Sugar Rush (16 page)

He should have known his dad wasn’t inspired enough to come up with something like that.

He’d expected Dulcie to be happy for him, to support him when the judges nodded their approval—hadn’t they promised as much to each other back at the market? But she’d only looked upset, like she was begrudging his success. Of course, now he realized why, but at the time he’d been so hurt he had to leave the room. Get some air. Wonder if Dulcie was the person he’d thought.

Then, of course, everything had gone down the way it did.

How could things get so messed up in such a short time? He knew the answer, of course.

His father.

These same thoughts played over and over in his mind the entire ride home. It wasn’t a long flight, but the waiting at the airport for the first flight back was the worst torture he’d ever faced. He must have worn a path in front of the boarding gate with his pacing.

About a thousand scenarios spun through his mind like webs of cotton candy. In one, Dulcie would jump into his open arms, realizing the mistake she’d made, coming to understand it was all his father and had nothing to do with him. In the next, she slapped him across the face. Each scenario had varying levels of hope, from ecstatic making up to a vat of hot caramel nougat being poured over his head.

As he stood in front of Candy Land Confections, he hoped her reaction would be toward the kiss-and-make-up end of the scale, though he couldn’t stop wringing his hands, thinking it could be a massacre of sugar.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door, the little bells sounding more ominous than ever.

Dulcie noticed him right away as she came out from the kitchen with a tray of her new Coconut Brittle
.
Any bit of hope he’d been holding out on came crashing down in the second it took for their eyes to meet.

Her expression said it all.

She hated him with every fiber of her being.

His feet wanted to stick right there on the floor, but he forced himself to take a step. Then another.

“Can we talk, please?”

“No.”

In all the scenarios, Nick could honestly say that reaction had not crossed his mind.

“Come on. You’ve got to know this was all my father, not me.”

As if on cue, Dulcie’s grandmother waltzed out from the kitchen.

His eyes widened. “I…I thought you never came in here?” he said, without thinking.

Ms. Carter narrowed her eyes, leaning toward him with her hands on her hips.

“Well, I guess I do now. Dulcie can’t run this place on her own
and
clean up the mess you and that rat father of yours spewed all over our front door.”

Nick blinked. “It…it wasn’t me. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, please,” Dulcie said, taking a stance in front of her grandmother. “You had a million opportunities to steal my mother’s recipe. I bet you could hardly wait to go running back to your father with it. But what I really can’t believe is that you actually went through with trying to destroy my chocolates. Why would you even bother when you’d already copied the recipe? Did that little niggle of guilt finally get to you? Or maybe you thought I’d never find out if I didn’t have a chance to enter.”

“Dulcie, it was my father—”

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know. How could you have seen what your father was making and not realize I had the exact same thing in my box? You know, the one you
crushed
?” she spat.

“I…I didn’t see what they were exactly, I swear. I-I was busy watching you,” Nick sputtered.

Ms. Carter scoffed. “We don’t appreciate you coming in here with your lame little attempt to figure out what we’re going to do about all this. I’ll tell you flat out what we’re going to do. We’re going to sue your asses off if you try for one more minute to pass off my daughter’s last recipe as your own.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Carter—”

“And I don’t care what you think. Now, get the hell out of our store.”

He turned to Dulcie. “Please, let’s talk about this. Won’t you at least let me plead my case? I…I really thought we had something special.” He hoped his look of desperation might help soften her.

She shook her head. “Nick…,” she said reluctantly. “This could ruin our entire reputation. It’ll be all over the blogs. Who’s going to shop at a place that would stoop so low as to steal its competitor’s recipe? I sure as hell wouldn’t. My store might be in real trouble,” she said, her words going quiet as she glanced at her customers, who luckily weren’t paying any attention. “Just, please…just go.”

“But I need to—”

“It’s too late for that,” she said and turned away, walking into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.

Nick’s mouth hung open, wanting so badly to finish his sentence, but Ms. Carter was steadfast, staring him down. Daring him to make things even worse.

He closed his mouth and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, turning, realizing it might be the last time he ever stepped foot through the door as the little bells chimed their mocking song.

Chapter Sixteen

Dulcie’s hand shook as it hovered over her computer mouse. First, she’d checked her latest test scores on the college portal site and discovered she’d failed her marketing midterm.

Another stellar addition to the week.

Then she opened the reply to her e-mail from the Assembly of Chocolatiers and was not at all prepared for what it said.

Dear Ms. Carter,

Thank you for your correspondence. The situation at this year’s preliminary judging was perhaps the most perplexing we’ve ever had to deal with in all our years of running this contest. It was a rather serious and alarming matter, and we did not relish in having to decide on a course of action going forward.

Because of the past relationship this competition has with Candy Land Confections and How Sweet It Is—both stores having placed in our finals almost every year entered—we have made the decision to look the other way in this instance
only
and allow both of you to save face with another chance as finalists in the competition. Each of the Salted Caramel Chocolates was above and beyond many of the other competitors in quality. However, there is one stipulation: for obvious reasons, we must ask that you come to the challenge in two weeks with a fresh, brand-new entry.

We hope to see you in two weeks with a creation worthy of your history in this competition.

Sincerely,

Edmund Layton

Assembly of Chocolatiers, President

A sense of relief flooded through Dulcie. Of course, it was matched by a healthy dose of sadness and a bone-deep sense of dread.

She printed off the e-mail. It felt heavy in her hands as she wandered into the kitchen.

“It’s over,” she said, setting the paper on the table in front of Grams, Jess, and Lila. Constance came into the kitchen. Ava must have just gotten there for her shift.

“What’s over?” Constance asked as the rest of them leaned toward the paper. She quickly joined them.

“This is great news!” Jess said.

Constance jumped in, her tone artificially chipper. “You get another chance at the contest. Everything can work out after all.”

Dulcie snorted. “Yeah, right. Except I can’t use Mom’s recipe, and we’ve already marketed the hell out of the other recipes I found. We can’t use any of those now; they’re too exposed already.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s over,” Constance said.

Dulcie squinted. “Of course it does,” she said, daring them to contradict her. With everything that vibrated under the surface, there was no controlling her reactions at that point.

Grams came out from behind the table to stand in front of Dulcie, staring.

“You listen to what I am saying,” Grams said, her hands finding their way to her hips. “And listen good.” She took a deep breath. “You have more talent in you than I’ve ever seen, even
more
than your mother. As a kid, she didn’t go around drawing pictures of candy every time she had a crayon in her hand. She didn’t make up songs about all the sugary treats in every color of the rainbow.” She shifted, her eyes narrowing. “It’s in your
blood
, Dulcie, more than anyone, and I know damned well you have a million recipes in that head of yours.”

Dulcie stood, her mouth slightly open, on the verge of arguing. The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Even the regular noises of the shop out front seemed to still.

Grams’s arms flopped down. “It’s time,” she said quietly. “Time to find some balls and step up to the plate. It’s time to save the one thing in the world you love the most.” She gestured around the room. “It’s time to take care of these people who count on this shop. It’s time,” she finished. “It’s just God damned time.”

She stared at Dulcie a moment longer, then turned and walked back to the others. All eyes were on Dulcie, the room like a pressure cooker waiting to blow. Tears began streaking down Dulcie’s face, silent ones, flowing fast.

Finally, catching her breath with a little hiccup, she whispered, “Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

The entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The door swung open into the silence. “Do we have any more of the…” Ava glanced around the room, taking in the ominous atmosphere. “Um…what’d I miss?”

“Dulcie’s going to try to design some chocolates!” Constance said.

Ava’s face morphed into excitement. “Eeeee! Finally!” she yelled, almost plowing Dulcie over, wrapping her arms around her and jumping up and down.

It was a rather bumpy ride, especially when everyone else joined in.

Dulcie was glad her friends and family were happy, but the feeling she would screw up in a very big way stuck to her like the coating on a candy apple. And it would be at the same stinkin’ contest.

Again.

Was she really ready to do this?

No. No, she was definitely not ready. But what else was she supposed to do?

“It’s not like we have anything to lose, right?” she said as everyone let go.

Grams gave her a stern look like she didn’t want to hear that kind of talk, but any confidence Dulcie had once established had disappeared long ago. Her decisions lately had not been stellar. First sneaking around behind Grams’s back instead of listening to her, and what about taking time off school for the shop, only for business to start slowing down all over again, and then possibly flunking out because of it?

How was someone with such poor life choices supposed to save the store and all the people it could affect? How could she be trusted?

But there was only one answer as Dulcie peered around at the hopeful faces.

She would try, and she would give it her absolute best shot.

After all the dread and fear began to wane, her heart started beating faster thinking about the many chocolates she could bring to life. Her head swirling with combinations of chocolate, fruit, flavorings…anything her candy-loving mind could fathom.

“Oh, crap,” Ava suddenly said. “The customers!” She rushed back out the kitchen door.

Dulcie couldn’t help it—she started giggling. They all laughed for a long time, the tension and stress of the past weeks easing away.

When they stopped, Dulcie went to the table. “So, I guess I have some work to do.” Everyone smiled. “But Grams, if I’m going to do this, I need to give it my all and that means…” She took a deep breath. “School will have to stay on the back burner. I might not pass this semester.” Dulcie thought her heart might go into palpitations in the short silence that followed.

“School schmool,” Grams said with a wave of her hand. “I always thought taking those masters classes was stupid anyway. I mean, you’ve already got a degree and are running your own business. Your mother and I taught you everything we know; I doubt those college teachers have anything new to say. If they were any good at business, they’d be running businesses of their own now, wouldn’t they?”

“Um…,” Dulcie said, “I guess so. But what about Mom’s dream?”

Grams shrugged. “Your mother’s dream was for you to be happy. The reason she put that money away was so you would have options in case you decided candy wasn’t your thing. And I think it’s safe to say you’d rather be spending your time here than at some boring grad school.”

Dulcie nodded, the weight of a life-sized chocolate globe lifting off her shoulders. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

That evening, for the first time in her life, the kitchen had become Dulcie’s biggest nightmare. Even with all the ideas floating through her mind that afternoon, standing in the big open space at that moment, her mind was blank. Every idea she’d ever had for a candy had flown away, as if heading south for the winter.

Grams had been right; Dulcie thought about candy making pretty much nonstop, but suddenly every ounce of creativity she’d ever had let her down.

She stood in her kitchen after everyone had gone home and swore crickets chirped in the dark corners of her mind. At least in the creativity department. The rest of her brain was otherwise occupied with images of Nick, remembering the way he looked that first night in the jazz club and hating herself for even thinking of him. She glanced around the kitchen, hoping the equipment or the stove would get the creative juices flowing.

Nothing.

She opened the huge refrigerator doors and stepped inside. Maybe standing in all those ingredients would send a little spark her way.

Again, nothing.

She sucked in a huge breath of the cold air, letting it out slowly, watching the fog her breath made. She went back out to the big table and pulled up a stool, plopping down and picking up her phone.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end said.

“Grams, I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, as if she didn’t have a doubt in the world.

How nice it must be to live that way
, Dulcie thought. Sure, steady…confident.

“I can’t think of a single thing to make.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy,” Grams said. “Make something of your mom’s. What better way to come up with a brilliant recipe than using another brilliant recipe as inspiration?”

“Hmm…,” Dulcie said. “I do usually get ideas when I’m working.”

“Exactly. You’re thinking too hard. You need to let your mind get lost in the candy making. It’s in your subconscious where the real inspiration lies. A great candy is like a great memory, Dulcie,” she said. “Let your mind find one, and you’ll be fine.”

Dulcie smiled for the first time since everyone had left. “Thanks, Grams. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dulcie pulled out the Spell Book of Sweets and got to work on one of her favorites, a simple but elegant molded raspberry-filled, dark chocolate: the Dark Dreams
.

Grams had been right. By the time she’d finished Mom’s recipe, Dulcie already had two ideas fighting for her attention, screaming at her to try.

A week later, Dulcie had more contest possibilities than anyone was prepared for. Dozens of samples sat on the table as everyone gathered around after hours. The kitchen seemed small with everyone packed in: Constance and Ava, Lila and Jess, and even Grams all waited to be induced into their sugar coma. With all the sampling Dulcie had done over the seven days—not to mention the stress of unveiling her own creations to the people she loved most—she was as jittery as a chocolate-covered coffee bean addict.

She breathed slowly to calm her nerves. “Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” she said. “We’ve got to keep all the criteria for the contest in mind while we’re choosing.” She turned to the large piece of paper she’d taped on the wall and uncapped her Sharpie. “Flavor, appearance, and texture are all important,” she said, writing down the words. “But most important of all is originality. We’ve got to give the judges something they’ve never imagined.” She wrote down
originality
on the paper and turned, capping the marker. “This is a showcase for the vendors who make up the Association of Chocolatiers to find new and unique ways of marketing their products to us, the candy makers. It’s why they’re willing to shell out so much money for a contest like this. They want innovation. The Salted Caramel Apple Enchantment was such a strong contender, something that wasn’t too common, though salted chocolate is more popular lately.”

She paused, swallowing. “Now it’s time to find something even better.” Dulcie let out a deep breath. “I think…I hope I’ve come up with some contenders that fit, but keep in mind, the first three criteria are also important. That’s where I failed the first time I tried to do this contest on my own, and Lord knows we do not want a repeat. Okay, let’s get started.” Dulcie handed out several sheets of paper to her testers. Each sheet had the name of one of Dulcie’s creations with the criteria listed down the side. Each taster had to rate the chocolates from one to ten on each of the criteria. In the end, whichever creation got the highest score would be the one.

Dulcie could hardly believe the selection in front of them had come out of her mind. It actually all looked good, like something people would want to eat. Dulcie had decided to remain neutral and let the others choose which would be the best entry.

There was a mini Swiss Chocolate covered cheesecake, which Dulcie called the Cheese Please. Her mind already swirled with variations: the Mocha Cheese Please, the Lemon Cheese Please, the Cherry Cheese Please
…
the possibilities were endless, with varieties to make seasonally or on special holidays.

There were also a couple new fudge recipes: the Strawberry Shortcake Fudge, with heavy cake and strawberries dotted throughout the white fudge, and the Crash and Burn, a subtle burnt sugar and pecan treat.

She’d made some Apricot Macadamia Bark, a new flavor of macaroon, the Almond Trance, and a Blue Lagoon tropical inspired Turkish jelly.

A few others rounded out the samples, including the one Dulcie had spent the most time on, and secretly hoped might be the winner.