The Chocolate Comeback (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 7)

by Roxanne Snopek

  But before he could question her further, Mark was back, decked out in his sweatpants and running shoes.

  “And we’re off,” Deirdre said with a nod. “See you in an hour, Isaac.”

  “Wait!” Mark said. “First, I want to show you my fishes!”

  Deirdre rolled her eyes good-naturedly as Mark took her arm and brought her to the first tank.

  Isaac never would have guessed that she’d have so much patience.

  “These are called tetras.” Mark pronounced the word carefully, going on to tell Deirdre their names and their personalities, as well as how old they were, which ones liked which others, and all sorts of other details that washed over Isaac like rain.

  Mark’s ability to memorize never failed to amaze him. His mother had given birth to Mark when she was forty-two. Isaac was nine at the time and accustomed to being the only child. He recognized his baby brother was different, but he didn’t understand why his mother was crying and why his father refused to hold his new son.

  Their muttered arguments and icy silences continued after Mark’s birth. Before the baby’s first birthday, Dad was gone, abandoning not just the handicapped child who’d have no memories of him, but also his overwhelmed wife and Isaac, who knew if he just tried hard enough, worked hard enough at school, he could be smart for both him and his brother.

  Deirdre spoke, breaking into Isaac’s memories.

  “They’re very pretty fish. It looks like you take very good care of them, Mark.”

  Mark adored animals and desperately wanted a dog or a cat. Isaac found the fish to be plenty of work and was pleased they seemed to satisfy this need in his brother.

  “Oh no, not me.” Mark took Deirdre’s hand and stroked it. “I love my fishes, but I could do it wrong and make them die. Sometimes, I can’t be trusted.”

  Isaac’s head snapped up. “Who told you that, Mark?”

  If someone at the care home had been picking on him or belittling him, they’d find themselves on the wrong end of a lawsuit. No one hurt his little brother, not while Isaac was in charge.

  Mark smiled at him. “You did, Isaac.” Then he nodded at Deirdre in confirmation. “I do dumb stuff sometimes. Isaac is pertecting me.”

  The simple words coming from his brother’s mouth ran through Isaac like a hot knife. “I’ve never… I would never… Mark, you know I wouldn’t—”

  “Easy there, Ike,” Deirdre interrupted. “If your face gets any redder, it’ll pop like a tomato in the microwave. Mark knows you love him. He probably just overheard you talking to someone else. It’s no big deal. Right, Mark?”

  “I know Ike loves me,” Mark said.

  Ike.

  Isaac’s jaw ached.

  “And it’s kind of true anyway, right?” she continued. “There are things you shouldn’t be trusted with. I mean, you do ride the short bus, bud.”

  Rippling heat galvanized Isaac’s tongue. “You did not just say that.”

  But instead of being angry or hurt, Mark laughed. “It’s not a short bus, DeeDee. It’s a reg’lar bus. But it’s full of special people. My friend Abe fell on his head when he was two, so now he’s special. My other friend Paulie got born too early, and he’s special. And not just his brain. His legs are special sometimes, too. I like special people. And I’m lucky that Isaac looks after me. He’s the very best brother in the whole world. I love you so much!”

  Mark threw his chubby arms around Isaac’s waist, and all the outrage melted away. He put his arms around his brother and patted his back, blindingly aware that Deirdre was watching them. He did not tolerate snide comments about Mark, whether the boy was around to hear or not.

  It stung to realize that he himself was guilty of the same thing. What other thoughtless remarks had Mark overheard him say?

  “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Mark tipped his face up. So much love and trust shone from his eyes that Isaac’s heart twisted in his chest.

  “You never hurt me. You love me.”

  Isaac nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

  Then Deirdre touched his shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, Isaac. He knows you love him. Now, you didn’t tell me whether these fish get scrambled eggs or toast for supper. Or maybe you share your oatmeal with them in the morning. Is that it, Marco Polo?”

  “I’m not Marco Polo!” Mark giggled. “And fish don’t eat oatmeal or scrambled eggs or toast. They eat… What’s that stuff called, Isaac?”

  “Fish flakes.” The conversation was spinning out of control.

  “Like corn flakes,” Mark crowed, “but for fish! Come on, DeeDee, I’ll show you where they are.”

  “We’ll feed the fish and then we’re going for our walk, right?”

  “Okay.” With a sigh, Mark pushed away from Isaac and led Deirdre to the cupboard beneath the first tank, where the supplies were kept. The kid—he’d always be Isaac’s kid brother—was chattering like a chipmunk, overjoyed at the attention, and not only was he not upstairs watching television, but he’d had an apple instead of cookies.

  Deirdre looked over her shoulder as Mark pulled out the plastic containers of fish food. Isaac braced himself for some snarky remark, but instead, she gave him a hesitant, almost apologetic smile.

  She wasn’t feeling sorry for him, was she?

  He swallowed. He didn’t need her pity. He didn’t need her censure or whatever advice she, in her ignorance, deemed necessary.

  He watched as she rested her hand lightly on his brother’s back, patting and comforting. She had long, pretty fingers.

  He exhaled heavily. He hadn’t wanted her. He didn’t need her. But she was proving remarkably difficult to ignore.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hello, knock, knock.” Deirdre pushed open the door to Isaac’s office. Mark’s head bobbed around the side of her shoulder. He was trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin.

  They were up to something, and Isaac found this unaccountably annoying. It was great to see Mark engaged and occupied, rather than bored and lonely, but Isaac hadn’t expected Mark finding a new favorite person would bother him so much.

  He felt left out, which made no sense. Deirdre was doing exactly what he’d asked, and more. He should be thrilled. Mom was thrilled; on her latest check in—from the British Virgin Islands—Mark had told her all about Deirdre. Their mom had cried from missing them, but he’d heard relief and gratitude, too.

  “Yes. Is there something you need?”

  Her eyebrows went up. Her smile faded, as did Mark’s.

  “First,” she said, “you can remove the outgrowth of xylem and phloem from your coccygeal region. Then you can give me your car keys and credit card.”

  He blinked and frowned. “What?”

  Mark burst into peals of laughter. “Take the stick out of your butt, Isaac!” He stepped back and gave Deirdre a high-five. “She said it fancy so you wouldn’t know! You had ’sylum and phlegm in your costly region!”

  “How long have you been holding that one?” he asked drily.

  Deirdre grinned. “It occurred to me on the spur of the moment. Don’t look so shocked. I took Biology 101. Incidentally, Mark needs new clothes. Based on his current wardrobe, I propose you let me choose his next one.”

  “Mark doesn’t need new clothes.”

  “A dog scratched my pants,” Mark said.

  “We stopped in at the animal shelter the other day,” Deirdre explained. “I’m not sure who was more excited, Mark or the dogs.”

  Isaac could just imagine.

  “They’re holey,” Mark added. “But not the cool kind of holes.”

  Since when was Mark concerned about cool anything?

  “Do they still cover your… coccygeal region?”

  He tried not to think about that portion of DeeDee’s anatomy, the way her slacks clung to those curves.

  Then he thought of her other curves, and the pink sparkles on the bra he’d seen when she’d fallen in the chocolate shop.

  Had
it been only a couple of weeks?

  Mark put his hands over his mouth, delighted. “That means my butt.”

  “He’s got a closet-full of clothes,” Isaac said. “He doesn’t need anything else.” He pushed aside the memory of Mark’s shabby appearance in the chocolate shop that day.

  Deirdre’s nostrils flared gently. “Isaac, are you aware of the stratification that occurs whenever a group gathers together?”

  “Stratification? What are you talking about?” He glanced at Mark, but the boy only nodded earnestly, as if he understood her completely.

  Deirdre pursed her lips. “There’s a social cost involved with falling into the… lower levels,” she continued, keeping her voice even. “This often occurs on a subconscious level, based on superficial impressions. I’d like to ensure that a certain character we’re both invested in does not suffer such effects.” She paused. “You picking up what I’m laying down?”

  “I take issue with what you’re laying down.” He turned to Mark. “I need a glass of water. Would you go get me one please, please?”

  “’kay, Isaac,” Mark said, heading for the stairs. “See you later, alligator.”

  “In a while, crocodile,” he responded.

  The second Mark disappeared, Isaac spoke. “Are you telling me that people are judging Mark based on his clothes?”

  “It’s more than clothing. Everyone gets judged based on their appearance,” Deirdre said, crossing her arms. “We assess people in the blink of an eye, without being aware of it. Age, confidence, social status, a million little things.”

  Isaac’s jaw hurt. Red tinged the edges of his vision. “You’re a model. I understand clothing is important to you. But Mark doesn’t care as long as he’s comfortable. Image isn’t everything, Deirdre.”

  She flinched, but recovered quickly. “It’s not nothing either. It’s easy to say image isn’t important when you’ve got exactly the image that everyone wants.”

  She stopped and caught her breath. Color rode high on her cheekbones. “Mark wears jeans and sweatshirts all the time, which wouldn’t be that bad, but now that he’s trimming down, his pants are barely hanging on. His tennis shoes need replacing, too.”

  Isaac ordered Mark’s stuff online. It saved them both a lot of grief. But maybe he’d fallen behind.

  “I don’t mean to be critical,” Deirdre said, “but an updated image could give your brother an edge in his world, okay? He’s got enough strikes against him; he doesn’t need more.”

  Her chest was rising and falling quickly, and the passion in her voice was mesmerizing.

  “What do you want me to do?” He lifted his arms helplessly. “He despises shopping even more than I do. It’s a battle. We just end up exhausted and mad.”

  DeeDee’s face softened. “Let me do it. I know what I’m looking for, I know where to go, and I know how to make it as quick and painless as possible. I might not have a lot of skills, Isaac, but trust me, I know how to shop.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I do believe that.”

  “And can I please take him for a haircut? Honestly, Isaac, it looks like you cut it yourself using a bowl and kitchen shears.”

  “He doesn’t like people touching his head,” he said. “Which makes haircuts tricky.”

  “Then he needs a new hairdresser.”

  He grudgingly admitted that there was some sense to her words.

  Mark arrived, a dripping glass of water in his hands. “Here, Isaac. I got it.”

  “Thanks, bro.” Isaac took a sip, met Deirdre’s eyes over the rim of the glass, and felt a subtle agreement pass between them.

  “A couple of hours and he’ll be a new man,” she said. “I’ll need your credit card and your car keys.”

  “What’s wrong with your car?”

  She widened her eyes and glanced sideways at Mark. “Your car is more comfortable.”

  Ah, yes. The little import she drove was not designed for someone of Mark’s build. He appreciated that she’d not drawn attention to the fact.

  “Of course.” He took his keys from the dish on his desk and tossed them to her, then handed her his card. “I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun. If that’s possible.”

  She smiled back. “Trust me, Ike. Your brother is in good hands with me.”

  After touching his arm briefly, she went to join Mark in the car.

  She really did care about Mark, he realized. There was a genuine, thoughtful, real woman beneath the pretty packaging, one who appealed to him, and not just on the physical level.

  She’d asked him to trust her.

  Could he do that?

  *

  They’d had wonderful luck, as it turned out. DeeDee had made sure to get Mark a snack, a healthy green smoothie filled with vegetables and just enough fruit to satisfy his sweet tooth. She’d taken him to Livingston, where there was a wider variety of stores, and had found some great sales.

  After that, she’d taken him to the stylist Maddie recommended. It was amazing what a difference the right haircut made. Isaac would be so impressed.

  She pulled up to the house and parked Isaac’s car. She was tired of driving borrowed vehicles, but this one was a treat.

  “I’m tired, DeeDee.” Mark yawned loudly. “Can I watch TV when we get inside?”

  “I’m guessing Isaac’s going to want to see what we bought. Would you like to model your new clothes for him?”

  “No. Can I show him tomorrow?”

  Perhaps she’d pushed him hard enough.

  “Tell you what. Go say hi, let him see your new ’do, and then you can go watch TV. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he replied.

  He slumped through the door and she followed, her arms laden with packages.

  “Isaac, we’re home,” Mark shouted. “Come see my new ’do.”

  Isaac came out of his office and did an immediate double-take. “Why is Brad Pitt standing in my doorway? DeeDee, what did you do with my brother?”

  The fatigue on Mark’s face immediately vanished.

  DeeDee’s heart swelled, and she put a hand to her chest. Isaac was such a dork sometimes, but when it came to his brother, he could really pull it out of the weeds when he wanted to.

  “It’s me, Mark. Your brother.” Mark poked at Isaac. “I got a haircut, and I didn’t hate it.”

  Isaac glanced at DeeDee, his brows raised. “Is that so? I’m happy to hear it. You were starting to look a little shaggy around the edges.”

  “I was not! You’re shaggy!”

  Who knew that wrestling and tussling with his handicapped brother could make a guy seem so hot?

  “You like your new clothes, don’t you, Mark? Are you sure you wouldn’t like to show them off for your brother?”

  “No,” Mark said. “I hate changing clothes.”

  “All right,” she said. “Thanks for a fun afternoon, Marco.”

  “Thank you for helping me shop, DeeDee,” Mark called, already focused on the television.

  “You’re welcome, Marcus. Any day.”

  He giggled as she’d expected. “My name is Mark!”

  “Okay, Marco Polo. Whatever you say.”

  “Mark!”

  “Market?” she called after him. “Marksman? Marvelous? Marsupial?”

  Isaac pulled her into the dining room. “He’s about at his limit, DeeDee. Though I confess, I’ve never seen him have such a good time with someone who teases him as much as you do. It’s mystifying.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a girl who knows how to get the best out of people.”

  “You’re a natural salesperson. I suppose that makes sense, with the modeling. What’s that if not selling? Women are frighteningly open to being told of their deficiencies.”

  DeeDee thought about Jon, always finding fault, never satisfied.

  Isaac touched the knuckle of his forefinger to her upper arm. “So let me be the one to say you’re doing an amazing job, DeeDee.”

  Chapter Ten

  A few days lat
er, DeeDee set aside the meal plan she was compiling for Mark and glanced at her cell phone. Ten minutes until he got home. She got to her feet and went to the refrigerator for the salad veggies.

  Mark had accepted the dietary improvements. He no longer argued about the daily walks, either. His endurance had improved and he wasn’t huffing so much at the hilly spots, which meant it was working. Sage’s chocolates were a powerful incentive.

  The activity was working for her, too. Between the chocolate and Mom’s care packages, she had to keep her metabolism revved. Fortunately, running up and down the stairs at Isaac’s burned a lot of calories, leaving her with a surprisingly pleasant tiredness at the end of the day.

  As she sliced into a tomato, a splat of juice escaped, landing on her jeans. She wiped it off, grateful she’d given in to Isaac’s suggestion that she go casual when she was with Mark. She still did her hair and makeup, of course. She’d seen Isaac’s look of male appreciation when her boobs had nearly made an appearance that day at the chocolate shop. While she didn’t want to care what he thought, it felt good to be… well… appreciated.

  Isaac’s unexpected compliment after her shopping trip with Mark still warmed her. Though, as if to make up for it, he’d been preoccupied, distant, and demanding since then.

  Her phone vibrated, indicating a text message. It was Isaac. From downstairs.

  Isaac: Don’t forget, you’re staying late tonight. Mark will need dinner.

  Yes, he’d told her about a dozen times. He had an important conference call that would go into the evening. She knew.

  DeeDee: Amazingly, I still haven’t forgotten. There’s a rotisserie chicken in the oven, and I’m making a salad right now. Also, it’s creepy to text someone when you’re in the same house.

  Maybe she should make some pasta, too. A small portion of carbs wouldn’t be bad for Mark. She got out a pot and put the water on to heat.

  Another buzz.

  Isaac: Thank you. And it’s not creepy. It’s efficient.

  She smiled. Isaac was all about efficiency. And order, despite the last stack of boxes remaining in the kitchen corner. She glanced around her. It was like a tornado blew the stuff in, and Isaac and Mark had simply opened doors and stepped aside. No wonder they had relied on takeout. It must drive Isaac nuts to be in here.