“Dom Perignon,” he said proudly.
“Dom! But that’s well beyond our price point. I can’t make that work.”
His whole demeanor collapsed. “Do you not believe people will pay higher rates for such truffles? I would like to think some patrons will. They do in the finest chocolatiers in France. These customers would be the same kind of clientele who frequent Old World Elegance, for example.”
But hadn’t Sarah said Aunt Gladys’ business had suffered because so many people were working from home? “I’ll think about it. Maybe. I’ll have to do some pricing.” God, what would one truffle have to be priced at? Twenty dollars? Jeez, they might as well go the extra mile and wrap them in the edible gold foil used by the super exclusive shops in France.
“Thank you for considering it as one of our offerings,” he said. “I also wanted to speak with you about another matter. I know we have spoken about not needing additional help at the moment—until we have a better sense of our foot traffic, profit, and the like.”
Uh-oh.
“We had a young woman come by interested in work. Her name is Maria Sanchez. She used to work here at Two Sisters and has a deep love and respect for Mama Gia as well as cooking. Her family is from Oaxaca, and I mentioned always wishing to travel there to learn how to cook moles. Mole negro is made with chocolate.”
“I love it! The flavor profile is ridiculous.”
He closed his tasting book with decisive hands. “I know our shop budget can’t afford it now, but I feel compelled to help this woman. She was the one who encouraged me to visit Gladys yesterday, based on her intuition we’d get along. Her talk of spices and chocolate inspired the Aztec flavors of the brownie.”
Numbers running through her mind, she met his gaze. He looked dead serious. “You weren’t thinking we might hire her?”
“I was. I cannot fully express to you why logically. You would call it a feeling.”
Clifton never talked like this, nor was he the sort to make decisions based on intuition, so she kept her mouth shut and waited for him to continue.
He fidgeted with his tasting fork, something else he didn’t typically do. “After I met Gladys, I needed some time to process everything. I found myself looking up the recipe for mole, and the description of roasted chili peppers and chocolate made an impression on me. So I made a mole for dinner. Balancing the flavors helped me work through what I wanted to say to you. Alice, there is a connection there. Nothing could ever equal the feeling I had when I met you. That grandfatherly feeling of warmth and ease and camaraderie was very powerful.”
Brought together by their respective bosses, they’d bonded immediately over teasing banter and a shared passion for cooking, everything from Indian food to chocolate making. Later they’d discovered other commonalities, from their ability to learn languages to their shared love of history.
“This feeling for Maria is special too. I feel she’s meant to work here, and I must listen to that. I also feel indebted to her for suggesting I meet Gladys. You know how you talk about having a sixth sense about some things. She seems to have it too.”
And that cinched it. Alice didn’t need to think about it or crunch any numbers. If this was the way he felt, they’d make it work. They had to. She said as much, then added, “Maybe this is the solution I’ve been looking for. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get everything ready for the opening and the chocolate festival. Maria’s help will be terrific.” The chocolate festival had to go well to get them media exposure—she was planning on circling back to Paul at The Daily Herald—so she was spending money to make money, like Warren was fond of saying.
“Thank you.” He put his hand to his heart, giving her a hug without touching. “Your trust and faith means more than I could convey.”
“It will be great. I’m feeling better about the festival already. My brain feels dead sometimes, but all this planning we’re doing is charging me up. Clifton, maybe we need a chocolate stand outside our shop to draw people in. We can offer brownie samples and tiny cups of hot cocoa. I need to think up an inviting sign. That crayon one Sarah drew our first summer melted adults on the spot.”
Sarah.
She should be here with them to brainstorm the perfect sign. To open their shop.
Grief surged up just like that, along with her friend’s beloved face. “I’m about to have a Sarah moment, Clifton.”
He folded his hands in his lap as if fighting the impulse to reach for her. “I am here with you.”
The tears came out powerfully, like usual. At one point, he put his mask on and rose, laying a handkerchief in front of her. She used it, her heart hurting. God, she missed her friend.
When she finished, she took some calming breaths and drank some water. “With every cry, it’s going to get easier.” She told herself that after each meltdown.
The words were a reassurance. Her parents had died in a car accident when she was in college. Bottling up her grief—and her tears—had led to severe depression. This time, she was determined to go through all of her emotions as they presented themselves.
The most charged of those feelings was anger. Sometimes she wanted to pummel the very sky with her fists over the injustice of losing her friend.
“This is when I really miss hugs,” she said. “That was the nice thing about holing up at the Wild Irish Rose Inn with the Merriams. We could still hug each other. Now we have too much contact with the outside world to make that safe, especially for you.”
“And yet, I often wonder if comforting you when you are grieving your friend is worth the risk.”
Oh, how those words healed her hurting heart. “Clifton, we talked about that.”
“I know we did. Logically, our agreement for safety protocols is sound, but Alice…” He gave a Gallic shrug. “The human part of me—the one in all of us, I expect—rebels at the lack of human contact in such moments of hurt.”
She understood. She’d been unable to visit her friend at the hospital, unable to touch her. Their only contact had been over a phone. Her hands made fists as anger rose. No one should die like that. No one.
“Is it time for a cup of tea?” Clifton asked. “Or would you like to sit a while longer?”
“Clifton, can I ask you a question?” she asked impulsively. God, she needed to get her mind off her grief, and this topic would do it.
“Of course.”
She bit her lip. “It’s really personal.”
He raised his brow and waited.
“Ah…” She cleared her throat. “Should your time with Aunt Gladys go well, if you know what I mean, what are your plans for a first kiss and, um, more after that?”
She was sure her face was flaming. She wasn’t a prude, but talking to Clifton about safe sex was like, well, talking to her grandfather.
“I will sit down for this conversation, if that’s all right.” He resumed his seat at the other table and steepled his hands. “Usually one can tell if the other person is interested in a kiss. The process is as organic as it is instinctive. But these are different times. I feel a conversation must be had should a kiss be in the air, so to speak.”
That was a good way of putting it, although she already knew the answer. Heck, she could already taste Hank’s lips. “A talk beforehand. Okay, I like to talk. The only problem is that unless both people are tested, you can’t be sure if one person has the virus. And the moment you step into the world again—whether after the test or after the kiss—you could come into contact with it again. It’s maddening! Quarantining together after receiving a negative test is the only sure-fire way to have safe physical contact. But who’s staying home all the time like that? It’s not really feasible anymore.”