Praise for Sheila Roberts

“Within minutes of cracking open the book, my mood was

lifted…The warm, glowing feeling it gave me lasted for days.”
—First for Women on The Snow Globe
“Will doubtless warm more than a few hearts.”
—Publishers Weekly on Angel Lane
“Most fiction lovers will enjoy this feel-good approach
to today’s uncertainties.”
—Booklist on Small Change
“Realistic characters populate the pages of this captivating story,
which is a great escape from the holiday hustle and bustle.”
—RT Book Reviews on On Strike for Christmas
“An uplifting, charming, feel-good story
from the author of Bikini Season (2008).”
—Booklist on Angel Lane
“Roberts’s book of small-town life is as sweet as ginger cookies
and as homey as raisin pie (recipes included).
Readers will laugh and cry with the women lovingly portrayed
in this heartwarming story that explores
the joys of friendship and the power of good deeds.”
—RT Book Reviews on Angel Lane
“Homing in on issues many readers can identify with,
Roberts’s women search for practical solutions
to a common challenge with humor and froth.”
—Publishers Weekly on Small Change
“A congenial cast of subsidiary characters…meet Hope at a
community garden plot and share their stories there. Roberts
effectively knits these troubled but kindly characters together in
a story line that throws the reader a few unexpected twists.”
—The Seattle Times on Love in Bloom
“Love in Bloom is a wonderful story with characters so real
and defined I feel like I am personally acquainted with them…
There is humor and emotion in large quantities
in this fantastic book that is next to impossible to put down.
Kudos and a large bouquet of flowers to Sheila Roberts
for giving us one of the best books of the year.”
—Fresh Fiction
 better than
Chocolate
S H E I L A R O B E RT S
 DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?
If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was
reported ‘unsold and destroyed’ by a retailer.
Neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment
for this book.

First Published 2012

First Australian Paperback Edition 2012
ISBN 978 192179572 5

BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE

© 2012 by Sheila Rabe
Philippine Copyright 2012
Australian Copyright 2012
New Zealand Copyright 2012

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole
or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known
or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission
of the publisher, Mira® Books, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W.,
Australia 2067.

This book is sold subject to the condition that shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior
consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which
it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any
form. This edition is published in arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A..

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WYVK\J[VM[OLH\[OVY»ZPTHNPUH[PVUVYHYL\ZLKÄJ[P[PV\ZS`HUKHU`YLZLTISHUJL
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.

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MIRA® and the Star colophon are trademarks used under license and
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Dear Reader,
Welcome to Icicle Falls, my ideal town. This place has
it all: breathtaking scenery, quaint shops, people who
understand the importance of pulling together when
the going gets tough, laughter, romance and, best of all,
a chocolate factory. (Does it get any more ideal than
that?)
I hope you’ll enjoy your time with the Sterling women
and their friends. These are my kind of women—
women who dare to dream and then work hard to
make those dreams come true. Because where would
we be without dreams? And where would we be
without our mothers, sisters and girlfriends, those
special people who understand us and love us in spite
of our flaws? I don’t know and I don’t want to know.
I dare you to get all the way through this book without
eating so much as a bite of chocolate. I couldn’t! I hope
you’ll find me on Facebook and Twitter, and stop by
my website, www.sheilasplace.com. Happy reading!
Sheila
 For Lilly-Anne, Pat
and the gang at A Book for All Seasons
in Leavenworth, Washington

Acknowledgments
Sometimes when we think of an author
writing a novel we envision the poor thing hunched over
a keyboard for hours on end, staring at a computer screen,
all by herself, consuming vast quantities of chocolate,
growing fat on her hips. Oh, my gosh, that’s me!
Except writing isn’t always a solitary pursuit.
After all, a girl has to do research. And this is the part of
the book where I get to thank the people who helped me
with that research. I owe a big thank-you to my
long-suffering husband for sharing his banking expertise
and doing copious research to help me try to get my
business details correct. Also, a huge thank-you to Laura
at Bainbridge Island City Hall for explaining all the work
that goes into putting on a community event. When it
comes to community events, Bainbridge knows how to
do it. Big thanks to Brett at Theo Chocolate in Seattle for
being so willing to answer all my questions about what
goes into running a chocolate company. They do it right
over there. Thanks to my Facebook friends and fans who
sent me recipes—wish there was room in this book for
every one of them. To the brain trust: Susan Wiggs,
Anjali Banerjee, Kate Breslin and Elsa Watson—
you girls rock. And finally, huge thanks to the gang at
the Chamber of Commerce in Leavenworth, Washington,
for making their resources available to me; the history of
how your town built itself into a charming alpine village
and successful tourist destination is truly inspiring.
Icicle Falls is the closest I can come to a tribute.
 Chapter One

Manage your relationships well and your business will go well.

Because what, after all, is business but a relationship with some
dollar signs attached?
—Muriel Sterling, Mixing Business with Pleasure: How to Successfully
Balance Business and Love

Samantha Sterling sat next to her mother in the first pew of Icicle
Falls Community Church and fought back the urge to jump up, run
to the front of the sanctuary, grab her stepfather, Waldo, by the neck
and throttle him. She didn’t, for two reasons. One, a girl didn’t do
things like that in church. Still, she could have overcome her reser-
vations if not for the second reason—God had already taken Waldo
out. Waldo was as dead as roadkill on Highway 2. In addition to a
daughter from his first marriage, he’d left behind his grieving wife,
Muriel, his three stepdaughters, Samantha, Cecily and Bailey, and
the family business, which was nearly as dead as Waldo.
Sweet Dreams Chocolates had been healthy when Samantha’s
father was alive. The company had been started by her great-
grandmother Rose and had slowly but steadily grown under his
leadership—one big, happy family to mirror the happy family who
8 Sheila Roberts

were living off its profits. All three sisters had spent their summers
working at Sweet Dreams. All three had it drummed into them from
an early age that this business was the source of both the family’s
income and honor (not to mention chocolate). But it was Samantha
who had fallen in love with it. Of the three girls, she was the one
who’d stayed and she was the heir apparent.
But then her father had died and everything came to a halt.
Samantha lost the man she and her sisters idolized, and her mother
lost her way. Muriel left it to Samantha and the bookkeeper, Lizzy,
to keep the company running on autopilot while first she mourned
and then later searched for a new husband.
Enter Waldo Wittman, a tall, gray-haired widower recently re-
tired, encouraged to do so by his company, which was downsizing.
(Now, looking back, Samantha suspected there were other reasons
Waldo had been turned loose.) He’d wanted to get away from the
rat race, or so he’d said. With its mountain views, its proximity to
eastern Washington wine country, its small-town friendliness and
its attractive widow, Waldo decided Icicle Falls would fit the bill.
And Muriel decided the same about Waldo. So, after a year and a
half of widowhood, she got a new man.
And now there he was, at the front of the church, stretched out
in his favorite—expensive!—gray suit. Sweet, beloved Waldo…the
money-eater. Oh, Waldo, how could everything have gone so wrong so
fast?
It was early January, the beginning of a new year. And what a
nightmare year it was promising to be, all because Mom had made
her new husband president of their family-owned business. She’d
left Samantha as VP in charge of marketing; much good that had
done. Now Samantha was VP in charge of disaster and she could
hardly sit still thinking of the mess waiting for her back at the office.
“You’re fidgeting,” whispered her sister Cecily, who was sitting
next to her.
Fidgeting at a funeral probably wasn’t polite but it was an im-
 Better Than Chocolate 9

provement over standing up, pulling out her hair and shrieking like
a madwoman.
Why, oh, why hadn’t Mom and Dad done what needed to be
done to make sure that if something happened to Dad the business
passed into competent hands? Then Mom could have skipped hap-
pily off into newlywed bliss, no harm no foul.
None of them had expected her to remain alone forever. She was
only in her fifties when Dad died and she didn’t function well alone.
When Waldo arrived on the scene she came back to life, and
Samantha had been happy for her. He was fun and charming, and
she and her sisters gave him a hearty thumbs-up. Why not? He’d
brought back Mom’s smile. At first everyone got along well. Like
Samantha, he’d been a shutterbug and they’d enjoyed talking pho-
tography. Her favorite joke when she’d stop by the house to talk
business with Mom (or try, anyway) was to ask, “Where’s Waldo?”
But once Mom dropped him on the company like a bomb,
Samantha didn’t have to ask. She knew where Waldo was. He was
at the office, in over his head and making her crazy.
She ground her teeth as she mentally tallied how much money
he’d squandered: new business cards with his name on them, new
stationery, new equipment they hadn’t needed, a fancy phone system
they couldn’t afford that a slick-tongued sales rep had talked him
into buying. How could a businessman be so bad at business? Of
course he’d convinced both himself and Mom that every purchase
was necessary, and Samantha hadn’t had the veto power to stop him.
That had been just the beginning. Six months ago their profits
sank and they started having trouble paying their suppliers. Waldo
cut back on production, which then affected their ability to fill or-
ders, and Lizzy, their bookkeeper, began looking as if she’d been
invited to dinner with the grim reaper. “We’re behind on our IRS
quarterlies,” she’d informed Samantha. “And that’s not all.” She
showed Samantha expenditures on the company credit card that
made no sense. A gun. Ammunition. Cases and cases of bottled
10 Sheila Roberts

water, enough to keep the whole town hydrated. Waldo was a fi-
nancial locust, devouring the company.
Where’s Waldo? Busy dumping their lives in the toilet. Flush,
flush, flush! She could have happily stuffed his head in a toilet and—
“And I believe that if Waldo could speak to us now he’d say,
‘Thank God for a life well-lived,’” Pastor Jim said.
Her mother let out a sob and Samantha felt a pang of guilt. She
should be crying, too. She’d liked Waldo. He’d been a man with a
big heart and a big appetite for life.
“We know he’ll be missed,” Pastor Jim was saying, and Cecily
laid a comforting hand on Mom’s arm. That, of course, gave Mom
permission to start crying in earnest.
“Poor Mom,” whispered Bailey, who was sitting on the other side
of Samantha. “First Dad and now Waldo.”
Losing two husbands—talk about a double whammy. Mom
had not only loved both her husbands, she’d loved being married.
She had no head for business (which probably explained why Grandpa
had been perfectly happy to let Dad run Sweet Dreams), but she
had a gift for relationships. She’d even had a couple of relationship
books published with a small publisher and before Waldo died she’d
been about to start on a new book, Secrets of a Happy Remarriage.
Samantha hoped that now Mom would turn her attention to
learning how to have a happy life—with no marriage. At least, no
marriage until they could get the business off the critical-care list
and Samantha was put officially in charge.
The sooner, the better. Her first order of business would be to re-
hire Lizzy, who Waldo had fired in a misbegotten attempt to econ-
omize. She only hoped Lizzy would come back and help her sort
through this mess.
She heaved a sigh. Here her mother was grieving and all she could
think about was saving the family business. What was wrong with
her? Did she have a calculator for a heart?
 Better Than Chocolate 11

“Now I’d like to give the rest of you a chance to say something
about Waldo,” Pastor Jim said.
He made me nuts probably wouldn’t cut it. Samantha stayed seated.
Lots of other people were happy to oblige, though.
“He was the most generous man I ever met,” said Maria Gomez,
his regular waitress at Zelda’s. “He gave me two hundred dollars
to get my car fixed. Just like that. Said not to worry about paying
him back.”
Samantha pressed her lips firmly together and envisioned hun-
dred-dollar bills with wings flying away, circling ever upward and
off toward Sleeping Lady Mountain.
You do have a calculator for a heart. People were talking about how
nice Waldo had been, and all she could think about was money. She
was a terrible person, a terrible, terrible person. She hadn’t always
been like that, had she? A tear slipped from a corner of her eye.
Ed York, owner of D’Vine Wines, stood. “I can still remember
sitting with Waldo out on his deck, looking at the mountains, shar-
ing a bottle of wine, and him saying, ‘You know, Ed, it doesn’t get
any better than this.’ That Waldo, he sure knew how to enjoy life.”
While everyone around him was pulling out their hair.
“He was a dear soul,” old Mrs. Nilsen said. “Last month he stopped
in the freezing cold to change my tire when I had a flat on High-
way 2.”
On and on went the praise. Good, old, wonderful Waldo. Every-
one here would miss him—except his rotten, ungrateful, Scrooge-in-
drag, calculator-for-a-heart stepdaughter. She was pathetic. Another
tear sneaked out of her eye and trickled down her cheek.
Pastor Jim finally called a halt to the festivities and the party made
its way under cloudy skies to Festival Hall, where everyone could
mingle, sing Waldo’s praises further and devour cold cuts and potato
salad. Inside, the three sisters smiled and commiserated.
Waldo’s brother and his daughter, Wanda, had flown in from
the East Coast. Taking in the woman’s red eyes as she approached,
12 Sheila Roberts

Samantha managed to find empathy in the swirl of guilt and resent-

ment and frustration she was experiencing
“I’m sorry we’re having to see each other again in such sad cir-
cumstances,” Wanda said.
“So are we,” Cecily told her.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Samantha added. And she was. She knew
how horrible it was to lose a father and she wouldn’t wish that on
her worst enemy.
Wanda dabbed at her eyes with a soggy tissue. “I can’t believe
he’s gone. He was the best father. And he was always so positive, so
upbeat.”
So clueless. “I wish we could turn back the clock,” Samantha said.
Wanda sniffed and nodded. “You were all so good to him.”
Samantha couldn’t think of anything to say to that. She hardly
wanted to confess that during the past few months she’d been any-
thing but good.
Cecily stepped into the gap. “He was a nice man.”
True. He was just a bad businessman.
“He sure loved Muriel,” Wanda said. “He was so lonely after
Mother died. Muriel gave him a new lease on life.”
“And I don’t know what her life would’ve been like without him,”
Samantha said.
“I think Muriel would like to hear that, Wanda,” murmured Wal-
do’s brother, Walter, as he led their long-distance stepsister away.
“I need a drink,” Samantha said.
“Great idea,” Bailey agreed, and they all drifted over to the punch
bowl.
Samantha really wasn’t much of a drinker, but a good stiff belt
sure seemed to help a lot of movie characters through stressful mo-
ments and right about now she was willing to give it a try. “I wish
this was spiked,” she muttered.
Bailey looked across the room at their mother. “I feel so bad for
Mom.”
 Better Than Chocolate 13

Muriel Sterling-Wittman sat on a folding chair framed by the

weak winter light coming through the window behind her, a beau-
tiful tragic figure starting the new year alone. Her basic black dress
discreetly draped her Betty Boop curves and her hair was still the
same shiny chestnut it had been when Samantha was a girl, courtesy
of the geniuses at Sleeping Lady Salon. The green eyes Waldo once
raved about were bloodshot from crying but still looked lovely thanks
to lashes thick with waterproof mascara. Half the men in the room
were hovering around with tissues in case she found herself in need.
“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about her being lonely,”
Bailey said. She was the spitting image of their mother and the most
like her, as well—sweet, positive and naive.
Cecily gave a cynical snort. “Much good any of those men will
do her. They’re all married.”
“Not Ed,” Bailey pointed out.
“He’s got the hots for Pat over at the bookstore,” Samantha said,
and mentally added, Thank God.
“Arnie’s not married,” Bailey said. “Neither is Mayor Stone. Or
Waldo’s brother. Wouldn’t it be sweet if—”
Samantha cut her off. “Let’s not even put that thought out in the
universe.” All they needed was another man coming along and con-
vincing Mom that the third time would be the charm.
“Look at them. Waldo’s barely gone and they’re already circling
around her like some old-guy version of The Bachelor.” Cecily shook
her head. “Men.”
“You know, for a matchmaker you sure have a sucky attitude,”
Bailey observed.
“Where do you think I got it?” Cecily retorted.
“How do you manage to stay in business?” Bailey asked in disgust.
“By staying superficial.” Cecily gave them a wicked grin.
Cecily was the only blonde in the family and she was the pretti-
est of them all with perfect features and the longest legs. Samantha
had been cute with her red hair and freckles, but it was Cecily the
14 Sheila Roberts

boys drooled over. Still, in spite of her good looks, Cupid had never
been kind to her. So far she’d gone through two fiancés. Saman-
tha didn’t understand how Cecily could make money matching up
beautiful people in L.A. but couldn’t seem to get it right when it
came to her own love life.
Like you’re doing so well?
Touché, she told her snarky self.
“You’re enough to make a woman give up on love,” Bailey mut-
tered as she nodded and smiled politely at old Mr. Nilsen, who was
ogling her from the other side of the hall.
“That would be the smart thing to do,” Cecily said.
“Well, I don’t think Mom’s ready to give up on love. Maybe you
could match her up with someone,” Bailey suggested.
“No!” Several people turned to stare and Samantha downed a slug
of punch in an effort to put out the fire in her cheeks. What was
wrong with her? Could a woman suddenly get Tourette’s at thirty?
The wicked in Cecily’s grin kicked up a notch. “I know what you
mean. No one will ever be able to replace Waldo.”
“I liked Waldo, I really did,” Samantha said. “But no more men.
I’ve got enough to deal with already.”
“Gosh, Sammy.” Bailey frowned at her.
Samantha frowned back. “Hey, baby sister, you two get to go back
to sunny California and match up lonely millionaires and cater events
for starlets. I’m the one stuck with the fallout here.”
Cecily sobered. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We’re leaving you with a
mess. You’ve got the business to sort out, plus Mom’s affairs.”
“Except if anyone can do it, you can, Sammy,” Bailey said, link-
ing arms with her.
Samantha sighed. As the oldest it was her job to be the rock every-
one leaned on—although right now she didn’t feel like a rock. She
felt like a pebble on a beach about to be swept away by a tsunami.
And her own mother had been the one to unwittingly drop her
there. She and Muriel loved each other dearly, but they often dis-
 Better Than Chocolate 15

agreed. And before Waldo died they’d disagreed a lot, especially when
Samantha tried to get her mother to talk sense into him.
“He’s not feeling well,” Mom kept saying, but when pressed for
details she’d remained vague.
Maybe the poor guy’s heart had been acting up all along. Maybe
he’d been so worried about his bad health he hadn’t been able to
concentrate and that was why he’d made such poor decisions. Except
that didn’t explain his odd purchases. Or the answers he’d given her
when she asked about them.
“A man needs to be able to protect what’s his,” he’d said when
she’d questioned him about the gun.
“In Icicle Falls?” she’d countered. The biggest crime they’d had all
year was when Amanda Stevens keyed Jimmy Rodriguez’s Jeep after
he’d cheated on her with another girl. And Jimmy hadn’t pressed
charges.
“You never know,” Waldo had hedged. “I saw someone. In the
parking lot.”
“Doing what?” she’d asked.
“He was following me. And don’t tell your mother,” he’d said. “I
don’t want to worry her.”
Like he’d just worried his stepdaughter? Then there’d been the
water.
“We could have an avalanche and be trapped here for days,” he’d
said.
She’d let that slide, too. Until things started getting really bad.
And then, just when she’d decided she and her mother would need
to have a very unpleasant conversation, Waldo had walked from
their house on Alpine Drive into town and keeled over dead right
in front of Lupine Floral. Poor Kevin had dropped the roses he’d
been storing in the cooler and run out to give him CPR while his
partner, Heinrich, called 9-1-1, but Waldo was dead within minutes.
And now she was stuck dealing with the mess he’d left behind.
Her sisters were leaving on Monday and she was the one who’d be
16 Sheila Roberts

dealing with their mother and figuring out how to pay the people
who depended on Sweet Dreams for their livelihood. Great-grandma
Rose, who’d started this business on a dream, was probably turning
in her grave at what her descendants had done to it.
Samantha frowned at her half-empty punch cup. The glass is half
empty…the glass is half full. Either way, “This stuff needs booze.”