On impulse, clutching her plastic bag of gaudy, tie-dyed clothes, Bess crossed the square and went into the shop. The bell jangled on the door the way it always had, and she couldn’t help smiling. The bored teenager behind the counter barely glanced up. She looked about sixteen, with dark, thick hair pulled into a ponytail, and rectangular glasses perched on the end of her pierced nose. She yawned as Bess came up to the counter.
“Help you?”
“I’d like a large tub of the caramel corn.” Bess hadn’t bothered reading the menu, but surely Sugarland still sold the gooey, secret-recipe caramel corn that had been so popular.
The girl waved a languid hand toward a small pyramid of tubs. “We only have small right now.”
Bess couldn’t forget the hours she’d spent bending over the hot vat of sugar, corn syrup and melted butter. Mr. Swarovsky, Sugarland’s owner, had insisted on fresh caramel corn every day. “Is it fresh?”
Bess winced the instant the words slipped from her mouth. She sounded just like every uptight tourist who’d ever made her crazy. The girl didn’t react much, just shrugged.
“Sure, I guess. Hey, Dad!” she called over her shoulder toward the back. “Dad!”
The man who ducked out of the back room took up a lot of vertical space. His broad shoulders and lean hips gave the illusion he was taller even than he was, though Bess estimated him at over six feet. Dark thick hair spiked off his forehead, and glasses nearly identical to the ones the counter girl wore would have hinted at the family relationship even if she hadn’t called him Dad. The man’s smile stretched across his face and revealed straight, gleaming teeth. It transformed him instantly from geeky to gorgeous, and Bess wondered what she’d done to deserve such a look.
“Bess? Bess McNamara?” The man came around the counter, oblivious to his daughter’s goggling stare, and reached for Bess’s hand.
She gave it, and he pumped it up and down. “Yes? I mean, yes. I’m Bess.”
“Bess.” The man held her hand tight in both of his for a few minutes longer than necessary before letting go. “It’s me. Eddie Denver.”
It was rude to gape in disbelief, but Bess did anyway, scanning him up and down while he laughed. “Eddie? Oh my God, Eddie…wow!”
He laughed and ducked his head, and that gesture cemented it for her. “Yeah. Times change, huh?”
Bess wouldn’t have recognized him if he hadn’t introduced himself. Gone were the acne, the braces, the scrawny, perpetually hunched shoulders. Eddie Denver had grown up. “How did you know it was me?”
Eddie’s smile brought a twinkle to his eyes evident even from behind his Elvis Costello-style glasses. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Bess laughed, feeling self-conscious. Her turn to blush. “Oh, sure.”
Eddie shook his head. “No, I mean it.”
She touched her hair, left loose around her face today. She wasn’t going to point out the silver threads there, or pat the extra curves in her thighs and ass. She looked around Sugarland. Eddie’s daughter was still goggling.
“What are you doing here, Eddie? Don’t tell me you’re still working for Mr. Swarovsky!”
Eddie tipped his head back to laugh, and Bess marveled at his easy self-confidence. “No. I bought the place from him about five years ago. Oh, this is my daughter, Kara.”
Kara wiggled a few fingers and went back to looking bored. Eddie laughed. “She’s thrilled to be here, can’t you tell?”
Kara rolled her eyes. Bess gave a commiserating smile. “Your dad and I used to work here together.”
The teen nodded. “Yeah. He told me all about it, oh, about a million times.”
Bess and Eddie laughed together at that.
“Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself,” Eddie said. “I haven’t seen you since that last summer you worked here.”
Bess started to speak, stopped, laughed. “Oh, you know. The usual. Married, kids. Nothing exciting.”
Eddie glanced around the empty shop, then back at her. “Hey, let me buy you a cup of coffee and we’ll catch up. Can you? Do you have time?”
For an instant Bess caught a glimpse of the old Eddie, the one who’d never been able to look her in the eye. It was endearing, that hint of times past, and she nodded. “Sure. That sounds great.”
“Watch the shop, Kara. I’ll be back.”
Kara rolled her eyes again and shooed them with her hand. “Whatevs, Dad. Go.”
Eddie gave Bess an apologetic look as he held the door open for them both to leave. “Sorry about Kara. She’s not too thrilled about having to work in the shop.”
“Don’t worry about it.” They paused to let a car go by before crossing the street to the coffee shop. “I’ve got two boys. I know how teenagers can be.”
Eddie opened the door for her at the coffee shop, too. His manners gave Bess both a little thrill and a pang of regret that such courtesy should be somehow notable. He even stepped back to let her choose the table, and asked her what she wanted, then went to the counter to order for both of them. It seemed a little old-fashioned but definitely flattering. Bess couldn’t help studying him as he gave his order to the counter staff with confidence. Not much like the stammering, blushing Eddie she’d known back then.
“Thanks,” Bess said when he brought her café mocha and a plate of chocolate-dipped biscotti. Her stomach rumbled and she bit off the end of a dry, crumbly cookie. “Wow, good.”
Eddie dipped his into his coffee before nibbling. “Yeah. I swear I should buy stock in this place. I’m here every day.”
“Maybe you could set up a trade agreement. So many cups of coffee for so many tubs of corn.”
Eddie gave that infectious laugh again. “Yeah, sure. Except sadly, nobody’s interested in my popcorn since Swarovsky’s opened up down the street.”
Bess hadn’t followed, and her face must have shown her confusion.
“When I bought the place from old Mr. Swarovsky,” Eddie explained, “I wanted the rights to the secret recipe, too. The old man was willing to sell me the store because Ronnie supposedly didn’t want to take over, but when it came time to give up the family recipe, the old man hemmed and hawed. I tried telling him Sugarland wasn’t worth much without the caramel corn. He died while we were in the final negotiations. I got the store for a song…but not the recipe.”
Bess made a face. “Ouch. And then Ronnie opened up his own place?”
“You got it. Just down the street.” Eddie shrugged. “Apparently he had plans to do it for a while, but he and his dad didn’t see eye to eye on it. When his dad died, Ronnie got the recipe and I got the old shop.”
“Eddie, that’s too bad. I’m sorry.” Bess reached automatically to pat his arm. He glanced up at her touch, for another fleeting instant looking the way he used to. She took her hand away.
“It’s okay. I’m doing a nice business with the ice cream, and I do sell a couple different varieties of popcorn, but we can’t really compete with the genuine Swarovsky’s. Even if I wanted to be a jerk and use the recipe…which would be stealing. You know how people are about that stuff, Bess. You remember.”
“Loyal,” she said with a nod. “Yeah, I remember.”
Eddie rapped the table with his knuckles. “Hey, enough of