Sweet Dreams on Center Street (8 page)

Now she regarded Samantha with that penetrating gaze of hers
and said, “Okay, who do you want to kill today?”

Samantha couldn't help smiling at her perceptiveness. “Not my
mother and not myself.”

“That's a step in the right direction,” Cass said as they
settled at a corner table with some cake pops.

“But maybe the new bank manager.”

“I didn't get to the open house but I was in making a deposit
this morning and saw our hometown boy.” Cass shook her head and smiled. “I've
gotta say, even though my ideal man is made of gingerbread, this one brought my
hormones back to life for a minute there.”

“I always knew you were a cougar,” Samantha teased.

“So have you been in to talk to him about helping you sort out
your Waldo mess?”

Cass and Charley were the only ones who knew Samantha had been
struggling with the business but she hadn't told either of them just how
desperate the struggle was. “He won't be any help,” she said, and left it at
that.

Cass shook her head. “The man must have a heart of stone and
gonads of dough.”

“That about covers it. We're going to try and find some other
ways to fix the business. My mom and sisters and I were kicking around something
last night and I want to get your impression.” Cass was an astute businesswoman.
If she was in their corner, that would help sell other members of the Chamber of
Commerce on the idea.

She sat back and slung an elbow over the back of her chair.
“Okay,” she said, her voice noncommittal.

“We're thinking of sponsoring a chocolate festival.”

Cass nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds interesting. Tell me
more.”

And so Samantha did, and as she talked, Cass's skeptical body
language changed. She leaned forward, arms on the table, listening intently.
“You know, this could be good,” she said at last.

“Do you think it could work?”

“Why not? We're always trying to find new ways to bring
visitors to town. When were you hoping to do it? You have to make sure you don't
eclipse anything that's already in place.”

“Next month.”

Cass blinked and fell back against her chair. “Next month?”

“I realize it's kind of a rush job.” That was the
understatement of the century.

“Kind of?” Cass raised both eyebrows. “You know how long it
takes to plan something like this?”

Samantha slumped in her seat. “It's hopeless, isn't it? I knew
it.” She'd been deluding herself—which was exactly what crazy people did.

“I didn't say that, but damn.”

“We could start small,” Samantha ventured.

“Why February?”

“I need a ton of money by the end of next month. I'm out of
options, Cass.” It was painful to have to say it out loud and Samantha found
herself blinking back tears.

“Not necessarily. You have friends in this town.”

Samantha shook her head. “I don't have enough friends for what
I owe. Anyway, I wouldn't do that to my friends. If the bank could have worked
with me…” There was no sense completing that sentence.

“Okay, so when next month?”

“We'd like to have it the weekend before Valentine's Day.”

Cass nodded slowly. “A chocolate festival the weekend before
Valentine's Day. Perfect timing. You should be able to lure lots of couples up
here for that. Good for the B and Bs, restaurants, wineries. Bakeries,” she
added with a grin.

“So, if we didn't go too wild, could we pull it off?”

Cass shrugged. “I say give it a shot. You've got nothing to
lose.”

Except her business, and she wasn't letting go of that without
a fight.

Cass returned to work and Samantha hurried back to the office,
a woman ready to wage war.

Elena looked at her uneasily. “I was getting worried. Where've
you been?”

“Out getting inspired. I need you to look up festivals on the
internet and print out everything you can find.”

“Okay,” Elena said. “But—”

“And call Luke and tell him to plan to triple production on our
mint chocolate hearts.”

“What in the world is going on?”

“We are about to sponsor Icicle Falls first annual chocolate
festival,” Samantha said, and then marched into her office, a general about to
form her battle plan and conquer the world. Or at least the bank.

Chapter Seven

A positive attitude in you inspires a positive attitude in
others.

—Muriel Sterling,
When Family
Matters

W
ednesday morning found the members of the
Icicle Falls Chamber of Commerce assembled in the banquet room of Dot Morrison's
Breakfast Haus.

“Do you want me to bring up the idea of the festival?” Cass
asked Samantha.

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” It would be nice if someone
would just take the reins and gallop them off into the sunset (or over the
cliff) but Samantha knew she had to do this herself. Her glance sneaked to the
far end of the table, where Blake Preston sat talking with Ed York, who owned
D'Vine Wines. Would he weigh in and advise everyone present not to listen to a
woman whose business was in ruins?

Don't be ridiculous,
she scolded
herself. It was in the bank's best interest for her to succeed. Otherwise,
they'd have a chocolate company on their hands, and what would the bank do with
a chocolate company?

“Just remember to stress that we'll all benefit from this,”
said Charley, whom she'd filled in on their way to the meeting. “We need to
figure out how to make Icicle Falls a tourist destination all year long, snow or
no snow.”

Samantha nodded and pushed her plate away. What little she'd
eaten of her Belgian waffle was lying in her stomach like a brick.

Another fifteen minutes of small talk and Ed brought the
meeting to order. There was much to discuss, like how to encourage everyone to
put out hanging baskets and window boxes full of flowers come spring so they
could keep their Alpine village theme consistent throughout town.

During this discussion several of the women present cast
scornful frowns in the direction of Todd Black, whose sports bar, the Man Cave,
camped at the edge of town—rather like the embarrassing relative everyone at the
family picnic wishes would just go away. His concession to the requisite
Bavarian look they were going for had been to add the carved wooden overhang to
his roofline and commission one of his buddies to paint a Neanderthal in
lederhosen holding a club on the front of the building. Many thought it in poor
taste. Rather like the brawls that often took place there on a Saturday
night.

Another hot topic of discussion was whether or not to foot the
bill for a new town sign welcoming visitors to Icicle Falls with a quaint German
phrase.

“Really,” said Annemarie Huber, who had recently purchased the
Bavarian Inn, “if we're an Alpine-style village we should have an Alpine-style
welcome sign.”

“You have a point there, Annemarie,” Ed told her. “We should
check with Bill Jacobs to see how much it would cost.”

“Too much,” Todd muttered.

“It will add to our town's charm,” Annemarie insisted. She got
as far as having everyone agree that the matter should be looked into.

The brick in Samantha's stomach grew heavier. If nobody wanted
to fork out for something as small as a sign, they sure weren't going to be
excited about coughing up cash for putting on a festival.

“We have one more piece of new business from Samantha.” Ed
smiled at her encouragingly.

She'd just had to open her big mouth and tell him she had a
proposition to discuss that could benefit the whole town. Now her feet weren't
simply cold, they were frozen solid. Would everyone think she was being
completely self-serving? They'd probably shoot her down. Heck, if she didn't
need this so badly she'd shoot herself down.

People were studying her with speculative interest.
Sell this idea. It's the only one you've got and it needs to
fly.
She steeled herself and put on her game face. “Yes, I've kicked
this around with several people.” Charley and Cass, her family—that was several.
“And I've been getting some positive response.” Especially from her family.

“Let's hear it,” Ed said. “I don't know about the rest of you,
but I'm open to ideas. Business hasn't been the best this winter.”

“You can say that again,” agreed Olivia Wallace, who owned
Icicle Creek Lodge.

“We need to do some things to bring in business and make Icicle
Falls more of a tourist destination throughout the year,” Samantha said. “After
all, it's lovely here all year round. We have great hiking in the summer, and in
the fall when the leaves turn, it's gorgeous. Plus we're near some of the best
wineries this side of Napa.”

Ed nodded. “Amen to that. So what did you have in mind?”

“Well, it's an idea my family's been toying with for some
time.”
Some
being the operative word. She continued,
the big lie tumbling out of her mouth before she could bite her tongue. “And
it's a dream my stepfather, Waldo, had hoped to make happen.” If he'd known
about it he'd have been all over it, she rationalized, willing the guilty burn
off her cheeks. Waldo loved a good party, and this would be the party to end all
parties. Anyway, he'd been useless to the business in life. He could darn well
contribute something in death.

“God rest his soul,” someone murmured.

If they pulled this off, he could rest in peace with Samantha's
blessing.

“So what is it?” prompted Ed, who was practically salivating
now.

She could feel Blake Preston's gaze on her as she stood there
all dolled up in the business equivalent of the emperor's new clothes and felt
her cheeks go warmer. “Well, what's the third-biggest spending holiday of the
year?”

“Mother's Day,” Annemarie guessed.

“Close,” Samantha said. “Actually, it's Valentine's Day, coming
in right after Christmas and Thanksgiving, and I'm thinking we could celebrate
it here in Icicle Falls, which is why Sweet Dreams would like to sponsor a
chocolate festival in honor of Cupid's big day. I'm sure, as you all know, a
festival can bring loads of business into a town.” Okay, there it was. Had she
baited the hook enough?

Some people had caught the excitement; she could tell by the
glint in their eyes. Others, like Dot and Todd Black, Mr. Alpine Neanderthal,
were looking dubious.

“What exactly did you want to do?” Dot asked.

Samantha launched into her spiel, making the sales pitch of her
life, all the while hoping no one would suggest there wasn't enough time to plan
something like this.

“But that's only a month away,” Hildy Johnson protested. Hildy
was a stocky woman whose smile was as thin as the rest of her was fat. Her
husband, Nils, was a pharmacist and he took care of filling prescriptions over
at Johnson's Drugs but Hildy ran everything else, including him.

And now she'd just found the proverbial fly in the ointment. “I
know it's less than six weeks,” Samantha admitted, “but my family has already
done a lot of the groundwork.” Some anyway. They'd logged in a ton of phone
calls over the weekend talking about it and Cecily and Bailey were working on
schedules and venues for possible events. “We'd have to start small this year,
but if we all pulled together to offer something fun and visitors enjoyed
themselves, well, word of mouth would bring us twice as many people next year.
And, let's face it, this is a day that lends itself well to
merchandizing—lovers' packages at our B and Bs and motels, wine-tastings,
romantic dinners, special floral arrangements.”

Now more eyes were lighting up. She still didn't dare look at
Blake. She pressed on, throwing out enticing details like so many Hershey's
Kisses.

“What about advertising? How are you going to promote this?”
Hildy wanted to know. “You can't get the word out overnight.”

“But you can get it out fast, thanks to the internet and social
media,” Samantha argued, parroting Bailey's words.

“How many friends have you all got on Facebook who don't live
here? How many hits are you getting on your websites?” Todd asked cynically,
making Samantha want to kick him.

“Obviously, we'd need to promote other places, too,” she said.
“Radio, newspaper—”

“They all cost money,” Hildy interrupted.

Now Samantha couldn't help looking in Blake's direction. The
pity in his eyes made her want to cry. Instead, she pinned on her best saleslady
face. “I realize we're racing against the clock, but if we all worked together,
pooled our resources, we could bring some good business into town.”

“And God knows we could use it,” muttered Heinrich, owner of
Lupine Floral.

“So, would we like to be involved in this?” Ed asked. “What do
you think, people?”

“What the hell,” Dot said with a shrug. “I can hang up some
foil hearts and offer a breakfast special.”

“We have limited funds in our lodging tax fund,” Hildy said.
“And this.” She shook her head. “It'll get costly. We'd have to pay overtime to
the police for security and we'd have to pay for maintenance and cleanup.”

“That's what the fund is there for, isn't it?” Samantha asked
reasonably.

Hildy frowned at her. “Of course, but it's not there for every
cockamamie idea that gets thrown out at Chamber meetings. Money doesn't grow on
trees and we need to be wise with ours. I think we need a committee to look into
this,” she concluded.

“With only a little over a month until V Day, I think we have
to decide today to either pass or jump in,” Dot said.

“Then I say let's jump,” Charley said. “I agree with
Samantha—we can start small.”

God bless you,
Samantha thought,
shooting her a grateful smile.

Hildy shook her head again. “I think we should pass.”

“You can't pull this off,” Todd said.

“I think we can,” Samantha insisted. “If the whole town
supported it, we
could
pull it off and we'd all
benefit.”

“What do you think, Blake?” Hildy asked, obviously looking for
someone to side with her.

He tugged at his necktie. “It's a big undertaking,” he said.
“You'll probably spend more money than you take in this first year.”

“There you go,” Hildy said as if that settled it.

Go ahead, stab me in the heart,
thought Samantha bitterly, narrowing her eyes at him.

He refused to look in her direction. “But if you're asking me
whether I think it's an idea that, with a little more time to plan and execute,
could increase tourism, I'd have to say yes,” he added. Now he did look at
Samantha, who still hadn't removed the scowl from her face, and regarded her
with those blue eyes of his in a way that dared her to accuse him of being
biased.

She'd take that dare. He was.

“I dunno,” Todd said with a shrug. “It doesn't do much for me.
I don't sell chocolate at my place.”

“But I sell wine,” Ed reminded him, “and it goes pretty damn
good with chocolate. We should put our heads together and see what we can come
up with,” he said to Samantha.

“I think it's a smart idea,” Heinrich put in. “And if it brings
people here, it's good for all of us. Why not capitalize on the fact that our
town has a chocolate factory?”

“I like the idea, too,” Annemarie said.

“God knows we need to do something after the dead winter we've
had,” Olivia added. “And I'd rather offer some special packages and have my
place full than sit around and do nothing until the bank takes it.” Her cheeks
turned red and she cast an apologetic glance at Blake. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he assured her. “Cascade Mutual wants to be part
of this community, and working together is in all our best interests.”

What a hypocrite,
thought
Samantha.

Discussion continued for another ten minutes, with Hildy
raising every kind of imaginable objection. Finally Todd shrugged and said, “Do
what you want. It won't affect my business either way.”

“That's for sure,” Charley muttered in disgust. “As long as
there are losers and beer in the world, he'll be fine.”

“We'll take a vote,” Ed announced. “Do I have a motion?”

The vote was almost unanimous, with Todd abstaining and Hildy
casting a resounding
no.

“This is a waste of money,” she informed Ed as she left, but
several people lingered to congratulate Samantha on her great idea.

“I'll be happy to help with the planning,” Olivia
volunteered.

“Me, too,” Cass said.

“I'm already thinking about the menu for your chocolate
dinner,” said Charley. “How does chocolate pasta with French cheese and
artichokes sound for one of the courses?”

“Heavenly,” Samantha murmured. And expensive. “Remember, we
need to turn a profit.”

“Trust me, we will.”

“I think this will be
wonderful,
”
Heinrich gushed. “We could become the perfect Northwest destination for lovers.
Annemarie,” he called, hurrying after her. “We should work together on a
romantic package.”

“Don't forget to include chocolates in it,” Samantha called
after him, and he grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

They were on their way. She beamed as people walked past,
promising to help.

“I think you'd better set up an email loop,” Jonathan Templar
suggested. He was her computer tech expert and owner of Geek Gods Computer
Services. “So you can all keep one another up-to-date.”

“Gee, I wonder who we can get to do that,” she teased.
“Hopefully, someone who works cheap.”

“Since it's for the town, I'll offer my services for free,” he
said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “And I'll build you a special website. I
can have it up and running in a couple of days.”