Better Than Chocolate (2 page)

      Her clientele consisted of a handful of regulars from the marina she over-looked – and all too rarely – tourists making there way down from the park above. It was a good location she told herself stubbornly. It just took time to build a business. When she did though – she sighed, dreaming, doodling.

      She wanted the business to support her art so that she could paint on two or three days a week, take days to photograph the ancient old growth forests and beaches.

Beaches like Parksville’s Rathtrevor that went on forever so that sand merged into ocean somewhere on the far distant horizon and treasures of coloured stones and sand dollars lay scattered on the warm, wet sand. She wanted to walk the West Coast Trail and hang out on Long Beach, maybe try a little surfing. The door opened.

      Brad was back wearing blue jeans and a shirt that showed off a trim butt and a nicely muscled torso. His hair was wet from a recent shower and he smelled – earthy – she thought, shutting her eyes and trying to identify the scent, which seemed unique to him.

      He looked down at the pad in front of her. “Nice, very nice,” he said approvingly. “It doesn’t look like you’re quite there though.”

      She stuck out her chin defiantly. “It takes time to build a business.”

      He looked at her empty coffee shop/gallery. “So I see.”

      “I’ve got a handful of regulars.”

      “Key word being handful,” he said grinning and saw anger flash in her eyes. Anger and – oh shit! – tears! “That’s what I’m here for. To make it work,” he said hastily, handing her a Kleenex.

      “I can do it on my own.”

      “Maybe but it’ll take about ten years.”

      “Oh, and you can do it overnight.”

      He smiled confidently. “Pretty much.”

      “Prove it.”     

      He sat down. “First off we’ll get some contractors in here – get some quotes.”

      She was shaking her head.

      “What? Somebody’s got to do the work.”

      “Eventually. But this is fine for now.”

      “Are you insane?”

      “No. This is what I can afford.
Now
. When the business gets going then I’ll expand.”

      “Uh-huh. Come on. We’re going for a walk.”

      “Who’s going to look after the shop?”

      He looked over the empty space. “I don’t think that’ll be a huge problem. Got a felt pen?”

      She handed him one silently and he quickly wrote out a sign saying ‘CLOSED – Back in an Hour’.

      She rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

      Holding her by the arm he guided her outside. Pausing briefly he surveyed the marina her shop overlooked. “You’ve got the location,” he said approvingly.

      “Oh goody. Do I get a gold star?”

      “Better,” he said lightly. “You get to stay in business.”

      “If I do as you say.”

      He shrugged. “Your choice.”

      She fought back tears. “But I could be out of business in six months.”

      He frowned. “Depends on how much money you want to go through. But the way things are now – yeah.”

      “And going for a walk for you is going to change – what?”

      “Why don’t we find out?” he said smoothly. Just treat her like any other nervous business owner he told himself. Forget about the gorgeous moss green eyes that registered every emotion instantly. Forget those bow-shaped lips.

      Of course most business owners sought him out. They didn’t look at him like he was stealing Christmas whenever he said something constructive. They didn’t make his heart beat faster either. Or make him want to see her happy, see her smile.

 “I thought we’d walk through the park first. Lots of people,” he said approvingly.

      “Always,” Elena said, smiling. “It’s one of the things that drew me to that location. I thought people would come to look at the water wheel and learning more about Chemainus, maybe take a ten minute tour on the mini-train and make their way down to the marina.”

      “Makes sense,” he said. “If there’s something to draw them there.”

      “But there is,” she said. “My shop.”

      “It could be,” he agreed. “Let’s continue shall we?”

       A crowd of people had gathered to watch a juggler across the street. Main Street was filled with an eclectic variety of shops and galleries. She stopped and talked to several comparing notes.

      “You know, I’d love to sell your work in my gallery,” a woman named Tina said.

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied politely.

      But on the street she was furious. “How dare she suggest that when she KNOWS I’ve got my own gallery open just a few blocks from her?”

      “I don’t think she was trying to be insulting,” he said mildly.

      Which of course, only angered her more. “So you think that’s OK?”

      “I didn’t say give her your work. I just said I don’t think she meant anything personal by it.”

      She glanced sideways at him. Even as she knew he was right she couldn’t help being irritated by this – this – lack of support for her feelings.

      And what was she feeling? Usually she loved walking around Chemainus. Today she was on edge, angry and frightened. Why?…Because this man was making her see things she didn’t want to see. And she knew he knew. Even if he didn’t flat out say –‘ I told you so!’

      “OK. So you’ve made your point. They’re all busier than I am,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes.

      Oh God. Tears again. He couldn’t take tears. “I think you knew that before. That really wasn’t why I wanted to walk through Chemainus.”

      “Then why?” she said, her voice rising. “To show me just how badly my shop is doing? To show me that I really will be out of business in six months?”

      “To show you what you’re up against,” he said abruptly. He smiled at her, charming her against her will. “I’ll buy you an ice-cream from Mae-Belles,” he said pointing to the ice-cream store across the street.

      He had Chocolate Raspberry and she had Cookies and Cream. “Heaven,” he said closing his eyes and letting the chocolate melt on his tongue.

      Elena laughed. “Mae-Belle makes her own ice-cream. I don’t think she’s heard of low-fat. She just believes in getting the best ingredients and then slow-churning it until it tastes like,” she paused, considering. “Heaven,” she agreed.

      “Well, come on, let’s find somewhere to sit in the park and enjoy it.”

      Wandering down the street they made their way across the street to the park and sat on a rock outcropping crowded by people going down into the marina area, her shop.

For May the weather was unseasonably warm, being a good 20 degrees. She could feel herself relaxing as she sat there with Brad eating ice-cream and watching people in the park.

      “Is that where you grew up? In a small town?”

      “Yeah,” he said. “Only our mayor didn’t have a ‘You Can Do It’ attitude.”

      “You worked in the mill?”

      “My dad did. It was a good life. Mom stayed home, looked after the house.”

      She was regarding him with amazement.   

      “What?”

      “You’re so lucky!” she said

      “You think?!” He could feel the anger. What did she know? “Yeah,” he said shortly. “Until the mill closed.”

      “That must’ve been tough,” she said sympathetically.

      “We survived,” he said shortly.

      She fell silent. Hew own life had been so different. “It must’ve been nice having your mother there when you got home from school,” she said dreamily.

      His eyebrow quirked up. “Somehow I don’t see you as a latchkey kid.”

      She laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Oh, there was always someone home. The maid or nanny if no one else. That’s if we didn’t have ballet or soccer or music, gymnastics…”

      “Poor you.”

      She bit back a retort, aware the average person couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up with everything – and nothing. “Then you should be able to understand why I want to do this on my own without any help from dad.”

      “I’m not asking you to get help from your dad,” he said impatiently.

      “Then how am I supposed to do everything you say I need to do? I don’t have the money.”

      “You just need more.”

      “And how do I do that?”

      “Banks, private investors. First we figure out what you need.”

      “You make it sound so easy.”

      “It can be,” he said.

      “OK then,” she said. “We can get a couple of contractors in, get an idea of the costs. But that’s it.”

      He grinned at her. “Know any good contractors?”

      She shook her head.

      “I’ll ask around, get some recommendations.”

      “I could ask some of my regulars.”

      “No need.”

      She bit back a retort. “And I want environmentally friendly.”

      “What?!”

      “It may cost a bit more but it’s important,” she said stubbornly.

      “For someone who didn’t want to spend money a minute ago you’ve certainly changed your tune.”

      “I don’t think so,” she said stubbornly. “If I can’t afford to do it right I’d rather not do it at all.”

      He shook his head in frustration. “It will add twenty – thirty percent to your costs,” he warned.

      “I don’t care,” she said.

      “At least get estimates of both.”

      “Fine.”

      He could almost hear her say ‘and then we’ll do it my way.’ Unbelievable. “I’ll get started on that,” he said shortly.

      “Good,” she said. She watched him leave. She knew he was upset but honestly, how could he
not
understand her deep connection to nature. Regardless of the cost she had to do what was right for the environment.

      Back at Elena’s she realized she was in limbo. There wasn’t any point in setting up her gallery if she was going to do a major renovation. And she’d need a place to stay if and when she did the renovation.

      She poured coffee for Dan, a fisherman, who lived on his boat. Did she want to make the changes Brad wanted?  It made good business sense but if she ended up with another trendy Starbucks style coffee shop was that what she wanted? Something told her Dan or Mary or any of her other regulars didn’t do Starbucks.
      She could’ve stayed in Vancouver if that was what she wanted. She’d wanted small town. She’d wanted quirky. She’d listen to what he had to say, to his ideas. But ultimately this was her business, her dream.

      In the meantime she had an afternoon free. She took out a sketch pad and began sketching the harbour. “Have you lived in Chemainus all your life,” she asked as she worked.

      “Born and bred,” Dan said proudly.

      She’d love to do a portrait of him sometime. His grizzled face had tanned to a deep brown from years spent on the ocean while his beard was salt and pepper. His face creased with years of living, years of laugh lines.

      “Were you always a fisherman?”
      “Mostly. I did some logging in my younger days.” They lapsed into silence as she concentrated on roughing out the harbour line, drawing in the docks and boats. She needed paints to bring the life out in the harbour, the light and shadow in the water, the riot of colour from the different boats, the people walking along the docks.

      She’d started laying on rough patches of colour when Brad reappeared. He watched silently as she deftly laid a patch of blue down and then white, unaware of his existence as she concentrated on her work.

      He helped himself to a cup of coffee watching her work in silence, awed by her talent. Stick figures were the best he could do. And frankly he’d seen better stick figures in the local kindergarten class.

      The old man winked. “She’s got some kind of talent doesn’t she?” Then he got up and left walking down to the marina.

      She put her brush down. “I think he likes you.”

      “I think he likes you better.”

      She wiped off her brush. “Give me a minute to get my brushes cleaned up and I’ll be all yours.”

      Forbidden images of her lips on his, his arms holding her, sprang to his mind. Don’t go there, he warned himself. Mixing business and pleasure was a bad idea. It almost always ended in disaster. Even if she did remind him of a wood elf, he thought, with her long hair, the colour of ebony and creamy white skin. Those long, long legs and arms … She was Greg Tighe’s daughter. Don’t go there, he told himself.

      She came over bringing a cup of coffee with her and two squares. “You have to try these,” she said offering him one.

      He shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I just wanted to let you know I’ve got a couple of contractors coming in tomorrow to give estimates. I’ll reserve a room for you at the Sea Side while the work gets done.”