Better Than Chocolate Part 9

"And it will be really good for Mom," Samantha said. "She can't keep sitting in the house doing nothing."

"Well." Cecily was thoughtful. "I don't know. We're not giving her any time to grieve."

"There isn't time, not if we want to keep our business."

"Whoa, Scrooge lives."

"Scrooge has to. Did she tell you Waldo let his life insurance lapse?"

"What? You mean-"

"She gets nothing. Nada. Zip."

"The new house isn't paid off, is it?" Now Cecily sounded worried.

And so she should. Someone besides Samantha needed to be. "Nope, and she's upside down on it."

Cecily let out her breath. "This is not good."

Samantha agreed. "The sooner you get here, the better, because Mom's not answering her phone."

"Well, maybe she's out running errands."

"No, she's in the house moping."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what she was doing last time I went over." There was silence, and suddenly Samantha felt guilty. "What?" she demanded, ignoring the little voice jeering, Rotten daughter, rotten daughter, rotten, rotten daughter.

"You're not cutting her much slack."

Her sister was right and that made Samantha testy. "There's no time to cut anybody any slack."

"You've got a point there," Cecily said diplomatically.

Darn right she did. Oh, who was she kidding? She was the world's biggest b.i.t.c.h. Her sisters should get her a dog collar for her next birthday.

She heaved a sigh. "You're right. Mom needs a chance to grieve and I need to see a shrink."

"Don't worry. We'll get you whipped into shape," Cecily teased.

"I think it's hopeless," Samantha said. "I should go. I've got to get over to city hall and start things moving on the permits."

"Okay. I'll be there by the end of the week."

Samantha only hoped her sister wasn't closing shop on her account. "Are you positive you want to do this?"

"Absolutely. You probably don't really need me, though. Knowing you, everything's under control."

Even though she'd felt put-upon when her sisters left her holding the bag at Sweet Dreams, she had to admit she liked being in control. Except this was still a family business. Had she really made Cecily think she didn't need her?

That last thought came as a bit of a revelation. "I need you to help me keep all these b.a.l.l.s in the air," she said. "And to keep me sane."

"Well, I'm not sure about that last one, but I can help with the juggling."

"Thanks," Samantha said. "Have I told you recently what a great sister you are?"

"No. But you're right. I am."

She could hear the smile in Cecily's voice, and when she hung up she was smiling, too. She wasn't going to have to hold down the chocolate fort alone. Reinforcements were coming. She shot an email to Ed to let him know she was getting the permit process started, then grabbed her purse and coat and left her office.

"I'm off to city hall to apply for permits," she told Elena, who had stopped a rapid-fire conversation in Spanish to ask where she was going. "I shouldn't be long."

Elena nodded and returned to her conversation, frowning and gesticulating madly. The waving arm and Spanish could only mean one thing-she was talking to her mother. Samantha was glad she'd be out of the office for a while. It always took Elena at least half an hour to calm down after one of her mother-daughter chats.

What was it about moms? They could be a girl's best friend one minute and her worst enemy the next. Your mother was never your enemy, she reminded herself. Mom wasn't psychic; she couldn't have known how things were going to turn out. She'd been nothing but supportive all of Samantha's life. Well, until Waldo.

Samantha frowned. And there was the rub. She'd resented Mom's decision to put him in charge then and she still resented it, even now that he was gone.

I do need a shrink, she thought as she made her way toward the end of Center Street, where Icicle Falls City Hall and the police department were located. But she didn't have time for one now.

Priscilla Castro was on the front desk and she greeted Samantha with a superior smirk, her usual greeting for her former rival. In high school Samantha and Priscilla had battled each other over everything from grade point supremacy to boys. Priscilla's friends had called her Cilla. The other girls called her Prissy, which quickly got changed to p.i.s.sy. Samantha had beaten her out as cla.s.s valedictorian and-worse-taken the Miss Icicle Falls crown and the college scholars.h.i.+p money that went with it, leaving p.i.s.sy in the dust as third runner-up. p.i.s.sy got even by stealing Samantha's boyfriend, Neil Castro, right before senior prom. She wound up marrying Neil, who went to work in a fruit-packing warehouse in Wenatchee. Not exactly the catch of the century as far as Samantha was concerned. Or p.i.s.sy, either. They got divorced after a couple of years, something p.i.s.sy probably blamed Samantha for, too. If Sweet Dreams went under, p.i.s.sy would probably climb on the roof of city hall and crow. Long live high school.

"Hi, p.i.s.s...Priscilla," Samantha said.

"Samantha, what brings you here?" p.i.s.sy's tone of voice added, Not that anyone wants to see you.

"I need permits for a special event and I figure you're the go-to gal," Samantha said with forced pleasantness.

"Special event?" p.i.s.sy c.o.c.ked her head like the inquisitive crow she was. "Who's doing a special event?"

"The Chamber."

"This is the first I've heard of it," p.i.s.sy said.

"Well, that's because it was just decided." Samantha strove to keep her smile in place.

"Does Mayor Stone know?"

Del Stone, like p.i.s.sy, didn't like anything happening in town that he didn't know about. "Not yet, but I'm sure Ed York will give him all the details. So, what do I need to fill out?"

p.i.s.sy handed over the appropriate form. It was a mile long. "You can bring it back tomorrow."

"You know, I think I'll take care of it now," Samantha said sweetly. The sooner she got the process going, the better.

p.i.s.sy shrugged. "Suit yourself. We close in ten minutes." She sauntered off in the direction of the mayor's office to tattle, leaving Samantha at the counter.

Samantha had barely begun when Del Stone emerged from his office, a short stocky man who loved to pair crazy neckties with his conservative suits. Today he was sporting a black necktie featuring a leaping salmon and the caption Born to Fish.

"Samantha," he greeted her, taking her hand and giving it a fatherly pat. "How is your mother doing?"

She has no money and she's sleeping all day. "She's fine," Samantha lied.

"Well, if there's anything I can do..."

Just don't ask her to marry you. "Thank you," Samantha said.

"I hear the Chamber is talking about a festival," the mayor said. "This is news to me."

He was smiling but Samantha knew a scolding when she heard one. She looked over to where p.i.s.sy now sat at her desk, still in smirk mode. "Well, we just voted on it today."

He shook his head. "I wish I could've been there. I'm afraid I had business in Wenatchee. Is it something for summer perhaps?"

Once more it hit Samantha how crazy it was to try and slap this together in such a short time. "Um, no, a little sooner than that."

"Oh?" he probed.

She could feel her cheeks warming. "More like Valentine's Day."

The good mayor's smile did a Ches.h.i.+re Cat fade. "Valentine's Day," he repeated.

"Actually, Sweet Dreams is going to sponsor it."

"Figures," p.i.s.sy muttered over at her desk.

"Samantha, this really isn't very practical," the mayor said.

"We're going to start small," Samantha a.s.sured him.

"With so little time you'll have to start microscopic."

"I think we can do it," she said.

Now the mayor was frowning. "If this comes off half-baked, it won't look good for our town."

"It won't, I guarantee it," Samantha insisted. He was standing there like a two-legged rain cloud ready to dump on her festival, so she hurried on. "Why don't you let Ed and me take you out to dinner at Zelda's tonight and tell you more about it? You'll find that this is something we can all get behind." Great. There went more money flying off over Sleeping Lady Mountain. The mayor loved to eat. And drink. Dinner would cost a fortune.

Del nodded thoughtfully. "All right. And why don't you bring your mother? It would do her good to get out."

Just what her mother always wanted, dinner with Del Stone, swinging bachelor. Del had been divorced for years. With no wife on the scene he'd done his best to turn himself into an urbane ladies' man, and it was looking like Mom was the new lady of choice.

"I'll see if she's feeling up to it," Samantha said.

Mayor Stone nodded again. "I'll see you tonight. Shall we say around seven?"

Samantha nodded, too. She hoped Ed would be free. Del rarely got excited about any idea that hadn't come out of his own balding head. It would take some convincing to get him in their corner-but getting him there was bound to move the permit process along.

He checked his watch. "Well, then, see you tonight. And don't forget to bring your mother."

As she watched him return to his office, she wondered if that was a condition for receiving Del's blessing. Probably.

Now the clock on the wall said one minute until closing time. Samantha frowned at the half-finished form on the counter in front of her. Between them, p.i.s.sy and Del had managed to prevent her from getting her form turned in. And p.i.s.sy's smirk had grown.

Samantha folded the form, put it in her purse and smirked right back. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow." And for the rest of today she'd be seeing red. Why did people have to keep complicating her life?

She marched out of city hall, her pace fueled by frustration. This called for a large dose of...coffee.

She had just gotten a double-shot mocha latte at Bavarian Brews and was envisioning herself back at city hall first thing in the morning, stapling her completed form to p.i.s.sy's forehead, when at the end of the order line she spotted-did he live here?-Blake Preston, business gobbler and festival saboteur. The steam coming from her to-go cup was nothing compared to what she could feel coming out of her ears.

At the sight of her, his jaw set in determination. "Samantha."

Oh, no. I do not want to talk to you. She averted her gaze and skirted the edge of the tables, occupied by retail clerks taking an afternoon coffee break and high school students fresh out of school for the day.

"Samantha, wait," he called.

She pretended deafness and scooted past a table where two older women were enjoying coffee and scones. He cut her off.

"I really don't have time to talk to you," she snapped, and headed the other way around the table.

"I just want five minutes," he said.

"I'd give you five minutes," one of the women said, patting hair that had been dyed a color found nowhere in nature.

Samantha picked up her pace. Or tried to. Unfortunately, she tripped over a large purse lying by the woman's chair. Instead of making a rushed but dignified exit from the coffee shop, she did a clown-style lurch, slos.h.i.+ng her latte from the cup onto her gloves, her coat and the floor. She landed with a squeak in the lap of a burly high school boy.

"Whoa," he said in pleased surprise, and his friends snickered.

This was like being in a movie where everyone froze so all eyes could be on her.

There was no "like" about it. All eyes were on her. Her face flamed. "Sorry," she muttered, and scrambled to her feet.

"Anytime," the kid said.

Abandoning all attempts at dignity, she made a dash for the door.

Blake followed her out and caught her by the arm. It was hard to ignore the jolt she felt at the contact.

"Samantha, wait," he said.

She waited. And removed his hand from her arm. Irritation with both herself and him filled her with a strong desire to kick him. Grown-up that she was trying to be, she resisted it. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were stalking me."

He frowned. "Very funny."

"These days I have to find humor where I can."

"Look, I know you think I should have said more at the meeting today."

"You could have," she said coldly.