by Viv Royce
“That goes for most of us.” His voice sounded nearer as if he had leaned closer to her. “Don’t change because of criticism, Emma. Your chocolates are something special. Anybody telling you anything different probably never had great chocolate like yours.”
She looked up into his kind eyes. “Really?”
“Really, and you can trust my judgment. I’ve had chocolate all over the world. I know.”
“All over the world?” What had a man who worked on a tree farm in New Hampshire been doing all over the world?
“I’m a pilot. I used to fly internationally. All the big cities. Paris, Vienna, Rome, Tokyo. Sydney, Moscow. The first thing I did was stalk the sweet shops. Bonbon shops if they had them.” He smiled. “I can compare your creations to the best international offerings. And I can tell you I never had finer chocolate.”
Emma should have been grateful for the compliment, felt proud she was in the same league as those working in big cities, catering to events and perhaps even royalty, but she was just stuck on that one word. “Pilot?” she repeated. “You don’t work on the tree farm?”
“I did for a while, yes, but I’m going back to flying.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Mom and Dad don’t know yet, but I’m looking for jobs.”
Leaving. Leaving. The word that had haunted her all her life. People were always leaving. Or she was leaving. Leaving for the next foster family. Leaving for a new town to settle into. Shipped off again, moved around.
She shivered. It was so very cold around them. Don’t be silly. You knew. When Grant explained to you, in the shop, that he wasn’t getting entangled with anyone, he mentioned that he wouldn’t be staying here forever.
And that’s okay.
“Can we go to the next delivery?”
“Yes, of course. Here’s your helmet. Hop on.”
She secured the strap tightly and sat down behind him, even more reluctant to wrap her arms around his waist. It was so good to do this with someone else, experience a togetherness she normally had to do without. A bit of backup when she faced a tough situation, like a thumbs up “you’re doing okay.” She could get used to that. But Grant and his cute daughter weren’t here to stay. Goodbye, yet again. Make it easy on yourself. Don’t get attached to them. Your new life is in Wood Creek.
She’d drill that into her head until it became her first response as soon as she thought of him or his daughter, met with them, spent time with them. Have fun while it lasts but don’t get attached.
Chapter Five
Grant’s muscles tightened when Emma went to the door of the next house. He had hated to see her so pale and uncertain when she had come back from Mrs. Beaver. How could people treat her like that? She had worked hard on their chocolates, and they didn’t even glance at them but already counted on a refund as if Emma hadn’t put in the best ingredients, time, effort.
Anger mingled with his nerves and he kept his eyes on her as she stood at the door, waiting. Her back was straight, not showing any sign of worry. Show them what you’re made of. He wished he had told her that, giving her a thumbs-up as she walked away, to make her smile.
But maybe it was weird to even think she needed that. She was used to fending for herself. She had built that business by herself.
The door opened, and an elderly lady waved her inside. The cold wind blew around Grant and he shifted his weight, rubbing his hands together. He checked his watch to see how long she’d been inside. His parents had always had each other to run their business, discussing a setback after dinner, when they believed the kids were in bed.
But Grant had sometimes sneaked down the stairs to listen in, wanting to help in some way. When his dad talked about difficult customers and plants that weren’t quite right, his mom would put her arm around him and tell him it would be okay. They’d make it through, somehow—because they had each other.
Did Emma have someone to vent to, confide in? You don’t know anything about her.
Emma came out again, her steps light, her face beaming. She rushed to him, waving something. It was a twenty-dollar bill. “She loved them and even gave me something extra because it’s Christmas time.”
He was so happy for her that he almost reached out his arms to hug her. Hold it right there.
He cleared his throat, putting his hands on his back. “That’s great. Do you want to take a short spin outside of town? See real winter?” He winked at her.
Her forehead furrowed, and he was certain she’d say no. But then she smiled mischievously. “Let’s go for it.”
The compliments and the extra money had obviously boosted her mood, and she seemed ready to let go for a bit.
He sat down and waited for her arms to lock around his waist. “Hold on,” he said and turned the ignition on. He made sure not to hit the gas too hard, as he didn’t want her to be afraid. But he did want her to experience the rush of speed. The sense of being able to fly. Weightless. Free.
She clung to him but didn’t tell him to stop. He steered the snowmobile out of town, onto a road that stretched between wide white fields. The sky above cleared, and a bleak winter sun shone down on them. It sparkled on the ice crystals formed on grass and tree branches, turning the landscape into a twinkling winter world created just for them to play in.
He opened the gas a bit more, and the snowmobile jumped forward. Grant whooped and laughed, holding his head back.
This was the life. Just him and the road—and Emma, behind him, experiencing this adventure with him.
“Stop,” she called, and he hit the brakes. “What is it?”
“Just hold on for a sec.” Emma clambered off. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, her cheeks red from the cold wind. “There’s a snowman there. He’s holding something in his hand, a rope. I’m going to make him a dog. Won’t take long.” She bounded off, light on her feet like a deer, jumping across heaps of snow, rushing into the field where the snowman stood. She crouched down, gathering handfuls of snow. In no time, she had created the body of a dog on low legs and then worked on the head.
A dachshund. Look at those ears, the perky snout. She’s not just an artist with her chocolates.
“Let me try as well.” A little away from her he worked on his own dog. He had built lots of snowmen with Casey and would grade his skills at an A for gathering snow, B for molding it, and C for making it actually look recognizable. She’ll never guess what breed this is.
“Do you do this often?” he called to her. “Sneak away after work and donate snow dogs to snowmen?”
Emma laughed. “I wish. My life really centers on chocolate right now. Finding the right ingredients, trying new flavors. Oh, and I only finished painting my apartment last week. I haven’t had any time off since I got here. Cleo keeps telling me I need to join a choir or book club or something to meet people and make friends, but honestly, at night I’m beat and don’t want to go out.”
“Cleo? Oh, Cleo Davis from the bookstore.”
Emma nodded. “When I was redoing the shop, she helped me paint the ceiling. She also brought me lunch a couple of times just to make sure I ate something.” She rolled her eyes. “Her words, not mine. And it wasn’t that bad really. I’m just focused on getting everything set up and running. I can socialize later.” She rose to her feet, her breathing ragged, studying the dachshund at her feet. “When I moved here, I had this idealistic idea of getting a dog and going out for long walks every day. My former apartment had a no pet policy, you know, and it seemed like something I could finally do. But I only want to go through with it when I have enough time to put into my new friend. Maybe in January, when all the Christmas madness is over.” She turned to him. “What are you making?”
“Have a look. Can you guess?”
Emma came over, plowing through the deep snow. Her silence as she studied the object confirmed his fear.
“It’s a large dog,” she said at last. “Maybe a German shepherd?”
At least she figures it’s a dog, not a polar bear. “It’s
supposed to be a husky.” Grant grunted ruefully. “I guess my imagination outruns my molding skills.”
“Let me give you a hand. If that’s okay.”
“Of course.” He’d gladly switch trying to mold that pesky snow for watching her do it for him. The expression on her face as she worked with utter concentration, the devotion to the smallest details. She put her all into it.
“There.” She stood back.
He stared at the pointy ears, the snout, the briskness of the head. The whole husky feel. “You’re amazing.” Her eyes were bright as stars. Her hat was covered in snow, as well as the hair escaping from it. Snowflakes melted on her cheeks. He wanted to brush them away.
But he just nodded at her and said, “Great job. But I bet you’re cold. How about some hot chocolate on me?”
…
That was so much fun! And he called me amazing.
Emma’s head was so light she could run for a mile just with the energy inside her. Steady, girl. Calm down. Come back to earth. “Yes. Hot chocolate sounds great. Thanks.”
He reached out his hand to her. “Come on then.”
She didn’t take it, fussed with her gloves. He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and strode to the snowmobile which sat glinting in the sunshine. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely draw breath. Grant Galloway was a dangerous man. He wasn’t just a loving father to his little girl, but he was kind and attentive to her, caring for how her customers treated her. Taking her away from her busy schedule for a while. These moments here were exactly what she had needed to recharge, without even knowing that herself.
How had Grant known it?
It doesn’t matter. Take it at face value. You had a good time.
Hot chocolate now, and then back to the shop to create more orders. After all, Christmas doesn’t wait.
…
Emma’s cheeks were warm from the cozy little cafe where they had drunk hot chocolate topped off with whipped cream and marshmallows. It had been great to see Grant enjoy the sweet treats, picking the marshmallows off one by one and popping them into his mouth.
Casey’s right. Her sweets-loving daddy is very special.
She smiled at him as she reached for the keyring in her pocket to unlock her shop’s door. “Thanks so much for your help. I have to get on the next batch of orders.”
“Sure, let me know when they’re due. I’ll be driving around town a lot the next few days getting trees to customers and I could take your chocolates along. Then you don’t have to leave the shop.”
“Good idea. If it’s not too much trouble for you.”
“Not at all. We can talk about it later today. How about I pick you up after closing hours? You can see the area at the tree farm where we’ll be setting up the Christmas fair. Maybe you’ve got a few ideas about how to best decorate it. My parents have been running the fair for ages, and they stick to the tried-and-true elements everyone loves: music, lots of treats, and glitter. But they want to switch up the type of glitter every year.” He winked. “A few outside ideas can’t hurt.”
Emma had no experience decorating for a large fair, and normally she would have said so, but now the sugar rush from the hot chocolate seemed to blur her brain a bit. How hard can it be? Glitter and sparkle, like you did in your shop, just on a bigger scale. “All right.”
“Great.” His smile widened. “See you later.” He waved at her before opening the gas and roaring off.
She was about to slip the key in the lock when metal scraped against concrete, tightening her nerve ends. Next door, Cleo balanced precariously on top of a shaky ladder to change something about the colorful Christmas lights strung along the bookshop’s front.
Looks like she needs a hand. Emma hurried over and grabbed the ladder to steady it for her. “Are you okay?” she called up.
Cleo Davis was the same age as her, with blonde hair pulled back in a sporty ponytail and outfits that usually had something to do with books. Today, it was a red jacket full of author names from Jane Austen to Robert Ludlum. Emma smiled when she recognized some of her own favorite authors—the Brontë sisters, Ellis Peters and Dorothy Sayers—among them. With the chocolate shop, there was too little time for reading, but maybe she could catch up over the Christmas break.
Cleo glanced down. “Oh, thanks, Emma. One of the little lamps isn’t screwed in tight and then the whole string of them doesn’t work. I just have to check which one it is.” Her hands moved rapidly from left to right, feeling the lamps one by one. “Ah. This one is a bit loose. Let’s see if it’s the culprit.” She made a turning gesture. The lights came back on, throwing a cheerful glow across them. Pink, gold, blue, red.
“There you go.” Cleo sighed in satisfaction and climbed down. “Done. I was worried I’d have to buy new ones. I don’t have time. I’m busy wrapping some books for the Christmas fair raffle. All the shopkeepers are putting up prizes. But you probably know that. I saw you talking to Grant Galloway.”
Heat crept up Emma’s cheeks. Hopefully, they were already pink from the cold outside. “Yes, we were talking about the fair.” She faltered, fidgeting with her gloves. “I heard it’s a really big event the Galloways have been doing for ages.”
Cleo nodded and whisked a lock of hair from her face. “A few years ago a council member wanted it transferred indoors, at the community center, and when word got out, there was a rush of calls to the mayor telling him nobody would be coming if it wasn’t at Galloway’s. The tree in which you can put your wish is theirs as well. Are you wishing for anything?”
“I don’t know really. You?”
Cleo grimaced. “To keep my job.”
“What?” Emma blinked. “How do you mean?”
She leaned over, lowering her voice. “My boss is close to retirement, and I don’t know whether he will sell the shop to someone who wants to keep it as a bookstore or whether it will just close. In that case I’m out of a job. Nothing is certain yet, but the mere possibility kills the Christmas spirit for me. I mean, here I am, wrapping presents, while come January I could be closing the door one last time. I just can’t believe it.”
“Me neither.” Emma’s heart sank. The cute bookshop sitting empty? It pulled in lots of kids and brought a lively air to the whole street. “I thought you owned it. I always see you putting the displays outside and closing up at night. I didn’t even know you had a boss.”
Cleo smiled sadly. “He’s older and doesn’t spend much time at the shop these days.” She studied the front with the colorful lights, the window full of books dressed up with fake snow and sparkly ornaments. “Feels like I’ll never find another place quite like this. So much freedom to put my own spin on things. And if I can’t find another job close by, I’ll also have to move. I’ll miss Wood Creek.”
“I’ll miss our chats. And we never got a chance to see that museum you mentioned to me. What was it? Wood crafting?” Why hadn’t she made a little time for friendship instead of pouring it all into the shop? But if she had, she’d be losing yet another friend.
“I want to stay.” Cleo held her gaze. “I would do anything to keep the shop open, but there’s no way that I can buy it. I don’t have enough savings. And the bank needs a business plan that proves it will be profitable. I just don’t know if I could pull it off.”
“You should at least give it a try. I mean, does your boss know you want to keep it open? Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no one to take over and he has to sell.”
“He knows how much I love the shop. He could have asked me. I mean—” Cleo looked down at her jacket. “Maybe he doesn’t like how I run it. He gave me carte blanche to create this individual feel instead of a big chain atmosphere, but maybe I took it in the wrong direction.”
“I’m sure that’s not it. People love the shop.” Emma tapped her arm. “At least gauge his feelings about it, if you want it so much. A little talk to figure out where he’s standing can’t hurt.”
“I guess so.” Cleo took a deep breath. “Thanks
for the vote of confidence. I’d better get those books wrapped up for the fair. See you later.” She dragged the ladder inside.
Emma went to her own door. Her joyful feeling had washed away at Cleo’s news, but as the lock clicked open, new energy filled her. This was her very own place. No boss here to tell her what to do. No threat of losing her job and having to start all over again. This was hers, to mold into the business she had dreamed of for years.
She laughed out loud as she pushed the door open and inhaled the scent of chocolate. In the back, snowmen were waiting for their marzipan noses and scarves, while her notebook with ideas for bonbon flavors lay neatly beside the work bench.
And she had an extra reason now to tackle the to-do list head-on. Just a few more hours and Grant will be picking me up.
Chapter Six
Grant halted his four-wheel drive outside Emma’s shop and looked at his watch. He was early. In the brightly lit shop, customers waited for their turn. But no matter how he angled his head, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of Emma behind the counter.
He switched on the radio and tried a few stations, but his mind couldn’t focus on news or the Christmas evergreens that cluttered the airwaves. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, then pulled his phone from his pocket and went to his favorite website to look for job postings. There were a few marked with the “newly added” blue banner. Great. He clicked on the first one and read the description. A contract for twenty hours a week sounded good, but…international flights. No.
The photos of Singapore and Sydney beside the description were enticing, bringing back in an instant the sounds and smells of those faraway places he had loved. But he had seen them all, and his focus had shifted to a whole new perspective. The team he could be with his little girl. Setting up a home base for them somewhere which would be their starting point for amazing adventures.
Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention back to the little chocolate shop. The door had opened and a young woman with a toddler in a stroller and an older child beside her came out. Framed by the light from within, Emma stood on the doorstep, waving goodbye to them until the trio turned a corner, and then straightened up, inhaling the fresh winter air. Her gaze fell on his car. He leaned to the window and waved at her.
