Dreaming in Chocolate

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  Penelope just nodded. They both knew there was no way she could say no to that.

  * * *

  Penelope woke up the next morning in a cold sweat from a dream she couldn’t remember. She was only vaguely aware that it involved Noah. She rubbed her eyes, as if that would make the image disappear, and silently told her subconscious to lay the hell off.

  As she stood at the kitchen sink an hour later slicing an apple for Ella’s lunch, a trail of goose bumps crawled up her arms. She wouldn’t let him do this to her again. Get under her skin and into her thoughts. It was a slippery slope from there to him working his way back into her heart. And he had no place there, no matter what Ella thought. She dumped the apple slices into a zip-top bag and the paring knife into the sink. Dropping to her elbows, she blew out a breath.

  He’d only been back a handful of days and he was already driving her crazy. How was she supposed to last a few months?

  Penelope flicked a stray seed into the sink where it landed with a soft plink. Then she reached for her coffee cup and took a sip. Oversugared, it was almost too sweet to drink now that it had cooled to room temperature. Whatever the case, she’d have to find a way to tell him to stay away without making it seem like his presence was getting to her. That would just pique his interest and she’d have an even harder time avoiding him.

  And there was still Ella’s infatuation with him to contend with. Penelope would have to get a handle on that before it snowballed.

  She pushed away from the counter and walked to the foot of the stairs. Music from Ella’s alarm hummed just loud enough for her to know it was still going off twenty minutes after Ella should have gotten up. She rested her hand on the newel post, wiping away a thin layer of dust, and called, “Ella, if your cute little butt isn’t in the kitchen in ten seconds I will drag you out of that bed by your toes.”

  “But it’s cold,” Ella whined back.

  “I know it is.”

  If the drab light eking in through the tall, skinny windows flanking the front door was any indication, today would be the kind of spit-freezing day that would take most people the better part of a week to forget. Penelope shivered again and walked back to the kitchen.

  Then she started counting.

  By eight and a half, Ella was skidding on the tile floor in her sock feet like a champion skier, though she’d never stepped foot on the slopes. Learning to ski was on Ella’s list, but the antiseizure medication she took daily messed with her balance. So skiing was a disaster waiting to happen. “That was close.”

  “Yes, it was,” Penelope said, turning away so Ella wouldn’t see her trying not to laugh.

  “I thought maybe it would keep snowing.” Ella’s bottom lip jutted out as she scooted onto a stool at the island. “School would’ve closed and I could’ve gone to work with you and maybe River would’ve come in and I could’ve invited her for a sleepover.”

  “I thought you wanted to go to Grams’s tonight?” Penelope asked. She poured milk over the bowl of oatmeal she’d prepped earlier, stuck it in the microwave, and set the timer.

  “I do. River could come with me. And maybe if Grams gave us as many chocolate chip cookies as we wanted, River might want to be my friend. I even put River on my list, that’s how much I want it to happen. And I’m gonna use my wish at the festival to make sure we’ll be BFFs.”

  Her chest constricted at the hope in Ella’s voice. This girl, who always seemed happy playing alone in her room, who had a constant smile despite the limitations her illness put on her life, who spent her free time sitting in front of the apothecary table just to see what new surprise it would give up, was lonely.

  Penelope forced a smile and said, “Maybe next weekend. I’ll call her mom and ask, okay?”

  She would even put up with spending time around Noah if it meant making her daughter happy.

  6

  Any snow that had fallen the night before had either already melted or turned to gray slush on the side of the roads, but Penelope wore her sky-blue snow boots anyway. They were lined with thick magenta fleece, and Ella, who had a kid-sized pair to match, insisted they both wear them. The three inches of skin between the hem of her navy cotton skirt and the top of the boots tingled when she walked inside the shop. She shrugged out of her coat. Folding it, she set it on one of the empty work tables.

  Her mom’s gaze swept over the coat before focusing on Penelope. Her eyes were large and dark, dark brown. “You’re here early.”

  “Not really,” Penelope said. Though it had taken a week or so to get used to getting Ella to school before eight instead of going to the hospital three days a week for treatment.

  She swapped out her boots for a pair of navy flats from her bag and donned an apron. The air in the shop was cool, as much to keep the chocolates from melting as to entice more customers to sit and enjoy a steaming mug of hot chocolate—either the dream-inducing kind they made or the gourmet powdered stuff they bought in bulk.

  “You look a little pale. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Sabina asked in a thick voice that drawled out slower than usual.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Sabina’s laugh shook her shoulders and made her eyes crinkle at the corners. “That’s a very noncommittal answer.”

  “Well, nothing’s wrong. I just feel off.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “Ella and I had a rough night,” Penelope said, not wanting to go over it all again.

  Her mom finished rolling the truffle between her palms and set it on the silicone sheet. Her hands had a thin layer of chocolate coating them. “I’m going to need a little more than that, Penelope. You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

  “I’m fine. It’s just—” She caught herself. How was she supposed to tell her mom that the magic had been wrong about her having a future with Noah? That she was a hypocrite for telling others to believe in a magic that had failed her? Or worse, that she was denying Ella her father?

  She settled for a version of the truth. “We couldn’t sleep. The house was really cold. I think I need to get the heat checked.”

  “This coming from the girl who plays in the snow in short-sleeve shirts and no gloves?”

  That had only happened once in high school when she and Megha experimented with a recipe for hot chocolate bonbons and it backfired, leaving them perfectly warm for days no matter the temperature outside. That was when Penelope had learned the consequences of tasting anything she made from the recipes the apothecary table gifted them. The magic was twice as potent and lasted considerably longer when they used it on themselves.

  “I’m going to call your dad and see if he can fit you in between other patients today. You need to be checked out,” Sabina said.

  Penelope deflated at the mention of her dad, as if he was still alive. She turned and laid a hand on her mom’s shoulder, digging her fingers in just hard enough to make her mom look up from the chocolates she was dusting with cocoa powder. “Mama, what did you eat?” The words almost sighed out of her.

  Sabina smiled. Too wide, too happy. Too like someone who was living in a fantasy world instead of reality. “I might’ve tasted a few things as I was working. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Are those the Bittersweet truffles?” The 75 percent dark cocoa truffles promoted happiness, and her mom’s version of happy involved her dad still being alive. With as much stress as Penelope and her mom had been under since Ella’s diagnosis, she could see how her mom might get distracted around the magic—or tempted by it. “You can’t do that, Mama. You know it messes with your head. How much have you had?” She let her hand fall.

  “It was just a bite or two. Not enough for the chocolate to affect me. I can still work.”

  No, you can’t. Not when you think Daddy is still alive. Who knows what you’ll say to customers? Penelope cupped her mom’s elbow and said, “Why don’t you go take a break? You can sit on the settee and rest until we open. Sound good?”

  Her mom moved
with her, shuffling her feet as they walked out front. “I still think you need to let your father check you out. You know how he worries about you.”

  “I will. Later this afternoon,” Penelope agreed. She kept her grip firm on her mom and eased her down onto the plush velvety seat by the front window. “I’ll go finish the truffles. Do you want some water?”

  Her mom’s eyes fluttered closed as she laid her head back on the curved headrest at one end. She tucked her legs under her, fanning her long skirt over her knees so it grazed the floor. “Maybe just a sip,” she said. She stretched her fingers out, groping for Penelope’s. When she found them, she squeezed once, twice. “Don’t tell your father you saw me like this.”

  “I won’t,” Penelope said and went back to the kitchen as the magic lulled her mom to sleep.

  * * *

  Most of the chocolates wore off within a few hours. But since her mom ate ones she had made, the effects could last infinitely longer. Penelope finished rolling the last two dozen truffles from the batch her mom had started. Then she made enough Enlightenment hot chocolate and spicy Corazón hot chocolate mixes to refill the depleted glass jars in the pantry.

  Over the next hour, Penelope served customer after customer while Sabina slept off her magical overdose on the settee.

  Penelope had always believed their magic helped people. That it gave them hope. She felt it like a current of electricity running beneath her skin. When she looked at her mom, that spark fizzled, leaving a trail of numbness along her arms. She rubbed them to coax some feeling back.

  After the last customer in line left, with a half dozen espresso-filled Red Eye truffles to help him stay awake during his overnight rotations at the firehouse, she added a lemon wedge and lavender honey to a mug of hot water for her mom. But the settee was empty. And her mom was on the sidewalk out front talking with Noah.

  Penelope set the cup on the table on her way out the door. They both turned and smiled.

  “Noah was just telling me that his niece and Ella are friends. You might have been right about her going back to school. It’s good she has a friend her age to play with. You two will have to get them together soon,” her mom said.

  Penelope shook her head before Sabina tried to play matchmaker for her and Noah. “Actually, Ella and I were talking about that this morning. I need to call River’s mom and make plans.”

  “If you could set up a play date for Tucker at the same time as River, Layne would be eternally grateful,” Noah said.

  “It must be hard for him to get out of the house with a broken leg. Penelope’s dad was in a bad car accident once. He broke all sorts of things, but I didn’t mind having him around more. It was much better than the alternative,” Sabina said.

  Penelope would have preferred her mom’s alternate version of history in which her dad had only been hurt in the crash instead of killed. But not even their magic could make that come true. Penelope rubbed her mom’s back. “Mama,” she cautioned, “maybe you should go lie down for a little longer.”

  Sabina looked between Penelope and Noah, her dilated eyes glinting with a hint of reality. “Okay. That’s probably a good idea.”

  “I’ll be right in.” She watched through the window, waiting for her mom to settle onto the settee before turning her attention back to Noah. He was still looking over her shoulder, focusing on her mom.

  “Is she okay?” he asked.

  “She’s not quite herself this morning, but she’s fine.” Or she would be once the chocolates wore off.

  Noah shrugged. He settled his gaze on hers and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. “Hey, so I’m pretty sure one of my brother’s customers has a thing for your mom.”

  “Marco?” she asked.

  “Dr. Wiley? Pretty much the epitome of the Southern Gentleman, with impeccable taste in bourbon and women?”

  “I can’t vouch for his taste in alcohol, but the other descriptions are spot-on.”

  Since Ella had gotten sick, Marco had been coming into the shop at least twice a week, always when Sabina was working. He’d order two bourbon truffles and a black coffee to go, and then he’d linger at the door, a wistful smile lighting up his face as he wished her a good day. Sometimes Penelope had to prod her mom in the back to get her to notice him. And even then, Sabina only saw a longtime friend who liked his chocolate.

  “How do you know he likes my mom?” she asked.

  Noah grinned at her, enjoying that he was right. “He came in last night and we had a nice little chat about you and your mom. It was a full-on Dalton-girl lovefest. He said she was the most exquisite woman he’d ever seen and then something about how he’d been waiting for Ella to get better before asking your mom to go to dinner with him. He talked like landing a date with her was his Holy Grail or something.”

  Penelope sighed. How a woman who dealt in love on a daily basis could miss it when it was smiling right at her boggled her mind. “It probably seems like an impossible quest. She’s not always attuned to the world around her.”

  “No,” Noah said, shaking his head. He dragged a hand through his hair to wrangle the pieces that had fallen across his eyes. “I think it’s more that he feels he needs to prove he’s worthy of her love before he can actually have it.”

  “He’d be better off just asking her and not taking no for an answer.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass that along next time he’s in.”

  A little real-life romance had to be better than relying on the Bittersweet truffles to hold on to the love she’d lost. At least Penelope hoped her mom would see it that way if Marco ever got up the courage to ask her out. And with a little push from Noah, that might happen sooner rather than later.

  She turned to see her mom watching them, and the smile Sabina sent Penelope—or possibly Noah—was purposeful, as if to say she approved of whatever was happening between the two.

  Penelope tried to project the words nothing is happening directly into her mom’s brain with one long stare. When Sabina looked away, Penelope allowed herself a small victory smile.

  “Okay, so what’s up with Ella?” Noah asked. “Dr. Wiley didn’t really say much other than she’d been sick and is better now.”

  The whole town assumed that because Ella was back in school that the latest round of radiation had worked. And Penelope hadn’t bothered to correct them. She caught enough flack about her decision from her mom. She didn’t need the whole town telling her how to let her kid die. Because not dying wasn’t an option anymore. The only say she had in the matter was whether or not Ella’s final few months would be spent stuck in a hospital pretending the doctors could do something for her.

  A sliver of guilt snuck in anyway.

  It didn’t matter that Noah didn’t know Ella was his. That he didn’t even care he and Penelope slept together in the first place. His daughter was dying, and a small part of Penelope thought he deserved to know.

  She shoved the guilt down—even farther down than the feelings for Noah she’d never quite been able to rid herself of—and wrapped her fingers around the ends of her shirtsleeves, pulling the fabric into her clenched fists. “She’s just had some issues with headaches,” she said. Not a complete lie. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Hey, no need to get all territorial. I just wanted to make sure she’s okay. Just thinking about something serious happening to Fish makes me nauseous, so I can’t imagine living through it.”

  Living through it wasn’t the hard part. It was the living after it that made Penelope wish she could just go numb. She hadn’t bothered to read the new recipe for curing heartbreak, but maybe the apothecary table had already given her a way to survive. “I hope you never find out.”

  “Me too,” he said. He tapped his fingers to his chest right over his heart. “Your mom mentioned that you’re kidless for the night. I’ll be behind the bar at Rehab until closing. If you come by, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t,” she said, ignoring the way her stomach
jumped in response. Noah had no place in her life, or Ella’s, and she intended to keep it that way.

  “It’s an open-ended offer. At least while I’m in town. But maybe you’d rather sit at home drinking your magic hot chocolate and dreaming of your perfect guy.”

  A stab of residual heartbreak for the girl she’d once been pierced her chest. How stupid she’d been to believe Noah was her future. “I don’t drink our hot chocolate anymore.” She took a step toward the door and rested her hand on the knob. The cold metal bit at her skin. “And I certainly don’t trust its judgment when it comes to who I’m supposed to love.”

  Noah dropped his head like her answer disappointed him. When he looked at her, all traces of the emotion had vanished. The muscles in his jaw tensed. “That’s probably smart. I mean, you wouldn’t want to fall for the wrong guy again. That would be bad for business.”

  “Just don’t, Noah.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t act like you know anything about me,” Penelope said. She tightened her fingers around the doorknob. “Or like you care about what my chocolates can or can’t do.”

  “C’mon, Penelope. I know you well enough to know that if you didn’t believe in the magic of your chocolates you wouldn’t be selling them or still using them at the Festival of Fate.” He pointed to a festival banner bracketed to the lamppost a few feet away.

  It read: YOUR FATE AWAITS.

  Dozens of identical banners hung along the old brick streets of downtown in preparation for the festival a month away.

  The festival had always been Penelope’s favorite time of the year. One day when the whole town came together to celebrate their deepest desires for the future with frothy cups of hot chocolate and marshmallows toasting over the bonfire and enough laughter that the air rang with it for days after. But after the past year, Penelope knew one thing for certain. The Kismet hot chocolate was a lie. It didn’t work.

  She couldn’t reveal that without telling everyone her daughter was dying. But could she continue to pretend the festival would change anyone’s future? A sharp pang shot through her chest, and she swallowed hard to relieve some of the pressure. She just needed to get through a few more weeks without letting slip to anyone that the festival was nothing more than praying for things that would never come true. The future was set, and no amount of hot chocolate or wishing otherwise would change that.