And wait, what wasthathorrible feeling in my stomach? Jealousy? Was Ijealousof my sister’s interest in the rather rude but delicious man who’d moved his business in across from me? Why? Because she thought the new guy in town was yummy? Hewasyummy. And dark, and mysterious, and just a little bit grumpy.
Okay, a lot grumpy.
“What did you think?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but from the way Joy’s eyes were sparkling, I could tell she wasn’t buying it.
Sometimes my siblings knewwaytoo much about what was going on in my head.
“He seems…nice,” she said, parroting back the casual tone I’d used.
I cleared my throat and turned my head. I hadn’t intended to do this in front of everyone, but Joy had opened the door, and it seemed like as good a time as any.
Chest tight but voice light, I arched an eyebrow at my father as I passed the garlic bread his way. “Dad, what can you tell us about him? The new owner of The Sweet Shoppe, I mean?”
Joy wasn’t fooled, not even a little bit. “Yeah, Dad,” Joy grinned with wicked delight aimed in my direction. “Dish. Let’s get all the juicy details.” She looked across the table, directly atme, her expression puckish. “Details like…oh, I don’t know…if he has a family or not.”
7
Dad seemed surprised by the inquiry, but his good nature wasn’t ruffled. “What do you ladies want to know?” When he didn’t get an immediate answer from either of us, looking back and forth from Joy to me again, he finally smiled in my direction. “His name is Connor MacDowell and, from what I hear, he’s some famous candy maker from California.” Dad stroked his close-cut white beard. “Let me see. He reached out to me right around when the Bernardi family announced they were closing the pizza place, so it was perfect timing. I knew we’d want someone in that space as soon as possible.”
“Wait,” Holly said, sitting up straighter in her chair. She looked surprised. “Did you say his name was Connor MacDowell? As in the world-famous confectionery maker?”
I sighed. Apparently, Catty Betty’s intel had been accurate. Hewasfamous. I didnotneed this kind of competition.
“I attended a meeting with Christopher in San Francisco last year,” Holly continued, “and when I had some downtime, I went to tour MacDowell’s factory.”
“Factory?” I asked. “He has his ownfactory?” And all I had was a little bakery. Hard not to feel suddenly chagrined that I’dthought he might want a care package from me when he reallywassomeone special in the candy-making world. My gesture suddenly felt small and insignificant.
I did, too, a bit.
I forced my chin up, though. People came from far and wide to buy my baked goods. I might not have any fancy awards to show for it—yet!—but I had built something to be proud of.
Holly nodded without noticing my reaction, thankfully, and reached for the lasagna dish. “That’s basically what it was. A brand new, two-story warehouse filled with stations that made all sorts of amazing creations. The chocolate displays they had were absolutely amazing! After I took the tour, I went to the bakery section where they were making the goodies. Connor is known for not only his candies, but ice cream and cakes as well.”
I nearly choked on my iced tea, then gasped and sputtered for air. “What? He does ice cream andcakes,too?” I cut my eyes to my dad. “What type of cakes? Ice cream cakes or some other type? Did you know anything about that?” Panic wasn’t a good look, but I was struggling not to let it overwhelm me. What happened to no competition in town?
Dad seemed genuinely surprised, but that wasn’t helping right now. “Did I know he created all those things?” Dad frowned and shook his head. “Well, I guess not. I’m not sure it ever came up in conversation, to be honest. I just knew about the candy and his reputation.”
“Dad.” I inhaled deeply as I set my glass down on the table. I didn’t want to overreact and be seen as some sort of drama queen, but the bakery was my sole livelihood. It was also part of our family’s heritage. “Don’t you think his store will be in direct competition with mine? We already have a shop that sells sweets in Jingle Junction.”
Dad’s brows furrowed as he studied me. “Ivy, you make pastries, and breads, and cookies. He makes candies. It’s completely different.”
Andcakes, according to Holly.
But when he put it like that, I could see how it might be true. Maybe Iwasjust overthinking it.
“Want me to do some reconnaissance work?” Holly asked gleefully. “I can go all stealthy ninja to his new store and see what’sreallygoing on.”
Sometimes, her past as an accountant for a legal firm showed itself, and she was part bulldog, part sweetheart. I frowned at her in pretend dismay. “You probably would, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. For you, dear stepsister,” Holly said with enthusiasm, “Itotallywould.”
Max took a slow sip of his tea. “Just don’t get caught, Holly. I’d hate to have to come post your bail at the jail because Eve arrested you.”
And suddenly, picturing my stepsister, Eve, twirling handcuffs around her pointer finger after she frisked me, totally had me cracking up. Maybe thiswasn’tthe big deal I’d made it out to be in my head. “I can handle this, Holly, but thanks for the offer.”
As dinner progressed and the conversations turned to other things, I found myself laughing internally at my reaction to the candy store and Connor MacDowell. Now determined to right my wrong from earlier, I told myself I’d go over to his shop in the morning and try once more to welcome the handsome Scotsman to Jingle Junction. We’d started off on the wrong foot, that was all, and the only way to improve relations was to try again.
Feeling better, I finished my delicious meal as everyone talked about the upcoming Valentine’s Day events going on in the town. Joy let us know that the jingle Junction Depot was going to have a special nighttime dinner train for couples, andif we wanted to go, we’d have to snap up tickets quickly because they were selling fast. Max and Holly instantly put their heads together to discuss, and a few minutes later, Max whipped out his phone and started buying tickets. We might be a tourist town, but there was no reason we couldn’t enjoy the festivities, too.
