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CHAPTER4
SEVEN YEARS
The next day at work, we were slammed with orders. I don’t know if there were a lot of cheating husbands or sick grandmas or what, but Sweet Treats was hopping. Aside from selling candy, we customized gift items. You could choose from a number of candy combinations and have them packaged for different occasions in the container or basket of your choice. It wasn’t just a store for kids—we also sold expensive chocolates and gourmet popcorn. I’d sampled them to death over the years and officially murdered my love for sugar.
If a guy ever gave me a box of candy (not that one ever would, all Beckett ever gave me was a box of Victoria’s Secret lingerie), that would be the equivalent of giving me a box of anchovies. It’s not that I hated candy, but the magic was gone. A man should be more original than a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. Flowers die and sugar sticks to your hips like a permanent record to a criminal.
However, all superheroes have a kryptonite. I had one weakness.
Lollipops.
Our store only sold the cheap flat ones for the kids and those pinwheel multicolored novelty items. But myfavoriteswere the large round suckers that came in various flavors, including gourmet. We tried carrying them but they never sold. Kids always wanted the chocolate bars or some of the newer candy based on their favorite cartoons or movies. Older generations wanted the hard-to-find items from their childhood or gourmet products. So things like lollipops, peppermints, and butterscotch just didn’t sell.
The only person who knew how much I loved them was Wes. It’s how he used to bribe me to stay quiet whenever he was going to sneak out of the house or if I caught him in a lie. I was a sucker for suckers, and bribery came at a very reasonable price for him. Our parents never bought junk food unless we went to the movies. Only in recent years had Mom let go of the reins when it came to sugar and offered Maizy an occasional treat.
April bounced into the room holding a beautifully wrapped basket with a yellow ribbon. “Here you are, Mrs. Lee.”
“Oh, that’s just gorgeous! Ellie’s going to love it,” the older lady gushed. “She hasn’t tasted some of these candies since she was a little girl.” Mrs. Lee took a moment to admire the packaging before heading out the door.
“Come by and see us again,” April said with a wave. “Thanks for stopping in, and be sure to tell all your friends to visit Sweet Treats!”
The bell jingled and I glared at her from behind the display of gumballs. “That’s a bit much.”
So were the cherry earrings she was wearing and the matching pin clipped in her bright blond hair.
April tilted her head and the earrings swiveled. “You could learn something from me, Alexia. It’s not just about sales, but returning customers. Youwantthem to tell their friends about us and feel like they need to come back here again for more. Charlie doesn’t offer coupons and we don’t do any marketing, so word of mouth is all we have. Relationship building is important for an independently run business.”
“We sell crack, April.”
A kid went jumping by as if there were invisible hopscotch lines on the floor. I nodded at him to illustrate my point.
“You don’t think this place could ever go out of business?”
I shrugged. “If the movie theater or pizza shop closes, then yeah. But this street is a freeway of hyperactive kids between the ages of Winnie-the-Pooh diapers and high school saggy pants. Not to mention the fact we offer pick-up through the Internet.”
“Not everyone likes picking up when they can have it delivered to their house by another company,” she pointed out, refilling a display of Ring Pops.
It was near closing time and I sanitized the counter, wiping away all the grimy little fingerprints and germs.
After hours when we closed the shop and turned on the dim accent lights, it became pure magic. Long canisters lined the walls and we had several short aisles with packaged candy and other items. We didn’t have any fancy neon sign—just a pink board that ran over the doorway with the store name painted in black. We were open from ten to ten—at least those were the advertised hours. Everyone on this side of town knew we’d stay open as long as there were customers. Night owls loved it because the colorful displays in the window would catch their eye and draw them in for a late night snack before or even after their movie. I mentioned to Charlie once or twice that he should consider making us a hybrid business—perhaps buy the space next door to open a coffee shop and offer sweet treats for the adults, with a door connecting the shops. “Pipe dreams,” he would say. Charlie might have gone for it, but he probably didn’t have the money.
We admittedly got some peculiar customers wandering in; some of them looked like hardcore criminals while others just had strange eye colors. But sometimes there was a single guy and that’s how I ran into Beckett. It was hard to pass by our shop at night because the beautiful displays in the window brought out the child in everyone.
The last customer left the store and I stretched out my stiff muscles. “You feel like going to a party, April? It’s a little wild and crazy and there’s no telling who will be there. My neighbor is throwing one on Tuesday. You can swing by after work if you want; it’ll be going on all night.”
She considered it and scrunched the ends of her short hair. “Maybe. Where?”
“You’ve been to my apartment once or twice; it’s the one right next door. Stop by and keep me company. I told her I’d show up, but sometimes those parties can get a little nuts and I’d rather have someone there who’s…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who’s what?”
Um—extracting foot from mouth. “Who’s sensible and won’t end up dancing naked on the balcony.”
April shrugged. “I might. Depends on how tired I am.”
I twirled my keys around my finger and stood at the door. “Coming?”
“No. My sister is picking me up tonight and I have a book to finish reading.”
