Clifton had not known they were twins. But the knowledge only added to his understanding and sadness. When meeting Mama Gia, as she was called, he’d felt a deep pain in his heart for her. He’d made a silent vow to make their chocolate shop live up to the fond memories so many people had of Two Sisters.
“They have had a profound impact on everyone they knew, it seems. I can’t imagine a greater testimony.”
Maria’s eyes shone brightly. “Yes.”
He was conscious of the quiet that fell between them, and in it, he felt Maria’s silent desperation. He did not know anything about her personal life. She wore no ring, but somehow he felt others counted on her. As a butler, one had to have good instincts to serve and succeed.
“I will speak to Alice about you,” Clifton found himself saying. “I am sure she would like to meet you herself. But I know she will be impressed, as I am. It was good to meet you, Maria.”
“You as well,” she said. “Can I leave my résumé on the counter here? It has my contact information on it and everything.”
“That would be wonderful,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hargreaves.”
“Clifton, please.”
She stared out the window for a moment before turning to look at him. “Clifton, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you seem like a man who would frequent Aunt Gladys’ shop, Old World Elegance. Do you know it?”
She studied him with quiet intensity, and an electric charge suddenly filled the air. “My duties to date have prevented me from visiting.” But he’d seen the sign and felt a pull.
“Of course, you would have much to do with the moving and the opening,” she said, her gaze direct and knowing. “Somehow I feel you two would benefit from each other’s company. It’s only a feeling, but I’ve learned to heed them. I’ll leave you now. Thank you again. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Before he could bid her the proper farewell, she was rushing out of the shop.
But her presence had left behind that strange sense of electricity, its potency shocking to his sensibilities. He felt another pull to go to Old World Elegance.
Immediately.
Giving himself no time for logic, he walked to the door, closed the shop, and headed up Main Street. Every sense was sharpened, and he knew there was some force ushering him forward. The very leaves seemed to halt in the fall air as they danced their way down the newly paved street. He rushed past the businesses on the way, his heart pounding in his chest. The espresso notes from the Coffee Roastery grounded his steps while the lilac perfume emanating from the ladies’ boutique, Bella Luna, urged him onward. Clifton Hargreaves wasn’t the type to rush, but rush he did.
Old World Elegance stood at the top of the hill in a two-story Victorian house in a distinct cyclamen. The sign had the patina of age: distressed black letters on an elegant rose background. As he neared the store’s black double doors, the electricity that had sparked in the shop when Maria told him about this place pressed at his very skin.
As he opened the door, the welcome bell split the silence like a church bell being rung after a century of rest.
There was only one person in the shop, and she stood behind a glass curio case.
Gladys.
She cut a fine figure in a tangerine orange kaftan Elizabeth Taylor might have worn at one time, and a flapper’s emerald fascinator framed her short auburn bob. She wore the outfit with a loose-limbed comfort that would elicit envy from women and tantalize men. Her mask was a shocking tiger print, shot through with the same orange of her kaftan and green of her gloves. Her wrists bore layers of gold and amber bracelets.
But it was her eyes that arrested his breath. They were peridot green and as watchful and assessing as the tiger she obviously admired.
His entire being was charged with a static electricity previously unknown to him as they beheld each other across the length of her shop.
When she set the burgundy hat she was holding on the counter and arched a penciled-in brow, he suddenly understood why everything trembled around and within him. The Merriam children had talked enough about love at first sight that he knew the signs.
Clifton Hargreaves had finally found his soulmate.
Chapter 4
Gladys Green had hosted a diverse array of customers in her time at Old World Elegance.
Beyond the usual finance guys from Manhattan and the billionaires, she’d dressed politicians, both ruthless and well-intentioned, as well as celebrities of all kinds—the most fun being a chart-topping rapper who’d brought his entire entourage and a cooler of Dom Perignon to her store and proceeded to buy almost a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise in five hours of crazy fun, to a soundtrack of percussive naughtiness.
Her assessment of the stylishly handsome man who stopped short after coming into her shop was automatic. At six one with silver hair, he cut a handsome figure in his impeccably tailored black suit and the crisp white shirt with the Windsor-cut collar. English, that suit. Discreet silver cufflinks glinted perfectly at his wrists, and his black shoes were so freshly polished they reflected light like the Hudson River. His black mask was the same quality of fabric as his clothes, and it was that level of attention to detail that set him apart from most of her pandemic customers.
Goodness, the way he was staring at her with those intense brown eyes made her conscious that she’d eschewed wearing a bra since lockdown. No way she was trussing up the girls ever again after enjoying the freedom for the long months she’d stayed cooped up inside.
Some days she forsook panties too.
While she’d always worn what pleased her, she’d started donning whatever the hell tickled her fancy, like the treasure trove of kaftans and muumuus she’d unearthed from the attic when she was holed up by herself.
Lockdown had been good for her.
She was somehow still above ground at the age of seventy-two, running a business during Covid-19. She decided to be delighted by her unexpected attraction to this fine gentleman.
“Come in! If I didn’t know what season we were in, I’d say you had sunstroke from the way you’re standing there staring at me.” Of course, it could be the stress of Covid. She’d had patrons come in who didn’t seem their usual selves, and who could blame them? “Are you all right? Do you need a glass of water?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” he said in an English accent as crisp as his Windsor tie. “I apologize for discomfiting you.”
He had a good command of the Queen’s English and a sexy accent to boot. Her body fired up. Here be trouble, but Gladys Green wasn’t worried. She had a good head on her shoulders. “You didn’t discomfit me.”
His beautiful eyes crinkled. “I’m delighted to hear that. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Clifton Hargreaves, and I am opening the chocolate shop down the street with—”
“Sarah Woodsen’s best friend, Alice!” Tears sprung to her eyes. “Such a terrible loss. So young. She told me all about your shop before she got Covid. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Unfortunately I had only just made Ms. Woodsen’s acquaintance when she fell ill. Alice bears the brunt of the grief.”
“Yet she named the store the House of Hope & Chocolate. I respect the hell out of that. We need hope now more than ever, and since it comes with chocolate, you’ll find a regular customer in me.”