Fudgeballs And Other Sweets (7 page)

Dave drew back. “You're hurting her.”
“Then let go of her.”
“She needs a nap, for heaven's sake. What's the big deal about me taking her to my house and putting her down for a nap?”
“She isn't yours!”
“She isn't yours, either.”
“Stop this, Dave.” Her eyes narrowed. “
I will
take care of her.”
“You've got a store full of customers and no help. Don't be stubborn about this.”
“Don't you be stubborn! Mrs. Wilcox will be here any moment.” They locked horns, their gazes fixed and determined.
“Excuse me?” A woman with three children stood by the register waiting to pay for her purchases. “Is anyone working here?”
Jenny caught her breath. Her eyes fixed on Dave's fingers, making tiny circles on the baby's back. She imagined his hand on her back. She blinked the disturbing image away.
Stop it
, her head screamed.
Stop looking at him that way and thinking of him that way.
She was so close to achieving financial security, so close to fulfilling her dreams for Fudgeballs. She couldn't throw a monkey wrench in the works by getting emotionally involved with him. She couldn't.
“Dave, go home. You're not needed anymore. I can handle it from here.” Blunt and to the point was the only sensible way to handle the matter.
Disbelief, then hurt flickered in his eyes.
“Jenny—”
Taking Dory from him, she ignored the disappointment in his tone. Tough love. She'd heard of it, just never put it to use. She stepped around him and carried Dory into the back room.
When she returned a moment later, he was gone.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, she pasted a smile on her face and waited on customers.
5
P
RINCESS DIPPED HER HEAD to stare at the sleeping bulldog. “
Mon ami?”
Jake opened one eye, yawned and licked his chops. “Huh? What'd ya call me?”

Mon ami.
I called you my friend.”
“Friend? Since when?” Jake shifted to his other side to resume his nap.
Princess nudged his backside with her nose. “Come play with me.”
Jake raised his head. “Play? With you?” He sat up and looked at her. “Are you nuts? You're askin'
me
to play with
you
? One minute I'm barred from looking at you, the next you want to play?”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she swiped them away with her paw.
“Aw, shoot. What are you bawlin' for? What'd I do?”
“I am lonely, monsieur.”
He rose, shook and strutted around her, giving her a couple of sniffs. “You been drinkin' something stronger than water?”
She laid down, put her head between her paws and whined.
“Okay, okay—quit your bellyachin'. I'll play. What'll it be? Chase?” He jumped at her, pulled back and jumped again.
She didn't move. He put a paw on her back and gave her a shove. “You wanted to play, let's play.”
“I don't feel like it anymore.”
Jake snorted, hiked his leg on the tree, then settled in his former spot. Poodles!
Princess let out a mournful whimper. “Talk to me.”
Good grief
. “What do you want me to say?”
She turned away. “If you don't know, then I'm not going to tell you.
Don't
talk to me.”
Jake pushed himself to a sitting position. “Is this a game? Play with me—don't play with me. Talk to me—don't talk to me. You missing a few kibbles?”
Princess let out a wail.
Jake shot up like a bullet. “Oh, for cryin' out loud. Now what'd I say?”
“I haven't gotten one kibble treat since the baby came,” Princess sniffed.
Jake snorted and licked his nose. “Is that all? That's nothin' to cry about. That chunk o' nothin' wouldn't fill a hollow tooth.”
I could give her back her bone. Nah.
He rummaged in his dog dish for a scrap of leftovers and came up with a piece of crust off Dave's bologna sandwich. “Here.” He laid the morsel on the ground in front of her. “Now
this
is something you can sink your teeth into.”
Princess sprang to her feet and strutted to her cushion. “I'm not hungry!”
Jake followed her. “Am I missing something here?”
“You couldn't understand—you have a human who loves you.”
“Dave? Sure, he's a good guy.” He laid down beside her cushion. “Your human loves you.”
“Alas, she has forgotten me.” She sighed.
“Forgotten you? How could anyone forget you, yippin' and yappin' all the time, leapin' around like a Mexican jumping bean—”
Her wails stopped him. “She only has time for the baby now.”
Jake rolled onto his back and wiggled to give it a good scratch. “Now I get the picture. You're jealous.”
Princess sat up. “I am
not!
” She stuck her nose in the air. “Well, perhaps a bit, but I love the baby, too.”
“Well, I like the kid, but the humans are gaga over it. I, for one, haven't had a decent nap since she got here.” He snorted. “All that fussin' and squallin'.”
“True, monsieur. Jenny can't get anything done for changing diapers, mixing formula and rocking—constantly rocking. And
your
human is always underfoot, wanting to play with Dory. I never get lap time anymore.”
“Oh, you know humans,” Jake said, “they'll get around to us eventually.” He sprang to his feet and panted. “Dry your eyes, tootsie. I can get your mind off your troubles—let's wrestle!”
 
JENNY BLEW a wayward strand of hair from her forehead as she coaxed Dory to take a bite of strained spinach. “I know it looks bad, sweetie, but it's good for you. Just one little bite.”
Dory grabbed the spoon and flung it across the room, spattering green globs over Jenny's clean T-shirt, the floor, the counter and a new batch of black walnut fudge.
“Oh, Dory, not again.” Frustrated, she called for Mrs. Wilcox. “I need help up here!”
The chubby woman shuffled in from the back room, carrying a sack of sugar in one hand and stuffing fudgeballs into her mouth with the other. She swallowed hard then licked her fingers.
“Thought I'd start another batch of chocolate. We're running a little low.”
“Already?” Jenny glanced at the sparse selection in the candy case. Three days on the job, and already Mrs. Wilcox had eaten her way through two trays of chocolate. “Well, go ahead. I'll get this mess cleaned up, then try to get Dory down for her nap while you're mixing another batch.”
“Yum.” Mrs. Wilcox pinched off a piece of the spattered fudge. “Don't throw this out. I'll take it home. The mister won't mind a little spinach.”
Surrounded by Dory's fussy crying, Mrs. Wilcox spread the recipe in front of her and began pouring ingredients into the copper kettle. Jenny bounced the baby on one hip while wiping strained baby food from the counter and watching the older woman pluck up a handful of the remaining fudgeballs from the case and pop them into her mouth.
“Sure is a colicky baby,” Mrs. Wilcox said, her cheek bulging with candy.
“I don't know what's wrong with her. Nothing suits her. She won't eat, won't sleep. I've tried everything,” Jenny replied, admittedly at her wits end.
“Try a little clove oil on her gums.”
Jenny hoisted Dory to her shoulder and patted her back, trying to hear Mrs. Wilcox above Dory's wails. “Clove what on where?”
“Teething's hard on the little mites,” the woman said, giving the chocolate concoction a hefty stir. “Need to put a little clove oil on your finger and rub it on her gums. Should feel good to her.”
Before Jenny had a chance to thank her for the advice, Mrs. Wilcox ate the last fudgeball on the tray then smiled. “I've a bit of a sweet tooth.”
Jenny lamely returned the smile. “I'm going to ask Dave to watch her while I run to the pharmacy for the clove oil. Can you handle things here?”
Dave had avoided her the past couple of days. Who could blame him? She'd been rude and insensitive when she'd told him he wasn't needed. She missed his advice—and his help. As much as she hated the thought, she had to apologize.
“Oh, no problem. Candy makin' is right up my alley. I've made tons of it in my lifetime.”
Jenny nodded. “Well, as soon as you get that batch done, start another. I have a large order to fill.”
Dory whimpered. “Hush, sweetie.” Jenny stuck the pacifier in the baby's mouth, and Dory immediately spat it out and cried harder. Lifting her to her shoulder, she patted the baby's back while turning to Mrs. Wilcox. “I won't be gone long.”
Mrs. Wilcox sampled her concoction by pouring a ladleful onto a saucer and eating it with a spoon. “Just right,” she announced to Jenny, who was gaping at the amount of sweets the woman could consume.
 
“EXCUSE ME? I'm not needed, remember?” Dave gave Jenny a sour look as he took the wriggling Dory from her. “Hi, Munchkin. Still having trouble with those ol' toofies?”
Dory gave him a wide, drooly grin.
“Her toofies are killing us both. I know I said I didn't need you, but I apologize. I do need your help, and I'm sorry I was so rude. Mrs. Wilcox says clove oil will help Dory's teething, and I don't have any.”
Who does, other than a leftover pioneer?
“I can't leave the baby with Mrs. Wilcox. It's all she can do to wait on customers. Can you watch her while I run up to the pharmacy and buy the oil?”
Dave bounced the infant on his shoulder. “Sure, I'll watch her. Take your time.”
“Thanks.” She turned toward the door, relieved he was being so generous.
“Heard from Rob and Teensy?”
“No, but I'm sure I will any day now.”
Actually, she wasn't so sure anymore. A week had gone by without a word from the parents. Was it possible Rob didn't intend to come back? She shoved the flicker of hope aside. Dory needed her parents. But Jenny couldn't deny she would welcome the chance to keep Dory. Forever. With each passing day, the child grew more important to her. She was the first thing she saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw at night. The baby lay beside her in bed, giggling as Jenny counted toes and tiny little fingers, the smell of baby powder sweet in the air. She sympathized with Dave. How could he bear to be apart from the little daughter he'd helped create? She'd like to ask him about Megan, but the shop was full of customers.
He stepped closer and bent toward her. “You don't sound as positive as you did a week ago.”
“Maybe because I'm not.”
He motioned toward the back room. “Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “I'm not making any decisions yet. There's plenty of time for panic.”
“Come on, Jenny, be sensible. You can't keep the child. Children can't be given away. They have laws about those things. The authorities will have to be notified.”
Jenny glanced at Dory, fighting the lump crowding her throat. “It's only been a week.”
Dory started fussing. Dave jiggled her up and down.
Jenny reached for her purse. “She needs that clove oil. I won't be gone but a minute.”
“Is she hungry?”
“No, just fussy. I'm taking good care of her, Dave. I may not have your experience—”
“Or need my help.”
“I told you I was sorry.” She waited for him to say he accepted the apology. And waited. And waited. Dogs and babies could sure put a kink in a mutual attraction. “But I am Dory's guardian, not you.”
When he shot her an annoyed look, she backed up and tried again. “I may not do everything right, but Dory's thriving—”
“Which is more than I can say for you.” He laughed. “I know what the dark circles under your eyes are, but I haven't identified the green spots on your shirt.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. She was a mess, especially next to Mr. Perfect in his navy blue pressed Dockers and pale blue Polo shirt, clean-shaven, every hair perfect. “It's spinach. Dory doesn't like spinach.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart.” Dave lifted Dory over his shoulder and patted her. “I think a change of subject is in order. Did you call Loyal?”
She looked blank. “No.”
He looked annoyed. “I told him you would.”
“Well...”
Well, really.
Who died and made me your secretary?
She had to look at the building with him, give her approval and now call the Realtor and set up his contract? Wasn't that a little much?
“I haven't called Loyal, but I can, I guess.”
He lifted a brow. “Don't you think you should?”
Certainly. What else do I have to do?
He had as much time as she did, but she wasn't going to argue. If calling Loyal speeded up his moving process, then she'd do it. After she called Loyal, she'd call Mark and tell him she'd be faxing the financial report to him soon. Then she'd contact Mr. Linstrom at Rockfield Corporation and tell him that she definitely wanted to expand when Dave vacated his space. She'd rent Dave's side of the building, have the wall knocked out, new tile installed and order four additional display cases.
“I'll call Loyal when I get back.” If she didn't need his space so cotton-pickin' bad, she'd tell him to do it himself.
Though she tried her best, it was late that afternoon before she found a spare minute to make the call. “Loyal? Jenny McNeill.”
“Well, hello. I was beginning to think there was a problem.”
“Oh, no. The building is fine.”
“Well, I have the contract all ready. All you'll need to do is sign.”
“Thanks. I'll tell Dave.”
“There's just a few minor details. How long do you want the lease?”
“I don't know. You'll have to talk to Dave about that.”
“Oh? He said to ask you.”
“Me?” She dumped sugar in a kettle, then wiped Dory's mouth.

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