Page 27 of Scoop Me Up (Love in Maplewood #7)

Sam

A few days passed and things were going well.

I was on track to open the shop the following week.

Luke was doing a final walkthrough of the space with the county inspector and I was hiding in the shop office, praying to Mabel the Maplewood cryptid that everything would go smoothly and we’d get our certificate of occupancy—the final sign-off from the town that we were good to go.

It didn’t take long, and as I heard the bell ring above the door to indicate the inspector had left, Luke knocked on the doorframe of the office.

“Sam?”

I jumped to my feet. “How did it go?”

Luke nodded slowly, a smile spreading over his face. “We got it.”

My heart leapt in my chest. “We did?” I held my breath, afraid to get excited.

He gave me a thumbs-up. “We did.”

I exhaled in a rush, letting out the breath I’d been holding and releasing the tension in my body. “You’re amazing, Luke.”

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Now what?”

“You’re just waiting on your last few deliveries, right? Other than that, you’re good to go. You’re free to open.”

Those words— free to open —echoed in me. I could hardly believe how quickly everything had come together. I wanted to throw my arms around Luke and hug him. Instead, though, I thanked him profusely before we said our goodbyes, Luke promising to return for opening day and anytime I needed him.

The second he left, I texted Gabe.

Sam: Inspector just left. We’re good to go!

Gabe: That’s amazing! Now what?

Sam: Just waiting on the furniture to come in and then opening day, here we come!

Gabe: Let’s celebrate when I get home. I’ll bring pizza and we can watch a movie and stay in.

This was accompanied by a winking emoji.

I laughed and put my phone away, my mind on the furniture deliveries I was still expecting.

I couldn’t remember when the tables and chairs were supposed to come in, but it had to be soon—right?

I clicked through some of the files in my email before I found what I was looking for.

An email with the subject line Furniture Delivery.

After reading through it, I spotted a delivery date, and glancing at the calendar, I realized that the furniture was supposed to have been delivered the day prior. Frowning, I picked up my phone and called the supply company to find out where the hell my tables and chairs were.

It only rang once before someone picked up on the other end. “Burlington Furniture, this is Amber. How can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Sam Thatcher. I’m the owner of Scoops on Maple.” A thrill ran through me at the words and I continued on. “We ordered some furniture from your store and it was supposed to be delivered yesterday. I was hoping you could help me figure out what happened.”

“Sure thing, give me just a minute.” Amber asked me for a little more information as she looked up my order. “Oh, right. Here it is. It says your delivery is delayed.”

My stomach sank. “Does it say why?”

On the other end, I heard the clicking of a keyboard before Amber responded. “It says… oh, here it is. Manufacturing delay. Sounds like your furniture isn’t finished being built yet.”

I suppressed the urge to panic. “What does that mean for my delivery timeline though?”

More clicking on her end of the line. “Hmm. It says at least two more weeks.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Her tone was sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I wish I had better news for you.”

“My store opens next Friday. What am I supposed to do without furniture? And why wasn’t I notified sooner?”

“That part was definitely an oversight. Usually any delay triggers a call from our sales team, but the rep you purchased from is on vacation this week. I’m so sorry about that.”

I sighed, breath shaky, mind racing. “Okay, thanks,” I said before hanging up the phone.

It felt like the walls were closing in on me, the office shrinking.

In a panic, I stood and went into the main space, where the dining area was supposed to be.

The walls were painted with beautiful bright colors, there was a mural of an octopus with an ice cream cone in each arm, and the tile floor was clean and bright.

And there were zero chairs or tables. Just a vast, empty space waiting on furniture. The coolers were set up and ready, the cash register had been installed, even the ice cream cases were prepped, just waiting on ice cream and customers.

All I needed was the furniture. What the hell was I going to do? I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated, on the verge of tears or a panic attack or both. I needed to get the hell out of the shop before overwhelm took me over for real.

As I walked home, my mind raced. I was a teacher.

I was normally cool under pressure, great in an emergency.

Why did this one feel so hard to overcome?

It felt like it was entirely out of my hands and there was nothing I could do.

I dutifully said hello to people I passed on the sidewalk, managing to avoid any extra conversation, and by the time I reached home, I’d worn myself out.

I collapsed on the couch, kicking my shoes off, and closed my eyes, hoping a nap would help me wake up feeling a little more clear-headed and with a solution to the situation.

I woke up an hour later to the sound of Gabe’s voice.

“Sam?”

“In here,” I called, my throat dry.

Gabe came around the corner and frowned. “You feeling okay?”

“The furniture for the shop is delayed. It won’t be here until at least next week, but maybe not even until the week after.”

“Oh, shit.”

I pushed myself up into sitting. “That’s pretty much what I said.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Gabe sat on the couch next to me. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching out to touch my knee. “It’s okay. You’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay. What am I going to do? Do I have to delay the opening until the furniture arrives? I’ve already advertised it everywhere. Do I tell people it’s standing room only?”

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “ We’ll figure this out.”

“How?”

His smile was soft and genuine, and I ached to trust that we’d figure something out together. “Leave it to me,” he said, tapping my nose gently with his index finger. “I think I have a solution.”

I frowned. “What are you going to do?”

Gabe grinned and raised his eyebrows quickly. “It’s a secret. Don’t worry too much about it. I want you to relax for the rest of the day. I’m going to go run some errands and see what I can figure out about the furniture. Get ready for pizza night and pick us out a good movie, okay?”

I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat, and nodded. “Okay.” I could hear the skepticism in my own tone.

“Trust me.”

“I’ll try.”

A few minutes later, Gabe had left again and it was just me. I lay on the couch, uninterested in getting up and not sure I had anything I could actually do to be productive anyway. After a while, I texted Cooper an update.

Sam: Get this—my chairs and tables are delayed for the ice cream shop. I think I might have to postpone the grand opening.

Cooper: What? How did that happen?

Sam: Manufacturing delay.

Cooper: What’s your backup plan?

Sam: I don’t have one.

Tears threatened to fall again as I started thinking about the whole mess I was in. After a few minutes, Cooper replied.

Cooper: I’m sure you’ll figure something out.

I fought the urge to argue, and instead tossed my phone aside and turned on the TV. I watched nothing in particular, clicking around aimlessly until I settled on a game show until my phone buzzed. When I checked it, I found a text from Gabe.

Gabe: Can you come to the shop?

I frowned, sighed, and got up to put my shoes back on.

I didn’t particularly want to go back to the shop today, but I was sure Gabe had a good reason for asking.

Maybe he’d solved the furniture issue. Instead of walking, I drove the short distance from home to downtown, parking on the street near the shop.

I rounded the corner and as I did, I spotted a steady stream of people leaving the shop a few at a time.

I frowned and made my way to the front door. Inside I found Gabe, surrounded by townspeople, directing foot traffic. The townspeople were placing folding chairs and tables in the room and rearranging them to Gabe’s liking.

Nobody noticed me at first when I stepped in. When Gabe looked my way, his face lit up. “Sam!” At that, everyone stopped and turned to face me. A few waved or called out a hello.

“What’s going on?” I asked, even though it was obvious. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

Gabe beamed. “I rallied some friends to help out. People are volunteering the use of their tables and chairs until yours come in.”

I was speechless for a long moment. “This is… incredible,” I finally managed to say. “Thank you.” I fought the urge to hug Gabe just then, in front of what felt like half the town.

“I’m glad to do it. So are they. We couldn’t stand the idea of you having to postpone the opening. You’ve worked so hard. I knew the rest of the town would agree, so I started asking people for help.”

The bell above the door jangled and in walked Cooper, holding a table under each arm. “Where should I put these?”

I laughed softly and stepped back. “Gabe’s the guy with the plan,” I said. “He’s in charge here.”

It didn’t take long for the shop to be completely furnished and Gabe had to turn people away, thanking them as he did. Once we were alone in the shop, night falling, he turned to me.

“I told you I’d find a solution.”

I chuckled. “You certainly did.”

He pulled me close and kissed me, a soft press of lips. “Now, let’s go home and watch that movie.”