Fudgeballs And Other Sweets (4 page)

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Authors: Lori Copeland

BOOK: Fudgeballs And Other Sweets
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Space wasn't the main problem here now—it was Rob, and if she didn't get some help she was going to pull her hair out.
 
AT EXACTLY THREE FIFTY-NINE, Jenny pedaled past the front of the Grand Hotel, which glimmered like a diamond on an island of brilliant green. Tourists who had indulged in midafternoon high tea were leaving, some taking the horse-drawn carriages lining the drive. She wished she had time for a romantic carriage ride herself, but romance didn't go very far when you were alone.
Jenny stopped her bicycle by the side entrance, set the kickstand, then picked up the two boxes that held her neatly stacked fudgeballs, all tied in pretty white and gold ribbons, from the cart behind the back wheel. She'd only taken a few steps when a shot of water from an in-ground sprinkler caught her foot and soaked it.
She opened the metal door and started down the plush carpeted hall of the hotel toward the banquet room. The sucking sound of her wet sneakered foot resounded like a belch in church. When an elderly couple passed her, they stared and shook their heads as she squeaked and squished past them.
Was it the obnoxious sound of her shoe or her lack of proper attire? She wasn't dressed for high tea or a wedding. She should have changed from shorts to a dress. She adjusted the boxes in her arms to pull the brass handle on the door. The moment she stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat.
The fragrance of gardenias and sweet peas permeated the air around her. Beautiful bouquets graced each round table, set with fine china and crystal glassware. The bride had given thought to every detail of the reception, just as Jenny would if it was her wedding.
She took a few more soggy steps before the hotel attendants stopped arranging an elaborate display of fruit and cheeses to stare at her. “I'm here to deliver the fudgeballs the bride requested. I'll stay out of your way,” she said, trying to make herself inconspicuous as she approached the elaborately decorated podium where the wedding party was to be seated.
After distributing the first two boxes of fudgeballs, one neatly tied pack set to the left of each place card, she returned to her cart outside for the next load. As she walked into the hotel, thoughts of her own wedding filled her mind.
She had fantasized about a reception similar to this one, but Brian had never gotten around to popping the all-important question. Instead, he'd hint about getting married, leading her to false hopes and dreams. With each fudgeball she placed on the wedding tables, thoughts of what could have been ran through her mind.
The set-up took longer than she expected, and it was past five-thirty. She pushed open the door with her free hand and walked toward the cart at the back of her bike. She paused to look at the water and sighed. Sore muscles reminded her she hadn't worked out lately, and the pit of her stomach confirmed she'd skipped lunch. Her legs felt weak, and her head relayed a light, dizzy feeling.
“Need a hand?”
She glanced up to see Dave peddling toward her. He parked his bike, then stepped toward her and took the empty boxes from her hand, his skin brushing hers. The scent of his cologne tickled her senses more than the flowers in the reception hall.
“Thanks,” was all she could mumble as she watched him stack the empty boxes in the cart. He presented the nicest view from behind.... She mentally shook herself. She must be more light-headed than she thought. Mr. Kite Man was off-limits, no matter how he filled out his Dockers. “What brings you to this side of the island?”
“I had to mail my daughter's birthday present. She'll be seven on Thursday.”
She laughed. “Taking the long way home?” The post office was closer to their shops than to the hotel.
“I need the exercise. I've stood behind the counter most of the day.”
“What about your helper?”
“He didn't show up today.”
“Odd,” she said, laughing. “We're both having trouble keeping help.”
“Oh?”
“Teensy's flown the coop. Rob's devastated. Not much help.”
“Left the island? I thought I heard the baby crying earlier.”
“You did. Rob's trying to work and take care of Dory, in addition to pining over Teensy.”
They climbed on their bikes and pedaled off side by side. Jenny glanced at him. “You have a daughter? I didn't realize you're married.”
“Was,” he corrected.
The bitterness in his voice shocked her. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. Not having my daughter with me is my only regret about my divorce.”
They pedaled along the shoreline drive where the water lay like a blue jewel in the hot sun.
“Does your daughter live nearby?”
His laugh was anything but amused. “No. She lives in Chicago, but her mother's taken her to Europe for the summer.”
“That's nice.”
“Nice,” he corrected. “She's in Nice,” he explained. “I'm trying to track her down. I'm supposed to have my daughter come stay with me next month, but Nancy disappeared a couple of weeks ago with her. I had to mail Megan's birthday present to Chicago. God only knows how long it will be before she gets it.”
The hostility in his voice had changed to vulnerability. Jenny realized he was hurting. The attention he showered on Dory suddenly made sense. He missed his daughter, so much so he tried to appease his loneliness through another child.
For the first time, she felt at peace with her decision to end her relationship with Brian. She was still plagued by an occasional doubt, but hearing Dave's problems strengthened her belief that she'd made the right choice. She and Brian had the right chemistry but the wrong formula for a lasting relationship. Unlike Brian, she'd have no problem committing to marriage and babies, but when she did, she wanted it to last.
Forever.
3
“H
EADS UP, FRENCHIE!” Jake nudged the sleeping Princess with his hip. “Something's happening—it don't look right.”
Princess fluttered her eyelashes and focused on Rob lifting Dory from the baby carrier of his bicycle. The morning sun glistened off the Mackinac Straits.
“Uh-oh, Jenny's not going to like him bringing the baby to work again.” Princess yawned. “Why's he so early?”
“Check it out, sleepyhead. He ain't coming to work.” Jake snorted and licked his nose. “Look's like everything he owns is packed in that bag on the bike.”
Princess rose and strutted to the end of her chain, straining to get a good look at the cycle. She hurried toward Rob and sniffed his shoes, then turned to Jake, who had joined her. “He's wearing clean socks,” Princess whispered.
Jake snorted. “I'd say he's flying the coop. Why else would he be wearing socks at all?”
Princess started leaping in circles. “Oh, no, oh, no! He
can't
leave. Jenny needs him.” She jumped and barked at Rob.
Jake swatted her with his paw. “Get a grip, curly locks. Get a grip.”
Princess sat down, then jumped up again. “And the baby—what would we do without the baby?”
“Will you calm down? You'll get yourself all lathered up—and you know what that docs to that kinky hair of yours.”
They both sat as quiet as church mice while Rob laid the carryall on the fudge shop's doorstep, kissed Dory on the forehead, gave her a gentle pat, then turned, walked to his bicycle and rode away.
Jake yawned. “Looks like you're not going to have to worry about what to do
without
the baby—more like what're you gonna do
with
it.”
A tiny whimper escaped Princess and she leaned into Jake. “Dory is so cute. Come, monsieur. We must say hello.”
Jake waddled beside Princess, and the two peered inside the carrier. Sniff, sniff.
“What's that smell?” Jake asked.
“Baby powder. Isn't it exquisite!”
Jake burrowed his nose deeper to investigate a sputtering sound. He jumped back, snorted and shook from head to tail. “Phew! That ain't baby powder! That stinks. What'd she step in?”
Princess spun in a circle. “She doesn't walk, silly. She just did what comes natural to a baby. She dirtied her diaper.”
“Dirtied? Hell, it smells like a pile of.... She's sitting in that?”
Princess ignored him, knowing she needed her human. “Yip, yip!”
Oh, Jenny! The baby needs changing.
“Woof!”
Stay back, Dave! Run for your life!
 
“PRINCESS?” Jenny opened the screen door to look out. “Is that irritating bulldog—” Her gaze dropped to the step.
Baby Dory rubbed her eyes, blinking sleepily. When she saw Jenny, she burst into gurgling glee.
Dave stepped out of the kite shop, broom in hand. He glanced at the dogs, then at Jenny. “I've been keeping my eye on Jake. He hasn't done—” His gaze moved to Dory. “What's this?”
“I don't know. I came in early this morning, and Rob wasn't here.” Jenny stooped to pick up the baby, frowning. She nuzzled Dory's neck and made the baby laugh. “Smells like you left a little present in your diaper.”
Present?
Jake rolled over and played dead.
Dave reached for the envelope pinned to the baby's jumper. “It's addressed to you.”
Still frowning, Jenny handed Dory to Dave. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he quickly held the infant at arm's length, turning his face upwind.
Jenny read the letter, sinking to the wooden step. “He's gone,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Rob.”
“Gone? Where?”
Jenny opened the letter and read aloud. “I'm sorry, Jenny, but I'm going after Teensy. My life is nothing without her. I know you will take good care of Dory. Sorry to leave you in a bind, but you know how she hates to stay with strangers. Rob.”
“Hell.” Dave assessed the situation. “You'll have to notify the authorities.”
Jenny shot off the step. “That's the
last
thing I'd do.”
“The child is abandoned—you can't just
keep
her.”
“I can't report Dory abandoned! Rob's simply asked me to take care of her until he gets back.” Heat suffused her cheeks. Turn Dory over to strangers? How insensitive could he be? “If I report Rob's actions to child services, they'll put her in foster care. I can't do that.”
“Jenny, be reasonable.” Dave shifted Dory in his arms. “Rob and Teensy are nothing but kids themselves—irresponsible ones at that. They've deserted their child!”
She brushed his arguments aside. How she handled the matter was none of his business. “You don't know anything about them. They love Dory. They'll be back.”
“When does the note say they'll be back?”
“It doesn't—but I know Rob. He's upset right now, not thinking clearly. He may be young, but he's not irresponsible.” She looked at Dory, wondering how she would manage until Rob found Teensy and convinced her to stay with him.
“And if they don't come back?”
“I'll take care of her, if that's what it takes.”
“You?” He laughed. “What do you know about babies?”
Her chin lifted with resolve. She knew zilch about babies, but she couldn't let Rob down. He and Teensy would come to their senses and be back within the week. “Enough,” she said.
Their gazes locked.
“Who'll run your business? You couldn't keep up with its demands even when Rob was helping you,” he said.
She heard the phone ring and turned to answer it.
“Wait a minute! We're having a conversation!” Dave caught the door with his elbow and followed her in, still holding Dory a safe distance in front of him. The baby kicked and flailed her arms playfully. “Kid, you're potent,” he grumbled.
Jenny answered the phone, glad to have a moment to try to pull together her thoughts. How
was
she going to manage?
Dave wrinkled his nose, whispering, “What should I do with her?”
Jenny waved him off, listening intently to the conversation and scribbling numbers on a pad. “Yes, yes, I can meet the deadline. No problem. Floridian blue ribbons, yes. Each box will have a blue ribbon. No, I won't forget. Yes, Floridian blue. Definitely Floridian. Yes, thank you for the order. No, I'll have them ready. No problem. Not navy blue, not pale blue, Floridian. I understand.” Her hand trembled as she put the phone in the cradle.
“Big order?”
She stared into space. “What the heck is Floridian blue?”
Dave winced as Dory pulled the hairs on his arm. “What about the baby?”
Jenny snapped to attention. “Two days. I've got two days. Two hundred eighty-eight fudgeballs, two to a box—white box tied with blue ribbon. Make sure it's Floridian blue. Not navy blue, not pale blue. Floridian blue.”
Dave swung Dory back and forth in front of Jenny's face. “In the meantime? What about the baby?”
“She needs to be changed.”
“I
know
she needs to be changed. By now everyone on the island knows it.”
Jenny grabbed the telephone book and rapidly thumbed through the pages. “I've got to find a replacement for Rob. I need help—desperately.” She ran her index finger down a column of numbers.
Dave held Dory out to her again. “The baby?”
“Do you know anyone who needs a job?”
“I know someone who's
done
a job.”
“Be serious.”
“Take a whiff—you think this isn't serious?”
She settled on a number and punched it into the phone, cradling the receiver between her ear and her shoulder as she searched through a drawer, finally extracting a disposable diaper. “Here.” She jammed the diaper under his chin. “Hello? Mrs. Wilcox? Jenny McNeill at the fudge shop. Could I interest you in a job?”
 
DAVE WET A CLOTH with warm water then stripped the soiled diaper off Dory. Memories flooded him as he wiped the tiny pink bottom. How many years had it been? He couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd changed Megan. She had been like Dory, playful and sweet. If only he could hold her again. Where was she? He could throttle Nancy!
“There we go, sweetie,” he said, lifting Dory,in his arms. She immediately stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked loudly. “Hungry?” He bounced her on his shoulder and patted her back. “Let's see if we can find something.”
He needed to get back to his shop, but when he looked at Dory, he softened. How could her parents abandon her? He'd do anything to have Megan with him.
“Did you find everything you needed?” Jenny asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Everything except breakfast. I don't know how much longer her thumb will hold out.”
Jenny smiled. “Isn't she cute?”
Jenny stood so close, her perfume intoxicated him. Chanel? “Yes, she's cute,” he mused, thinking more in terms of Jenny herself. She was beautiful. He hadn't thought about a woman since his divorce, not seriously, so why did Jenny suddenly look and smell good to him? They could barely say two consecutive civil words to each other, and all of a sudden he was wondering if she'd go out to dinner if he asked. Her smile, the curve of her hip, long tan legs that tapered to trim ankles. Since when did ankles start looking so good? He'd been without female companionship too long.
“There's formula in the back room. Rob bought it last week.” Jenny wiped her hands on a towel. “I'll mix a bottle.”
“Better let me do that. Here, you hold Dory.”
“I'm capable of mixing formula.”
“I didn't say you weren't.”
“You implied it. Look, Dave, just because you've had a child and I haven't doesn't mean—”
“Let's not argue about baby bottles. You fix the bottle, I'll take her to my shop and—”
“Oh, no, she's my responsibility. I'll feed her right here.”
“I have more time than you at the moment. Peter's at the store today—”
“I can manage. Help's on the way. Mrs. Wilcox can give me a couple days a week.” She reached for Dory, but Dave pulled back.
“You have fudgeballs to make and all those blue ribbons to tie.”
Jenny sank onto the nearest bench. “Please don't say blue. It's
Floridian.
”
They both laughed, and the tension subsided. It was hard to refuse him when he looked at her with those puppy-dog eyes. He seemed so happy with Dory, and she needed her hands free.
“Okay,
you
feed the baby, and I'll wrap fudgeballs.”
Dave grinned. “Deal.” He glanced at Dory. “I haven't had breakfast with a woman this pretty in a long time.”
 
THAT EVENING, Jenny sat down to rock Dory. The day had been hectic beyond belief. She knew she should be working on the financial statement, but the baby felt so good in her arms. She hugged Dory's warm, cuddly body close. Now she knew why people had babies. So they could rock them. The gentle back and forth, back and forth dissolved the cares of the day. Dory had drifted off to sleep, but Jenny couldn't lay her down yet. If she did, she would have to quit rocking—and rocking was nice.
She hummed a lullaby her mother used to sing to her. “Mama's gonna buy you a something, something.” She had forgotten the words but not the tune. She smiled at Dory, who was making sucking motions with her sweet mouth. “And if that something doesn't something, Mama's gonna buy you a something else.”
Mama. The word felt natural on her tongue.
Would she ever be a mama? She squeezed Dory tighter. If Rob and Teensy didn't come back, she would—by default. If that were to happen, would she be able to keep the child? Dave was right. Authorities would eventually have to be notified. The thought made her queasy. She refused to believe Rob would be so coldhearted.
It would be hard to assume responsibility for the infant without risking the expansion of Fudgeballs. Motherhood wasn't factored into the next few months of her life. She hated to admit it, but Dave had been so helpful lately she almost hated to see him leave.
He was right about her knowing nothing about babies. A mortgage and picket fence were high on her list of priorities. But finding the right man to share her dream wasn't that simple, and her life was too hectic to go looking.

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