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By the time he pulled up in front of the feed store, Carl was in a good humor. His mood improved when he found Candy in the back of the store, sassy as always, issuing orders like a drill sergeant.
She stopped midsentence when she saw him standing there. “What do you want?” she barked.
Something was different about her. It took Carl a minute to put his finger on it. She wore makeup and her hair was curled. Why, she looked as good as she had the night of the dance.
“Hello to you, too,” he said with a slow, lackadaisical smile.
Candy hugged the clipboard against her bosom as if she thought it would protect her.
“Answer my question. What do you want?” she asked again.
“I’ve had a change of heart,” he said, and reached for the folded slip of paper inside his shirt pocket.
She eyed him warily. “A change of heart about what?”
“Giving you my business. I’ve got a number of items listed here that I’d like delivered.” He handed her the slip, expecting her to be grateful. Instead, she stared at him with a shocked look.
“I thought you said…” she mumbled, then stiffened. “As I recall, you claimed it’d be impossible for the two of us to be friends.”
“I don’t have to like you to do business with you, do I?” The instant the words slipped out of his mouth, Carl realized he’d said the wrong thing. Furthermore, it wasn’t what he meant. He did like Candy—that was the crux of the problem.
The red started creeping up her neck, and he realized that this time he’d jumped into it with both feet.
She thrust his list back at him as if it were diseased. “I don’t need your business, Mr. Saks, especially in light of the fact—”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Already he knew it was too late. Candy wasn’t in any mood to listen to reason. The list fell to the floor. Carl would have bent over and retrieved it, but when Candy was in this mood, it was conducive to his health to keep his eyes trained on her.
“Perhaps it would be best if you left my store now,” she said, glaring ferociously at him.
“You’re kicking me out?” Carl couldn’t believe his ears. The woman had the audacity to actually oust him over a simple misunderstanding.
“You’re darn right I’m kicking you out.” She raised her arm and pointed toward the front door, as though he wasn’t smart enough to find his own way.
Apparently he wasn’t moving fast enough to suit her purposes, because she shoved him hard enough for him to nearly lose his balance.
“Get out,” she shouted, “and stay out.”
Carl was tempted to stand his ground, and would have, if not for one simple factor. Tears glistened in Candy’s eyes.
Tears.
Muttering under his breath, he left, but he didn’t feel good about it. In fact, he was downright miserable. This wasn’t what he intended. On the drive over, he’d been thinking that they might stop in at the local cafe and chat over coffee. He was hoping they would find common ground, talk matters out. He’d have liked it if they could have reached an understanding.
Instead, everything had blown up in his face.
The problem, Carl realized, was that women were irrational creatures and he didn’t know how to deal with them. Both angry and frustrated, he removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before the word got around town that Candy Hoffman had tossed him out of her feed store. This woman was a detriment to his reputation.
Across the street from where he’d parked the truck was a flower store. Carl stood next to his pickup and stared at it for several minutes. Women were said to be partial to flowers. Maybe he should let a bunch of roses do the talking for him. With that thought in mind, he jogged between traffic and walked over to stand in front of the window.
Glancing over his shoulder, he remembered the way Candy’s eyes had glistened. It seemed a bunch of those pretty yellow daisies with the black centers were a small price to pay for having unintentionally offended her.
The bell over the door chimed as he walked inside.
“Can I help you?” The proprietor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, greeted him.
Carl peeled a hundred dollars off his money clip. “Do you know Candy Hoffman?”
