Salt Water Taffie (Boardwalk Brides Book 1)

  “They’re moving him to the rehab tomorrow. Then the real work begins.” He looked around the shop. “I’m on time?”

  “You are. They’re not here yet.” She pulled out the paper with the plan he’d helped put together and he glanced over it, then nodded.

  “Carini’s has bright days ahead. Just don’t let them convince you otherwise, okay?” Ryan looked deeply into her eyes and she sighed—partly at his reassurance, and partly at the joy of knowing she could stay wrapped up in his embrace forever.

  “Okay.” Taffie whispered, and then kissed him on the cheek.

  His face turned pink, but he quickly recovered and greeted her parents. They welcomed him, as always, with open arms and hearts. Taffie still relished in the fact that her mom and pop had fallen for Ryan like they had.

  At ten straight up, McKinley arrived, briefcase in hand and an elderly man at his side. Taffie couldn’t help but wonder at the fellow’s age. His yellow-white hair and stooped physique took her by surprise. She’d expected a young, intimidating fellow—one with a steely-eyed glare. Someone tall and muscular. This man didn’t appear the sort to steal anything from anyone. McKinley treated him like a king as he made introductions. “My client, Mr. Bruno.”

  “Frankie Bruno?” With a shocked expression on his face, Taffie’s pop stared at the man. “Frankie, is. . .is that you?”

  “It’s me.” The elderly man cracked a smile, his white moustache bobbing a bit. “Surprised you recognized me after all these years, Carl.”

  Taffie looked back and forth between the two men, confused. “Pop? You know this man?”

  “Knew him as Uncle Frankie most of my growing up years,” her father explained. “Your grandpa Gus’s best friend.” He gave Mr. Bruno an inquisitive look. “I heard you were doing well for yourself, but had no idea you were. . .well, that you were building casinos.”

  “Didn’t start out that way,” Frankie explained. “After my wife passed away, I found myself with too much time on my hands. My arcades were doing well, so I decided the next rung on the ladder would be the casino world.”

  “Ah.” Taffie’s Pop grew silent, staring at the older fellow with continued puzzlement on his face. He pulled a couple of the tables together and gestured for everyone to sit.

  “So, you own the arcade?” Taffie asked, pulling up a chair. “Bruno’s?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Bruno’s is a landmark. . .like Carini’s.” Ryan’s words were laced with curiosity. “I grew up going to Bruno’s. Followed by a trip to the candy shop, of course.”

  “Bruno’s will live on,” the older man said. “But I’ve got my eye on a bigger prize these days. Hoping I could talk you Carinis into coming along for the ride.”

  Taffie opted to change the subject. “So, you’re a native of Atlantic City?” She gave him an inquisitive look. Surely a man such as this would understand the importance of keeping the history of the boardwalk alive and well.

  “I grew up here,” Mr. Bruno explained. “Opened the arcade at about the same time your grandfather opened the candy shop.” He looked around, his eyes sparkling. “Not much has changed at Carini’s over the years.”

  Nor should it have to. She wanted to speak the words, but kept them to herself.

  “I came into this store nearly every day in the forties and fifties,” Mr. Bruno explained. “Consumed more sugar than most, thanks to your grandpa.”

  “You knew him well?” Taffie shook her head, still trying to put the pieces together in her head.

  “There was a time when we were best friends. And my boys played with your father when he was little.” He gazed at Taffie’s father. “Do you remember my boys, Carl? David and Tony?”

  “Of course.” Taffie watched as her father rose to his feet and began to pace the room. “But, Bruno. . .you of all people knew my pop. Better than most. Knew his heart for this shop.”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, why would you try to take it away from us? Don’t you realize this place meant everything to him?”

  “I don’t want to take it away.” Frankie’s eyes filled with what almost looked like compassion. “But I see what’s become of the place. Your business is dwindling. It’s just a matter of time before─”

  “No, Mr. Bruno,” Ryan interjected. “It’s not just a matter of time. Carini’s Confections is here for the long haul.”

  “Watch and see,” Taffie threw in. “Go ahead and build your casino. We’ll still be here.”

  “I don’t mean this unkindly,” Mr. Bruno said, turning his attention to Taffie’s father, “but your pop was never a shrewd businessman. Always giving away more product than he sold. And giving money to the church. . .never made much sense to me. He had the perfect opportunity to make lots of money with Carini’s, but he let his generosity get the better of him.”

  “It was never about the money for him.” Taffie’s father explained. “It was about the people. About relationships.”

  “About ministry,” Taffie’s mom threw in.

  Mr. Bruno laughed, his aged voice cracking as he spoke. “You Carinis and your goodwill gestures. And all that God-talk. . .never made a lick of sense to me. Why trouble folks with all that talk about faith and such?”

  Taffie caught a glimpse of the shock in her mother’s eyes, but bit her tongue. No point further upsetting their guest with Grandpa Gus’s ministry philosophy. Maybe the Lord would give them an opportunity to reach out to Mr. Bruno in the future, but today was not that day.

  “I gave Gus my ideas and he refused them,” Frankie continued, shaking his head. “I never could convince him to do the right thing.”

  “The right thing?” This time the words came from Ryan, who was starting to sound more than a little perturbed.

  “Progress.” Bruno’s compassionate look morphed into something else altogether. “There are those of us who are looking at the future of Atlantic City, and then there are those who want to live in the past.”

  “It’s not a matter of living in the past.” Taffie’s spine stiffened with each word. “We’re perfectly capable of keeping up with the changing times. But we will not compromise who we are or what we believe. So you can take your offer, Mr. Bruno. . .”

  She bit her tongue before continuing.

  “What my daughter is trying to say,” Pop interjected, “is that we’re trusting God with the future—the future of both Atlantic City and Carini’s Confections. We’re looking to Him for direction. He knows far more about progress than any of your so-called experts.”

  “Only, His progress usually takes place in the heart,” Taffie’s mom was quick to throw in.

  “So, you see, Mr. Bruno,” Taffie explained, “we’re perfectly happy right where we are.”

  “Not only that, you’re about to see a year-round crowd at Carini’s Confections,” Ryan explained, the excitement in his voice intensifying. “This shop’s business is about to double. Or triple. Just watch and see.”

  Go, Ryan! Taffie looked at him, her heart swelling with joy. In her mind’s eye, Ryan was every bit the swashbuckling hero. No movie super-hero could begin to compare.

  “Humph.” Mr. Bruno stood. “Foolishness must run in the family. Can’t see as there’s any use continuing this conversation.” He looked over at the candy counter, his eyes narrowing. “You, um, you still sell strawberry taffy?”

  “Of course.” Taffie watched as her mother shifted gears.

  “Best in town.” Mr. Bruno’s eyes twinkled.

  “Best in the country.” Taffie’s mom went behind the counter and filled a small bag, then placed it in his hands. The older man reached for his wallet but she gestured for him to keep it in his pocket.

  “This one’s on us, Mr. Bruno,” she explained. “And as for your comment that Gus gave away more than he should. . .well, at least he taught us the value of giving instead of taking. That’s a lesson some have yet to learn.”

  Go, Mom!

  Mr. Bruno shook his head, but accepted th
e gift. He muttered something under his breath to Mr. McKinley and the two headed toward the door together.

  When they were well out of view, Taffie looked at Ryan, stunned. “Did you just tell him we’re going to double our business over the next year?”

  “Actually, I think I said triple.” His face turned red. “Hope I’m right.”

  “Of course you’re right.” Taffie’s pop headed to the back room. “But in order for that to happen, I’m really going to have to further your education. Come with me, son. I’m going to teach you everything you ever wanted to know about running a candy shop.”

  ***

  “R–running a candy shop?” Ryan’s eyes darted back and forth. “But I. . .” How could he tell Mr. Carini that he would likely be taking over his father’s business? That he barely had time to travel from repair to repair? That any marketing he’d be doing for the Carinis would likely be done in the wee hours of the night after the real work was done?

  Taffie looked his way, alarm in her eye. “Pop, I don’t think this is the best time. Ryan’s pop is still recovering, so his obligations are there. Not here. Besides, Ryan just offered to help us with the marketing, not the candy making. That’s my specialty.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Mr. Carini shrugged. “But whenever you change your mind, just let me know. There’s nothing like stirring up a batch of taffy to get you in a happy frame of mind. In the meantime, get back up to the hospital. Tell your pop we’re praying for him.”

  “And give him this.” Taffie’s mom rounded the corner with a large bag of candies. “Make sure he shares with your mom. And with Casey.”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, one more thing, son.” Mr. Antonelli placed a hand on his shoulder and Ryan turned to look his way.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Remember that conversation we had awhile back. . .about fixing things?”

  Ryan tried, but the memory eluded him. “When?”

  “That day your brother was here. We talked about people who always try to fix things.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s right. I remember.”

  “Well, just remember this, son. There are some things in life that only God can fix. So, don’t take hold of the reins unless He tells you to. Not everything rests on your shoulders, after all.”

  “Thank you for the reminder.” Ryan reached over to hug Taffie’s father. As he did, the strangest feelings came over him. Will Pop ever be able to hug me like this again?

  He pushed aside that question for the moment, then took Taffie by the hand, leading her out to the boardwalk. Once there, he turned to her, his heart heavy.

  “Are you worried about your pop?” she asked as she slipped an arm around his waist.

  “Mm-hmm. A little. But he’s better today than he was yesterday, and better yesterday than the day before. Every victory is a major one, even the little things. It’s strange. The physical therapists are having to reteach him things he learned as a kid.” Ryan did his best to shake off his worries. “But in some ways, he’s his old self. I still see glimpses in his eyes. And in spite of everything, he’s still got his sense of humor.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Last night Vic and I were sitting in his room, talking. We thought he was asleep. Vic started telling a story about something that happened when we were boys—about a fishing trip we all took together. All of a sudden, Pop’s eyes popped open and a smile as wide as the Atlantic lit his face. Then he fell right back asleep. But I could tell he wanted to say something. The idea of fishing together was enough to get him excited.”

  “That fishing idea really hits the mark,” Taffie said. “You boys should give him something to aim for. Tell him you’re all going to go fishing together when he’s well enough, like you did when you were kids.”

  “Wow. Great idea.” Ryan leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “Speaking of fishing. . .”

  “What?”

  “I think you did a great job of tossing that Bruno fella back in the water. You didn’t take his bait, and I’m proud of you.”

  “No, I’m proud of you,” she said. “It takes a strong person to stand up to someone like him. You are strong, you know. All of you Antonellis are.”

  “Including my brothers,” he explained. “I had a long talk with Vic the other day. He and Mallory have agreed to get counseling. They’ve never done that before. But our pastor is going to be meeting with them once a week. They really want to make this work.”

  “I could tell that the other day,” Taffie said. “And I’m so glad. Casey needs a stable family.”

  “I’ve never known anything but,” Ryan said. “My parents are the epitome of love. Always have been. That’s exactly the kind of marriage I want to have.” He paused and gazed at Taffie. He wanted to add, the kind of marriage I want to have with you, but knew the time wasn’t right. Not yet.

  Still, as he gazed in Taffie’s beautiful brown eyes, as he held her in his arms and pondered the possibilities, Ryan prayed it wouldn’t be long before the Lord opened that door. When that moment came, he would gladly walk through it.

  TWENTY-TWO

  In the weeks after Ryan’s father was transferred to the rehab hospital, his family celebrated countless milestones in his recovery. Yes, there were many obstacles ahead, but countless miracles had already taken place. Ryan didn’t take a one for granted. Luke had come to his senses and started helping out with the family business. Pop’s illness seemed to have matured Luke. Or scared him. Still, Ryan was happy for the help. And then there was the big one. Vic and Mallory appeared to have reconciled. Truly reconciled. Mallory’s countenance had changed completely, and Vic. . .well, Ryan could hardly believe the change he’d seen in his brother. Their father’s near brush with death had motivated Vic in a number of ways.

  It had motivated Ryan, too. Though he wasn’t completely content with the idea of repairing appliances, he’d made his peace with it. He would do whatever it took to make sure Pop’s needs were met. And, besides, much to his pleasure and surprise, Ryan had still found a little time on the side to venture out into marketing. The work with Taffie and her family had motivated him in a number of ways. Maybe. . .if he would just hang on awhile longer, he could jump-start Atlantic City PR–a company focused on marketing the city’s local businesses.

  In the meantime, his days were filled with trips back and forth from job to job, rehab to home. . .and, of course, to Carini’s, where he spent every available hour with the woman who now captured his heart. Oh, the joy that flooded over him as he and Taffie walked quietly along the water’s edge, celebrating the influx of fall customers at Carini’s. How good it felt to walk with her hand in his. He would be happy to do so. . .for the rest of his life.

  The final Thursday in September, just as Ryan wrapped up a job at a local restaurant, he received a call from his mother. Her words surprised him. “Pop wants to chat. Can you stop by the rehab after you wrap up your last job of the day?”

  “Talk? About what?” Ryan’s curiosity almost got the better of him. And though his father could manage a few words of conversation, they were slow and strained. Usually Mom did most of the talking when they were together.

  “He wants to share some things about the business. But don’t fret. Just get here when you can.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you around five-fifteen.”

  As Ryan worked, his thoughts continually drifted to his father. Was he worried about the job Ryan was doing in his absence? Curious to see if they were bringing in new customers? Stop worrying. God’s got this under control.

  At exactly five-fifteen, Ryan entered the rehab and wound his way through the many hallways till at last he came to Pop’s room. He found him sitting up in bed, eating a small container of ice cream.

  “If I’d known you were in the mood for ice cream, I would’ve stopped at Carini’s,” Ryan said.

  His pop’s eyes lit up as he managed, “R–rocky R–road.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s your f
avorite.” Ryan laughed. “But it looks like you’re enjoying that vanilla, so keep it up.”

  He took a seat in the chair by the bed. “Where’s Mom?”

  “C–coffee.”

  “Ah.”

  As if she’d been standing in the wings awaiting her cue, his mother entered with a Styrofoam cup in hand. She came to him and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for coming. I know Pop’s anxious to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  “Well. . .” She glanced at his pop, then smiled. “I think he’ll want me to do most of the talking, actually. But I know just what to say. We’ve had this speech planned for weeks, long before. . .well, before the stroke.” She gave him a reassuring look.

  “What is it, Mom?” Ryan sat up on the edge of his chair and tried to calm his nerves. “What’s happened?”

  “Calm down, son.” She paused, then began to spill her thoughts. The words flowed quickly. “Your father and I have been so grateful to you for everything you’ve done over the past year or so. Since his first stroke. The business would have folded back then, if not for you.”

  Ryan rested his arm against the edge of the chair. “Well, you both know I would do anything to help.”

  “Y–yes.” The word came from his father, who managed a crooked smile.

  “We do,” Ryan’s mother echoed. “But that’s just it. Even before this stoke, Pop and I had been talking about a plan of action. He has wanted to sell the business for more than a year now.”

  “S–sell the business?” Ryan looked back and forth between his parents, confused. “Who would you sell it to?”

  “M–martinsons.”

  “Martinson’s?” Their chief competitor?

  “They made an offer months ago,” his mother said. “But your pop was afraid to take it because he knew how much you loved the business and he didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “L–loved the business?” Ryan slapped himself in the head and he turned to his father. “They made an offer? A good one?”

  Pop’s eyes widened as he slowly nodded.