Salt Water Taffie (Boardwalk Brides Book 1) (6 page)

NINE

Ryan celebrated alongside the Carini family as he and Carl Carini got the taffy machine up and running. Almost immediately, he started packing up his tools. Storm clouds hovered and the night skies beckoned. He needed to get Casey home. . .and quick.

“What? Leaving so soon?” Mr. Carini’s smiled shifted into a frown. “No way! You two stick around and we’ll make a little taffy. It’s time to introduce both of you to Carini’s Candy world.”

The man’s enthusiastic response put Ryan in mind of Willy Wonka. Taffie’s father truly did have sugar running through his veins. But what about the storm? Should Ryan mention they probably only had minutes before it hit?

“Follow me, kiddos.” With the wink of an eye, Mr. Carini led the way to the cupboard, pulling out bags of sugar.

Ryan and Casey watched in awe as Taffie and her father went to work mixing up corn syrup and sugar in a huge metal pan on the stove. With a deep sigh, Ryan realized he probably wouldn’t be going anywhere, at least for a while. Then again, as he watched Taffie at work, he didn’t really mind.

“We’ll add a bit of water to this mixture, and a pinch of salt.” Mr. Carini made quite a show out of tossing in the white grains of salt.

“Oh!” Casey pulled a lollypop out of her mouth. “Is that why they call it salt water taffy?”

Mr. Carini turned to her, eyes wide. “You mean to tell me you’re an Atlantic City native and you don’t know the story of how salt water taffy got its name?”

Casey’s brow wrinkled in response. “No sir.”

“Well, then. You watch close and I’ll tell it as we go.”

Casey pulled up a stool and sat on it, watching as the mixture in the pot was stirred. Ryan stood next to her, drinking in every moment. Every now and again he caught a glimpse of Taffie out of the corner of his eye. She was certainly in her element now. In fact, she seemed to know just what to do and when to do it.

“I’m going to tell you a very tall tale,” Mr. Carini’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “The stuff fairy tales are made of.”

“Ooo, I love fairy tales.” Casey giggled, then stuck the lollypop back in her mouth, her gaze focused on the Wonka-like fellow who stood before her.

“This will be the tallest tall tale you ever hear,” Mr. Carini explained with great whimsy. “So hold on to your hat. I’m about to take you on a candy-land adventure!”

***

Taffie tried to hide the smile that crept up as her father told the story. She’d heard it a thousand times, of course, though the listeners were usually just small children like Casey, not folks in Ryan’s age group. Still, she never tired of the legend—more fiction than fact.

Her pop’s face lit up as the story began. “Back in the 1880s—or so the story goes—a terrible storm blew into Atlantic City.”

“Like this one?” Casey pointed beyond the glass to the window at the front of the store. With the shutters pulled down, it was hard to tell what the weather was up to outside. Just then a peal of thunder clued them in.

“Like this.” Pop grinned. “The waves were vicious, frightening even the locals. A merchant by the name of David Bradley owned a candy shop not far from where we’re standing now. Sold many of the same products we sell today.”

“Wow. A candy maker.” Casey’s eyes widened. She stuck the lollypop back in her mouth and listened attentively.

“Anyway, the storm was mighty and the waves high. They crashed ashore, putting all of the shops under water, including Bradley’s candy shop. The man thought his business was drowned in the sea, thought there was no hope for his soggy candies.”

“Wow. Really?” Ryan asked.

“Have we mentioned that this is a tall tale?” Taffie whispered, leaning in his direction.

“Shush, Taffie. Now, would I lie to you, son?” Her father gave him a stern look, then continued, turning his attention to Casey. “Anyway, the following day after the waters went down, a little girl about your same age came prancing into Bradley’s shop, looking for something sweet to nibble on. Bradley, in a state of despair, offered her a few pieces of the water-logged delicacies, but told her to watch out for slivers of jellyfish and other sea-life buried inside.”

“Icky!” Casey squealed.

“Yes, very. He called it salt water taffy because it had been soaked in saltwater from the Atlantic. Inspiration from on high, I believe.”

Taffie rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She continued to stir the bubbling pot of corn syrup and sugar.

“Then came the best part.” Her pop rubbed his hands together, clearly delighted with the end of the tale. “A candy store owner’s dream.”

“What happened?” Casey sat on the edge of her stool.

“The salt water taffy tasted wonderful! And the idea caught on! Folks came from north, east, south, and west to buy Mr. Bradley’s salt water taffy. Before you knew it, other competitors sprang up and Atlantic City became known as the home of this confectioner’s delight. And poor Mr. Bradley. . .”

“What about him?” Casey asked.

“Forgot to copyright the name
salt water taffy
. So, alas, it was stolen.”

“Mm-hmm.” Ryan pursed his lips, then asked, “So, all of this came about because of a terrible storm? Water washing into a store? A man selling soggy candy?

“Oh yes.”

“I’m sorry, but that tale sounds a little fishy, Mr. C.”

“Fishy? No way! Salty, sure!” Pop slapped his knee.

“Would you like to hear the real story now, or are you happy with that rendition?” Taffie asked. “Because there’s a more boring tale, sure to satisfy your curiosity, but certainly not as much fun.”

“I’m all ears.” Ryan turned her way, and for a moment, her heart kicked into overdrive and she couldn’t think straight. What was it about him that sent her reeling? Best get to the story.

“Taffy has been sold in Atlantic City since the 1880s,” she explained. “People used to believe that bathing in the sea was good for your health. Doctors would send patients to the seashore for medicinal purposes.”

“To cure what ailed ’em, eh?” Ryan grinned.

“Right. Theory being that salt water made you healthy. So adding the words
salt water
to the candy, which had been around since the 1880s—even without the fishy story—made it sound. . .”

“Healthy?” Ryan laughed. “So, taffy was billed as health food?”

“Exactly. Boosted sales. Even back then, smart business owners knew what to do to draw in a crowd.” She sighed. “I guess I have a lot to learn from them.”

“Taffie is making up that story, I tell you!” her father insisted. “She’s pretty good at stretching the truth.” He pointed at the machine, then smiled. “Get it?
Stretching
the truth?” He erupted in laughter and Casey joined him.

“Very funny, Pop.” Taffie released an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. Some jokes she would have to live with forever, it seemed.

Ryan looked back and forth between Taffie and her father, finally letting his gaze rest on Mr. Carini. “If I have to be completely honest, I think I like his story best. Sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Casey echoed.

Taffie shrugged as she responded. “Most people do. It’s the stuff legends are made of.” She gave her pop a wink and he responded with a boyish grin. Then, as she turned to look at Ryan—the hero who’d swept in to fix their machine, the man responsible for getting their business up and running once again—Taffie came to a quick conclusion. . . .

He
was the stuff legends were made of.

***

Ryan observed the interaction between father and daughter with a sense of wonder passing over him. Someday. . .someday he would have a daughter who looked at him with such love and respect. Right now, he had other things to do. He’d never considered taffy-making but could not escape the inevitable.

“We’re ready to let the candy cool.” Taffie prepared a large area, then, as the mixture on the stove stopped its bubbling, she poured it out.

Ryan stared in confusion at the gooey mess. “Doesn’t look like much.”

“Not yet. Just wait.”

As the concoction cooled down, they swapped stories about life in Atlantic City. Before long, Taffie checked the taffy and discovered it was just the right temperature. Ryan watched in wonder as she lifted into her arms the block of what now looked like putty, and began to wrestle with it. “How much does that weigh?” he asked.

“Probably forty pounds or so.” She shrugged. “But I can handle it.”

“Obviously.” She was definitely strong, no doubt about that.

“Wow, you’re like Wonder Woman!” Casey interjected.

“Why, thank you!” Taffie put the somewhat buoyant mixture onto the pulling machine and turned it on. The machine, now running like a champ, stretched the sheer, yellowish blob over and over again. Suddenly it began to change colors, turning a fabulous white color with a terrific sheen.

“The air circulates, making it softer,” Mr. C. explained. “It’s almost like elastic at this point.”

“It’s in a continual state of change,” Ryan observed. The parallel between the taffy and his own life hit him squarely between the eyes.
I’m in a continual state of change, too. But I’m not as pliable, that’s for sure. I probably need to work on that.

“Yes and it’s softer to the touch now, too,” Taffie added.

“Now comes the fun part,” Mr. Carini said. “What flavor do you like?”

“Well, I, um. . . I like the vanilla, myself.”

“Vanilla?” Mr. C. eyed him as if he’d just landed in a space ship. “No vanilla for my guests. Let’s go with something more exciting than that. What about you, Casey?”

“I love banana!” Her voice carried a hint of a squeal.

“Banana it is, then.” Mr. Carini turned to Ryan. “You will add the flavoring and the color, young man. It’s high time you learned to do this for yourself.”

“It is?”
Why?

“Now, take this banana flavoring. . . .” Mr. C. showed him exactly how to add it to the sticky mixture. At once, the room filled with the scent of bananas.

“Mmm.” Casey closed her eyes and drew in an exaggerated breath as a peal of thunder sounded overhead.

“Now what?” Ryan asked.

“After it’s mixed in really well, we add the yellow coloring.”

Minutes later, the shiny white mixture had turned a slippery looking yellow. Bright yellow. Banana yellow.

“Now we feed it into the cutter and wrapper. I’ll show you how.” Mr. Carini led the way. “You will operate the machine.”

“M–me?” Ryan stammered. “But
I─
”

“You work with appliances, boy. You can do this.”

What followed could aptly be described as a midair collision. Ryan couldn’t seem to control the speed of the cutting and wrapping with the same precision as Mr. C. He ended up with shreds of taffy—now almost plastic-like in feel and texture—and bits of paper floating through the air. All the while, Casey laughed at him, pointing and giggling with great glee at his misfortune.

Taffie eventually snapped off the machine and took his place. He watched in dazed curiosity as she got the process going again. Then, with her father’s help, he slipped in alongside her and they worked together, finally getting the job done.

Afterward, Mr. Carini clapped his hands. “You two are remarkable together.”

I believe we are, at that.

“Yes, well, remember. . .many hands make light work,” Mrs. Carini said, entering the room. She gazed at the yellow pieces of taffy and added, “You didn’t do all of that work just to stare at it. Have a piece, Ryan. And you, too, Casey.”

He hesitated, if only for a moment. Sure, he liked bananas all right. But in taffy form? What if he took a bite and hated it? Could he control his expression to avoid hurting feelings? He’d never been very good at that sort of thing.

To his great delight, the piece of banana taffy brought a smile to his face. “Man.” He chewed it up and reached for another. “That’s not what I was expecting at all. It’s not strong. Just the perfect amount of banana.”

“It’s yummy!” Casey agreed, as she snatched a second piece.

“Your mama’s going to have my head for feeding you so much sugar.” Ryan groaned, then looked at his watch. Six-thirty? They needed to leave. . .right away.

“You did a fine job adding the flavoring, son,” Mr. C. patted him on the back.

Mrs. Carini bit into a piece, then looked at Ryan with a smile. “You’re quite the candy maker. Maybe our families have more in common than we know.” She hesitated, looking back and forth between Ryan and Taffie. “Or maybe this is all part of a grander plan.”

“Grander plan?” He reached for his tool belt, but the sound of thunder stopped him in his tracks. A shocking flash of lightning followed and then a shriek from Casey. Seconds later, the lights went out and the candy shop stood in utter darkness.

Ryan stared around, trying to get his bearings. Above his head, he could hear the rush of a shrill wind and the sudden pelting of raindrops. Or was that hail? And to his side, Casey whimpered in fear.