Revenge Is Sweet Page 2

  That would probably be impossible. They had spoken two weeks ago, when her mother was in Memphis. The one in Egypt, not the one in Tennessee. A month before, her parents had phoned from Bern, Switzerland.

  “Antarctica?” guessed Tally.

  “Don’t be silly. It’s too far away. We’re in Bali. The local musicians are fabulous.”

  Tally’s parents were performers. They toured—acting, singing, and dancing, finding work wherever they landed. The Holt family had started out here, in Fredericksburg, but they had all been on the road for years, starting when Tally was in middle school. As she and her brother both neared the age for high school, they had both been farmed out to an aunt and uncle in Austin. Her parents wouldn’t know how to put down roots. Tally wanted to learn how now, she had decided.

  “That’s nice, Mom.”

  “We’re going to try to do a modern dance performance, using cowboy and cowgirl costumes, with local musicians on the beach tomorrow. We’re calling it ‘Straight from the Holtsters,’ but the subtle nuance gets lost in translation. They don’t carry many holsters here. Anyway, wish us luck.”

  “Okay. Good luck.” Her lack of enthusiasm must have made it over the airwaves between Texas and Asia.

  “Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

  “I mean it, Mom. I hope you have a blast. I’m at work and we’re opening in a few minutes. Gotta run.”

  As exasperating as her mother was, she wasn’t mean. Tally always knew her mother loved her, even if she had her own indirect ways of showing it. Absentminded, scatterbrained to the point of not remembering her own children’s birthdays, but never mean or nasty.

  Poor Andrea. Tally would try to think of something nice to do for her to cheer her up.

  Chapter 2

  By the end of the morning, business at Tally’s Olde Tyme Sweets had slowed down somewhat. They had completely sold out of all their taffy, even the tart green apple flavor. Tally had worked in the kitchen for a bit, then entered the sales room to help out Andrea and Mart. Since, after fifteen minutes or so, she could tell she was redundant there, she slipped into the kitchen, then to her office to go over her sales figures. It had been a few days since she had done that. She sat down with a cup of raspberry herb tea and got to work. Her first try showed that some money was missing. She drummed her fingers on the wooden desk in annoyance and started over. However, when she came up with the same figures three times in a row, she gave up. She would ask Yolanda to go over the numbers. She was much better with math.

  At about noon, she emerged to tell Andrea she could take a break and let Mart take over.

  Tally paused to admire her shop for a moment. The walls—decorated in muted, swirling pinks and lilacs with dark chocolate brown accents, the glass candy case—gleaming and full of her handmade confections, the sturdy wooden floor (actually easy-care laminate)—rustic wide planks to match the wainscoting and the cabinets. She loved it all, even the light fixtures made to resemble Mason jars, which had been here when she moved in. She’d had most of the décor changed, but had left those charming lights exactly as they were.

  “Do you want to go out to get lunch?” Tally asked Andrea.

  “No, I’m not hungry. I’ll stay here and work.”

  “You could rest a few minutes in the kitchen. Mart and I can handle this.”

  “Yeah, we really can,” Mart said. “It’s kinda not that busy.”

  Andrea studied Mart. “Are you feeling better? You didn’t look good when you got here.”

  “I’m fine. I guess I have a little stomach upset this morning.”

  Alarm bells went off for Tally. “You can’t work if you’re sick, Mart. You’ll pass it on to the customers.”

  “It’s nothing. It was something I ate last night. Really, I’m fine.”

  Mart appeared perfectly healthy, she had to admit. Better than she had earlier. Tally turned her attention back to Andrea.

  Tally had put a comfy chair in the corner of the kitchen and placed a reading lamp and a table full of books next to it. She loved to take her own breaks there, but Andrea had never taken advantage of the mini-library of mysteries.

  “You should go sit in the reading chair in the kitchen,” Tally urged. “You can put your feet up on the ottoman and have a glass of iced tea or something.”

  “Why? Do I look tired?” Andrea pouted and sounded defensive.

  “I’ve noticed how hard you work, and I want to make sure you like it here. I’d like you to keep working for me. We don’t need three people selling all the time.”

  “We totally don’t,” Mart agreed, shaking her bouncy, curly hair. She left them to help out a customer at the front of the store, a lone woman with indecision distorting her face.

  “I’m not considering quitting,” Andrea said.

  “I didn’t think you were,” Tally said. “It’s not that.” It was hard to do a favor for Andrea! “Do you want to go out and shop a bit?”

  “No, I’m saving my money. You go shop. I’ll stay here.”

  Tally thought she might just do that. “Maybe I’ll leave, then. I do have a couple of errands. I won’t be gone long, but text me if you need me to come back here.”

  “Sure.”

  How did doing a favor for Andrea end up with Tally taking time off? How exasperating.

  In the kitchen, the sun was still streaming in, glinting off the granite countertops and making the yellow walls look like sunshine itself. She took off her service smock and snatched up her purse. As she returned through the front of the shop to leave, she noticed Andrea was engaged with a young family and they were loading up on goodies. Mart was ringing up the sale she had finished making for the woman.

  Tally pushed the door open, setting off the soft chime. As soon as she was in the glare of daylight, she reached into her purse for her sunglasses. Low, gray clouds were gathering, but none of them blocked the hot summer sun yet.

  Tally wanted to talk to Yolanda, to ask her what to make of Andrea, but first she took advantage of her break to stroll in the other direction. She passed the quaint tourist shops that bordered Main Street: the wine-tasting parlors featuring local Texas wines, a haberdashery called Keep Your Head, a kitchen shop called Cook Up Trouble, art galleries and jewelry stores galore, to name only a few. Yolanda used wares from several of these for her baskets. The warmth that caressed the top of Tally’s bare head felt soothing. As deliciously soft as the cream cheese mints she had made yesterday.

  A chattering group of shoppers swept past her on the sidewalk, elbowing her aside. She sidestepped, eavesdropping. Their conversation told her they were intent on buying homemade candles in the store on the next block. The tourists would soon become thick on the sidewalks, intent on buying gifts and souvenirs, even this early in the season. Some of them might even be starting holiday shopping soon. She trusted they would also be crowding into her vintage candy shop and Yolanda’s gift basket boutique.

  Tally made her way to the candle shop to replenish her own supply. Coming out and turning around, she retraced her steps and went into Bear Mountain Vineyards, which was next to Bella’s Baskets. This shop felt cool, like hers did. Not dark, exactly, but not as glaring as the sidewalks baking in the July sun. She hoped that was the feel her own place had. She strolled the aisles, floored with older tile and lined with wooden wine racks. The small, neatly hand-lettered signs on each row of bottles told a little something about the grapes.

  “Looking for something special?” asked the shopkeeper. Tally had met him as she was moving in last month. His name was Kevin Miller, an unimposing man of medium height with short dark hair and a stylish scruffy beard. He gave an overall dark impression since he dressed all in black, slacks and a short-sleeved polo shirt.

  “I’d like to browse around for a few minutes. It’s nice to be out of the heat, and I want to bring something to my friend at the basket sho
p.”

  “Yolanda, right? Sure. Take your time.” He stepped aside to let her stroll the aisles unimpeded.

  A bottle of a deep red blend caught her eye. The label had a picture of Enchanted Rock, a favorite tourist place outside Fredericksburg, and the description was alluring, “Medium oak, full-bodied, excellent accompaniment to aged cheeses, black cherry bouquet.” Tally loved Enchanted Rock. When she had been younger, she had hiked there every chance she got and knew the trails well. If she went there today, she was sure she would still be able to pick out the hard-to-follow paths. She bought two bottles of the wine.

  “I like this one. I think you will, too,” Kevin said as he checked her out. “Enjoy them. Tell Yolanda hi from me.”

  After another brief foray into the hot sun, she ducked into Yolanda’s place next door, intending to offer her a bottle of her find. She also wanted to bend Yolanda’s ear about Andrea and see if she had any ideas about something nice to do for her, providing Yolanda wasn’t too busy with customers. True, she knew even less about Mart, but Mart wasn’t there as much and had an easy, comfortable way about her. Not downtrodden and pitiful-looking, like Andrea.

  Yolanda had no customers, but was standing close enough to her handyman, Gene Faust, that Tally thought she might be able to see his tonsils when he spoke. They pulled apart as Tally entered.

  Yolanda eyed the distinctively shaped paper bags that Tally gripped by the bottle necks. “You have something for me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Tally spoke to Gene. “Are you going to be long?” Maybe he would get the hint and leave them alone. She didn’t want to be rude, but she did want to look out for her friend. In her opinion, Yolanda needed protection from bad boy Gene.

  His smile vanished, and he gave Tally a sullen sneer. “I have to finish up. Don’t know how long it’ll take.”

  “You’re unplugging the drain, right?” That’s what Yolanda had said. How long could that take? “Where’s Allen?”

  “He had to leave to get some supplies. I got the drain flowing, but a pipe has to be replaced. It’s old and corroded. Going to spring a leak any time.”

  Yolanda smiled at Tally and tossed her head. “It’s always something with these old buildings.”

  * * * *

  Gene moved to the sink and crawled under it. Yolanda’s store was one big open area with a short counter for ringing up sales. She had knocked out a wall to make it that way, wanting the customers to see her making up their baskets. She thought they should appreciate the artistry that went into creating a beautiful arrangement. It was painfully obvious that Tally wanted Gene to leave them alone, but Yolanda couldn’t tell him to do that. It would be rude and he’d been hurt so much.

  She felt herself drawing closer to Gene, since he had started doing work for her in the shop. She did sometimes wonder if their relationship was based on her pity for him. That wasn’t the healthiest basis. Would he have asked her for money if she hadn’t expressed her concern over his well-being? His business wasn’t going as well as it should have been, and his parents refused to loan him even a dollar. Exactly the opposite of her parent/money problems. She bit her lower lip, contemplating the comparison. Life was strange.

  * * * *

  Tally could tell that Gene wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. She handed one of the bagged bottles to Yolanda.

  “Maybe we can share some of this later,” Tally said.

  Yolanda leaned close and darted a look at the front, indicating she wanted to tell Tally something that Gene wouldn’t overhear, so they both moved to the front door.

  “Gene told me something that Andrea told him,” Yolanda whispered. “I think you ought to know.”

  “Okay, what is it?” Tally hated gossiping behind her employees’ backs, but she also didn’t like them keeping secrets from her.

  “Andrea says that Mart has a venereal disease and shouldn’t be working in a food job.”

  “She what?” Tally bellowed. She lowered her voice to continue. “I’ll check on that.”

  “And that she’s piling up a bunch of money and is going to run away.”

  Was Mart stealing money from her? Was that why she couldn’t get her figures to balance? Her shoulders slumped. “Thanks, Yo. I’ll check on that.”

  “I’ve been thinking of closing early today,” Yolanda said in a normal tone of voice. “My orders are caught up. I’ll come over to your place as soon as Gene is done here.”

  “See you then.”

  Tally walked back to her shop, turning a couple of things over in her mind. One was how close Yolanda and Gene had been when she came in. She needed to find out what was happening. Gene was bad news, and she didn’t want Yolanda tangled up with him too tightly. She remembered some of the guys she’d started going around with after she came home from boarding school. Tally always thought they were attracted to her friend’s money as much as to her. Yolanda’s parents were free with their allowances to her and their younger daughter, Violetta. The bad guys flocked to Yolanda, though, never to her quieter, shyer, bookish little sister.

  The other thought, of course, was Andrea tattling on Mart to Gene. Could she be spreading lies so Gene wouldn’t take up with Mart? That was possible. It was also possible that she was telling the truth, but Tally didn’t want to believe that. It seemed she didn’t need to tell Yolanda that Gene was seeing Andrea, anyway. Yolanda should be able to deduce that.

  The sidewalks still teemed with shoppers and tourists. None of them were going into her shop or Yolanda’s. Maybe they needed better exteriors to entice them in. She knew Keep Your Head used heads with cute hand-painted expressions on their faces to display the hats. And Cook Up Trouble had a miniature kitchen in the window to show off pots and utensils. They appeared outsized on the tiny stove and countertop, but that was the charm that made people stop and look.

  “Tally,” Andrea said as soon as she came in the door. “The fridge has quit. I’m afraid the chocolates are going to melt. Where have you been?”

  Tally raced to the large stainless refrigerator in the kitchen and cracked the door open. No light came on and no cold air tumbled out. “Do you know how long it’s been off?” Why hadn’t Andrea texted her?

  Andrea had tailed her into the kitchen. “I’m not sure. I went to get some more Clark Bars and they felt too soft.” Those were made from Tally’s treasure trove of recipes from her granny, as most of her wares were.

  With both of them tugging they managed to roll the fridge out far enough to check that it was still plugged in.

  Tally whipped out her cell phone and called Yolanda. “Is Gene still there?”

  “Sure, he has to replace a pipe and Allen hasn’t gotten back yet with it.”

  “Can you tell Gene to come over here right away? My refrigerator conked out.”

  “Oh no! I’ll get him.”

  Gene walked in two minutes later. The look he gave Tally was haughty, not friendly. It said something like: Oh, so now you need me, right, Miss Hoity-Toity?

  His expression for Andrea said something altogether different. Tally didn’t like that.

  Hoping it would help, Tally groveled. “Gene, could you possibly get this running? I’m afraid my goodies will melt, especially the chocolate.”

  He stared through half-closed eyelids and smirked. He knew she needed him and that she didn’t like him, she could tell.

  “Please? Could you get it fixed soon?”

  “That depends on what’s wrong with it, doesn’t it?” He sauntered to the appliance, cracked the door, as Tally had done, then closed it and pulled the refrigerator farther out from the wall. “Do you ever clean behind here?”

  “I haven’t yet. We only moved in a few weeks ago.” The appliance had come with the shop, and she had no idea how old it was.

  “The last people didn’t either, it looks like.” He drew a small flashlight out o
f his back pocket and shone it around. “Get me a vacuum.”

  Tally didn’t like his clipped tone, ordering her around like that, but before she could hustle to get her mini vacuum from the other side of the room, Andrea was handing it to him. She would ignore his manner as long as he got her appliance working before she lost her precious candies.

  A flock of tourists chose that moment to swarm the store, setting off the front-door chimes several times. Tally returned to the salesroom to help Mart wait on them while Andrea lingered in the kitchen another moment. Tally was dying to sneak a peek into the kitchen and see what was going on between them, but she was too busy. Andrea emerged after a minute or two, a dreamy softness in her large brown eyes. Was she up to hanky-panky with Gene in the kitchen?

  Tally ignored the small warning signal her brain had sent her and happily sold box after box of her handmade Mary Janes, Twinkies, Mallomars, even some individual pieces of taffy and fudge. Her Baileys Truffle Fudge was, as usual, a big seller. She was especially proud of that one, as it was her own recipe. She seemed to have a knack for fudge. It was a tourist favorite, too, luckily.

  Andrea was now hard at work. She seemed less reticent when she was interacting with the customers, Tally was happy to see. Not truculent at all, either, like she had seemed with Tally earlier.

  Gene picked an awful moment to wander in from the kitchen. The shop was packed and his clothes were covered in dust and lint, probably from behind the refrigerator. Tally gaped at him in horror and rushed to shoo him out of the public room into the kitchen.

  “You’re gonna have to replace the thermistor at least. Maybe the motor, if you don’t want everything to spoil.”

  Was his voice loud enough for the customers to hear? She didn’t like the thought of them contemplating melted chocolate and too-soft fudge. She drew him farther toward the rear of the kitchen, almost to the door to the alley.

  “How long will it take to get the parts?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?” The man was maddening. She gritted her teeth and managed a small smile.