Dreaming in Chocolate

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  “Me too.” Having dealt with countless first-timers over the years, Penelope offered the woman a smile. A little getting-to-know-you chitchat went a long way to ease people into talking about magic and what they hoped it could do for them. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

  “I came in the other day. Your mom helped me with some Enlightenment hot chocolate.”

  “Ah, okay.” So not first-time jitters. This woman had dreamed of her future, and whatever she’d seen, it had her on edge.

  “Is it possible for the chocolates to go wrong somehow? For what I dreamed to be wrong?”

  “I’ve never seen it happen before,” Penelope said.

  The chocolates that affected emotions kicked in almost immediately and lasted for no more than a few hours. The ones that gave visions of the future resulted in one very vivid dream the next time the person went to sleep. And what part of the future they saw depended on the type of hot chocolate they had used.

  Sometimes the magic could simply not work. But work wrong? Never.

  A few customers asked for their money back or for a do-over. But only a handful actually received a second chance. And those were only granted on the rare occasions when the magic hadn’t worked at all.

  The woman gripped the berry-colored scarf double-looped around her neck with both hands. She didn’t look at Penelope when she said, “So, you’re saying I’m screwed.”

  “Not necessarily. Do you mind telling me what you saw?”

  “If you think you can help, sure.” She dropped her hands to the counter, locking them together as if in prayer. As if Penelope could save her from a future she didn’t want.

  Penelope wanted to tell her not to get her hopes up. That there was likely nothing anyone could do to change her fate. But she knew all too well how heartache could make you blind to logic. That it could steal your breath and leave you hollow inside. Even if only temporarily.

  “Okay. But first, I feel like I should know your name before I know what’s supposed to happen to you.”

  “I’m Zan. Or Suzanne, if you want.” She smiled, and for a second the fear retreated. “Zan Maslany.”

  “Oh, right. You bought the cafe over on Orchard Street.”

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  “Sorry. I should have known that. My head seems to be somewhere else today. So, what did you see in your dream?” Penelope asked.

  Zan curled her fingernails into the wooden counter as the memory of what she’d dreamed flooded her. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I saw my ex-boyfriend. He was in the cafe, drinking a cup of coffee and smiling at me. But he shouldn’t know where I am. Nobody knows for that exact reason. I gave up everything to get away from him but he’s going to find me anyway.”

  Penelope’s insides twisted at the thought of what else her chocolates had shown Zan. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not in the dream.” She shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her waist.

  But he had before she’d run away from him. The fear of it happening again was written all over Zan’s face.

  “What were you hoping the chocolates would show you? Not what you wanted to dream about specifically, but what you wanted to learn.”

  The hot chocolate worked best when the drinker thought about a specific thing they wanted to know. For the Enlightenment hot chocolate, it could be anything that would happen at any point in the future. People, places, emotions. But for the Corazón hot chocolate, it was always a question of who was their true love.

  “I wanted to know if I’d be safe here,” Zan said.

  “How did you feel in the dream? Were you scared of him?” Penelope asked, keeping her voice low and soothing. She checked to make sure her other customers were still engrossed in their tea and gossip so this story didn’t spread around town too.

  Zan shook her head. “No. I felt relieved. And that’s what really scares me. What if some stupid part of me still loves him and makes me forgive him? I don’t want to pack up and have to start over again someplace else, but I can’t stay here if he’s going to find me. If he’s going to smile at me like nothing ever happened.”

  But Zan would stay in Malarkey. And her ex would find her here. Even if she decided to leave town, he would show up just like he had in her dream, before she set foot outside of the town limits. Because that’s what her future held.

  Maybe if the Kismet hot chocolate worked the way they’d always believed it did, Penelope could tell Zan to stick it out until the Festival of Fate. Then she’d be able to change what she’d seen. But the festival now felt like a sham and she couldn’t give Zan false hope that things could be different.

  Penelope reached out and patted Zan’s arm. “I wish I could take back what you saw so you don’t have to remember it or tell you it’ll all turn out okay. But that’s not how it works. The future is what it is and now that you know, you’ll have to find a way to live with it. Not having a choice in how things turn out is the one flaw with our chocolates.”

  “Oh, Penelope, you know that’s not true,” Sabina said, waving a dismissive hand in the air as she joined them at the counter. “People always have a choice. And you, honey,” she added to Zan, “don’t listen to all her pessimism. Why don’t you try one of these hazelnut pralines and see if you don’t gain a little more clarity within a few hours.”

  “Mama, she doesn’t need more magic,” Penelope said.

  Zan shifted her focus to Sabina. “Do you have anything that will keep him from coming here? Or something that will guard my heart against him?”

  “No, you’ll just have to trust in yourself to be strong enough to handle him. But take these. I do think they’ll help in the short term.” Sabina removed two of the Clarity pralines from the display case and boxed them up.

  “What will they do to me?” Zan asked.

  “They will help you focus on a solution to your problem.”

  There was no point arguing with her mother. Sabina’s belief in the magic was infectious. And most people were more than ready to believe right along with her. Penelope forced a smile. “Good luck.”

  When Zan left, bag clutched to her chest, Sabina turned to Penelope and said, “I know you’ve always been a little cynical when it comes to the Corazón hot chocolate, but since when are you against all of them?”

  “I’m not, Mama. But I don’t see how giving that woman more magic will help.”

  “Well, for one, it would clear her mind so she can see the situation for what it is. And two, it might help her remember something from her dream that she didn’t before. Something that makes it seem less hopeless.” Sabina smoothed a hand over Penelope’s short crop of hair. Her sigh was bone-deep. “Maybe if you used a few of the chocolates, you’d remember how good the magic feels. And you might forget to be so scared of what the future may hold.”

  Penelope pulled away from her mom, her cheeks burning with a flash of anger. “I don’t need magic to tell me what’s in store for my life. Ella’s doctors painted a pretty clear picture of how the next six months are going to go. And past that, I don’t even want to think about it.”

  What Penelope couldn’t say was that she’d already dreamed of her true love. For a time, she’d thought it had been Noah. But he had wanted nothing to do with the future she offered him, and it wasn’t until she’d found out she was pregnant that she realized maybe he hadn’t been the one she’d been waiting for at all. Maybe Noah had just been in her life to bring her Ella.

  4

  Whispers of true love and destiny and happily ever after floated into the kitchen of the Chocolate Cottage a few mornings later. With the Festival of Fate just over a month away, people were coming in daily to see what their futures held—and if they’d need to wish for something different at the festival. Penelope rolled her eyes at the line of lovesick customers out front. Sure her chocolates helped people find true love, but did women really have to pin all of their happiness on finding their soul mates? Especially when there was no guarantee they’d
even want the fate the confections showed them.

  She let out a slow breath and scowled at the dark chocolate that had scalded in the double boiler. It clung in thick chunks to the bottom of the glass bowl, as if annoyed by her cynicism. She twisted the stove knob and killed the flame.

  “So, it’s gonna be that kind of day, huh?” Grabbing a towel from a hook on the wall, she wrapped it around the lip of the bowl to protect her fingers from the heat. Steam licked at her skin as she dumped the clumps into the trash. A familiar voice grew louder out front, wishing the customers good luck with their love lives.

  Like luck had anything to do with it.

  Megha Ghelani poked her head around the doorjamb a few seconds later. Her sharp cheekbones jutted out even farther when she flashed a wide smile at Penelope. “Have you seen him yet?”

  Penelope froze. The rumors must be true. She’d hoped like hell Noah wouldn’t come back, but apparently she hadn’t wished hard enough.

  “Seen who?” she asked.

  “I know you know, so don’t play dumb with me. Just because you were never hung up on Noah like the rest of us doesn’t diminish how effing gorgeous he is. And yes, that is present tense, ’cause damn that boy got even hotter with age.”

  “Of course he did,” she muttered. Her fingers still gripped the edge of the bowl, the heat seeping through the towel to burn her skin. She set it aside and rubbed her fingers on her apron. “And you can’t blame me for being the only one smart enough not to fall for his bad-boy charm.”

  The lie was so smooth she almost believed it herself.

  Whatever Penelope had had with Noah had been over and done with almost as soon as it started. There hadn’t been time before he was out of the picture to tell Megha she’d fallen for him.

  Megha leaned her hip against the wood trim and crossed her ankles so the toe of one black stiletto shoe rested against the floor, as if she could stay there all day gossiping. “I wish I knew how you do it. Hell, it’s been nine years since we graduated and just the mention of his name had me all flustered. Teach me, antilove guru. Show me how to resist him.”

  Penelope remembered the dream she’d had about Noah back when she was eighteen and stupid enough to believe in true love. It was so vivid, even after all this time, she could still hear the absolute certainty in his voice when he told her he loved her.

  No. Just no. She would not think about him that way. The chocolate was wrong.

  She shook her head and forced a smile. “Now that would be a good chocolate to make. A bad-decision repellent.”

  “You can’t seriously stand there and say that Noah Gregory wouldn’t be the best kind of bad decision,” Megha said.

  Penelope knew better than anyone just how bad a decision he was. And it was one she had no intention of ever repeating. Or admitting to.

  She shrugged, ignoring the nerves jumbling in her stomach at the thought of running into him after all this time. “Shouldn’t you be at the salon instead of over here bugging me about Noah?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” Megha lifted her hand in a half wave. Then she pointed her index finger in Penelope’s direction and walked backward out of the doorway. “But when you see him, we’ll find out if you’re really as immune to him as you say.”

  “That’ll be difficult since I don’t plan on seeing him,” Penelope called.

  Megha sang out, “Stubborn!” just before the front door closed behind her, and Penelope chuckled.

  They’d been friends before their ages hit double digits—plenty long enough for Megha to know just how stubborn Penelope could be.

  She turned back to the mess she’d made of the chocolate coating for the lavender caramels, set the bowl in the sink, then moved to the apothecary table to start again. The L-shaped table contained twenty-four hand-cut drawers, which were all slightly different sizes. The mother-of-pearl knobs gleamed against the dark reddish wood. The smooth rosewood gave off a faint sweet scent despite the lingering aroma of burnt chocolate permeating the air.

  Opening the top drawer on the short part of the L, she removed three bars of dark baking chocolate. They were cool to the touch despite the heat of the kitchen, and she slipped them into her apron pocket. Two drawers over, she pulled out the bottle of lavender extract that had refilled itself since she’d used it half an hour before. She trailed her fingers over the top of the table in gratitude. Then she snatched her hand back as she realized that if she believed in this magic, some small part of her also believed what she’d dreamed about Noah being her one true love.

  “I can keep from running into him, right?” she asked the empty room. “I’ll just stick close to home and it won’t be a problem.”

  “Did you say something?” her mom said when she glided into the room. Her gauzy red skirt danced around her legs and her shoes made the barest of scuffing sounds on the old wood floor. She continued without waiting for a response. “Love is certainly in the air lately. Every other customer who comes in, it seems like, wants to know who they are destined to love. The girl who just left even took home a half dozen of the Spark truffles to nudge her dream boy into making a move.”

  “Not that I mind the extra sale, but why doesn’t she just make the first move?”

  “Some girls like to be romanced, honey.”

  Penelope shot a look over her shoulder at her mom as she submerged her hands in the hot water. “Ah, yes, romance. I keep forgetting about that.” She grinned and then turned her attention back to the stubborn burnt chocolate she had to pry from the sides of the glass with her nails.

  “One of these days you’re going to fall madly in love, even if I have to use charmed chocolate to make it happen.”

  “Mama!” The bowl clanged against the metal sink basin when it slipped from her soapy fingers. She turned around and suds dripped from her hands onto the floor. Though her mother was only five three—barely an inch taller than Penelope—she could be downright immovable when she set her mind to something. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Her mom closed the distance and patted both of Penelope’s cheeks. “If I had a recipe, I would’ve done it years ago. You’re too young to spend the rest of your life alone. You deserve to be happy, honey.”

  “I am happy. All things considered. And I won’t be alone. I’ve got you to keep me company. Plus, the last thing Ella needs right now is some new person coming into our lives and throwing everything off-kilter.” And the last thing Penelope needed was for her mom to know how close that was to becoming a reality. She gave a small smile and told herself that just because Noah was back in town didn’t mean he would ever find out Ella was his. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to her mom’s cheek. “Now, I’ve got to redo this batch of chocolate for the caramels, so take your romance-pushing self back out front and stop distracting me.” She smiled and gave her mom’s shoulder a playful nudge.

  “Fine. But tomorrow I’m candying and you are on helping-couples-fall-in-love duty,” her mom said.

  “As long as it’s not me, I’m all over it.”

  “I know falling in love is the last thing you want to think about right now. But I refuse to believe that’s not something you want eventually. So whatever is keeping you from wanting it, you’ve gotta let it go, honey.”

  Penelope nodded, knowing it was pointless. For her it wasn’t a what, but a who. And she’d let him go a long time ago.

  * * *

  Penelope was early to pick up Ella from school, but she’d needed to clear her head. All the talk about Noah and love that morning had her nerves buzzing. Despite the chill in the air, she stood halfway down the sidewalk, eyes closed with her face tipped up toward the sun, letting its warmth calm her.

  “Penelope Dalton,” someone said from behind her, more amusement than question.

  A hand nudged her elbow, and she turned at the light pressure. Noah dropped his hand after a second too long. Her skin warmed beneath her thick cotton shirt as if the contact had been skin to skin. He had grown into his broad shoulders, and the f
ormer boyishness in his face had sharpened so the line of his jaw was hard even under the layer of stubble. His blond hair had darkened into something closer to caramel but still had the wild, messy look she’d once found endearing. The whisper of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Penelope’s lips automatically twisted into a frown.

  “Yep, definitely Penelope,” he said with a short laugh.

  He was nearly a foot taller than her so she spoke to his chest. “Hey, Noah,” she managed past the tightness in her throat. She forced herself to look at his face again.

  He let his murky hazel eyes roam over her, rubbing his knuckles back and forth on his jaw. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you today.”

  “It wasn’t really on my agenda either.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t mean seeing you is a bad thing. It’s just a surprise, that’s all.” He shrugged, but when he looked at her, his gaze held steady. “You look just the way I remember. Except the hair. Why’d you ditch the teal?”

  She smoothed down the paisley head scarf hiding most of her dark-brown hair. “Teal hair wasn’t exactly business-friendly around here.” Not that anyone had really cared about her hair color. They were all more shocked that a good girl like Penelope, who always volunteered to help with town functions and planned to be a teacher after college, had ended up pregnant out of wedlock. And that she claimed the father was just some nameless guy she’d shared one careless night with.

  “Depends on the business. The bartenders and servers in my brother’s bar get away with all kinds of crazy shit.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the bar type,” she said.

  Noah shoved his hands in the back pockets of his snug jeans. His lips parted just enough for breath to slip through. The silence built between them, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeats. He watched the main door of the school over her shoulder. She resisted the urge to check her watch.