by R. R. Banks
Over the next few days, I cloistered myself in my kitchen both at home and at the shop, trying to come up with something new. I didn't even know the man's name, and yet I was turning myself into a culinary mad scientist trying to craft something that he would enjoy. Not knowing what he might enjoy, however, made this more difficult. Would he like something more classic? Or would he prefer an adventurous flavor combination? Would he want a solid, creamy filling? Or would he be excited by something liquidy or even crunchy?
The longer that I thought about the different flavor options, the more personal it felt, and I found my mouth watering and my body tingling when I thought about him putting the chocolate on his tongue and licking the sweet filling from his lips.
Three days after his first visit, he walked into the shop again. He was smiling, his eyes locked on me as he crossed the tile and came up to the counter. I offered him a smile, proud of myself for not giggling and somewhat hating myself that I would even feel like that was potentially a legitimate response.
"Hi, there," he said.
"You came back."
"I said I would." We smiled a little bigger at each other and he extended his hand. "I'm Jackson," he said.
I took his hand and he shook it.
"Gabrielle," I said. "It's nice to meet you, Jackson."
"Does anyone ever call you Gabby?"
My nose wrinkled.
"Not if they expect me to answer them."
Jackson laughed.
"Alright, then. So, Gabrielle, do you have a special treat for me?"
I felt a shiver roll through me. It felt like so much more than a question about truffles. I nodded.
"I do," I said. I reached into the case and pulled out the tray that I had tucked at the bottom. "It's a green apple pate de fruit surrounded by caramel and coated in white chocolate and then milk chocolate."
"What are the sparkly things?" he asked as I handed him one of the confections.
I laughed, not expecting that from someone who looked and carried himself like him.
"That's sanding sugar," I said. "I was inspired by the caramel apples I used to eat with my sister when we went to theme parks on our family vacations when I was younger. They always had milk chocolate and then white chocolate with colored sanding sugar."
"So why did you do the milk chocolate on top?"
"I like the way it looks," I admitted.
He nodded.
"Fair enough."
I felt strangely nervous as he looked at the chocolate again and then took a bite out of it. His eyes widened and he popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth.
"That's amazing," he said.
Isn't that what he said last time?
"Thank you."
We've had this conversation.
"Pack them up," he said.
"How many?"
"All of them."
I blinked a few times.
"All of them?"
"All of them. I have clients I want to send gifts to and these are perfect. There's a good chance that several of them are going to be gone while I'm still in the car."
I packed the boxes, reminding myself again that I probably needed to start investing in larger boxes, if only for the chance that he would keep coming in and buying me out. Skylar hadn't come into the shop that day and the fact that we were alone was almost tangible. It took me several minutes to fill all of the boxes and I piled them on the counter again.
"I'll be right back," I said and went into the storeroom to get one of the plastic crates from the storeroom. I carried it back toward the front. "It's not glamorous, but it will hold the boxes."
Just like the first time, I came out of the kitchen and Jackson was gone.
Again all of the chocolates had somehow gone with him.
Again he had overpaid me several times over.
Again he left a note asking for something new and delicious.
And again I felt like my panties were going to melt with the heat that he created.
I wasn't expecting to see him again for a few days, but I was just opening the shop from lunch again when he walked back in. There was another man standing next to him and I had to look twice to make sure that they weren't identical. The second man was almost Jackson's copy, but when they approached the counter, both smiling that delectable smile, I noticed that where Jackson had intense blue eyes, this man's were an intriguing hazel. The longer that I looked at him, the more differences that I noticed between him and Jackson, but the similarity was still striking.
"Hello, Gabrielle," Jackson said smoothly.
"Hi, Jackson. Back so soon?"
"It turns out that my brother, Lucas, here, just can't get enough of your sweets."
"Hi, Lucas," I said.
I was starting to feel more confident around Jackson, but just being near him still made my belly tremble.
"Hi," he said. "Jackson has been bringing home your chocolates and it just so happens that our older brother is having a birthday tomorrow."
"Well, happy birthday to your brother."
"Thank you. I'll be sure to tell him that you said that. The thing is, Talon has never been the biggest cake guy. But you can't have a birthday without something indulgent, right?"
"That is one of my personal philosophies of life."
"So, Jackson and I were thinking that a few of your chocolates might be perfect."
"Aren't you getting tired of chocolate?" I asked, eyeing Jackson.
"Never," he said. "My sweet tooth is the stuff of legends."
"He isn't exaggerating," Lucas told me. "When we were little, he was known to sneak into the kitchen and steal the bag of sugar so he could sit in his room and eat it."
I looked at Jackson with a widened eyes and he nodded in confirmation.
"That's pretty bad," I said. "Even I don't like sweet things that much."
"Well, at least my tastes have changed as I've grown up."
"That's a relief." I looked at the display case and gave a thought-filled sigh. "What flavor do you think your brother would like?" I asked.
"You are the chocolate expert," Jackson said.
"If it's a birthday, then I think ice cream flavors might be appropriate."
"Do you have anything like that?"
"It just so happens that I do." I reached into the case and pulled out two of the more sophisticated, improved version of Sundae Bite I had crafted in high school. "This is one option."
They each took a bite.
"That's so good," Lucas said. He looked at Jackson. "We definitely have to get some of these."
He looked at me and gestured toward his brother.
"It seems this one got the official seal of approval. We'll take two boxes of these. What else?"
"Butter Pecan?" I asked. "I also have Neapolitan, Pistachio, and Mint Chocolate Chip."
"Two boxes of each, please."
"Two boxes of each?" I asked. "Are you sure?"
"She's right," Lucas said. I nodded. "We should probably go for three."
I was stunned, but I didn't argue. Jackson was rapidly paying my bills and I wasn't going to talk myself into stemming that flow. Eventually, he was going to get tired of eating the decadent candies, but I didn't want to end it too soon. I filled the boxes and stacked them on the counter.
"Thank you," I said, realizing that I hadn't yet thanked him for his business.
If this was the last time that he came in, I wanted to make sure that he knew how much I appreciated him.
"No. Thank you."
He was staring at me and I knew that he expected me to walk back into the kitchen as had become our ritual. I wasn't sure why he insisted on his mysterious disappearing act, but I was willing to humor him.
"I'll be right back," I said as I always did, and stepped into the kitchen.
Rather than going back into the stock room, though, I hesitated just inside the door where I had stood the first time tha
t he had come in. I could hear them murmuring to each other, but couldn't decipher any words. I remained there until I heard the door open and close, waited a few more moments, and then stepped out. The scene that awaited me was what I had come to expect when I saw Jackson walk into the shop, but that didn't take away the impact of the missing boxes and the stack of bills in their place. This time there were two stacks and I could only imagine that Lucas had contributed as well. My hands shook as I picked up the cash, but I felt a flicker of disappointment move through me when I saw that he hadn't left a note. I tucked the money into the register and leaned down to rearrange the display case, unable to take my thoughts away from Jackson and Lucas. They hadn't left a note this time and part of me worried that that meant they wouldn't return.
I felt disappointed but told myself that was ridiculous. I barely knew Jackson and what I did know of him told me that he was completely out of my league. I should just be grateful for the stroke of good fortune that they were for the time that they were and keep moving forward.
Chapter Four
Jackson
"Yes, please. Thank you."
The waitress took my empty glass from my hand and hurried away to bring me a fresh one. She was one of the better of the staff of the Club, pretty in a pleasant and unassuming way, and capable of blending in seamlessly with the rest of the environment of the highly exclusive organization so that she was at once at the beck and call of any of the wealthy, powerful members of the Club and unobtrusive in the atmosphere. I knew for a fact that Talon had already slept with her a few times. He reported her as being efficient and pleasing, exactly as she was in her job and a satisfactory stand-in when he couldn't find a new or more exciting woman to bed for the night.
Where we were sitting now she wouldn't have to worry about attending to any other members. This was a private section of the aged facility set aside for the use of my family. It had been this way for several generations since the lavish, luxurious building was new and largely built on the back of my family's payroll. Here my brothers and I relaxed when we wanted to be away from home, taking advantage of the amenities of the Club and often using our time here to network and further build on the legacy of the family. Right now, though, we were sitting around the polished ebony table in the middle of the room and I was watching the reflection of the nearby fire in its surface while the four of us engaged in an annual tradition that none of us looked forward to.
"No, we did that last year," Lucas said.
"So?" Aiden asked.
"Each year has to be different. It's the tradition. You know that. Dad made sure it was distinct each year."
"You know what would be totally different this year? If we didn't do it at all."
I glared at the youngest brother.
"That's not an option. Our family has been hosting the Valentine's Day gala for as long as it had been held here. Generations. We can't just decide this year that we aren't going to do it. We owe it to Dad and Grandpa, and everyone before them to make sure that we continue on with their tradition. Besides, there are only two weeks left until Valentine's Day. Everyone is expecting the gala to go on exactly as it always has. There's no way to just not do it."
Even Aiden had to agree with me. Hosting the gala wasn't something that any of us really loved to do, but we did it because our father did, and his father before him. They had started it as a way for the families of the Club to socialize and enjoy time together, but also as a wedding celebration for one of the original founders. It served as an anniversary party for decades and after their death continued on as one of the favorite social events of the Club members. Our family had always hosted it, with the responsibility falling on us after our father died. Though we were never thrilled at the prospect of another gala coming, we always did our best to create the best experience for those who cared so much about it. This year, though, we were struggling to focus on planning. Our minds were on the reading of the will looming over us. The next day was Talon's birthday and though we had planned a party for him in the evening, the lawyer would be arriving first thing in the morning to read the rest of the will. I vacillated between feeling optimistic, like we would finally get hold of the rest of what was owed to us, and getting the sinking, miserable feeling that Talon's birthday would start with finding out that we had been blocked from the rest of the estate.
I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen to everything if it didn't come to us. The money, the properties, ownership of the business. There was no other family to inherit it, and though our father had some close friends, there were none that I would consider so close that it was justifiable for them to inherit anything from him. The thought of our family's legacy being broken up and scattered was intolerable to me, and I knew that my brothers felt the same way. There was nothing that we could do about it, though. Until we had heard the rest of the will, we didn't even know what our father had planned, and even then, there was little that we could do to try to change it. He was nothing if not a thorough and intelligent man and ensured that there were several failsafes and no-contest clauses to ensure that exactly what he had put down on paper was what would be done. We were at the mercy of whatever the lawyer told us the next day.
"We always do a banquet," Talon said, bringing me back into the conversation of the gala that had been going on around me as I lost myself in my thoughts. "Why don't we try something different this year?"
"Different like what?" Aiden asked.
Talon shrugged.
"I don't know," he said. "But the thought of another multi-course meal with a bunch of people sitting around at little tables having inane conversations sounds suffocating. The gala is supposed to be a social event, isn't it? So should we plan something that actually gets people talking and enjoying themselves?"
I thought about what he said. When we were younger most of the members of the Club were elderly, but there had been a shift in recent years. While we were still among the youngest of the members, particularly considering that we didn't have parents there to act as the established members above us, the overall age of those who spent their time there had lowered. Maybe they would be more open to a change in the gala that went beyond just changing the overall theme, decorations, and entertainment.
"Everyone expects us to do something a little bit different every year," I said. "Up until now, that has meant serving a different menu and having different music. We would change the decorations and sometimes the layout of the room, but we've never done anything totally different. I think that really changing things up might be good for the Club."
"What do you have in mind?" Lucas asked.
I looked at him and he seemed to have the same thought that I did. He nodded.
"What?" Talon asked.
"Who says that we have to have dinner at all?" I asked. "Like you said, this is supposed to be a social event. So why don't we serve something that gets people up and interacting with each other?"
"Like what?"
"Like chocolates."
"You know the chocolates that Jackson brought home and then sent to the client?" Lucas asked.
"Yeah, they raved about them," Aiden said.
I nodded.
"The shop that sells them is just a little boutique shop. I've only ever seen the owner and one other woman there. I think that that's all that works there. It's small and it's never busy. I'm sure that she would have the time to make enough chocolates for the gala, especially since we have plenty of time to give her notice."
"Do you really think that two weeks is plenty of time?" Talon asked.
"I'm sure it will be if we pay her enough," I said. "Besides, every time that I've gone in there her display case is full and she always seems ready to make more. If we make it worth her while, I'm sure that she'll be willing to take the time off that she needs to come up with the flavors and make as many as we need."
"We can go talk to her," Lucas offered. "Jackson and I can see what she thinks about it and
if she has any ideas."
"That sounds good," Talon said.
"We'll find some time after your birthday," I said.
The four of us left the Club that night feeling slightly more optimistic about the gala, but the thought of the reading the next morning was still weighing heavily on me. I tried not to think about it that night when I went to bed, but I found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering what my father had been thinking when he wrote his will. None of us knew when he drew up the final document. We all assumed that he had at least a cursory will in place from the time that Talon was born. That was just the type of man that he was. He would want to make sure that his wife and son were properly taken care of if something were to happen to him. He had no way of knowing that the end of his life would come when his wife was already gone and he had four sons to consider. I wondered how much his final wishes changed when he found out that he was sick. He had always been healthy and strong, and when I was younger I thought that he was invincible. Finding out that the end of his life was coming far sooner than any of us could have anticipated hit me hard, but I couldn't imagine what it had made him feel. In an instant he went from feeling like he still had most of his life ahead of him, plenty of time to ensure that each of us was ready to live our own lives without his constant guidance, to knowing that, far too soon, he would be leaving us and we would be fending for ourselves in the world.
It wasn't as though he thought he would be leaving us incapable of taking care of ourselves or without anything that we needed to thrive. But I could only imagine that he wondered if he had prepared us enough and if he had done enough as our father to ensure we could live a life that would mean more than just existence. That thought could have been enough to make him change the will that he already had in place, to change the plans that he had put down for us in an effort to continue to guide, and even control us, well after he was gone.
While that made sense to me, it still wasn't enough to tell me what that change might have been made or if it was that change that made him hold back some of our inheritance. Had that been something that he had always intended, or something that came to mind only after he had learned that he was sliding toward his last breath?