Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (23 page)

Mandy laughed. "He's old enough to be my father."

"All the better. You want a man who's been around the block and knows how to treat a woman right." Blair shot her a wink. "They appreciate a pretty young thing like you on their second go round. No taking that firm ass for granted!" She slapped Mandy's tush and let out a bitter laugh.

Mandy cleared her throat, moved out of Blair's reach, and continued, "I think we've covered all the angles. Despite being a complete publicity hound, I don't think Seth will have any way of turning this around. There's no way he can look good other than to comply with our demands and free us from the chain. But we need to play our cards carefully so it looks like a good deal for him, too. We get to keep everything but him as the boss while he gets to look like the big guy by setting us free instead of crushing us. But we have to hit the media and pull all our connections."

"I know one of the newscasters at W7 personally." Blair studied her fingernails and Mandy was certain Blair's inner cougar was alive and well. She shuddered as mental images flashed through her head. "He has a lovely scar on his leg now," she said with a throaty laugh that seemed slightly mad to Mandy's weary mind.

She rubbed her eyes and took another swallow of coffee. It was going to be tricky, using Blair and her connections but keeping her in the background. They didn't want a crazy, vindictive spokesperson. While the media would love it, it would kill their engine faster than sugar in the gas tank.

"Even though we parted on uneven terms," Blair continued, pulling her attention away from her nails, "I'm sure he'd still pull a few strings for me. Men are funny that way. They love you when you hurt them. Especially when you get them what they've been dying for."

"Okaaaay." Mandy watched Blair down the rest of her red wine and tried to focus on the task at hand. "In the meantime, we have our scripts to practice for the media and, Lexi, did you look over the micro business loan page?"

"Good to go. One typo." She handed Mandy's laptop back to her. Through an online micro business loan program, people could lend small amounts to business owners and over time, be paid back with interest. Anyone could back the entire group or an individual member with twenty-five dollars or more. They'd need one hell of a lot of backers if they were going to save themselves as there was absolutely nothing micro about the amount of cash they needed. Even Blair had admitted that in order to do a quick buyout, she'd need financial help—especially since her restaurant was one of the best earning ones in the group, meaning her buyout cost would be higher.

Mandy might not be rich like these gals with assets to liquidate, but she would
not
lose Frankie's building. Even if it meant borrowing money from a thousand strangers.

Her mind, tired after the past three and a half hours of pure adrenalin, panic, and planning, began wandering down Worst Case Avenue. "What if this doesn't work?" Mandy whispered, dread wrapping her like static cling.

"It's sink or swim, girls and we're sinking fast," Blair stated. "Grab a hand or drown." She fluffed her hair. "And just so you all know, the drowned rat look does not suit me whatsoever."

"I'm going to call John." Mandy pushed her chair away from the table and moved into the adjoining room for more privacy. She faced an abstract on the wall, her pride jabbing at her with what felt like a sharp stick. Asking people she knew—and didn't know—for help by digging into their wallets was going to be hard. Really hard. And what if Blueberry Springs didn't even want a Wrap it Up?

She rubbed her face. It was all happening so fast.

"Hello?"

Mandy blinked herself back to the present. "John! Hey. Hi. I hope I'm not calling too early."

"Just on my way out for a jog," he replied.

"Great. I won't keep you. I just wanted to make sure I'm interpreting Clause 21-a correctly in my franchise agreement."

She heard John's thoughtful intake of breath through the phone. "Is that the one on buy-outs I brought to your attention...when was it? Was that only yesterday?"

"That's the clause." Mandy crossed her fingers and asked, "Can I buy the place and go independent if I have the money by their deadline?"

As he paused, Mandy held her breath, her chest cinched tight with fear. "If you succeeded, financially, you would be untouchable to the chain. You could break away without going into receivership. However, you would need enough money to pay off your loan in full, as well as whatever they determined to be fair value for your...er, business."

Mandy let out a sigh of relief. She glanced at the dining room full of jilted, jittery women. "What do you think would be fair value for my business?"

"Well, seeing as it isn't really much yet, I'm guessing considerably less than market value. Document everything the chain has done for you so far and everything you've put into it and we'll see what we can finagle. Don't drag your feet. If we're going to do this, we need to proceed ASAP. But my guess is that if you can manage to pay off that loan, you're going to be well on your way."

"And what about the other franchisees—can they do buyouts as well?"

"Depends on their agreements. If they have the same phrasing you do, then yes. But, as you recall, we did add some changes in order to protect you. It's hard to say whether their lawyers advised them to do similar things. I was actually fairly surprised Seth agreed to the changes. That said, there were some options in the base contract that could help them out. It really depends on Seth and the banks, though. Tell them to get ahold of their lawyers right away."

"Thanks."

"And Mandy? I'm glad to hear you're looking into things."

Mandy nodded, emotion making it difficult to speak. She leaned against the doorjamb and hung up her phone, taking a moment to compose herself. It was time to do this. She moved into the dining room and toasted the women with her empty cup. "Let's go kick some ass."

Chapter
17

Mandy shifted from foot to foot beside the table of brownies under the oak tree in Main Street's square and rubbed her hands down the legs of her jeans. All she had to do was convince everyone she saw today to lend her money. No problem. It wasn't asking for help. It was... Well, okay. It was asking for help. A lot of help. But she could do it. Asking for help and feeling like you owed someone something was normal, right? Everyone did it. It would be okay. She could do it in the name of Frankie's inheritance. So really, she was asking them to help Frankie, not her.

"Hey, is that your entry?" Jen asked, sidling up beside Mandy. "The brownies with the gumdrops?"

Mandy nodded and nervously scanned the table. "I don't know what I was thinking, changing my recipe." She swiped her bangs off her sweaty forehead. Today was going to kill her. But she had eleven days to meet the deadline and save Frankie's building and nothing but a lonely twenty-five dollar backer for her micro loan thus far. She needed to step out and get things done.

Jen blew a bubble with her gum. "You said the ladies were getting closer to matching your recipe, so this is smart. Even if you lose, it's not because of your prize-winning ones. It's because you changed the game on your own terms by taking away their real win—beating your old recipe."

Mandy took in the table of sweet goodies. She leaned over and whispered to Jen, "There's also a bit of spiced whiskey in it and the judge has a thing for all things fermented."

"If you win, I'm totally selling that tip to the highest bidder."

Mandy gave Jen a mock scowl and a shove.

"Either way," Jen said wisely, "you are leaving the game before you lose." She added with a half shrug. "It's basic self-preservation. I do it all the time."
 

Her cheeks flushed as Mandy studied her, but before she could ask more Jen, her nose ring glinting in the sunshine, said, "Everyone on the trip was fighting over the last brownie—did I tell you? People were talking about signing up for another hike just to have those at lunch! And it was a horrible hike in the pouring rain. Your brownies could totally be my best advertising." She pretended to put Mandy in a headlock. "These brownies are not allowed to become available anywhere else—they have to remain exclusive to my trips. Understood?"

Mandy laughed and pulled away. "You're crazy." She smiled, thankful for the way Jen was not only distracting her, but for making her feel as though changing up her entry was a smart move. But she still couldn't help but wish Frankie was there. This year, he hadn't even sampled the recipe.

The light pre-fall breeze brought with it a hint of heavenly chocolate and she resisted the urge to throw herself over the table and devour everything in sight.
Breathe, girl, breathe. Just don't inhale near the table.

"So, um," Mandy began nervously. Precious time was ticking away and the media had completely ignored her and the other franchisee's efforts so far.
 

She turned to Jen and took a deep breath.

"Nervous?" Jen asked.

"A bit. But um, I started another web page for my Wrap it Up."

"Oh," Jen's eyes widened and she glanced around, as if looking for an escape route.

"With the other franchisees. There are a couple of us banding together." Mandy fought the instinct to stop breathing and reminded herself that if she told a few friends around town, the word would spread in no time, helping her gain some support. And if not, well, then, at least she'd know Blueberry Springs didn't want her restaurant.

"Great. Good idea." Jen cleared her throat. "So, why do they call this a fall fair, anyway? It isn't even fall yet. It's more like a big baking contest. Shouldn't there be pumpkin growing contests or something?"

Mandy sighed at Jen's change of subject. "The weather is better in August. Usually." She tried to add a bit of perkiness to her voice as she said, "I'm really pumped about this new idea."

Jen's attention drifted to a group setting up a screen in the shade of the large oak. "Look at that. They managed to finagle some footage after all."

"Footage for what?" Mandy asked.

Jen frowned at her GPS watch. "For Frankie's show. A sneak peek of raw footage or something."

"But they're still filming." He was still in the city with Miss Blowtorch and would be for another two months. Her mind refused to imagine what else the woman might be blowing during their time off. Okay, that was a lie. Her mind was refusing
not
to think what the two of them might be doing.

"You okay?" Jen asked, resting a hand on Mandy's back.

Mandy tried for a smile. And failed. She really needed to think about something else. Anything else. Certainly not about how she'd mucked everything up.

"Aw." Jen gave Mandy a half hug. "He hasn't been talking to you, has he?"

Mandy shook her head and blinked rapidly. She would
not
cry. After all she'd been through in the past few weeks, and as shredded as her soul felt, she would not let herself cry. Not here. Not where everyone could see the tears fall.

The screen lit up and there was Frankie. Grinning. Her knees weakened and her head swam. Tears pricked her eyes and she quickly shoved them away, vowing not to think, not to feel.

The photo was one Ed, from the paper, had taken when Frankie opened his restoration business a few years ago. Frankie looked so happy. So free. So unlike he had over the past few months. How had she not noticed how unsatisfied and unhappy he'd been? How had she become so consumed in her own messed up world?

Liz took to the stage and began chatting about Frankie, sharing gossip and news about his adventure on the TV show that hadn't reached Mandy. She found herself moving closer to the screen—so close, it felt as though floppy-haired, kind-eyed Frankie was looking right into her.

God, had she ever blown it. How had she ever taken that for granted?

Jen mentioned something about having to go, as she had a canoe lesson in thirty minutes and Mandy nodded absently.

The screen lit up with the show's opening credits and theme music filled the air. How many times had she watched this show with Frankie, leaning against his arm, bingeing on gumdrops? And now he was on the show and she was in the crowd as some girl he used to know. Her chest clenched and she tipped her chin a little higher.

"We managed to wrangle a few clips from the show as a special sneak peek," Liz said into the microphone as a clip with a short interview from Frankie started. He looked confident, at ease. A man who was secure and confident in his knowledge of all things cars.

Her
Frankie.

Damn it if she was going to let some other woman stand in her way. Her mind began spinning plans and she lost track of the show until she felt the heat of a thousand stares. She blinked and processed what was on the screen: her.

Professing her feelings.

Oh, God. Her body felt as though it had been slammed into a wall. She staggered, not sure whether to duck or run.

The camera's microphone had picked up her whispers when she told Frankie there had only ever been a place for him in her heart.

The camera zoomed in on the pixie-like woman on-screen, the blowtorch in her hands sagging as she stared at on-screen Mandy like she'd just broken some major law of humanity. Mandy the villain; Blowtorch the heroine. It was as though the television producers thought Mandy wanted Frankie now that he was on TV. Superficial. Fake. Not at all like the insecure woman she'd been while standing there, baring her soul to her best friend.

She lowered her head in shame, her face feeling as though Frankie's new girlfriend had turned the torch on her. How was she supposed to know he'd hooked up with someone?

The person beside her wrapped an arm around her shoulder in support and whispered something she couldn't process.

She'd been shamed on television. Shamed in the town square.

The shame of Blueberry Springs.

Again.

The villain. The bad guy. When all she'd wanted was love.

* * *

Mandy tried ducking out of the square, but every time she got close to the edge of the crowd, someone brought her back into the fold with a hug or a gentle tug. At one point, someone slipped a spiced whiskey in her hand and she'd gladly consumed it, but the drink had done little for her inner turmoil, her abject humiliation. Nobody breathed a word about what had been witnessed on the big screen, just friendly hands gently pressing her from person to person. They were now pressing her in the direction of the stage and all she knew was that she didn't want to go anywhere near front and center unless they were sending her to a secret escape hatch.