Chapter 4
The mayor led the charge. Alongside him several city council members broke free from helping the restaurant owners.
The employees set out dishes being carted in from various directions.
Police officers and firefighters, who were bringing in the last chairs, greeted Levi and Laney with fist bumps and smiles.
The two knew most of the first responders by name and vice versa.
“Let us help you,” the mayor offered after the lengthy pleasantries subsided.
“The kids are excited about wheeling the carts to the dessert table and unloading all the goodies, but you all are welcome to join us for the pie guessing game,” Noel stated, turning her attention to the mayor’s wife.
The woman’s face bubbled at the thought of the tradition. “Yes, let’s do,” she agreed.
The farmers’ market manager pointed Noel to the dessert table, and nearly everyone gathered around to ooh and aah.
Cornucopias decorated the tables, and Noel was glad to see dark tablecloths in case one of the kids or anyone else spilled food. Once they set out all the pies, the crowd of inquiring minds waited for the mayor’s wife to begin.
“Oh heavens, you all brought lots of unique pies this year,” she observed.
The mayor stood beside his bride with bulging eyes.
The two were regular customers, and Noel was almost certain the enthusiastic woman tasted every dessert ever made at the shop.
The most informally formal person Noel ever met went on to point at each pie as she carefully thought and then called out the name: “Apple, pumpkin, pecan, sweet potato, butternut squash, lemon, chocolate silk, cranberry, coconut, and French silk.”
Those were all the ones she guessed correctly, Noel confirmed, and after several guesses at the remaining pies, she gave up.
“What’s that one?” the mayor asked, pointing.
“Maple syrup pie,” Noel answered.
The mayor rubbed his oversized belly. “You all stay away from this pie,” he warned the onlookers with a heavy grin. “It has my name written all over it.”
Laney gave the man the eye because he picked her favorite.
“Is that an oatmeal pie?” the farmers’ market manager asked.
“Sure is,” Mrs. Madelyn divulged.
“I haven’t seen one of those in years.”
Noel remembered her grandmother teaching her how to make that particular pie as a young child.
“And that one?” a city council member asked.
“Pumpkin cheesecake pie,” Noel revealed.
“How about that beauty?” a police officer standing next to Levi checked.
“Caramel apple pie with streusel topping,” Noel shared.
His eyes grew as large as the muscles stretching his sleeves.
“That pie has my name on it,” Levi announced, and a round of genuine laughter ensued.
Witnessing all the interest excited Noel.
Although she had yet to set out the name plates for each pie because of the annual guessing game, she made sure to add that touch because she knew members of the community would take note.
She prayed for lots of orders between now and Christmas.
She did the same with the fudge which would be a hit as well.
“They are all decorated so beautifully,” a familiar voice spoke.
Noel turned. “Jack, you made it,” she announced then hugged him carefully after a firefighter friend pushed his wheelchair close to the dessert bar.
Mrs. Madelyn stepped toward her husband, and when she bent down to greet him, he kissed her on the cheek.
“Aw, you two are the sweetest,” Noel noted.
“Plenty of years of practice,” Jack stated with a grin.
“He’s been in love with that woman since middle school,” the mayor’s wife reminded everyone.
They all grew up together. Beaufort was one of those towns a person didn’t want to leave once they figured out what they wanted in life.
Some wandered off for college, careers, relationships, and all kinds of other reasons, but many circled back to what Noel called the roots beneath us.
She thought of this phrase one day while meandering through the large live oaks on the courthouse grounds where the Olde Beaufort Farmers’ Market assembled every Saturday from April through November.
The locals missed having the market during the winter months, but they looked forward to the Olde Fashioned Holiday Market, a one-of-a-kind Christmas event that took place every December.
Vendors squeezed into every nook and cranny with the best gifts around: homemade candles, soaps, dog treats, Alpaca socks, novels, jewelry, ocean-inspired art, and so many other unique items. They also sold the freshest fruits and vegetables available from local farmers like Jack, as well as freshly caught seafood.
Anything related to fishing, boats, and water made Noel’s mind drift to Fletcher. He fished for a living. The man knew the waterways like the back of his hand.
She remembered her dad often saying when introducing Fletcher to others, “He's not a fisher; he’s a catcher.”
Her man sure knew how to bait a hook to reel in the big ones, the little ones, and everything in between.
He taught Levi how to fish, and Laney tagged along, too.
The two of them still fished, and Noel wondered if being by the sea helped Levi feel close to his dad.
Personally, she hadn’t stepped onto a pier or a boat since the accident.
She hadn’t swum in the creek, the river, or the ocean. She had no desire.
“Noel,” a voice called out. “Noel, did you hear me?”
Noel shook away her thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?
” she asked, realizing nearly everyone dispersed while memories of Fletcher paralyzed her.
Now she stood alone at the dessert table with Walter Benson, a local businessman with deep pockets and influence, who also happened to be her accountant.
“I think I zoned out,” Noel added, fluttering back to reality.
“Have you thought about my proposal?” Walter asked enthusiastically in his perfectly fitting suit and tie which he adjusted while awaiting an answer.
“Yes,” Noel answered simply without further remark, still trying to find her bearings.
“The offer is quite lucrative,” he suggested, moving in close to provide his full attention.
Uncomfortable with the lack of distance between them even though his short, well-fed stature did little to intimidate her, Noel stepped back. She wanted to sock him and knock the expensive frames right off his nose. “I have no interest in selling the candy shop.”
Walter’s face soured a hint then quickly transitioned to his pondering look as he pressed his thumb and forefinger against his chin. “Noel, my dear, I want to make sure you see the whole picture?” he conveyed as he adjusted his hands to create a large frame in midair.
“What whole picture?” she asked, ignoring his gesture with folded arms while looking for Laney and Levi or any reason to walk away.
“Maybe a new perspective will help you make a more informed decision.”
“Excuse me?” she shot back focusing on his cold eyes.
“I have no interest in your candy store,” Walter clarified, giving the comment a moment to settle.
“Just the building,” he reminded her, knowing he explained this in the past but maybe not as clearly as needed.
“You can keep the business open; I can even help you move your little shop somewhere down the street where the cost of real estate is more affordable.”
Noel frowned. While most people in town supported her after the accident, Walter did a poor job of hiding his intentions of taking advantage of her in times of weakness.
The two of them graduated from high school around the same time, and Walter moved off for college then worked his way up at an accounting firm in Virginia.
His father passed away not long before hers, and Walter subsequently moved back home to take over his family’s accounting business.
Noel knew Walter had conversations with her dad about the building in the short time between each of their parents’ deaths.
Although Noel’s father never shared the details, he made it clear he didn’t like doing business with the guy stating several times that he was nothing like the standup gentleman his father had always been.
A couple of weeks after Noel’s father passed, Walter came into the candy shop with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a sales proposal in the other; he went on to explain that the deal would remove a lot of the stress from Noel’s life.
Ever since, he continued hounding her with offers and options.
“Remind me why you want my family’s store so bad?”
“Noel, there is no hiding the fact that the building you own is a diamond in the rough. I want it as an investment; that’s what I do, remember? I own twenty percent of the buildings in the downtown area.”
Noel scoffed, recalling when he initially tried to convince her that the building was in disrepair and of little value. The irony was that he owned the building attached to hers, and the two were nearly identical in every way. “I am not in the market to sell, Walter.”
“Numbers are what I do, Noel,” he reminded her.
“As your accountant, I know yours quite well. Costs of goods are up, and sales are down. It’s only a matter of time before you go out of business and are forced to sell the property or, heaven forbid, lose it to foreclosure,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I am trying to help you.”
“All you care about is numbers, and that’s another reason I have no interest in selling my family’s building to you,” she relayed harshly all the while realizing some truths in his statement.
“I care about Beaufort and doing what is best for the whole community, including you,” Walter replied.
“I can see your mind is made up for now, but I am always available; however, the offer may not be the same the next time we meet,” he concluded, holding out a business card to accompany his signature salesman grin.