Chapter 4 #2
But—well, he wasn’t here anymore, and maybe she’d changed. Not a renegade anymore, but a businesswoman. A fudge shop owner. She pushed out a tight breath. “I don’t know. But I do know one thing: I’m not letting the Kelleys run me out of town again.”
She got up, stared out across the blue, the sky pale and clear, the sun just starting to drop. “I’m going to win that stupid contest. And Declan Kelley isn’t going to know what hit him.”
* * *
“Just what exactly were you thinking giving Lily Hart the chance to own that fudge shop again?”
Declan sighed at his mom’s voice, coming from behind him. He stood at his parents’ living room window drinking his morning coffee—in peace, until now.
Fog twined through the trees in the front yard, despite the sun’s valiant attempts to cut through. The golden sphere was a blurred orb of light.
He turned from the window. “Good morning to you too, Mom. I figured you’d be at work already.
” Had been counting on it, actually. After a full afternoon and evening spent scrubbing every inch of the fudge shop, he’d timed his arrival home perfectly—his parents in bed, and Isaac busy in his room with his computer, headset, and video game controller in hand.
“Trying to avoid me?” Mom pulled the coffee pot off the warmer where Declan had left it. She wore her standard uniform of soft linen pants and black shirt. “I heard you come in late last night.”
“Spent all day and late into the evening cleaning the shop.” And tried to tell himself that he hadn’t just set himself and his family up for disaster. Because the Harts knew their fudge.
And he wasn’t entirely sure that the rumor about his own family and the “stolen recipe” wasn’t true. At least, that’s what he’d thought years ago. Now, maybe it didn’t matter.
But cleaning had sort of helped him get Lily’s expression—and her fury—out of his head.
Oh, she was going to be trouble, he knew it in his bones.
“Well, your Uncle Patrick called. Told us about your contest idea.” She filled her coffee mug. “I almost had a heart attack. Honestly, Declan, don’t you know that girl has a college degree in chocolate entrepreneurship?”
Huh. No. No, he did not. Still. “I have an MBA.”
“Yes, and you’re brilliant at business. That plus our classic family fudge recipe is a sure win. But we don’t really know what she’s capable of.” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t still have feelings for her, do you?”
His mouth opened. “C’mon, Mom. Please. That was a high school…”
Did he still think Lily Hart was gorgeous in that raw and real way she’d always had about her? Sure. But she was like a Cat-5 hurricane. Unpredictable. Destructive in her realness. “No,” he said finally. “I do not.”
His mother capped her mug. “You can’t blame me for asking. That girl, well, she did a number on our family. I don’t want it happening again.”
Right. “Me either.”
Sighing, Mom nodded, then stepped up to him and patted Declan’s cheek. “You’re a good boy, Declan, and normally you’re so levelheaded. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing here.”
She wasn’t the only one.
But he didn’t want to fight. “I spent the day cleaning the shop from top to bottom yesterday. Today, I’m going to start working on a business plan. Then I’m going to figure out how to execute it. The goal is to have production underway next week.”
“What is this contest, anyway?” His mom picked up her thermos.
“To sell more fudge than the Harts during the upcoming festival.”
His mother took a sip.
“Once we have the shop, and Grandma’s house, secured, I will turn over the shop to another capable Kelley or hire full-time help, and I’ll manage from Chicago for as long as you need me to. Just like we talked about.”
Her lips pursed, his mom considered him. Finally nodded. “It’s a good plan. And I have faith you’ve got what it takes. But are you sure about the contest? Maybe I should speak with the other council members again?—”
“Tara was there yesterday and yes, she did suggest that we could wait until Seb gets back to settle the matter. But I don’t have time to do that. My boss only gave me a month. As it is, I’m already risking my job.”
“I know, I know. Though you could always stay here and manage the shop if you were to lose that job.”
“Mom.” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t get my MBA to stay on JI and make fudge. No offense—I know you love it here. But it holds a lot of memories.” Ones he didn’t especially want to be confronted with every day. “I’m here for Grandma, and for you. But I don’t intend to stay.”
Her mouth tightened, and what looked like hurt flashed in her eyes.
Great. Declan drained his mug and eyed the coffee pot. He probably needed another entire pot to survive this day.
Even this conversation.
Would another cup be enough to get him through this conversation? This day?
“Fine. Well, I guess it’s on now.” She reached for her satchel, tucked the thermos in. “Just make sure you win.”
“I don’t know, Mom.” The voice came from his brother, Isaac, who came into the room freshly showered.
He pulled down a mug and snatched the coffee pot off the warmer just as Declan decided to reach for it.
He drained the pot and stuck it back. Looked at his big brother.
“Decky here hasn’t made fudge in how long? ”
Decky? “Listen. I know it’s been a while since I was in the shop.”
“Oh, stop. He was a big help when Grandpa first got dementia,” Mom said. “Kept the books while Brandon made the fudge. Who knows, but if the Grand Hotel hadn’t burned down, maybe he’d still be here?—”
“Doubtful, Mom, but we can’t go back in time. I’m here now—” He looked at his brother. “And it’s fudge . Not rocket science. I’ll follow the recipes.” He lifted a shoulder. “What this shop really needs is a good business plan.” He pulled out the bag of coffee beans and filled the grinder.
His mother picked up her bag. “I’m off to the diner.” She turned to Isaac. “I’ll see you in an hour, yes? You’re on the breakfast shift.”
Isaac leaned a hip against the sink. “Can’t wait.”
His mother walked out.
“So you’re working at the diner? Are you cooking?” Declan asked.
“Bussing tables.” Isaac tore open a cellophane package and pulled out a brown sugar Pop-Tart. “I’m not the family savior, you are.”
He frowned. “I?—”
Isaac held up a hand. “Listen, bro. Not everyone wants to go to school and change the world.”
“You like living at home, spending all your days playing video games?”
“Yep.” He glanced at the toaster, his mouth tight.
Declan shook his head. Turned on the grinder.
The Pop-Tart finished cooking, and Isaac grabbed it out as Declan filled the coffee maker.
Isaac headed for the door, but stopped and turned. “Just watch your back. That Hart girl’s gonna get her claws into you again, then she’s going to smoke you. And poor Grandma’s gonna suffer for it.”
“Thanks for all the support, bro.”
“Just here to keep you humble.” His brother lifted his Pop-Tart in a salute. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Declan didn’t need a warning. He needed a plan. A plan not to let Lily Hart derail his life again.