A Family by Christmas (Little Shops on Heart Street) Page 2

  “Break time.” The door swung open wide, and his mother came in with the coffee, carrying a bright orange mug in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other. He minimized the screen quickly so she couldn’t see what he was doing.

  His heart beat fast like it had when he had come from school with a bad grade hoping she wouldn’t ask how the test had been. Lying to her was no use as she always saw right through him. And he didn’t want to lie, just keep his job search away from her a little longer. He wasn’t sure he would actually find something and…she wouldn’t be happy to see him leave. See them leave. She loved having Casey around.

  “Walnut cookies.” She put the plate close to him, the mug a little farther away so it couldn’t get knocked over and ruin the keyboard. “Made them fresh this afternoon.”

  He already knew that, but he still widened his eyes as if their appearance was a total surprise. “Great.” He inhaled their spicy scent. She had thrown in more than just walnuts. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “And drink your coffee…”

  “While it’s hot, I know.” He looked up at her and grimaced in mock disapproval.

  She smiled down and squeezed his shoulder. He scanned for a surreptitious glance at the monitor. Did she suspect he wasn’t working on the tree farm administration?

  He grabbed a cookie and bit into it. It was soft and buttery, the spices rolling across his tongue. “Great,” he mumbled around the bite.

  She nodded, determined as if she had come to a decision. “I’ll tuck in Casey.” She hesitated a moment. “Don’t work too late.”

  The door closed, and Grant let the breath he’d been holding go. No probing questions.

  Not yet, anyway. Mom and Dad were gearing up for Christmas, the busiest time of the year for their tree farm. He didn’t want to spoil the festive mood with the news he was thinking about leaving them.

  He had said “temporary” of course, but that was months ago, and it was an easy thing to sort of forget.

  Grant reached for the mug and wanted to take a swallow, but as the coffee hit his mouth, it was too hot still and he put it back where it had come from. A small box sat tucked away under some papers. It was bright red and he was certain he had never seen it before. The top was decorated with a golden bow. It was tied very neatly but still he believed he detected the work of little fingers there. Casey. A present for him, a secret. He ran his fingertips across the bow as a silly grin spread across his face. I love you and I’m so proud of you.

  She was probably in her bedroom, bursting to know how long it would take him to spot it and come to her.

  On it, princess. He picked up the box. It was quite heavy and something solid shifted inside it. He weighed it on his palm, frowning hard. This wasn’t some creative effort of paper and glue, clay perhaps, but more like…

  Bonbons?

  No way. How would Casey know he liked bonbons?

  Still he pulled at the neat bow and lifted the lid. Before his eyes could tell him anything, his nose had already found the answer. Chocolate, yes…

  He cradled the box in his hands and savored the sight. The most exquisite creations he had ever seen sat in tidy rows. One was extra dark chocolate with a bit of gold dust. The other was creamy chocolate with marshmallow bits on top. And yet another white chocolate with a ribbon of dark tied around it and a tiny frosted flower on top. He picked up the marshmallow one without even thinking and popped it into his mouth. As he bit into it, something liquid rolled across his tongue and he closed his eyes in bliss. Chocolate truffle filling.

  The smooth sensation of the sweetness made him sink back in his chair and stretch his legs at leisure. This was perfection.

  But… He sat up again, snapped his eyes open and eyed the box. What is it doing here? Bonbons of this quality came at a buck a piece and there were a dozen in the box. Casey could never afford to buy such a thing. His mother, the avid baker, wouldn’t buy sweet treats, and Dad had never had a sweet tooth.

  So, who had gifted him these delights? Fay? Would his practical, down-to-earth sister who didn’t like to splash on unnecessary luxuries buy bonbons at that price?

  Grant lifted the box and carefully studied all sides, even the bottom. But it had no name on it anywhere. Not from the mysterious sender or the shop where it might have been bought.

  He popped the extra dark one into his mouth and turned away in his swivel chair, hmmm-ing at the richness of the flavors. This was a master chocolate maker. Someone special. Someone he would have expected to find in London, Paris or Sydney. Not in Wood Creek, New Hampshire.

  Wait a sec. He shot upright in his chair. Could that be the clue he was looking for? His eyes narrowed as he pictured the scene. A newspaper article his mother had mentioned a while ago. She had held it up to show him, but he had pretended not to be interested. It had been in that local newspaper that arrived on Wednesdays.

  Grant pushed himself out of the chair and went to the corner where a twined basket sagged under the weight of dozens of old Wood Creek Weeklys. Kneeling beside it, he started to dig through the issues. It had been back in… Well, at least a few weeks ago. An article about a new shop. Mom had mentioned it to Fay. A chocolate shop. He figured it sold factory made chocolate and charged people a fortune for it. Then it had slipped his mind again. But now he was super interested. Summer fair, late night concert with piano and trumpet, jamboree… New Bonbon Shop Opens on Heart Street.

  Bingo!

  He barely glanced at the article—his eyes glued on the accompanying full-color photograph. It showed a beaming brunette in her thirties, dressed in jeans and a sweater, holding out a box full of chocolates. It was red just like his and showed various bonbons created with the eye for detail he had detected. This was the maker he had just silently admired.

  He studied her closer, her sparkling eyes, her smile that was a little too wide, as if she was excited but also incredibly nervous. The proud gesture with which she held out the box reminded him of Casey when she had made something and showed it off to everyone who wanted to see. The charm bracelet on her left wrist sported a tiny silver whisk underlining her love of sweet treats. Down to that little detail, this woman was completely different from the person he had pictured behind that new shop Mom had mentioned. He had thought of someone who wanted to make a quick buck off the trusting locals. But this was someone who put everything into her creations and her brand-new business.

  She had made chocolate for him? But why? Casey could never afford this. Besides, how would she know this woman?

  He scanned the article for the chocolate maker’s name. Emma Miller. She had moved here recently and started the shop. She lived in the small apartment over it. On Heart Street.

  Grant held up the article and looked the beaming woman straight in the eye. “Well, Emma Miller of Heart Street,” he said softly, “I’m going to look you up. To tell you that you make the best chocolate in the world. And to ask you how on earth that chocolate ended up on the desk in my workroom.”

  …

  “I’m really not satisfied with this,” the woman’s sharp voice hissed down the line.

  Emma clenched the receiver. “I’m sorry, but you did order dark chocolate. The taste is heavier than …”

  “I know how I like my chocolate and yours just wasn’t up to par. I want my money back. All my friends said the same. My tea party was completely ruined.”

  Emma took a deep breath. She had spent two evenings working on the bonbons for said tea party and giving the customer her money back would mean a dent in her budget for this week. But it seems like diplomacy can’t solve this and your reputation is worth more than your budget. “I’ll stop by later today to return the money to you. I’m sorry you had this experience.”

  The woman didn’t even bother to say goodbye but disconnected.

  Emma listened to the disheartening hum of a dead line and then lowered the receiver. It was unfair as the customer had herself ordered dark chocolate and with fillings that underlined that bittersweet tang. Pe
ople who loved it clamored for more, but apparently the party guests had all been more the creamy chocolate type. Nevertheless, it had been the customer’s explicit order and when taking it, she had had no reason to doubt the woman’s judgment or inquire if she knew what she was doing.

  Emma even bet, judging by the woman’s attitude during the complaint call, that if she had asked, she would have been told off about it.

  The shop bell jangled, and Emma rolled back her stiff shoulders to shake the unhappy feeling. Forcing a smile, she walked into the shop. On the other side of the counter a man stood, tall, dark-haired and broad-shouldered, in a woolen overcoat lightly dusted with snow. Flakes also hung in his eyebrows over eyes the deep brown of melting chocolate. His assessing look and hesitant smile gave her a moment’s pause. Seems he isn’t here just to buy chocolate.

  “May I help you?” Her voice was a little unsteady. The angry customer’s complaints still echoed in her head. She rubbed her palms together to regain her calm.

  “I hope you can. I’m faced with a mystery you might be able to solve.” He had a mellow, warm voice, and his smile deepened.

  Emma found herself smiling in return even though his words didn’t seem to make sense. “Me? Solve a mystery?”

  “Yes. The mystery of the anonymous chocolate box.” He dug his hand into the woolen coat pocket and produced a red box from her shop. “I can’t show you the contents anymore. That’s all gone.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Is he here to complain as well? Emma swallowed. Was he angry that she had made the chocolates without him knowing about it?

  “This is one of your boxes, isn’t it?” he pressed.

  “Yes.” And I can guess who you are. Casey’s father.

  “When I discovered them and tried one, I knew at once they didn’t come from a supermarket and I remembered my mother mentioning a new shop in town. I found the article in the Wood Creek Weekly.”

  Emma flushed. Not that photo. She still hadn’t decided whether it was any good. With the critical scrutiny of a casual observer she had concluded her chignon was old-fashioned and her smile too wide, too eager to please. Like a puppy who brings you a ball and drops it and waits, drooling and wagging his tail, to see if you’re going to throw it for him.

  Those had been the words used to describe her presentation style during the business seminar she had attended. The participants had to evaluate each other’s style, anonymously, so she had no idea who had written down those words about her. It wasn’t bad to be compared to a puppy, she supposed—someone else had been compared to a shark—but on the other hand, it did make her feel immature and even uncapable of running her business. Take that unhappy customer—you caved right away and agreed to give her the money back. That wasn’t very businesslike.

  “I wondered,” the man said, “how those chocolates ended up in my workroom. I suppose you didn’t drop them off there.”

  “Oh, no, I’ve never been to the tree nursery. It does seem nice, but…I don’t have the space upstairs for a large tree.” Emma pointed up to where her apartment sat. The big sofa from her old place in Lansing filled out the entire living room space and in the tiny open kitchen every inch was covered in pans, mugs and cookbooks. “I gave the bonbons to your daughter.”

  “Gave?” His eyes surveyed her as if he wanted to read her innermost thoughts. “You use the best ingredients to create a top-notch product. Why would you give it away?”

  “She did pay me. Sort of.” Emma shuffled her feet. “She gave me what she had. It was a special order.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Still he continued in a stern tone, “I don’t want my daughter to beg for favors. She knows she’s cute and can get away with about anything.” He reached into his other pocket. “Let me pay for the chocolate.”

  “No, that would spoil the whole point.” Emma stepped forward, raising a hand to stop him from pulling out his wallet.

  “What point?”

  Emma took a deep breath. “Casey wanted you to have the bonbons.” Could she really say to have him fall in love? No way. I’d rather sink into the floorboards than tell him that.

  “It was a special assignment. She has a plan with it,” she concluded lamely.

  He tilted his head, his eyes full of question marks. “A plan?”

  Emma nodded. She didn’t want to explain any further, as mentioning falling in love would be super awkward and weird.

  “I offered to do the bonbons for the amount she could give me. It wasn’t like she…forced me into it.”

  He held his head back and laughed, a booming laugh that filled her little shop with warmth and life. That twinkle was in his eyes again. “My daughter doesn’t need to force people into things. She has her own methods. I don’t know what she told you, but…”

  “She told me,” Emma blurted, “that she wants you to be happy again.”

  The mirth died down in his eyes and his facial muscles pulled tight.

  “Happy?” he repeated as if he didn’t understand the meaning of the word.

  “Yes.” Great. This is really the way to handle it. She could just kick herself but now that it was out, she had to push on. “Casey discovered you love chocolate.” And that you don’t like kissing and she thinks chocolate can get you into kissing, and kissing Miss Evelyn, at that.

  No, that’s terrible.

  She said quickly, “She believes chocolate can make you happy again.”

  “Oh.” He seemed to relax a bit. “Well, chocolate does make me happy and especially your chocolate. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

  Emma barely heard the compliment as she scolded herself for having chosen the easy way out. She couldn’t leave it at this as he would certainly quiz his daughter about it and then hear the full story.

  “Casey got the idea that chocolate can”—Emma cleared her throat before continuing—“make people fall in love and she wants you to fall in love with her teacher.”

  He stared at her. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then shut it again and stared some more. Emma’s heart beat fast. Everything inside screamed: turn away, fuss with something, fake a phone call, anything to get away from those eyes. But she had let herself in for this, agreeing with Casey to do it, so she had to stand her ground now. If only I knew what he was thinking. If he’s mad or just puzzled.

  “And you encouraged that idea?” The words came out as if he were forcing them.

  “She was covered in snow, cold and nervous and…I didn’t want to disappoint her. I didn’t say you’d fall in love because of the chocolate. I said that if she wanted you to be happy then surely something good would come out of it. That was no lie.” Emma took a deep breath. “I couldn’t tell her it doesn’t work that way. She’s just a little girl and she did it for you, really. Not for herself.”

  Again, there was hesitance in his features, darkness in his eyes as if he considered something hard. Then he said, “I know that she misses something. That I can’t be to her what…” He fell silent and raked a hand through his hair. Snow drifted down from it onto his shoulders.

  “I’m sure she loves you very much,” Emma rushed to say. “And apparently Miss Evelyn helped her adjust in school. She just put one and one together.”

  A quick flash of tenderness sparked in his eyes. Then he sobered. “But you and I know it isn’t that easy, don’t we?”

  “It’s not like Miss Evelyn knows.”

  He scoffed. “I hope not. Contrary to what Casey seems to think, I have no intention at all to…get entangled with anyone. I’m just here for a while, you know. To get things back on track.” He rolled back his shoulders as if he was tense. “Sooner or later we’ll leave again. No attachments.”

  “I see. That makes sense.”

  He paced the shop and stopped at the wall with Christmas offerings, varying from small bonbon boxes to huge reindeer. All display material, to give the customer an idea of the offer. He said slowly, �
��It makes sense to you and to me, maybe, but obviously not to Casey. She does need…” He stood there as if he was searching for the right words among the chocolate Christmas trees dusted with powder snow.

  “I’m sorry if I made this even harder. I just wanted to help her. I do understand that…” Emma bit her lip. You don’t understand. Casey is no orphan. “I’m sorry.”

  He turned to her and smiled again. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you help me make Casey’s last Christmas here in Wood Creek extra special? I want her to have the best memories of it before we leave again.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, apparently she confided in you. She didn’t tell anyone about coming here. That’s not like her. She’s usually pretty shy.”

  “But she likes Miss Evelyn. Why don’t you ask her to…”

  He came back to the counter with long strides, holding her gaze with his deep brown eyes. “Casey didn’t go to her. She came to you. She somehow thought she could trust you and…that’s huge. You see, Casey doesn’t have a lot of people outside my family. I’d love for her to spend a bit more time with you and…make friends. She’ll need to make new friends after we leave here and I’d love for her to work out how she can do that. She took the first step.”

  …

  Indecision flashed in her eyes. Grant clutched the empty chocolate box in his hand. This is just coming out all wrong. Like she is some friendship tryout project. She already made the bonbons for a lower price than usual.

  “How about it?” He leaned forward. “You just said you haven’t been to the tree nursery yet. Casey can show you around there. I’m sure we can even find a tree that fits into your apartment. We’ve got them that big…” He pointed to the ceiling. “And that small.” He held his hand at the height of his hip. “We’ve also got loose evergreens, dried materials and candles to make a custom piece. You’ve made this all Christmassy…” He gestured around him at her red and golden decorations. “Let us bring a bit of Christmas to your home.”

  “That’s a great offer. I’ll be coming to the tree nursery anyway, for the Christmas fair. I have a booth there.”