Chapter 3 #2
“When would he have time? He’s the town’s only handyman, plus he’s fixing that boat so he can get the fishing company up and running again.
” Mom took a broom leaning against the back wall and started sweeping up dust mites.
Some swirled in the air. “Besides, with all the time he’s been spending with Mia, he’s too busy to be fixing an ice cream maker. ”
Lily sprayed down the countertop and scrubbed it to a sterile sheen. “They do seem really happy.”
“I agree.” Mom paused. “Who knows. With all the new people moving to Jonathon Island, maybe you’ll find someone to make you happy.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Mom.”
“What? A mother can dream.” Looking up from the broom, she winked at Lily. “And pray.”
“Don’t waste your prayers on me—at least as far as love’s concerned.” After Declan, even after Tony, yeah. Romance was not at the top of her list of priorities. “Instead, pray I can make this fudge shop a success.”
She sensed Mom’s eyes on her. Lily turned. Mom’s lips were drawn into an uncharacteristic frown. “You’re okay with this? Reopening the fudge shop? Living on the island again? I hope you don’t feel like we’re pressuring you.”
“Not at all. It was my idea, remember?”
“Good.” She resumed her sweeping. “Because your dad and I made peace a long time ago about letting the fudge shop go. We had to. The economy had tanked, nobody was buying fudge—or anything but the essentials, for that matter. And then once we might have considered it, I got my diagnosis. But I’ll admit.
This is exciting, to see your grandparents’ shop come back to life. To see my legacy living on, in you.”
“It’s what I always intended to do. The reason I went away to learn about candy making in the first place. I’m glad I have the chance to keep it going.” Even if it scared the pants off her. “This is a special place.”
“It really is. I remember the first time I stepped inside as a college student on vacation. The smell of the chocolate, the mesmerizing way your dad’s parents and aunt threw the fudge onto the marble slabs and used nothing but a wooden paddle and their brawn to make something spectacular out of so few ingredients. Well, I knew I had to get a job here.”
Lily could picture it—Grandpa William and Grandma Karen working alongside William’s sister, Felicia. The two older women had taken Mom under their wings and shown her everything they knew about fudge making. “And then you met Dad.”
“Rough and tough fisherman Randy Hart. He’d breeze in here after a day’s haul, looking for something sweet.
His mom would yell at him to get out of her fudge shop stinking of fish, and I’d take pity on him and sneak him a bite of fudge from the back alley.
” Mom leaned against the broom handle and sighed.
“Pretty soon, that wasn’t all I snuck him. ”
“Gross, Mom!” Lily pretended to gag, though the idea of her parents kissing actually brought a smile to her heart.
“But see? It really is a special place. It’s literally my origin story.
How could I not want to be here?” She lifted her rag and revealed a trail of clean white against the thick dust borders.
“You always did like it here. My little shadow, helping make batch after batch of fudge.”
“I made myself sick more than once when I ate every last drop of residue from the copper kettles.”
Mom laughed. “Then there was the time you convinced me to make peppermint fudge.”
“It was a good idea.” The memory warmed Lily’s heart. She’d been seven, maybe?
“It was a great idea—became our hottest holiday seller. Far better than your idea to make cranberry fudge. That did not go over well.”
“Creativity always has risks.” She should revisit that recipe, though. Experiment with an improved version.
“You’re definitely the risk-taker in the family. I’ve always admired that about you. That and your free spirit, your impulsivity.”
“Thanks, Mom.” A memory surfaced, pinching the air from Lily’s lungs. Grandpa Hart’s voice. Scolding. Not everyone enjoyed that particular facet of her personality. “I’ll have to see how that pairs with running a business.”
“You’ll find your way. I have faith.” Mom checked her watch. “Oh! It’s almost time for book club at Constance’s house. Are you okay if I take off for a few hours? I can come back and help later.” She set the broom back against the wall.
“No, no, I’ve got this. Really. Have fun.”
“Oh, I will. We just finished reading a new romantic adventure by Susan May Warren and I can’t wait to discuss all the ins and outs.
” Mom pulled a key ring from her purse and removed a key, holding it out to Lily.
“You’ll have to take my key for now. I’m not sure what happened to the other one, but I’ll look for it tonight.
Or we can get a copy from Seb when he returns from his cruise. ”
With a kiss and a hug, Mom was gone, and Lily continued cleaning until her back ached and her arms felt like noodles.
There was still a lot to do, but she washed up and headed into the back of the shop to take inventory of the equipment.
Hopefully everything just needed a good cleaning, but if she had to order parts, that would take a chunk of time she didn’t have to waste.
From the back room, a sound caught Lily’s attention. She palmed the single key, still in her pocket.
Not Mom. In fact, no one else had access. Maybe Seb Jonathon, who had leased them the property, but he wouldn’t enter without warning. And like Mom said, he was out of town. She turned her head to listen. Tried to talk sense to herself. This was Jonathon Island. They didn’t have crime—did they?
Of course, she’d been gone awhile. The world had changed. Newcomers had come from who knew where to set up shop here. Maybe one of them was a murderer who broke into other people’s places of business and?—
“Seriously, Lily?” she hissed. Great, now she was talking to herself.
Then the grunt of a very, most definitely male, voice lifted every hair on her body.
She had to get out of here. But she didn’t want to leave the shop unattended. Maybe she could call for help…except, shoot, her phone was inside her purse in the kitchen.
The unmistakable sound of footsteps resounded down the hallway. Getting closer.
Maybe it was her brother.
Or maybe not.
A weapon—she needed a weapon, just in case it was, what? A burglar?
Maybe. Still. She felt around on the nearest high shelf, and her fingers slipped around the cold steel of something. Bringing it down, her heart sank. A metal ladle. Too bad they didn’t run a meat shop. There wasn’t a cleaver or blade to be found, at least back here.
This would have to do. Maybe if she employed the element of surprise…
Lily tightened her grip on the ladle and tucked herself behind the ice cream maker. Her throat had dried to thick paste, and she stifled her reflex to cough.
The door opened and a large form stepped inside.
Lily screamed and jumped out in front of him, the ladle held over her head. “Gotcha!”
* * *
His first reflex was to grab the weapon out of his attacker’s hand.
His hand closed on it, and she kicked at him, hitting his shin.
“Knock it off!”
Declan ducked as the metal object flew past his face. What?—?
He turned back and just barely dodged a metal bowl flying at him like a frisbee. “Stop!” His aviators went flying.
She stepped up to him, now holding a rolling pin and this was just—enough! He snagged her wrist. “Calm down!”
“Let go of me—” The woman tugged at him. “Help!” she screamed. “Help!”
Screaming? “Come on. I’m not going to hurt you!”
But apparently she might hurt him. She’d managed to pick up a wooden fudge paddle?—
Now that would hurt. He grabbed her hard to himself, trying to wrench it free. In the struggle, she’d tangled herself against him, between the door and the storage rack.
“Seriously!” he said. “Listen, you’re the intruder here?—!”
“Let me go!”
That voice—he stilled, and she wrenched herself away.
Rounded on him, breathing hard. Their eyes met.
Oh no.
She may as well have whacked him in the head with the fudge paddle.
“Lily.” Her name, foreign on his lips, rushed out in a whisper.
Lily Hart. She wore her pale blonde hair down, lavender streaks framing her face.
Ten years older and still pretty, despite the fury in her electric blue eyes. She wore a slate blue T-shirt that nearly matched her eyes and leather leggings, and he definitely did not notice that, um, his high school flame had grown up.
Maybe she thought the same thing because her mouth opened. Closed. Then, “What are you doing here?”
That was a loaded question, since she was in his fudge shop. He’d come straight over from the emergency meeting Mom had called, where the town council—all save the mayor, Seb Jonathon, who was on an anniversary cruise with his wife—voted unanimously to let him lease the fudge shop property.
In all his years of business, a transaction had never gone more smoothly. And it had lit a fire in him that, yes, maybe this wouldn’t take as long as he’d thought. He’d get in, set up a profitable fudge shop model, hire a team to run it, and be back in Chicago in a week, maybe two tops.
He’d signed the paperwork Patrick had drawn up and paid his dollar to secure Grandma’s house, which Mom had indeed convinced the county to gift to the town, with the express agreement in writing that it be used as incentive for whoever operated the fudge shop on Main Street.
Declan held up his hands and pasted what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face. “I’m here because I drove back to the island yesterday.”
“Doesn’t explain why you’re in this shop, Slick.
” Her gaze went to the sunglasses he’d scooped off the floor.
“How did you even get in?” Lily squeezed past him and walked down the hallway and toward the front door.
She tested the handle and muttered to herself when it opened.
What, did she think he’d broken in or something?