Page 5 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

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Declan Kelley stepped off the Chicago “L” train—and straight into his new life.

Adjusting his tie, he made his way down the platform, relishing the tug of the crowd flowing around him. Everyone had somewhere to be, something to do.

Including, finally, him.

At seven thirty, the July humidity lay on his skin, his shirt sticky under his three-piece suit. But not even the oppressive heat could steal the pep in Declan’s step as he approached the skyscraper on The Loop where McGentry Food Company occupied the top four stories. Was his corner office visible from way down here? His neck craned upward, taking in the building’s seemingly endless rows of windows glinting off the rising sun—a gorgeous sight, given how cloudy the summer had been so far.

If Declan believed in omens of good luck, he might think the appearance of the sun on his first day as McGentry’s business operations manager portended good things.

But Declan just believed in the value of hard work. And goodness knew he’d worked his tail off—both in his career so far, and all throughout his MBA program—to get to this place. Add to that six months of job searching…

But that was then, this was now, and hello to a perfect future.

Cold air blasted him as he stepped inside, blowing so hard he smoothed his hand along his hair, but his new gel had seemed to hold things steady up top. Being inside muted the din of honking taxis but enveloped him into a sea of people in suits, many talking on their Bluetooth devices, dressy shoes echoing against the travertine and through the stories-tall lobby. Declan flashed his shiny new-as-of-yesterday badge at a security guard, who waved him in, and headed toward the bank of six elevators.

His phone vibrated. He pulled it out—Brandon, his cousin. Probably just calling to wish him good luck, but the doors to the elevator opened, so he declined the call and got on with a handful of others.

He’d text him back later.

Scanning his badge, Declan hit the button for the eighty-first floor.

Eighty-first. Which meant a view of the Windy City.Looks like we made it.A tune sang in his head as he flashed a grin at the pretty brunette in a pencil skirt across from him. She smiled back.

Oh—he didn’t want to get too friendly. He pulled out his phone, swiping open his email as an excuse to look somewhere else. Not that he wanted to be rude, but after Kim, the last thing on his mind was dating.

His phone vibrated in his hand. Brandon again. Weird. His cousin wasn’t the type to call twice.

Not unless something was wrong.

He glanced up at the numbers. Only at floor eighteen, with clearly five more to go.

Declan answered, pitched his voice low. “What’s up, Brandon?” He put a hand to his other ear, bent his head to capture his voice.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“I’m on an elevator?—”

“Right. Sorry.” Wind blew across Brandon’s receiver. Probably his tour-guide cousin was standing on a cliff somewhere in Arizona, overlooking a different kind of view. “And now you’re the jerk talking in the lift.”

“Yep.”

The elevator stopped and opened. Two of the businessmen stepped out, one glancing over his shoulder at Declan with a frown. Yeah, yeah, he knew it was rude. Declan raised his hand in apology but the guy was already walking down the thick-carpeted hallway.

A sigh came over the phone, and he forgot about the men. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Grandma.”

Sweet Grandma Kelley, who had been frailer and frailer every time Declan had visited home. Who never had a cross word to say to anyone, even though the Kelleys (except for maybe his Aunt Jill) weren’t generally known for their ability to win friends.

“What about Grandma?”

“She had a small…episode last night.”

“What do you mean,episode? Like a heart attack? A stroke?” He glanced at the brunette. She’d turned, staring at the numbers, as if trying not to listen.

“She fainted and they’re still running tests to verify what happened. But she’s stable now.”

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