Love at the Candy Heart Café – Chapter Six by Christine Johnson

Love at the Candy Heart Café 

 Chapter Six 

by Christine Johnson

Candy managed to keep up the smile until Bruce Tart strolled into the café. Never mind his dark good looks and oily smile or that the Tarts owned some of the choicest property in Sweet Tart Village. Ever since high school, the man had given her grief. He would interrupt her and Taffy to boast about his father’s businesses. He’d asked her out more than once, even when she was dating Chad. She always turned him down.

“Hi there, Candy.” He eased her way with that too-bright smile of his.

“Seat yourself.” She waved at the nearly-empty tables and retreated behind the counter.

He leaned against that counter—directly in front of her. “Maybe I don’t want to sit. Maybe I want some of that—” He surveyed the display case. “—rhubarb pie? Who eats that stuff? No wonder this place is going downhill.”

Candy choked back a retort. The customer was always right, Grandma used to say with a sigh. Though Candy wasn’t ready to fully agree, insulting the heir to the richest fortune in town wouldn’t help her or the Candy Heart Café. Bruce’s dad sat on the bank board.

“We have banana cream also.”

He leaned a little closer. “That pie looks as sweet as you.”

Candy hid her gagging behind a cough. “Not as sweet as our cupcakes.”

He gave her an odd look that she ignored.

“I’ll get you a piece of the banana cream.” She opened the case and removed the slice of pie. After setting a fork on the plate, she handed it to him along with a napkin.

Instead of carrying it to a table, he took a bite right there. “Good. Not great but good.”

Candy bristled. Everyone raved over Honey Sweet’s pies. “I’ll have you know—”

“—Just like your shop,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “A little drab but with some effort, it could be the highlight of Sweet Tart Village.”

Candy bit her tongue instead of mentioning that his father could have swayed the bank to give her a loan to do just that.

Bruce pushed aside the pie and leaned against the counter again. “I could help out, and you wouldn’t have to sell.”

Where did he get that idea? Chad? “I’ll have you know that I’m not selling this place.”

“Of course you’re not.” His smile made her shiver, and not in a good way. “But sometimes there’s no choice. I hear that snake Chad Hershey is back in town.”

Hearing someone like Bruce call Chad a snake was a lot different than thinking it herself. “So? We split up a long time ago.”

Something that not only still stung but had begun to feel like a bottomless void that would never be filled. Designing wedding gowns and working at a bridal shop had only fed her desire for a happily-ever-after, something that she was beginning to think would never happen in Sweet Tart Village.

Bruce laid his hand on hers. “Don’t worry. There’s always a solution.”

For a second her spirits lifted, but then she considered the source. There would be strings attached. With the Tarts, there were always strings attached. 

The Sweethearts of Truffle Manor. Chapter Nine. by Christine Johnson

Adette clung to the door of Devon’s pickup as they careened around corners and sped down straight-aways following Carmella’s Kia to Nougat Peak. The short distance seemed to take forever. Would they be too late?

As if reading her mind, he said, “She’ll hang on until you get there.”

He couldn’t know that for certain, but she appreciated the thought.

Upon arrival, Devon leapt out of the truck and helped her down from the passenger seat. The long, flowing gown was a real hindrance with a gimpy ankle and again he lifted her into his arms and carried her across the threshold of the assisted living center. Not the threshold she had dreamed of crossing in a man’s arms, but she appreciated that it got them to Grandma more quickly.

Carmella led them to Grandma’s room and then closed the door, leaving Adette and Devon alone with the patient, who was sitting up and looking awfully chipper for a woman on her deathbed. In fact, if Adette wasn’t mistaken, Grandma was grinning.

“What’s going on?” Adette said.

Devon set her down, but she wasn’t steady enough to let go of this rock of strength standing beside her.

“Grandma?”

Candy Dunkleman patted the bed. “Sit down, dear. I’m glad you were able to make it here.”

Adette looked back at Devon. He appeared as mystified as she was.

“But I thought…Carmella said that you were…” Adette couldn’t say the words.

“Dying?” Grandma shrugged. “We’re all dying from the day we’re born. What matters is how we use the time God has given us in between.” She smiled at Devon. “I see you two have met.” Then her gaze landed on Adette’s hand—her left hand. “Ahhhhh.”

Adette felt her cheeks heat. “It’s not the way it looks. Devon, uh, well, he found your ring and—”

“And you accused me of stealing it.” Devon chose that moment to find his voice.

Again Adette tried to twist it off. Again it wouldn’t budge. “I just need some lotion, and I’ll get it off.”

“I don’t need that ring anymore, dear,” Grandma said with a wave of her hand. “It was always meant for you—and the man you love.” She looked to Devon with that grin again.

“But we just met,” Adette protested.

Grandma clucked her tongue. “Don’t you remember that summer when you were a girl and that lovely family, the Hersheys, were staying next door? You and Dev—Devon—spent many a day together.”

“Dev?” Adette stared at him. “You’re Dev? You don’t look anything like that scrawny boy who taught me how to shoot an arrow in exchange for cupcakes.”

He looked amused. “I have grown up.” His gaze lingered on her face even as his voice lowered. “As have you.”

“Do you mean to say that you knew about this?” She looked from Devon to Grandma and back again. “Was this a plot?”

“I’m innocent.” Devon held up his hands. “Honestly, I forgot about that summer until recently, and I never put two and two together. After all, your family called you Addie. And I had no idea Candy—your grandmother—wasn’t near death.”

They both looked to Grandma, who was definitely grinning, though she attempted to look remorseful.

“I might have had a tiny part in bringing you two together.”

Adette tried to wrap her mind around Grandma’s Oscar-worthy performance. “Then the house. Did you really sell it?”

“Yes, I did. Devon owns Truffle Manor now. He’s going to fix it up properly, so it’s a home again, like it was in your childhood.”

“Then you don’t need to be here.”

“Oh, I do,” Grandma patted her leg. “Rehabilitation for a twisted ankle. I fell on those rickety stairs.”

Adette could commiserate.

“But you’re coming home once I have a room fixed up for you,” Devon insisted.

“Home?” Adette wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

“To Truffle Manor.” Except he wasn’t looking at Grandma. He was looking into her eyes. “That’s where you belong, where all the Dunklemans belong.”

A warmth started deep inside and blossomed outward. Grandma wasn’t near death and would return home once her ankle healed. Moreover, if she understood Devon correctly, he was inviting her to visit too.

She gingerly stood. He moved to support her, and the warmth of his touch matched the warmth in her heart. “I would like that.”

Devon’s smile could melt sugar. It surely sent her heart spinning.

“I can’t wait to see it when it’s done,” she managed to say, though it came out breathless.

“I was hoping you’d help design the rooms.”

She couldn’t break his gaze. Didn’t want to. He was asking her to be a part of making Truffle Manor a home. “I would like to do that.” Already the ideas swirled in her head.

“Goodness, boy,” Grandma said, “what’s taking you so long? Go ahead and kiss her. You’ve already given her the ring.”

Adette was about to protest that they weren’t engaged, but Devon’s lips met hers, and she forgot all about that technicality. From the first tantalizing preview to the passionate finale, it was everything a kiss should be. She leaned into him, lost in the moment. This was no stage kiss. This was the real thing, filled with promise.

When he finished the encore and gave her the abashed smile she remembered from childhood, she knew Devon was someone very special. Maybe even The One.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured.

“So it is.” Complete with Grandma playing cupid. She grinned at him. “Will you be my valentine?”

In answer, he kissed her again. 

The Sweethearts of Truffle Manor. Chapter 8 by Christine Johnson

Adette’s heart sank at the grim news.

“Grandma,” she gasped, forgetting for one moment the altogether too handsome man standing behind her, not to mention the ring he’d just placed on her finger.

Was she too late? All the excuses over the months and years felt as flimsy as tissue paper. Why hadn’t she visited more often? Work and auditions didn’t mean anything compared to family. But it wasn’t just that. She’d let the scandal over the chocolate vat drowning keep her away. Her bravado in front of Devon was just an act, as was her disinterest in the house. She did love it. She’d always loved it. She’d just told Grandma not to talk about giving her the house because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

“We need to hurry.” Carmella Sweet motioned toward her Kia, which was waiting near the door.

Adette couldn’t imagine Devon folding himself into that little car. Speaking of Devon, why did Grandma insist he be there for her final moments? Shouldn’t that be reserved for family?

She swayed at the thought, then jerked back to counterbalance, and bumped into a very solid chest. A far too pleasant sensation shimmied down her spine. This was ridiculous. Simply because he’d placed Grandma’s wedding ring on her finger? She tugged on it, but it wouldn’t slip over the knuckle.

“We’ll take my truck,” the rumbling male voice behind her commanded.

He slipped an arm around her waist, and she shivered at his touch. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. Her grandmother hovered near death. She should not be thinking about the muscular man now helping her down the last few stairs. She should be mad at him, not impressed by his thoughtful concern for her twisted ankle. She needed to stand on her own.

“Ouch!” Pain shot from her ankle to her brain with sizzling speed.

Without a word of warning, he scooped her up and carried her across the foyer, out the front door and down the steps.

“Put me down!” The protest was half-hearted. She was rather enjoying his strong arms and oh so masculine scent. Like fresh-sawn wood. 

“Not until we get to the truck.”

He deposited her in the passenger seat and closed the door after ensuring she was secure. Then he hopped in the driver’s side. Devon was clearly a man who took charge. Though she appreciated that, his scowl and fierce concentration made her wonder. Just who was this man, and why had Grandma asked for him? 

The Sweethearts of Truffle Manor Part Six by Deb Kastner

Wow. Devon didn’t want to care, but he didn’t think the woman standing before him was anywhere near as talented an actress as she thought she was—which meant the flash of pain and sorrow he’d seen flicker across her gaze was real. Something he’d said had pricked at her heart—or at least her conscience.

“Your grandmother speaks often of you,” he said with a reluctant frown. He wanted to dislike her, he really did. But there was something earnest in her eyes. “She never complained, but I could tell she was disheartened that she didn’t see more of you.”

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped back, then shifted her glance away, rubbing her arms as if she were suddenly chilled.

She wasn’t the only one.

“You’re the one, Devon,” Candy Dunkleman had murmured, and now her words echoed in his ears. The old woman had gone on to say he was perfect to renovate the house, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d had ulterior motives.

The one for—what?

She slowly brought her gaze back to his.

His throat tightened and he swallowed hard. Those eyes could really do a number on a man.

“I have to be honest with you. I don’t have a Plan B,” she murmured. “I have nowhere else to go. I just assumed my grandmother’s house would be available for me to stay in.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he said, and meant it. It must have been a real shocker to her to come into the house and find him there. “I assumed your grandmother would have told you about me buying her house.”

He pulled the solitaire diamond out of his pocket and held it out to her. “I was going to take this to Candy, but if you’re as desolate as you say, I’m sure she’d want you to have it. Maybe you can pawn it or something for—“

“Pawn it?” she repeated, her voice rising to a high squeak. “Pawn my grandmother’s wedding ring? Are you crazy? What kind of no good, unfeeling jerk would suggest I give away something of such sentimental value to the family?”

“I—er,” he stammered. It had only been a suggestion, and that only because he was trying to help her out of a bad situation. It was obvious to him now that Candy had sold her house for Adette's sake, so why should a ring be any differen? He didn't go for the mushy stuff, but now that he thought about it, he realized what a mistake he’d made to bring it up. He wished he could take back the words. Her gaze singed him with it's fiery intensity.

“Give it to me. Give it to me now!” she demanded. “You might have bought this house, but you have no right to my grandmother’s possessions.”

Devon agreed with her there. Maybe Adette’s sudden appearance could be to his advantage. He could offer her a place to stay—temporarily—and she could help him decide what to do with all of her family’s belongings.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the ring, intending to extend an offer for her to stay with him. But when he held out the diamond, their eyes met and it was as if all the air left the room. He looked at the ring and then back at her. It wasn’t as if he was proposing to her or anything, but--

Awkward!

The Sweethearts of Truffle Manor Valentine's Serial Day 5, Danica Favorite

Adette shot a glare at the trespasser. She didn’t owe him any answers. And yet… “If you were at all familiar with my grandmother and Nougat Peak, you’d know that they don’t allow visitors this late.”

She took a step forward, wincing at the pain as she rose to her full height. “Which tells me that you’re the one who doesn’t belong here. I’d heard that there was some charlatan sniffing around Grandma, trying to milk her for what she had left.”

Pointing to the ring, she said, “you just couldn’t wait until she was dead, could you? The director at Nougat Peak said she only has days left, but that wasn’t good enough for you, was it? You had to get your finger on her money now. Well, the joke’s on you. There’s no money. There’s a reason Dunkleman Chocolates and Confections has been closed all these years. Surely you heard about that kid who fell into the chocolate vat? Our very own Augustus Gloop, only the reality was far worse than Roald Dahl could have written it. They sued for millions, and won.”

Casting a scornful look at him, she looked past him to the field beyond, to the land where a condo development had been built over where the factory had once stood. “My grandparents lost everything. And my parents…”

Adette tried to ignore the way her chest tightened every time they came up in conversation. People always assumed that there’d been enough insurance to cover everything. Enough to set her up living the good life. But that was another one of those jokes that wasn’t funny.

“Let’s just say there’s no money, and leave it at that. Go away. Give me my grandmother’s ring, and I won’t press charges.”

Instead of looking disappointed at being confronted with the truth, he stared at her like she was an idiot. “I told you, I own this house. Your grandmother sold it to me a month ago.”

Her heart thudded to the bottom of her stomach. “She would never…”

Then Adette closed her eyes. Remembered. The student loan people had stopped hounding her about a month ago. Oh, grandmother, why??

“She did. Said you weren’t interested.”  Devon gave her a look of contempt that would have frozen just about anyone. 

But it only made Adette sad. How many times had her grandmother asked her to come visit? And how many times had Adette told her that she couldn’t take the time off work?  Between working two jobs to pay the rent and the time she spent auditioning for roles, she couldn’t afford it. Obviously she hadn’t been able to keep up on the student loans. Even now, her credit card had barely had enough room on it for the plane ticket. 

“She misunderstood,” Adette said quietly. “Now may I please have her ring? Don’t tell me she sold that to you too. I don’t think I could bear it.”

The Sweethearts of Truffle Manor chapter two

Valentine Serial 2016

The Sweethearts of Truffle Manor

Chapter Two by Terri Reed

            Adette Dunkleman stared at the hunk of man wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans standing near the closet in the master bedroom of Truffle Manor. Her grandparents’  house. Her grandparents' bedroom. Grandfather had passed on but Grandma was still alive and this-- this thief was pilfering Grandma’s house.  How dare he?  “Stay right where you are,” she demanded with a huff. “I’m calling the police.”

            She wouldn’t let him steal that ring he held in his hand or anything else for that matter.

            “You do that,” the man said with a mocking tone that grated on her nerves. “You’ll be the one arrested for trespassing.”
            “What are you talking about? You’re the one trespassing!”  This house, with all of its memories, would belong to her one day.

            Sadness cramped her chest.  According to the Nougat Peak assisted living director, Grandma wasn’t doing well. Adette had taken the first flight she could catch after her last performance of The Two Gentlemen of Verona in an off-off Broadway theatre. Adette hadn’t even taken time to stop at her studio apartment to change out of her costume.  The flowing red dressed swirled about her legs as she turned and hurried downstairs where she’d left her purse with her phone inside.

            Heavy footsteps echoed behind her, spurring her to move faster.  Her red high-heeled shoe slipped off the last step, her ankle buckled and her arms windmilled as the floor rushed up to meet her. She landed with a thud and yelp of pain. She clutched her ankle. “Now, see what you did,” she accused. Blinking rapidly to keep the tears of pain at bay, she glared the man looming over her.

            “I didn’t touch you.” He crouched beside her.

            His musky scent filled her senses. He had light colored hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.  He had a strong jaw and a well-shaped mouth pulled into a frown.  

            “Let me see your ankle,” he said softly, reaching for her.

            Her breath caught. Her heart leapt. She scooted away. “No, way. Don’t you dare touch me or I’ll scream.”

My Lady Valentine - part 10

Lacy Williams here with today's installment:


“…what does a man say to the man he believes he killed?”

“Only that I would be willing to do it again. A lady’s honor must be upheld.”
Whether it was his sister or Lady Elizabeth.
Drake held his sword loosely, its weight familiar in his hand. In this crowded hall with guests milling—and many watching the tableau unfold with wide eyes—he could not swing it without risking endangering those around.
Had his blunt words upset Lady Elizabeth?
He dared to look away from the viscount to glance down on her. Where he had expected a scowl, like the one she’d bestowed on him so easily earlier, he witnessed the fine tremble pass Lady Elizabeth’s lips.
She was frightened.
Before this moment, he’d believed she might be glad at the reappearance of her betrothed. But it seemed she knew of the viscount’s rumored cruelty.
And after spending most of the day with her helping finalize Lady Jane’s plans for the festival, he knew he couldn’t walk away and leave her to the viscount’s machinations.
If this man was the viscount. He hadn’t recognized Drake or Lady Elizabeth until his companion had identified them.
Nicholas glared, his gaze flicking between Drake and Lady Elizabeth. Now that Drake knew Elizabeth had no desire for the match, he must do something.
“I was promised this dance,” he said as the music swirled above the noise of the crowd.
He sheathed his sword and swept Elizabeth into the crowd, leaving Nicholas behind. Instead of moving into the dance patterns, he guided her across the floor to the opposite side of the hall and into a shadowed alcove that afforded some privacy.
He hadn’t meant to literally sweep her away but realized his hands rested at her hips and they stood too close for propriety’s sake.
And he wanted her closer.
Her soft breaths warmed his chin. Only the smallest of spaces separated them. He could easily close the distance and kiss her parted lips…
Which was why he forced himself to release her.
“Your brother should be here protecting you.” His words emerged sharper than he’d intended, maybe as protection to himself. But seeing her uncertain made him want things he couldn’t afford to want.
And her chin came up, that fierce, familiar scowl reappearing along with her backbone. “I can protect myself.”
Perhaps not.
“My man is looking into the viscount’s presence here.” And whether the viscount was truly who he claimed to be. “Something isn’t right with his sudden appearance. Where has he been these past years?” And why hadn’t he recognized Drake?
She looked past him, out to where the assembled crowd still danced and made merry. “Mayhap my aunt knows something. Her episode came on when she learned of his presence. I’ll seek her counsel in the morn.”
But until then, who would watch over Elizabeth?

My Lady Valentine, Part 5

Good day! Christine Johnson here today to continue the adventures of Lady Elizabeth.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth's puzzlement over Baron Drake's short visit evaporated. She ran toward her sister, her heart thundering in her ears. "What happened?"

"Hurry," Patrica gasped. "Aunt Jane was sewing and then—" A sob cut short her sentence.

Though Patrica was known for exaggerating the import of any situation, Elizabeth feared this time something truly dreadful had happened.

"Take deep breaths until you can speak calmly," urged Baron Drake, who must have followed Elizabeth.

Patrica looked up at him with the sort of adulation reserved for the champion of a tournament. Elizabeth felt a flash of competitive jealousy and then caught herself. What right had she to claim the baron's attention? At least he shared her disdain of the traditional St. Valentine's pairing. Patrica could not claim him for her partner.

Yet his rich voice made her far too aware of him. Had Patrica seen the way he'd gazed into her eyes, not to mention how close he had come to touching her? Elizabeth had to breathe deeply herself.

"We were sewing," Patrica said, her gaze never wavering from the baron, "and then we heard the gate lift and the clatter of hooves. I assumed twas yet another guest, but Aunt Jane rose to look out the window. That's when she—" Patrica's countenance crumpled. "She collapsed."

"Collapsed?" Elizabeth shoved aside all thoughts of Baron Drake. Her aunt was ill, or worse.

She raced for the keep, but the baron beat her there with his long strides. Together, they climbed to the solar, where the servants directed them to Aunt Jane's bed. The curtains were pulled back, and she looked terribly pale.

Aunt noted the baron and accepted his presence without so much as a nod before reaching for Elizabeth. "Come here, child."

Elizabeth felt but six years of age, when she had faced punishment for one of the many tricks she and Thomas had played on the servants. She came forward as directed and knelt by her aunt's bedside. "I am here."

Aunt Jane grasped her hands with surprising strength. "You must take charge now, until your parents' return. I will be here to guide you, but the preparations for the Feast of St. Valentine now fall on your shoulders."

Elizabeth swallowed hard.

"I will assist, Duchess." That offer rumbled from none other than Baron Drake.

"But—" Elizabeth began, intending to point out that he was to leave on the morrow.

"Good," Aunt interrupted. "A strong hand—and a sharp sword—may be required before the feast is nigh."

Elizabeth shot to her feet. A sword? From whom did she need the protection of Baron Drake Godrich? It must be the new arrival that had sent Aunt Jane to her bed. But whose presence could bring such consternation? Their family had but one sworn enemy. Surely he would not dare to attend the feast. Or would he?

Continued tomorrow...

Christine Johnson

Love by Design (LIH, May 2015)

Love's Rescue (Revell, June 2015)

http://christineelizabethjohnson.com

http://www.facebook.com/ChristineJohnsonAuthor



Her Secret Valentine, Part 12

Today’s episode by Christine Johnson.

Installments appear on Thursday and Friday, ending on Valentine’s Day. For previous episodes, click on the shoe or the links in the sidebar.

 

Remember him? The man asked if she remembered him. How could she forget Jean-Pierre? Nancy shook her head. This wasn’t possible. She hadn’t thought of him since… No. She couldn’t go there.

Besides, Jean-Pierre didn’t have black hair. His thick locks were streaked surfer blond, which perfectly matched his tan, the muscular shoulders and endearing lopsided grin. His aftershave and deep baritone washed over her like a lazy ocean swell. She eased her right foot out of the three-inch high-heeled shoe and tapped around until her toes landed on his foot. Classic boat shoes, Jean-Pierre’s footwear of choice. It had to be him. Or a very good impersonation.

“Well?” Mrs. Cannoli asked. “Who do you think your Secret Valentine is?”

 

 

“They’re all so handsome," Shanna added before Mrs. Cannoli shushed her.

“I-I don’t know,” Nancy stammered, overwhelmed by the whole turn of events. A contest? Three men vying to be her Secret Valentine? “You’re telling me I have three secret admirers?”

“Isn’t it exciting?” Shanna gushed. “I never dreamed when I entered your name in the contest that this would happen.”

Mrs. Cannoli cleared her throat. “Now that you’ve met the men, Miss Hart, you need to pick your Secret Valentine.”

Nancy panicked. What if she picked the wrong one? She'd been burned before. “I can’t.”

“Think it through logically,” Mr. Willowby suggested, finally giving her some useful advice. “Examine all the clues before making a decision.”

Clues? Nancy’s head was spinning, and it wasn’t due to the silk blindfold covering her eyes. This whole chase after a secret admirer had left her unsettled. Now she had to choose one of three men sight unseen. It was impossible.

 

"Take a deep breath," Mr. Willowby counseled.

 

She took several and thought over the events since the first gift arrived. The only clues were the man’s height and hair color, but then the B&B’s doorman admitted he’d placed the gifts around town. That eliminated both clues and put blond-haired Jean-Pierre back in the running.

Nancy scrambled through the other alternatives. Paul had joined her for a great tour of Atlanta and picnic, but then he’d jetted off to another city. Denver? Des Moines? She couldn’t quite recall, except that he was an airline pilot and always on the move. One special day couldn’t inspire lasting love, could it?

Then there was Jason. He did take her to the theatre to Gone with the Wind, but so had Brad. Besides, she and Jason had agreed afterwards that there wasn’t a spark between them. Why would he come to Cupid’s Corners now? Unless this man wasn’t Jason.

Nancy tugged at her hair in frustration, and the blindfold slipped just a bit. That gave her an idea. If she could just get a peek at the men…

To be continued next Thursday, February 13, 2014

 

 

 

 

Christine Johnson

Coming in July 2014: Groom by Design, Book 1 of The Dressmaker’s Daughters series.

Visit Christine at http://christineelizabethjohnson.com
or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/ChristineJohnsonAuthor.