by Leslie Meier
Lucy had a terrible sinking feeling. “Did you report it?”
“We had to; OxyContin is a controlled substance and Mr. Potter needed to get a new prescription. But I didn’t name Eddie and Lily and I noticed they didn’t sign in. The officer said it happens all the time. Kids steal drugs from their parents, home health aides steal from their patients, staff members steal from hospitals and pharmacies. And then there’s the phony prescriptions, the people who go to a bunch of doctors and get multiple prescriptions.”
Lucy had no idea. “For this OxyContin?”
“Yeah. Either they’re hooked themselves, or they sell it. A single pill goes for eighty dollars.”
That was a lot of money, thought Lucy. “Who buys it?”
“Addicts. It’s very addicting, and once they’re hooked they need three or four pills every day, or they start feeling sick. Withdrawal symptoms.” Frankie paused. “When they can’t afford the OxyContin they use heroin. It’s much cheaper.”
A year or two ago, thought Lucy, she would have been shocked. But not now. The police and court reports showed a big increase in drug-related crimes and the town had seen several violent drug-related deaths in recent years. Doc Ryder had expressed concern about the number of overdoses he was seeing in the emergency room. It wasn’t just Tinker’s Cove, either. Even the governor’s wife was trying to raise awareness of the problem.
Still, Lucy resisted the idea that either Lily or Eddie might be using drugs. “They’re both good kids... .”
“I know,” agreed Frankie. “That’s why I didn’t name them. I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.”
“That’s exactly right,” said Lucy. “I can’t believe either one of them would do this awful thing, steal painkillers from a dying man.”
“You’re right, I’m sure you’re right,” said Frankie, but her tone of voice gave her away. She wasn’t convinced and neither was Lucy.
That afternoon, Lucy ran a few errands before picking up Sara and Renee at Fern’s Famous, and Zoe at Chanticleer Chocolate. The work permit had come through and today was Zoe’s first day, but Lucy wasn’t happy about it. She’d been in a bad mood as she went about town, making a stop at the town dump before picking up groceries and dry cleaning.
The rear of the Subaru wagon was full of green reusable grocery bags, dry cleaning hanging from the back of the front seat where she’d hooked the hangers around the headrest supports, and a couple of big boxes now empty of bottles she’d recycled, on the back seat.
“Gee, Mom, is there room for us?” asked Sara, when she opened the car door.
“Just stack up those boxes inside each other,” said Lucy.
“They don’t fit,” complained Sara, struggling to jam one box inside the other. “This one’s too big.”
“Turn it sideways,” said Lucy, wondering how a girl who got all A’s in geometry couldn’t figure out how to stack a couple of cartons.
“Got it,” said Sara, succeeding in combining the two boxes and making room in the back seat.
The two girls jumped in and immediately began whispering and giggling.
“Can you let me in on the joke?” asked Lucy, accelerating into the road. “I had no idea chocolate was so much fun.”
“It is at Fern’s,” said Sara, prompting a fresh round of giggling. “Especially around Valentine’s Day.”
“Come on, tell me,” said Lucy, in a playful tone. “I’ve had a tough day and I could use a laugh.”
“Well,” began Sara. “Promise you won’t tell?”
Lucy didn’t get it. What was so funny and had to be kept secret, too? It didn’t make sense, especially since you’d think the mood would be somewhat subdued at Fern’s following Max’s death. “Sure,” she said. “I won’t tell.”
“Dora makes special chocolates that she doesn’t sell in the shop. She calls them ‘naughty chocolates.’ ”
Lucy braked hard at the stop sign. “Naughty?”
“Yeah.” The girls were giggling again. “Like Hot Lips. Those are shaped like lips and are kind of spicy. They’re real popular, we’ve been filling tons of orders from all over the country.”
Lucy still didn’t get it. You could buy lips wrapped in red foil at the local drugstore. They brought them out every year for Valentine’s Day, along with boxer shorts printed with hearts. “That doesn’t sound very naughty,” she said, turning onto Route 1.
“It’s not just lips,” said Renee. “She has other, um, parts.”
“Like boobs!” exclaimed Sara. “And, and, you know... .”
Lucy thought maybe she did. “Who’d ’a thunk it?” she exclaimed, chuckling to herself as she proceeded along Main Street toward Chanticleer Chocolate, where she had to pick up Zoe.
“You’re not mad?” asked Sara. “Dora said you might not approve.”
“I used to have standards, but motherhood has taught me to compromise.” Lucy joked with the girls, but she fully intended to drop in at Fern’s Famous first thing next morning to check out the naughty chocolates.
Pulling into a vacant spot in front of Chanticleer Chocolate, Lucy tooted the horn. Zoe was supposed to work until five, and it was now ten after, but there was no sign of her.
“Sara, just go inside and see what’s holding her up,” said Lucy.
A minute later Sara reported that Zoe would only be a few more minutes. “Tamzin’s got her cleaning the display case and she’s not done yet.”
Lucy thought of the ice cream that was probably melting in the back of her car, not to mention other perishables like expensive winter lettuce and fresh fish. “How long do you think she’s going to be?”
“A while,” said Sara. “There were trays of chocolates everywhere and they’ve all got to be put back in the case.”
Lucy wanted to go in and demand Tamzin let Zoe go for the evening, but she knew that wasn’t a good idea. She’d already raised a fuss about the working papers and she didn’t want to make things any harder for Zoe. But this was still darned inconvenient.
Finally, at thirty-five minutes past five, the door opened and Zoe appeared, zipping her parka.
“Sorry, Mom,” she said, climbing in the back beside Sara and Renee. “Tamzin said I couldn’t go until I finished.”
“No problem,” said Lucy, flicking on her signal and turning onto the street.
“I was afraid you’d be mad,” said Zoe.
“Well, I’m pretty sure the ice cream has melted and twelve dollars worth of fish is ruined, but it’s not your fault,” said Lucy. “It’s Tamzin’s.”
“She was upset. I think that’s why she made me do all that work,” said Zoe.
“What do you mean?” asked Lucy, turning back onto Route 1.
“Everything was fine, she was all nicey-nice, showing me how to wrap the chocolates and tie bows and all this stuff. Not like a boss at all, like we were friends. But then Trey came in with Ms. Clarke and she was all smiley with them, but as soon as they left she turned into this really mean person. All of a sudden she was making me do icky stuff like cleaning the bathroom and mopping the floor.” Zoe sighed. “I didn’t think working would be so hard.”
“Maybe tomorrow will be better,” said Lucy, who was revising her thinking about Tamzin and Trey. Just because they weren’t a couple didn’t mean that Tamzin wasn’t hoping to become one. Trey was awfully attractive, and wealthy, besides. Tamzin couldn’t be making much more than minimum wage in the candy shop; it was probably barely enough to keep her in push-up bras and stiletto heels. Mentally slapping herself for being so catty, Lucy turned her attention to Zoe, who needed a bit of encouragement. “Was the shop busy?”
“Really busy. Valentine’s Day is Sunday.”
“With anybody you know? Did any of your friends come by?”
Zoe shook her head. “Tamzin took care of the customers.”
I bet she did, thought Lucy, turning onto Red Top Road.
Thursday morning, Lucy met the girls at Jake’s for breakfast. She couldn’t resist te
lling them about Dora’s naughty chocolates.
“There’s a shop in Boston that has those sexy chocolates,” Sue had told her, while Norine filled their mugs with Jake’s high-test brew. “Some of them are pretty raunchy.”
“I’m no prude,” Pam had declared with a prim expression, “but I don’t think it’s appropriate to expect young girls to handle that kind of special order.”
“Adolescents are very vulnerable,” added Rachel, offering the insight she’d gained as a psychology major in college. “Their sexuality is just developing and is very fragile.”
“Yeah,” cracked Pam, “you don’t want them thinking men taste like chocolate.”
That sent them all into gales of laughter, including Lucy. But even as she laughed along with the others, she couldn’t help feeling she didn’t want her daughter exposed to such risqué products. She remembered how shocked she’d been as an impressionable girl when a catalog picturing trashy underwear had tumbled out of a pile of newspapers she was carrying out to the trash bins. She’d puzzled over the crotchless red underpants for years and, to tell the truth, the images still bothered her. As she matured and became more sophisticated, she came to believe that donning such garments turned you into a sex object, something she had no intention of becoming and which she certainly didn’t want her daughters to become.
But when she stepped inside Fern’s Famous, with its antiseptic white tile walls and the delicious scent of chocolate, her resolution wavered. She took in the smiling cow on the sign behind the counter and the scuffed wood floor, the ornate swirls on the antique bronze cash register and the collection of old milk cans that served as decoration, and wondered if the girls had been teasing her. All this old-timey wholesomeness seemed at odds with the production of sexy chocolates.
“Hi, Lucy,” said Dora, pushing aside the red-and-white-striped curtain that separated the work area from the shop. “You should be real proud of Sara, she’s a wonderful girl and a real good worker.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Lucy, feeling Dora already had her at a disadvantage. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Dora blushed. “She told you about the naughty chocolates.”
“Yeah.” Lucy nodded. “I’m just not comfortable with that sort of thing.”
“Come on back,” said Dora. “I’ll let you have a look.”
Lucy followed her and was surprised to encounter Fern herself, mixing up a big batch of penuche in a huge copper kettle with a gas flame underneath it. The tiny old woman was standing on a stool, wielding a huge wooden paddle.
“Goodness, that looks like quite a job,” said Lucy, greeting her.
Fern brushed back a stray lock of gray hair that had escaped from the little bun on the top of her head and paused for a second. “I’m the only one does it right,” she declared, resuming her stirring. “These young’uns are too impatient.”
Dora smiled. “We let her think that, it keeps her out of trouble,” said Dora, leading Lucy into the packing room and grabbing several boxes from the neat stacks arranged on industrial-style metal shelves. The boxes she chose were all shiny red, unlike the usual striped ones associated with Fern’s Famous.
“This is kind of a sideline of mine,” said Dora, opening one of the boxes and revealing half a dozen chocolates molded in the shape of lips. “I call these Hot Lips because the chocolate is quite spicy. Max got the recipe in Mexico. Want to try one?”
Lucy thought briefly of her diet, then nodded. Taking a bite of the creamy chocolate, she was amazed at the combination of flavors: the fiery hot pepper released flavor notes from the chocolate that she had never tasted before. “Wow,” she said. “That is amazing.”
Dora smiled and bit into one herself. “Of all the candy we make, this is the only one I don’t get tired of,” she said. “Every time, it’s a new experience. An explosion of flavor, that’s how I describe it on the website.” She lowered her voice. “Fern doesn’t approve, so I market them separately on the Web. I call them ‘Sexsational Chocolates.’ ”
“Cute,” said Lucy, determined to stick to her guns. “I assume some of the chocolates are racier than these?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Dora. “I’ve got Bodacious Bods and Big Boobs.” She opened two more boxes, revealing solid blocks of chocolate. One was shaped like a muscular man’s torso, complete with six-pack abs, and the other was shaped like a breast with a dried cherry for a nipple.
In spite of herself, Lucy found she was laughing.
“I know,” said Dora, with a shrug. “It’s not the cleverest name but, believe me, I sell a lot of Big Boobs.” She paused. “The truth of the matter is, if it wasn’t for my naughty chocolates, we would have gone out of business years ago. Fern thinks everybody comes for that penuche of hers, but I actually throw most of it out. And she won’t raise prices on the fudge, even though the price of sugar has gone through the roof. She won’t admit it, but these shiny red boxes are the real moneymakers.” Dora gave her a look. “And now that Chanticleer’s in town, and getting so much attention, well, I’d be lying if I said they weren’t cutting into our profits.”
Lucy felt a stab of guilt. “Ted made me write that article about them.”
“Sara said her sister’s working over there.” Dora tilted her head in the direction of Chanticleer Chocolate. “I’m surprised you let her. That Tamzin’s a real floozy.”
“I’m not happy about it.” Lucy thought she’d better change the subject. “Somehow I was expecting something a lot racier,” she said, finishing off her Hot Lips.
“That’s Flora,” said Dora, with a sigh. “She absolutely refuses to let me make anything, um, below the waist.” She scowled. “I could make a lot of money with Size Matters lollipops but she won’t let me go there.”
“That’s probably just as well,” said Lucy, thinking back to the days when you only had to worry about warning kids not to run with lollipops in their mouths.
“So it’s okay if Sara keeps working here?” asked Dora. “I really need the help. This is our busiest time of year.”
“Oh, sure.” Lucy’s thoughts turned to Lily. “I suppose you’ll be shorthanded when Lily goes back to school.”
“Who told you that?” asked Dora, replacing the red boxes on the shelves.
“I just assumed... .”
Dora turned and shook her head. “I loved Max, I did, and I’ll miss him. But I learned early on not to count on him. He’d promise the world, but there was never enough money to pay the rent. That’s what I told Lily when he said he had money coming and she’d be able to go back to school. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s under control.’ Now he’s gone and there isn’t any money, there isn’t even any life insurance. All he left behind is an old truck and a snowmobile that doesn’t run. It’s gonna cost more to fix it than it’s worth—and that’s the story of Max’s life.” She sighed. “And now that she’s been seeing a lot of Eddie Culpepper, she’s not so eager to go back to school. He’s just back from Afghanistan, you know, and he’s pretty eager to settle down. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they got married.”
“But Lily’s so young,” said Lucy.
“I know,” said Dora. “I’d like her to wait but, well, I remember what it’s like when you’re young.” She smiled and for a moment the years dropped away and she looked like the girl who’d fallen in love with Max.
“Have you heard anything more about Max’s death from the police?” Lucy asked.
Dora shook her head. “Case closed. Accidental drowning.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I didn’t at first, but now I guess it must be true. Who would kill Max? Sure he had his faults, but everybody loved him, he’d give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it. You saw the turnout at the memorial service. He was a real popular guy.”
“Yeah,” agreed Lucy. “He helped me that night—the night he died—when I got stuck in the snow.”
Dora smiled. “That was Max all over. I really miss him
.”
“You’re not alone,” said Lucy.
But as she left the shop and made her way to the Pennysaver office, Lucy’s thoughts turned to Eddie and Lily. She knew Barney was worried about Eddie, saying he was having trouble adjusting to civilian life. Barney hadn’t elaborated, so she didn’t know if he was suffering from a full-blown case of post-traumatic stress syndrome, or just the normal sense of dislocation that accompanies major life changes like moves and new jobs. Either way it was worrying, especially in light of Frankie’s suspicions. Lily had been through a lot, including her parents’ divorce and her father’s tragic death, and Lucy hoped this relationship with Eddie wouldn’t bring her more grief.
Chapter Ten
Phyllis had raised the old-fashioned wooden venetian blinds and was taping big red paper hearts on the plate glass windows when Lucy got to the Pennysaver office. She paused, tape in hand, and cocked her head.
“What do you think?”
“It’s very festive,” said Lucy, studying the scattered arrangement. “Maybe a few more up in the left there? And what about the door?”
“One big one? A cluster of small ones?”
Lucy took off her jacket and hung it on the sturdy oak coat stand next to the door, tossed her bag on the floor next to her desk, and turned, one hand on her hip. Lifting the blinds had made the whole office brighter, she realized, and the red hearts were a cheerful counterpoint to the snowy street. “I think a scattering of small ones on the door. And maybe we should keep the blinds up.” Her eyes were wandering around the office, noticing cobwebs in the corners and the shadowy shapes of insect corpses in the glass globes of the light fixtures. “This place could do with a cleaning,” she said.
“That’s why the blinds are coming back down,” said Phyllis, yanking a cord and bringing the slats down with a clatter.
Lucy laughed, flicking on her desk lamp and booting up her computer. When the humming and whirring stopped and her desktop icons appeared, she paused. “Where’s Ted?” she asked.
“Dunno. He called and said he’d be in after lunch.”
