Chapter 19
On her way home from her breakfast date with Arlen, Harlow swung by Peyton’s fudge shop. She found her friend standing at the counter, up to her elbows in fudge.
“Good morning, Harlow.”
“Hey, Peyton.” She sniffed the air, a tantalizing combination of creamy cocoa and vanilla, mingled with peanut butter. “It smells simply divine in here.”
“Thanks. I’m mixing my special batch of peanut butter fudge. Abby’s Island Time Catering is catering an event at the tourist center and they specifically requested Mackinac Island peanut butter fudge.” Using a long handled paddle, her friend spread the batter across the marble slab.
“I’ve often wondered how hard it is to make fudge.”
“It’s easy-breezy once you get the hang of it.” Peyton held the paddle up. “Would you like to give it a try?”
“Sure.” Harlow placed her coat and bag on a nearby chair. “Teach me your tricks, fudge master,” she joked.
“The fudge is still warm, so you’ll need to keep paddling until it sets up.” While she talked, Peyton worked her way around the slab, running the flat end of the paddle under the fudge and flipping it over. Around and around she went, moving at a steady pace, expertly mixing and flipping.
As soon as she worked on one side, the sugary goodness began spreading toward the opposite edge. Before it could get too close, Peyton darted to the other side and paddled it back toward the center. “As you can see, stopping would be a disaster.”
“You would have fudge all over the floor.” Harlow rolled up her sleeves.
“When I come around to your side, I’ll pass the paddle to you. The key is to keep flipping and moving it toward the center.”
“I think I can handle it.”
Her friend stepped around the side and passed the paddle to Harlow. Moving quickly, she paddled and flipped the fudge. Paddle. Flip. Paddle. Flip. Back and forth. “This is good exercise.”
“It definitely gives the arm muscles a workout,” Peyton said. “Are you getting dizzy yet?”
“Actually, I’m finding it quite therapeutic.” Harlow flipped and paddled. “How much fudge is on the slab?”
“About twenty pounds.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Imagine how many calories are in a batch.”
An employee appeared, and Peyton turned over the paddle project for her to finish up. “If you have a minute, I need some honest feedback.”
Harlow trailed behind her friend, through the shop and to a prep table near the back.
“I have a couple of new fudge flavors I’ve been working on. Noelle is on her way over to give her opinion.”
The tinkle of the front bell chimed. “That’s probably her.”
Noelle, who owned a nearby flower shop, appeared. “Hey, Peyton. Hi, Harlow. You’re here for the fudge tasting too?”
“I am now. As luck would have it, I showed up at just the right time.” Harlow rubbed her palms together. “What are we sampling?”
“This one is called cinnamon roll.” Peyton sliced off generous pieces of fudge and handed them to her friends. “Something is missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Harlow nibbled the edge before taking a bigger bite. The cinnamon and brown sugar tickled her tastebuds. She rolled the morsel around on her tongue. “I can taste the cinnamon. There’s also a hint of creaminess.”
“Marshmallow cream.”
Noelle bit into her piece. “I love cinnamon rolls so this is right up my alley.” She took another bite, savoring the flavors. “I like the marshmallow cream but think it needs a smidgen more cinnamon.”
Harlow polished off her piece. “I agree. Maybe a tad more cinnamon.”
“Duly noted.” Peyton sliced off two more pieces, this time from another block. “I have a different issue with this flavor. Give me your honest opinion.”
Harlow held up the piece, a layer of pink and white. “Let me guess…almost Neapolitan?”
“Coconut ice.”
“I love coconut.” Noelle ate half the sample in a single bite. “A cascade of coconut.”
Peyton wrinkled her nose. “Too much?”
Her friend popped the rest of the piece into her mouth. “Not for me, but maybe for someone else.”
“It’s crumbly.” Harlow plucked a crumb off her sweater and licked her finger. “I love coconut too, but it might be a little much.”
“So…more cinnamon and less coconut.” Peyton thanked them for their feedback. “I was thinking about you, wondering if you found anything else out about Cheyenne’s acting debut.”
“She’s such a trip.” Noelle rolled her eyes. “She’s bragging to anyone who will listen.”
“I wouldn’t be bragging too loudly,” Harlow said.
“Did you find out what kind of commercial it was? Do they plan on airing it, because I would love to see it,” Peyton said.
“Yes, and I’m not sure if it will ever air.”
“Yes, you know what kind of commercial it is?” Noelle asked.
“I do.” Harlow bit her lower lip, struggling to keep a straight face and failing miserably.
“It’s a comedy,” Peyton guessed.
“Not intentionally.” Harlow looked away, her smile firmly in place.
“I’m dying to know.”
She started to reply, and Noelle stopped her. “Hang on. I want to guess.” She snapped her fingers. “What sort of advertisement would Cheyenne be inclined to act in?”
“I’m gonna guess a luxury resort or spa commercial,” Peyton said. “Lounging on a chair by the pool while some hunky cabana boy waits on her, serving her drinks.”
“I’m sure she would have preferred that.”
“A credit card ad where she’s shopping ‘til she drops?” Noelle guessed. “From what I’ve heard she’s a shopaholic.”
“Nope. Think more along the lines of pharmaceutical.”
“Plastic surgery.”
“Even that would be preferable. It’s a commercial for GFS, Gastric Flare Syndrome.”
Noelle’s jaw dropped.
Peyton grabbed her friend’s arm, doubling over in laughter. “Are you serious?”
“I have a copy but you can’t tell anyone. I don’t want my publicist getting into trouble.”
“Oh man.” Peyton gasped for air. “I hope they run it for all the world to see.”
“So many things to say about this,” Noelle hooted. “She’s the perfect person, seeing how she’s a royal pain in the butt.”
“You have to show it to us.” Peyton clasped her hands, pleading with Harlow. “Please?”
“Let me ask Janice if she minds,” Harlow said. “Actually, she might have an update. She was going to do a little lowkey investigation to find out the status.”
“We need a screening party,” Noelle said. “All the Mackies getting together.”
“Let me find out first.” Harlow promised to check into it before she left.
Biking home was easy-breezy considering there was little foot or bike traffic because it was still off season. It made her think about Arlen and the bike shop. Running a small business in a town that spent a number of months shutdown was challenging.
Would Arlen return to Mackinac Island after finishing his education? Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps he would meet his future wife and his career would take him elsewhere.
She thought about her own life. A decade ago Harlow never envisioned the direction it would take, how she would become a household name, making more money than she could ever have dreamed of.
If nothing else, she was in a position to help others—help her family, charities that were near and dear to her heart, along with people like Arlen, who deserved a break. She had made him promise to invite her to his graduation, and she meant it.
Harlow wanted nothing more than to cheer him on, encouraging him to embrace the adventure and chase his dreams. Looking back, she firmly believed meeting the talent agent at the Grand Hotel was no accident.
Would she find herself in a position to help others she crossed paths with? She hoped so. Harlow would like nothing more than to continue paying it forward every chance she got, changing the world one small act of kindness at a time.