“As do I,” she said, nearly breathless thinking about their next encounter.
He gazed at her again, a long assessing one that lit his brown eyes to near golden, and then he bowed and left the store.
She sank against the glass cabinet finally and fanned herself. The last time she’d had this kind of heat had been from a hot flash. How wonderful to feel it from a man.
But excitement and fear circled each other in her heart, squaring off. She thought of the two men she’d married and the heartbreak she’d felt upon losing them. Most people didn’t understand the fortitude it took to love someone else after so great a loss. She’d done it twice. Did she have it in her for a third time?
Because Clifton’s soul seemed to be calling her to more than a mere dalliance.
Chapter 5
Alice still couldn’t believe it. She and Clifton both had dates.
Of course, who wouldn’t want to go out with Clifton? Everyone in town spoke of Aunt Gladys’ impeccable taste, and it apparently extended to men. Like she’d told Hank and Vinnie, Sarah had given her a rundown of all the players in town. Good business. According to her friend, the word around town was Aunt Gladys had closed her heart after her second husband’s death, but then again, the pandemic was defined by surprises. She was glad this was one of the good ones.
Of course, she wasn’t excluded from that. Hank had surprised the hell out of her with his talk about their magical night, along with his revelation that he’d almost reached out to her months ago, before she’d even thought of moving to Orion.
He’d texted her the same day about her availability Saturday night and if she’d rather go to another restaurant in the area or come over to his house for a BBQ, which had a nice open backyard with a firepit, allowing them to enjoy each other’s company without masks. She jumped at the latter, still touched by his comments about missing people’s faces. She felt like that too, and truth be told, her eyes wanted to feast on his face as they talked.
Clifton had rung up Aunt Gladys, and they’d agreed to a similar setup. They would eat outside so they could enjoy each other without masks. Clifton had offered to cook, of course, because he was a wizard in the kitchen, and he’d told her he would take care of everything, including the champagne truffles. Alice had offered up her house, Sarah’s old house, for the date, because it had a large patio.
In preparation for Sunday, Clifton had created four types of champagne truffles in the space of an afternoon, all of them deeply delicious, and Alice had suggested they could box them up with cognac truffles as a New Year’s Date duo. Clifton had loved the idea.
The fun he’d had with the truffles had prompted Alice to offer to bring dessert for her date with Hank. He’d resisted at first, saying she had enough on her list. When she’d told him it was a chance to create something special for the chocolate shop, he’d suggested brownies, which weren’t on the menu in their French-inspired chocolate shop. Talk about throwing her a curveball.
But she’d run with it.
By Friday afternoon, she and Clifton had baked four different recipes of brownies. The shop was rich with the smells of roasted cocoa, orange, mint, espresso, and spices.
“I’m starting to think these brownies might be a good lure to encourage customers to come inside our shop during the chocolate festival. Inexpensive but delicious.”
“I suppose it could be done, but it’s not something a French chocolate festival would feature,” Clifton said. “Nor is it something we would sell as a rule.”
“True, but we’re not in France, and brownies have a certain appeal.”
“To some,” Clifton said, making her chuckle.
“Oh, don’t get your perfectly pressed skivvies in a wad. This would be a one-time thing. I mean, it’s not going to be us alone hosting the festival. We need to think of Hank and Baker’s products and tie-ins, assuming Baker is on board. Hank has had some trouble nailing him down this week.”
Which wasn’t surprising given what he’d told her about the man’s divorce. But it was going to work out. She knew it would. Everything was falling into place in a way that spoke of magic.
“You are right,” Clifton said. “Please continue.”
This time she laughed out loud. “Yes, sir. Maybe we could have a brownie infused with chocolate stout. We already have an espresso brownie that would highlight the coffee theme.”
“Flights of truffles matched with flights of beer or coffee perhaps,” Clifton provided. “And music. Some kind of demonstration on chocolate making or coffee roasting as well? Brussels’ annual chocolate festival—”
“Le Salon du Chocolat! Bucket list.”
“For me as well. We will go, Alice.” He paused. “As I was saying, it draws chocolate lovers by offering rare chocolate, artistic and sculptural demonstrations, and a chocolate-themed fashion show, I believe.”
While she loved it, the whole thing sounded crazy expensive. “Not in our budget at the moment, but in the future, sure! I’m thinking we might call it the Chocolate, Beer, and Coffee Festival, but that sounds too wordy.” Her brain power wasn’t on its brightest setting right now. Too much was going on, and too many emotions were pinging through her.
“The ideas will come to you, Alice,” Clifton said. “You are a font of them.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the separate testing trays she’d set up with brownie samples and brought it out to their private portico outside the kitchen. It was a large enough space for them to taste test together without masks, socially distanced. “You know, Clifton, these treats are going to help make our dates absolutely perfect.”
He followed her outside with the other tasting tray of champagne truffles and palate cleansers, wearing a black coat and scarf for warmth. Alice glanced down at her own light pink jacket. “Do you think I should wear this coat for my date? I just realized my outerwear is probably my most important decision.”
She sat at one circular table—chartreuse—while he lowered into a chair at its closest companion—bright red. He lowered his mask, his amused smile visible. “Pink suits your skin tone and is what you’d call a heart-opening color. That jacket certainly would be a top choice, as would your red peacoat. Both would be suitable with jeans and boots.”
They’d already talked about their respective wardrobes, especially after Clifton returned from Old World Elegance with an incredible new suit jacket and pocket square—totally sprezzatura. Alice couldn’t say that word enough now. “These brownies have sprezzatura.”
He forked a sample of the first brownie from his side of the tray, using one of the small tasting forks they’d brought out. “Since the word isn’t confined to fashion, your usage is appropriate, although I’m not sure how artful these brownies are in either composition or presentation.”
Perhaps he was right. The champagne truffles were a better embodiment of the word. Aunt Gladys was a champagne truffle while Hank was a brownie. Having run a chocolate stand, somehow Alice wasn’t surprised.
She forked a sample of the first brownie—the one with candied orange peel—even though the last sample, a mocha espresso confection, was calling to her. They tasted from left to right, the flavors or chocolate types defining the order, with the strongest being sampled last.