Sweet Dreams on Center Street Read Online Free PDF Page B

playbooks than listening to what the
professor had to say in lecture hall. Some of those doofs should never have been
given a business degree, but they’d gotten one, anyway. Her doof not only got a
degree, he’d dumped her and gotten the richest girl in their graduating class.
(And a cushy job with Daddy, too.) Thank God she’d gone out of state for her
college education. At least she’d never have to see him and Mrs. Doof again.
Wherever he’d ended up, he was probably busy ignoring his company to play golf
and lunch with his old frat buddies.
    So what old frat buddy had given Blake Preston entrée into the
world of banking? Whoever it was, he hadn’t done Icicle Falls any favor. She
tossed the invite in the wastebasket and kept digging.
    One more layer of paper down she found a ticking time
bomb—another piece of correspondence from the bank, this one not so nice. Her
heart shifted into overdrive and she fell back against Waldo’s big leather
chair, sure she was going to have a heart attack. There, under the Cascade
Mutual letterhead, was a cold but polite missive informing her stepfather that
Sweet Dreams was behind on its loan payment. “As you are aware”—were
they?—“Cascade Mutual Bank has a strict ninety-day grace period regarding
overdue installment payments. This grace period has expired on your note in the
amount of…”
    Ooooh. The numbers danced in front
of her eyes like tiny demons. No, this couldn’t be happening! She read on.
    â€œBecause Sweet Dreams Chocolates and Cascade Mutual Bank have a
long-standing relationship, we are extending the grace period until February 28,
at which time the aforementioned amount is due in full. It is hoped this matter
can be resolved as soon as possible.”
    Only if she started printing money in the basement. What in the
name of Godiva was she going to do?
    Hyperventilate! A bag, where was a bag? She couldn’t breathe.
She was going to be sick. She needed chocolate! Her cell phone rang. The ring
tone—Gwen Stefani’s “Sweet Escape”—told her it was Cecily and she grabbed it
like a lifeline. “Cec, we… Oh, I’m going to pass out. Where’s a bag?” She rifled
through desk drawers, but came up all she came up with was an old cigar, paper
clips, rubber bands and—what was this? A stress ball. She scooped it up and
strangled it.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œWe— The bank. Oh, my God, I can’t believe this!” Samantha
wailed, and burst into tears.
    Now she’d made so much noise that Elena had rushed into the
office. “What’s going on?” One look at Samantha and the blood drained from her
face. “Madre de Dios.”
    â€œGet me chocolate,” Samantha panted, and squeezed the stress
ball again. These things were useless. She threw it across the room and grabbed
a fistful of hair as Elena rushed off to find a dose of restorative
chocolate.
    â€œSam, tell me what’s going on,” Cecily demanded.
    â€œThe bank is calling in their note. As if everything wasn’t
already enough of a mess. As if we didn’t already owe the whole friggin’ world!
My God, what did I ever do to deserve this? Is it because I bossed you guys
around when we were little? I’m sorry. And I shouldn’t have stood up Tony
Barrone for homecoming. No, that’s not it. It’s because I yelled at Waldo.”
    â€œSam, please,” Cecily pleaded. “You’re scaring me.”
    Be afraid. Be very afraid. What old
movie was that from? Probably one where everybody died.
    Samantha laid her head on the desk and pulled a newspaper over
her. Now she understood why the groundhog went back underground when it saw its
shadow. She wished she could dig a hole and pull it in after herself and never
come out.
    From a distance her sister called, “Sam? Sam!”
    â€œI give up,” she moaned, pulling the phone