Ella struggled against her hold and managed to twist around. “You’re supposed to be here. With us. See?” She pulled something from the collar of her shirt and thrust it toward him. The compass sat faceup on her palm, the dial spinning madly around and around. It snapped to a stop so it pointed one end at Ella and Penelope and the other at Noah. When Penelope reached for it, Ella jerked her arm back, closing her fingers to hide it from view. “Wait!”
“Ella,” she warned, stretching out the syllables. She waited for her daughter to meet her eyes before continuing, “I thought I told you to leave that at home this morning.”
“But it’s doing it for him too, just like I knew it would. This proves he’s supposed to stay.”
The wood creaked when Noah shifted on the stool. River slipped her hand into his. A smear of chocolate had dried into a crust above her top lip.
“I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Or if I even understand it,” he said. He ran his free hand through his hair and leveled his gaze on Ella.
“It’s good,” Ella told him. She beamed at him and added, “Really, really good. You’re finally here. That’s better than cake for breakfast.”
Noah returned the smile, the resemblance between the two unmistakable. It was easier to ignore the traits Ella got from him when he wasn’t around. But side by side, Penelope wondered how long it would be before other people started noticing, comparing. If she was lucky, Noah would be gone before that happened.
But when had she been lucky where he was concerned?
“It’s hard to argue with that,” he said.
Penelope nudged Ella another step back. “This is what I was talking about, Noah. Saying things like that, encouraging her infatuation with you, doesn’t help.”
“I’ll work on it, okay?” Noah said. “As long as you work on giving me a chance.”
“You’re not really in a position to bargain with me. My kid, my rules.”
“Point taken.” He straightened on the stool, pulling his shoulders back and nodding at her.
Ella tipped her head up to look at Penelope. Her long lashes fluttered when she inhaled a deep breath. “Do I get a say?”
“Nope,” Penelope said. She cupped Ella’s face to keep her from pulling away. “And unless you want me to take the necklace away right now, you need to go put it in your bag without arguing. Got it?”
When Penelope released her, Ella tugged the chain from around her neck and glanced at Noah again. She didn’t smile. She just studied him a moment then turned away. Her footsteps were sluggish as she walked to her backpack and zipped the necklace inside.
How was Penelope supposed to keep Noah safely on the periphery of their lives when Ella was so intent on making him an integral part?
18
Noah thought that his nicotine cravings would’ve calmed down after a few weeks of abstinence, but walking through the cloud of smoke from some of the waitstaff and kitchen guys in the parking lot on his break left an ache in the back of his throat. He sped up to get past it and hooked a right onto Hawthorne Street. Walking a six-block loop through downtown had become a ritual. As much to calm his jittery nerves as to clear his head.
When anyone asked him why he left town in the first place, he always said small-town life was akin to living in an ant farm. Same view. Same people. Same boring life day in and day out. But the longer he stayed in Malarkey—and the more he allowed himself to be a part of life there—he had to admit it felt really damn good knowing the people in the stories his customers shared while they knocked back a few beers at the end of the night. He liked being someplace where he was more than just the bartender people unloaded their problems on. Where he could feel like part of his family again.
Where he could maybe do something about the real reason he’d stayed away so long.
Rounding the corner onto Park Street, Noah instinctively sought out the Chocolate Cottage amid the other shops. The streetlights caught on the gold lettering on the windows, making it hard to miss. It wasn’t a coincidence his nightly walks took him past Penelope’s chocolate shop. The chocolates had once told her that Noah would be her true love. And at eighteen, that had scared the shit out of him. Still did, if he was being brutally honest, which was how he preferred to do things these days. But somewhere in the middle of all of the fear was this tiny glint of hope that she had been right.
He still hadn’t figured out what the hell to do about that yet. But since Tucker had a month or more before his cast would come off, Noah had plenty of time to decide if he wanted to try and win her back.
A light burned in the back of the chocolate shop. Voices that didn’t belong to Penelope or her mom carried out the cracked front door. Noah stopped when he reached it and flicked the broken door handle with his finger. Swearing, he pushed inside as quietly as he could. He shouldn’t have bothered with being stealthy. The two idiot teens who had broken in were too busy ransacking a table at the back of the kitchen area to even notice him.
“Finding anything good in there?” Noah asked.
The boys shot away from the table as if it had suddenly burst into flames. The one with shaggy blond hair and a Death Cab tee tripped over an empty drawer they’d thrown on the floor during their search and almost went down on his ass. His friend’s death grip on his hoodie was the only thing that saved him.
This was going to be too easy. Noah almost felt sorry for them. But then he thought of Penelope coming into work in the morning and finding the place trashed, and he didn’t mind what he was about to do so much. Somebody had to teach them a lesson.
And if he could have a little fun while doing it, all the better.
“Don’t let me stop you. I’ve been wondering how that table worked since I was your age. I grew up with the girl who owns it. Always figured she’d find a way to hex me if I did what you two are doing, though.”
Sad thing was, he was telling the truth. Discovering the secrets behind the Daltons’ magic had never been worth the risk of losing Penelope’s trust. But then he’d managed to do that anyway.
“We’re just looking,” one of them said. The ass-saver, not the ass-save-ee.
“Yeah, Penelope wouldn’t really curse us for that. Would she?” the second one said.
Noah scratched his chin to keep from laughing at them. “Depends on what you were hoping to find.”
“We were looking for the fate-changing hot chocolate recipe. There’re these girls at school who would do pretty much anything to get their hands on it. So we kinda told them we could get it.”
“It’s not even about the girls. If we had the magic, then we’d still be able to change things. Make our futures whatever we wanted. And no one would be able to stop us from using it just because they felt like it.” The kid pointed an accusing finger at the table. “But there’s nothing here. Like literally nothing. Every drawer is effing empty.”
Either those two had piss-poor luck or the table was capable of more magic than any of them knew. And if messing with them wasn’t so much fun, Noah might have shared his theories. “Maybe she knew you were coming and cleaned it out ahead of time.”
“You mean she’s psychic too?”
“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Noah said. Some of the chocolates did show the future, after all. And suddenly the idea that Penelope was psychic didn’t seem as far-fetched. “What are your names?”
“Justin,” ass-saver said, biting off the word so it was all sharp edges.
“Patrick,” the other one added. He rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his eyes from Noah to his friend. “Dude, we’ve gotta get out of here before she finds us.”
“Sorry, guys, but the only place you’re going now is back to my bar with me so I can call your parents,” Noah said.
He inwardly cringed. Calling their parents? God, what had gotten into him? He sounded like such a prick. Teenage Noah would be so embarrassed for turning into Current Noah.
“Are you serious?” Justin asked.
Patrick bent down, gathered three of the
farthest-flung drawers, and shoved them back into their holes in the table. He tried to fit one of them into four different slots before he found one the right size. “Listen, we’ll put it all back the way we found it and no one besides the three of us has to know.”
Noah considered it. He could send the boys on their way then see if he had any better luck getting answers out of the table. Answers that could tell him if the future Penelope had once seen with him was even still a possibility. But if he went behind her back like that, he would shred the little bit of trust they’d started to rebuild. “I think she might know something’s up when she sees how you mangled her doorknob.”
“I told you we should’ve just tried to pick it.”
“Right. ’Cause that’s not a skill you have to learn or anything.”
“Next time,” Noah said, hoping they weren’t stupid enough to actually try again. “Now get all this cleaned up. And don’t even think about running because I’ve got pictures of you both on my phone and I’ll call the cops instead of your parents.”
But what he didn’t have on his phone was Penelope’s number so he could give her a heads-up before she got to work in the morning. This was Malarkey, though. One of his customers was bound to know her number or, at the very least, where she lived now.
* * *
Penelope had put Ella to bed hours before and had talked herself out of checking on her a good dozen times. Ella’s headache had been minor in comparison to some she’d had, but that was little consolation. The fact that it had been there at all was more effective at keeping Penelope awake than a strong hit of caffeine.
Giving up on sleep, she stopped at Ella’s open door long enough to be certain her daughter was okay. One leg dangled off the side of the bed, but she slept soundlessly. Penelope walked downstairs, careful to keep her footfalls as soft as possible. In the kitchen she made a cup of tea and poured a generous finger of bourbon into it. Then she added one ice cube to dull the bite a bit. She took a long sip. The combination of hot water and alcohol lit a trail of fire through her chest. It was almost strong enough to burn up the helplessness festering inside.
She carried her drink into the living room and settled in the corner of the couch. The stereo came to life with the push of a button. Her favorite Rosi Golan album had been disk four in the CD changer for a few years. She listened to it often enough there was no reason to swap it out for anything else. When the first chords of “Think of Me” played low enough that it wouldn’t disturb Ella upstairs, the knots in her shoulders loosened. Maybe by the end of the album she’d be able to sleep.
A few seconds into the third song, someone knocked on her door. Penelope jolted, sending tea sloshing over the side of the cup onto her hand. She set the mug on a stack of Christmas toy catalogs that had come in the mail and wiped her wet hand on her pajama pants. She peeked out one of the windows flanking the door. There was definitely someone on her porch, but in the darkness she could only make out the shape of the hulking mass, no features to clue her in as to who it was. She hesitated. The door was unlocked, like most of the homes in Malarkey. And the temptation to bolt the door made her fingers twitch. Which was ridiculous. No one in town would hurt her, even if they were upset about the festival. They’d leave more notes or possibly start a petition to make her change her mind. But scare tactics and violence weren’t Malarkey’s style.
“Whoever’s outside is harmless,” she whispered to herself. She eyed the table lamp a few feet away just in case. It was a tall, ceramic cylinder in a shade of green so pale it almost looked white, and just wide enough for her fingers not to touch when wrapped around it. She could sacrifice it if she had to.
She cracked the door open and the light from the lamp rushed out, pausing on Noah in his brown leather jacket and dark-wash jeans before getting sucked up by the night.
“Noah?” Penelope sagged against the door, blocking the slim opening. She kept one hand on the knob, the other braced against the jamb. “How do you even know where I live?”
One side of his mouth quirked up in amusement while the rest of his features remained serious, hardened. Whatever he’d come for, it wasn’t a social call. “Seriously? That’s what you’re starting with? Not ‘Hey, Noah. It’s like eleven thirty on a Tuesday night. And I know you should be at work instead of standing oh-so-patiently on my doorstep while I debate letting you in, so something must be wrong.’” He pitched his voice higher on the last few words.
“I don’t sound like that,” she said.
He hung his head so a hunk of hair fell across his face. “That’s not the point.”
“Okay. So what’s wrong?”
“I caught some kids breaking into your shop.”
Unlike her house, the shop she did lock. She’d considered an alarm system too, but that would have required calling a company from out of town to come and install it and it had never seemed worth the effort.
Penelope managed to talk past the lump of worry in her throat. “Into my shop?”
“Well, it would be pretty pointless for me to come all the way over here to tell you that they broke into someone else’s shop.” Noah stepped forward, crowding her.
“Damn it,” she whispered. She pressed a fist to her chest, her heart slapping frantically back at it. The Chocolate Cottage was more than just her job. But what if someone had decided to take it from her as retribution for her refusing to help with the festival? Her hand fell away from the door, and she used the one still clutching the doorjamb to keep her steady. “Did they damage anything? Take anything?”
“Other than the doorknob, I think everything is okay. I did a quick sweep of the place to make sure before I hauled them back to the bar to wait for their parents to come get their sorry asses. I think they were looking for something in that table with all the drawers. A bunch of them were already pulled out and tossed on the floor when they came up empty.”
“The drawers were empty?” Her first instinct was to run upstairs, scoop Ella out of bed, and drive over there to make sure the table was safe. That they hadn’t actually found a recipe in one of the drawers. Though even if they had, they wouldn’t have been able to read it. The table’s fail-safe against thieves and overly eager patrons would ensure that. But they could have found ingredients or simply eaten some of the chocolates already in the display case, hoping that would help them find whatever it was they wanted in the first place.
“Yeah, they were. But the way you just said that makes me think they weren’t supposed to be.”
Relief flooded her, and for the first time she noticed the frigid night air seeping through her thin pajama pants. Cinching her overlong cardigan tighter around her waist, she said, “The table they were messing with is the one that gives us all of our recipes. It probably hid everything that’s inside to keep them from getting their hands on anything.”
He gave her that half smile again. The not-quite-teasing, not-quite-serious one. How was she ever supposed to tell if he meant what he was saying when he used that smile?
“You say that like it’s a living thing. Not something that was once a living tree but is now very much a hunk of dead wood,” he said.
“It’s a magic-producing table, Noah. It’s not exactly normal.” Penelope hugged the door closer again to keep the heat inside. Noah must have been cold too, but she couldn’t bring herself to invite him in. While she was grateful he’d told her about the break-in so quickly, the scales were still tipped heavily on the jerk-who-broke-her-heart side of things. “I wasn’t kidding, you know. How did you know where I live?”
“You really have to ask that in a place as tight-knit as Malarkey? There were at least five customers at the bar who could’ve given me directions.”
Right. Of course he’d had to ask someone. Just because she’d been plagued with thoughts of him for the past few weeks didn’t mean he’d been checking up on her since he came back to town. “And what about the kids in my store? How did you know they were there?”
He cupped his
hands in front of his mouth and huffed hot breath onto them. “Sometimes I go for walks on my breaks. Nicotine withdrawal makes me a little antsy so the cold air and the constant movement keep me thinking about other things. Your shop is on my normal loop. They weren’t exactly smart about breaking in. Busted door handle. Lights on in the back. Talking at a normal volume. Wasn’t hard to spot them.”
“Lucky for me then.”
“I didn’t call Martin over at the station yet. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to involve the cops or just handle things on your own.”
The less attention this whole thing got, the better it would be for everyone. She sighed and said, “Hopefully having their parents called will be enough to keep them from doing something like this again.”
“Let’s hope. If not, I’ve got their names and I snapped a few photos of them before I let them know I was there just in case they managed to get by me.”
“You’ve had this happen before?”
He let out a quiet laugh. “I’ve dealt with my share of underagers doing stupid shit. They’re a lot more cooperative if you’ve got proof. And usually they don’t do it again. At least not to me. Which in this case means not to you either.”
“Thanks, Noah,” she said. She turned as Ella’s bare feet stomped down the stairs. “Hey, sweetie, what are you doing out of bed?”
Ella slid on the rug at the bottom of the steps and grabbed on to Penelope’s waist to stop herself. Her eyes brimmed with excitement. “I woke up because I heard this little scritching sound by my bed.” She scratched her fingers in the air for emphasis. “At first I thought it was a spider or something and I was too scared to even move. But when I turned on my light, I saw it was my necklace! It was going crazy, Mama. And I thought maybe there was a homeless kitty outside or something and I raced down here so I didn’t miss my chance to get him.”
A kitten would be so much better than the reason that popped into Penelope’s head. At least the kitten was something they both wanted. If the necklace was reacting to Noah’s presence, then she would have to admit that he had a place in their daughter’s life. Whether Penelope wanted him there or not.
Dreaming in Chocolate Page 13
