Sweet Dreams on Center Street (30 page)

Muriel, on the other hand, had been like a bug on the
windshield. But whose fault was that? She'd happily let someone else run her
financial life. She'd never worried about where the money came from or where it
went. That big cosmic windshield had been heading toward her for a long time. It
really was a miracle she hadn't hit it before now.

“If only I'd paid more attention to money,” she lamented.

“If shit didn't happen there'd be no need for toilets,” Dot
said.

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means stuff's going to happen,” Dot said. “You can't be
prepared for everything. I don't care what the Boy Scouts say.”

“Will you have enough money left after you sell the house to
buy another?” Olivia asked Muriel.

She'd be broke. She shook her head. “I'll find some place to
rent.” At least she hoped she would.

“We don't have very many rentals here in town,” Dot said.

“You could have a room at my place,” Olivia offered.

Muriel had never thought she'd be down to one room until she
was an old woman in a nursing home. But she'd also never envisioned herself
practically penniless. Even with selling her house she'd be on a tight budget.
If she'd spent the money her first husband had left her more wisely instead of
dribbling it away with Waldo, she wouldn't be in this position now. Still, she
had time to make changes that would improve her life. She'd take that room. It
beat having to become a burden to any of her daughters, none of whom was really
in a position to help her.

This was the beauty of having friends. They saved you from so
much humiliation. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“I have another idea,” Pat said slowly. “You could rent the
cottage.”

“Your little guest house? But you use that for tourists,”
Muriel objected.

“It's empty half the year. I'd love a full-time tenant. Let me
know if you need it. I'll give you a deal,” Pat added with a smile. “It's small
but you can't beat the view.”

A lovely little vineyard with a mountain for a backdrop—the
view would more than make up for the size of the place. And while it wouldn't be
as big as her house, it was more than a room. Muriel felt as if a weight had
been lifted from her. Selling the house would be hard, but she could do it. For
the first time in her life she'd be living on her own and learning to stand on
her own two feet. And that was a lesson well worth some discomfort.

“And meanwhile, tell me if you need money,” Dot said.

What was it Muriel hadn't liked about Dot? She couldn't
remember. “Thank you. Thank you, all of you.”

Dot shrugged. “No need for thanks,” she said. “LAMs stick
together.”

As the evening rolled on and the women shared their problems
and their dreams, she couldn't help feeling that she had, somehow, turned a very
big corner. She would be fine, if not immediately, eventually.

She wished she could say the same for the family company. That
mess was her fault, too. What, oh, what was she going to do about that? She
spent the rest of the evening only half listening to the conversation as she
pondered this question. By dessert she'd come to the conclusion that there was
nothing she could do—other than pray that Samantha succeeded in tracking down
Mimi LeGrande.

* * *

Los Angeles. People lived here on purpose? Samantha
thought as Bailey threaded her secondhand VW Bug in and out of traffic on their
way down the freeway from LAX. “It's like being in an ant farm,” she said,
looking around.

“Yes, but it's warm,” Bailey said.

“Warm and smoggy.” Exactly like it had been the last time she
visited her sisters. What did they see in this place?

“But it's exciting, full of movie stars and swimming pools and
palm trees. And there's the ocean, too.”

It was just as smoggy and crowded there as it was everywhere
else, in Samantha's opinion. And the traffic—how did her sister sit through this
without gnawing off her arm? She didn't care how many palm trees they had here.
She'd take her small mountain town and clean air over this mess any day. And it
was nice to have four seasons. How long could a person look at palm trees
without getting bored, anyway?

“There is one thing it's missing,” Bailey said.

Only one?
“What's that?”

“My family.” Bailey sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I came all
the way down here.”

“You listened to Mitzi and Bitzy,” Samantha said. Bailey had
been friends with the twins since grade school and when they decided to move to
L.A. and become stars they'd painted a picture of glamour and success she
couldn't resist. So far, neither sister was a star. One had landed a bit part in
a B-movie. The other was waiting tables.

Bailey made a face. “You never liked them.”

“Because they're airheads.” Sheesh.

Bailey dropped the subject of Mitzi and Bitzy, instead saying,
“It's still fun here, but I hate only getting to see you and Mom a couple times
a year. Oh, well,” she went on before Samantha could suggest she pack it in and
come home, “when I'm a famous celebrity chef I'll fly you guys down whenever you
want.”

Which would be never. “And you can fly up to see us,” Samantha
said. If she was still in Icicle Falls. If she didn't have to move cross-country
for a new job. The idea made her heart contract and she took a firm grip on the
carton with the ice-packed box of candy sitting in her lap. There had been no
taking this box out to show anyone.

“Absolutely,” Bailey said. “Meanwhile, I've got great friends
to keep me company.”

Like Mitzi and Bitzy, the two most self-centered creatures on
the planet? “Friends can't take the place of family. Family loves you no matter
what.”
Thank God.

That got Bailey nibbling her lower lip as she zipped from lane
to lane.

It was all Samantha could do not to cry, “Watch out!” and grab
the wheel. Jeez, these people all drove like maniacs. Of course, that wouldn't
bother her so much if
she
was driving. “Bailey!
They're braking up ahead.”

Bailey, who had been tailgating the red Corvette in front of
her so closely the two vehicles could have mated, eased up on the gas. “I really
am sorry about dropping the candy, Sammy.”

“That could have happened to anyone,” Samantha said. Especially
Bailey, but her heart had been in the right place and Samantha wasn't about to
make her feel any worse than she already did.

“But it didn't. It happened to me,” Bailey said miserably. “I
so wanted to be there for you, Sammy.”

“You were,” Samantha assured her. “And you still are, and I
appreciate it.”

Funny how she'd always had it in her head that her family
needed her. Now, remembering the past few weeks, she realized that door swung
both ways. Mom's kindness and creativity, Cecily's hard work, Bailey's
unwavering confidence in her—they'd been a source of strength, a silent wind
pushing her forward. She owed them all a debt of gratitude.

* * *

The next day they went to Spoonie's, the latest upscale
addition to restaurant row in Los Angeles. It featured soups, homemade breads
and, for dessert, all manner of exotic ice cream flavors. Decor was simple and
sweet. Wind chimes using vintage sterling spoons dangled from the ceiling, and
spoon collections hung on the walls. Tables were covered with linen tablecloths
and adorned with little vases holding silk daisies—a little bit of old-fashioned
in a sophisticated city. The place was packed and even with reservations they
got stuck at a table right by the kitchen. Bailey had to scoot her chair in
close to the table to avoid getting hit when the kitchen door swung open.

Still, in all that crowd it wasn't hard to spot Mimi LeGrande,
a gamine, fortysomething woman with short, dark hair. There she sat, resplendent
in jeans, a black sweater and her trademark gorgeous jewelry, talking with a man
who could be either her producer or significant other. Samantha looked at Mimi's
necklace, which consisted of pink and black pearls and crystals (probably
Swarovski) and practically drooled. Or maybe she was just salivating over all
that opportunity waiting across the room, sipping coffee.

“Good thing we got here when we did,” Samantha said to Bailey.
“Any later and we might have missed them.”

“They're eating lunch kind of early.” Bailey checked her phone.
“It's only a little after noon.”

Their waiter had come up to tell them about the specials when
Bailey pointed and said, “Oh, my gosh. They're leaving. Quick!” She jumped up
and pushed back her chair just as another waiter emerged from the kitchen
bearing a large tray with a soup tureen and several bowls and, being Bailey,
managed to bump into the tray.

Like a juggler balancing plates, the waiter wobbled to the
side, trying to keep everything from sliding south.

He might have succeeded if Bailey hadn't reached out to help
him steady the tray. “I'm so sorry,” she said.

“I've got it.” He tried to move out of range as everything
slipped and slid.

“Look out!” their waiter called.

But it was too late. Yet another waiter came out of the kitchen
with another tray laden with soup. The two servers did a millisecond do-si-do
and then everything went to the floor with an impressive crash. And there stood
Bailey, gaping in horror at the whole mess while Samantha sat on her side of the
table, her whole face sizzling with mortification.

From across the room Mimi and her companion looked on with mild
interest as they moved away from their table.
Ah, the peons
are at it again.

Oh, boy. This was not the way to influence a chocolate mover
and shaker.

But it was the only way Samantha had. She took a deep breath,
left Hurricane Bailey to deal with the disaster and hurried after Mimi.

She caught up to her at the door. “Ms. LeGrande!”

The woman turned and arched an eyebrow.
Do
I know you?

“It looks like you didn't have dessert,” Samantha said. “My
name is Samantha Sterling and my family owns Sweet Dreams Chocolates and I'd
love to give you a complimentary sample.” She held out the box, all wrapped in
pink ribbon, giving Mimi no choice (if she had any manners at all) but to take
it.

Mimi took the box. “Sweet Dreams?”

Obviously, she'd never heard of them.

“Our company is in Icicle Falls, Washington. We're named Sweet
Dreams because my great-grandmother, who founded it, literally dreamed the first
recipes.”

That almost made Mimi smile. “Really.”

“These are our newest truffles. I hope I'm following in my
great-grandmother's footsteps. I discovered the recipes in a dream just the
other night and I think you'll like them. We're calling this our chocolate
garden.”

Now Mimi was intrigued. To Samantha's surprise and delight, she
stepped over to the reception area, found an empty chair and sat down with the
box.

Samantha held her breath as Mimi selected one and took a
delicate bite. Then both eyebrows arched. “What on earth is that flavor? I swear
it tastes like rose water.”

Samantha nodded. “Actually, it is.”

“Try one, Miles,” Mimi offered the box to her companion, who
was standing next to her.

The man took one and popped it in his mouth. And smiled. “Very
nice.”

“And you say these came to you in a dream,” Mimi asked.

Samantha nodded.

“And where is your company again?”

Samantha launched into a spiel that would have made both her
great-grandmother and her fellow Chamber of Commerce members proud. If the woman
didn't want to come to Icicle Falls and check them out after this, there was
something seriously wrong with her.

“This is intriguing,” Mimi said. “Have you got a business
card?”

Yes, yes, yes!
“I do.” Samantha
calmly, like a true business professional, produced one while on the inside she
was doing the Snoopy dance.

She returned to the table to find the waiters cleaning up the
mess while Bailey sat there looking like a child who'd been sent to the
principal's office. But when she saw Samantha she beamed. “She loved them,
right? I can tell by the way you're smiling.”

“She asked for my business card.”

Bailey jumped up to high-five her with an enthusiastic, “Yes!”
just as another waiter came out the door with a laden tray.

As it went flying, Samantha said, “I think we'd better go eat
somewhere else.”

* * *

Mimi LeGrande's producer, Miles, called Samantha the
next day as she was waiting for her plane to Seattle. Mimi would like to do a
segment on them the following week. Would Monday be all right?

More than all right. Samantha hardly needed the plane to fly
home.

Once more it was lights, camera, action, as Mimi's crew hit
town to film.

Cecily had put together a huge gift basket, which Mimi accepted
as her due with only a minimum of thanks. Mom's faint frown of disapproval was
barely noticeable. Not that Mimi would have noticed, anyway. She was too busy
looking around the gift shop. “Small,” she pronounced it, “but charming.”

Okay, they could live with charming.

After the filming, Mimi and Miles went off to lunch at
Schwangau, leaving Samantha and her mother and sister in shock.

“Did I hear him right?” Cecily asked faintly.

Samantha nodded. It was all she could manage since her throat
was choked with tears. The show wouldn't air until May. Her mind closed the door
on the happy vision she'd entertained of orders (and money) flooding in. Oh,
orders would flood in after the show aired, but it would be too late to help her
family. The new owner of Sweet Dreams would reap the benefits of her hard
work.