Samantha said coldly.

“No, we're not, Sammy,” Bailey said. “You're just in time,
though,” she informed the men, “because we are running low.”

“How much?” Trevor Brown asked.

As if he couldn't tell. It was listed on the sign hanging
behind them.

Bailey told him and he passed her the money.

“I'll take one, too,” said his evil companion.

I hope you choke on it,
Samantha
thought as Bailey gave a caramel to him, too. “We make the best chocolate in the
state,” she insisted. “One taste should be enough to show you what a good
investment we are. For the bank,” she added.
Not you,
Trevor Brown.

“Pretty good,” said Bank Snake #2.

Pretty good?
That was all he had to
say? Pathetic.

“You make a good candy,” Trevor told her.

Better than yours.
Samantha
stretched her lips as far as they would go, which was about half a smile.

Now Trevor was studying the rest of their candy. “Lavender
fudge, huh? Interesting.”

Okay, enough was enough. “I'm sure you want to go visit the
other booths,” Samantha said before he could continue his candy espionage.
“Enjoy the festival.” She turned her back on them. “Bailey, can you unload those
cases?”

Bailey sent her a funny look but said, “Okay.”

“Give her a hand, Cec,” Samantha asked Cecily.
There. Get the message, you vultures? Get lost!

They moved away, like wolves just waiting for the campers' fire
to die down. Samantha suddenly felt sick.

“Who were those guys?” Bailey asked in a low voice as they
unpacked the cases.

“The older one is Trevor Brown.”

Bailey's brows knit. “Trevor…”

“From Madame C's Chocolates.”

Bailey gasped. “We just gave candy to Madame C? Yikes! Who was
the other guy?”

“A big bank mucky-muck.”

“Bigger than Blake Preston?”

“Blake is his lapdog.”

Bailey hung her head. “And here I was, talking away to them
like they were nice. Gosh, I'm a dope.”

Cecily patted her arm. “You didn't know.”

“But now you do,” Samantha said. “If they come back, tell them
we're sold out.”

“Or that we don't serve their kind here.” Bailey produced a
wicked grin. “We're prejudiced against creeps.”

And creeps they were. Their very presence in town gave Samantha
the willies, so instead of wandering around and visiting with various pals from
the Chamber of Commerce, she went to the office to hide out.

She had plenty to do there, but no amount of work could take
her mind off her troubles. They stayed right there at her desk with her and that
night they went to bed with her, crowding her mind as she squeezed her eyes shut
and tried to sleep. Finally, after two mugs of warm milk (yuck!) she drifted
off.

She slept soundly for a while, but then she entered the gates
of dreamland and found herself running down Center Street. It was deserted
except for her and two men—Trevor Brown and his thug from the bank, and they had
guns aimed at her.

“You may as well stop running, Samantha,” Trevor shouted.
“We're going to get your business one way or another.”

“No,” she cried, and kept on racing down the cobbled street.
She turned the corner onto Mountain Vale, where her condo was, and dashed up the
steps to her door. The men were on her heels but somewhere along the way they'd
morphed into big, slobbering wolves and they were growling. She slammed the door
in their faces. “You'll never get me!”

She stumbled into her kitchen, which was unusually well
stocked, and started pulling out ingredients. She got down her double boiler
from the cupboard and stood staring at it. “What am I doing?” she asked
herself.

“You're saving your company,” a soft female voice said. “And
I'm going to help you.”

Lo and behold, there was a ghost dancing at her elbow. The
woman was young, with chestnut brown hair and vintage clothes, and Samantha
recognized her from one of the pictures that hung on the Sweet Dreams office
wall.
Great-grandma Rose.

“I hope that's good quality,” Great-grandma said, pointing to
the block of white chocolate Samantha had set on her counter.

“Of course it is,” Samantha said. “You know we only use the
best ingredients.”

Great-grandma nodded in approval. “Now, get out the rose water
and let's get to work.”

And so they did.

And when Samantha awoke she blinked in amazement. It was a
first, a wonderful miraculous first! She had just dreamed up new recipes for
Sweet Dreams. And she remembered them. A miracle!

She threw off the covers and ran to her computer to get
everything down before the details drifted away from her. Then she checked the
time. It was only eight, but lucky for her Safeway opened at eight.

She didn't bother to dress, just threw on a coat over her
pajamas, slipped her feet into boots and dashed out the door to get cream and
butter. No wolves waiting outside for her on this bright, beautiful morning.
Only opportunity.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Family is the one blessing we sometimes forget to count.

—Muriel Sterling,
When Family
Matters

B
y midmorning Samantha had three new
confections to add to the Sweet Dreams catalog. She was buzzing and not just
from sugar.
She'd done it.
She'd actually done it,
dreamed up a new candy exactly like Great-grandma Rose.

Her cell phone rang. It was Cecily. “I just made a fat
deposit.”

Fat was right. The number Cecily gave her was impressively
high. Not high enough to pay off the bank, but surely high enough to impress
Blake and his band of vultures. Oh, what a great morning!

“And I just made three new candies,” Samantha crowed.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I'll get a shower, then meet you at Mom's and we
can all try them.”

“I'll tell Bailey. She was about to go to Olivia's for
tea.”

A chance to drool over Brandon. Samantha had called in the nick
of time.

She carefully packed up samples of her new creations, then
remembered to call the office and tell Elena she'd come in after lunch.

“You'd better,” Elena said. “So many people have called this
morning to talk about the festival. My ear hurts and I am getting no work
done.”

“You're a gem. Have I told you that recently?”

“No, but this I already know,” Elena said, and Samantha could
hear the smile in her voice.

“Go help yourself to some caramels and take a break,” Samantha
offered. “Oh, wait. Save your taste buds. I'll bring you something new when I
come in.”

“New?” Elena was intrigued now.

“We have new recipes,” Samantha announced proudly. And maybe
even one that would put them on the map.

“Why are you wasting time talking on the phone? Hurry up and
get here.”

Samantha smiled as she ended the call. Oh, yes, she could build
some buzz with this.

At the house, her sisters and mother were waiting eagerly. “Oh,
my gosh, this is so exciting,” Bailey said as Samantha opened the little
box.

“They're lovely,” Mom said reverently.

Yes, they were. White-and-dark-chocolate truffles topped with a
delicate pink rosebud. “First I give you the chocolate rose,” said Samantha.

They all took one and she watched as her family bit into them.
Cecily's eyes widened in surprise. “This is incredible.”

“Oh,” Bailey moaned. “I'm having a chocolate orgasm.”

Mom frowned at her, then turned to Samantha. “It's lovely, a
wonderful tribute to your great-grandmother.”

“It was the least I could do,” Samantha said, and told them
about her dream.

“Wow,” breathed Bailey. “That is so awesome. What's this one?”
she asked, pointing to another candy.

“Cleanse your palettes,” Samantha reminded them, producing a
baguette.

The next goody paired milk chocolate and lavender. “This is
lovely, too,” Mom approved.

The final treat in the trio was yet another floral, and all
three of the Sterling women gave it a resounding thumbs-up. “We've got a
winner,” Cecily said. “Three winners. We could put these in a pretty floral box
and call it the chocolate garden.”

“Oh, I love that!” Bailey cried. She snapped her fingers. “I
need to give these to Caroline. The minute she tastes one, she'll want Mimi's
producer to try them.”

“Mimi LeGrande?” Mom asked.

“Bailey met someone who knows her producer,” Cecily
explained.

“Oh, my goodness,” Mom said faintly.

It was their last chance to pull out of the red. And the clock
was ticking. Samantha had no intention of waiting around for the alarm to go
off. “We need to get you on a flight right away,” she said, and went up to Mom's
upstairs office to make arrangements.

“I'll go pack,” Bailey said.

They got Bailey out on a late-afternoon flight and while Cecily
ran her to the airport, Samantha went to the bank to hand-deliver a check to
Blake. It wasn't for the full amount they owed, of course, but it made a sizable
dent.

“Very impressive,” he said when he looked at it.

“Does it impress you enough to convince you to bend the rules?
We're on the verge of getting a spot on a big show on the Food Network.”

Lying wasn't a good business principle, but Samantha decided
she wasn't so much lying as making a prediction. If they got themselves featured
on
All Things Chocolate,
they were golden. And why
shouldn't they? Bailey had an in with the producer's cousin. The chocolates were
incredible. Mimi LeGrande would be all over this.

Blake let out a sigh and looked at her steadily. “I told you,
I'm on your side, and believe me, I've argued your case. But there are some
things I can't control, and this is one of them.”

“It's a poor way to do business,” she informed him.

His jaw tightened. “It's the way I have to do business. I'm
locked in, Samantha. I don't own this bank. I only work for it.”

As its henchman. “How do you sleep nights?” she asked in
disgust.

“These days? Not so well.”

“That's a comfort.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Look, there's got to be some
way we can get the bank out of this. Isn't there some family member who can help
you?”

“You're kidding, right?” she said bitterly. What family member
would that be? Her mother, who was upside down on her house and had no life
insurance money? Her sisters, who were nearly as broke as she was? Maybe Uncle
Ralph, Dad's older brother who was off in the Florida Keys, living on retirement
and working part-time on a fishing boat.
How dumb do you
think I am?
“If I knew someone with that kind of money I wouldn't
have come to the bank in the first place.” She could feel her eyes filling with
tears and blinked furiously to drive them away.

Blake took a deep breath. “I can barely imagine what you're
going through right now, but I want you to consider something.”

She was already considering something—how wrong this all
was.

“Let's say when you got back to your office one of your
employees came to you and told you she's about to lose her house. She owes three
months' rent and she asks you to pay it. What do you do?”

“I give her the money to pay it, of course,” Samantha snapped,
in no mood for a business parable.

“Do you?” Blake countered. “But you have no money. It's not in
your power to help her.”

“Then I…” Samantha stumbled to a stop. What
would
she do?

“Would you take money from your struggling company, jeopardize
your other employees?” Blake pressed.

He didn't have to say any more. She got the point. She dropped
her gaze, trying to hide the tears that were escaping in spite of her effort to
hold them back.

“Samantha,” he said softly, and reached across his desk to lay
a hand on her arm.

Here she was in enemy territory, and yet that big hand felt
comforting. Pathetic.

“Don't think this isn't tearing me up inside,” he said.

Then why can't you help me?
She
didn't voice the thought. He'd just told her why. He had obligations of his own,
other people to answer to, other people depending on him. It wasn't his job to
save her and clean up her mess. She'd known that all along, deep down, where she
didn't want to look.

She should say…something. But it was hard to talk around the
lump in her throat so she simply nodded.

“I wish I could help,” he said. “If anyone deserves a break
it's you. If I owned the bank we'd be having a very different conversation.”

She stood wearily. “We still have sixteen days.”

He stood, too. “Anything can happen in sixteen days.”

Yes,
she thought as she walked out
of the bank. Anything could.

And something would, she told herself, determined to be
positive. They'd get their eleventh-hour rescue. Bailey's new friend would pass
on the chocolates and Mimi LeGrande would love them. How could she not?
Samantha's dream had been a sign and a gift. They were going to pull out of
this.

On that upbeat note she went to the office to catch up on calls
and prepare for success.

* * *

Blake stared unseeing at his computer screen. He wished
he'd told Samantha about the things he'd done behind the scenes to try and help
her. Then maybe he wouldn't have felt so useless when he looked into those big
tear-filled eyes.

Except he'd probably have come off as an incompetent braggart.
So what if he'd moved things along for the permits? Big deal that he'd gone to
Seattle and done some schmoozing with the paper and that producer. None of it
had paid her loan. He was all talk and no action.

“I hate being impotent,” he muttered.

He heard a nervous cough and the rustling of papers and turned
to see his secretary, Sheri.

“I know a good doctor,” she said, her cheeks pink.

Great, just great.

* * *

“Que bonita!”
Elena
exclaimed when Samantha gave her a sample. Elena tasted the chocolate rose
truffle and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Ah,
chica,
this is going to sell like crazy.”

“That would be fine with me,” Samantha said. All they needed
was a nod from Mimi LeGrande. And how could they
not
get it once she tasted those chocolates?

Samantha went into her office, sat down at her desk and looked
over at the family pictures on the wall. “We're going to make it, everyone,” she
assured them. Then she booted up her computer and got to work.

She was still there when Bailey called.

“Oh, Sammy,” her sister wailed.

This was not the way to announce good news. Samantha's stomach
tensed.

“I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry about what? What's happened?”

“The…the…candy,” Bailey sobbed.

Oh, no.
Samantha braced herself.
“What happened to the candy?”

“I—I… Ohhhh.”

Shit.
“You what?” Samantha
prompted. Did she really want to hear the gory details?

“I dropped them.”

“You…dropped them.” Surely one or two had survived. “Well,
brush them off and—”

“And they got run over.”

“They what?” Samantha asked weakly.

“I was on my way to baggage claim and showing them to this nice
older man I met and, well, I just don't know how they fell.”

With her sister the klutz it wasn't hard to imagine.

“Anyway, they kind of skidded across the floor and before I
could get them…” Bailey started wailing again.

“It's okay,” Samantha lied. “What exactly happened?”

“You know those carts they drive people around the airport
with?”

Samantha was glad she was sitting down. “One of them ran over
the chocolates,” she said dully.

“Squashed them flat. Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Samantha said even though it wasn't remotely
okay.

“Send down another box,” Bailey begged. “I promise I won't drop
it.”

Samantha heaved a pained sigh. If you wanted anything done you
had to do it yourself. “Never mind. I'm coming down,” she decided. “And we're
skipping the middleman. Find out where Mimi LeGrande eats. We're bringing her
chocolate for dessert.”

“Okay,” Bailey said, and sniffed. “Sammy, I really am
sorry.”

“I know you are,” Samantha said, and thought,
Never send a girl to do a woman's job.

She had barely ended the call when Cecily's ringtone
started.

“What are you, psychic?” Samantha answered.

“Are you okay?”

“Bailey called you?” She couldn't have already. They'd hardly
finished their conversation.

“Yes.”

And then it dawned on Samantha. “She called you first.”

“She was afraid to tell you.”

Afraid of her big, bad sister. “Am I that much of an ogre?”

“No,” Cecily said. “But she felt so bad.”

“It's not her fault really,” Samantha said. “I should have gone
myself.”

“No. You were right to delegate.”

“Not on something this important.” And not to Bailey.

“You can't do everything yourself. You need people in your
corner.”

To sit on you when you're down.

“What's our next move?” Cecily asked.

“My next move. I'm making a fresh batch of candy and taking it
down tomorrow.” Another hit on her poor credit card, but a girl had to do what a
girl had to do.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine on my own.” The last
thing she needed was any more help.

“Okay. By the way, I ran into Emily Brookes.”

Pissy's underling. What did that have to do with anything?
“And?”

“Well, remember how those permits for the festival suddenly
came through? You'll never guess who was behind it.”

“Pissy,” Samantha cracked. That would be the day.

“Blake Preston.”

Samantha nearly dropped the phone.

“After I learned that, I got to thinking and I did a little
poking around, made a couple of calls,” Cecily continued. “Remember how I was
getting no response from the producer of
Northwest
Now?
Well, guess who went over to Seattle and tracked her down and
talked to her in person.”

Not… “Blake?”

“Yep. He was also behind that article in the Seattle
paper.”