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“Nonsense. You’re just…” Clarissa’s voice faltered as she stared at the painting.
Leaning in, she inhaled slowly. Cathy was right. It looked like Rick… exactly like him. It was so uncanny, she began to shiver. She didn’t believe in tall tales, but Rick, being a chef and the baker who made King Ricardo III’s gingerbread cookies famous, it was just… it was just… No! It couldn’t be. There was no way she would believe he could be… Shit! Centuries old!
“Let’s go. This place suddenly gives me the creeps.”
Chapter Eleven
King Ricardo III Decadence Restaurant…
Clarissa was silent throughout the scrumptious dinner. Rick, as usual, mingled with the diners but avoided their table. Watching him, she noticed he wasn’t his usual smiling self. He was courteous and friendly but remained reserved. At times, their gazes clashed, but before she could react, he would look away.
She couldn’t blame him, but concern for him was riding her back hollow. In her life, she had learned that everything happened for a reason. She didn’t believe in coincidences—nor did she intend to start now.
However far-fetched it may have sounded, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the tale about King Ricardo III was in some way connected to Rick. What were the chances that a stranger would arrive in Grand Lake, spreading the story about a restaurant with the same name and a chef named Rick?
Rick could be short for Ricardo, right? God, What if... No, it can’t be! Get that story out of your head, Clarissa. That’s all it was. Just a tall tale.
Yet, try as she might, the later the evening progressed, the more she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Rick seemed melancholic, uninterested in the excitement when the gingerbread cookie competition started.
Later, and as soon as he announced the winners and handed out the prizes, she watched him disappear into the kitchen.
Instinct told her something was horribly wrong. Rick was in trouble, and it was much more than her breaking off with him.
“Okay, Sis, now I’m done. I am pooped and need to get off my feet. Come, we’ll drop you off at the hotel.”
“You go. I need to talk to Rick.”
“He doesn’t seem himself.” Cathy stared at the door where he had disappeared earlier. “Hasn’t been the entire day. Do you really think it’s wise to… I mean, since you told him you don’t want a relationship with him, right?”
“Maybe, this time, I was a little hasty,” Clarissa admitted.
“What? Holy shit! Did you hear that, Samuel? My little sis is in love. I knew it!” Cathy couldn’t contain her excitement.
“I didn’t say that, Cathy. Don’t push the cart ahead of the horses just yet, but I don’t have an aversion to giving falling in love a try… with him, that is.”
“Then go to him. I think you’re right to want to talk with him, and I believe he needs to hear it tonight.” After a quick hug, they left. As the doors closed behind them, Clarissa realized she was alone. The festivities were over, and everyone had gone home.
With her heart beating rapidly, she slowly pushed open the kitchen door.
“Rick?” Most of the lights were off, apart from a dim serving station light that cast the room into a hazy darkness. “Rick? Are you here?”
“Go away, Clarissa. You can’t be here. Not now.”
“Where are… Oh my God!”
Her concerned cry sounded hollow in the din of the room. She found him sitting on the floor against the large industrial oven, deathly pale.
“Rick?”
“No! I told you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She reached out to gently touch his cheek. “What the hell?” Shocked, she stared at her hands, sticky and full of flour. “Rick... what’s happening.”
Sadness filled the smile on his face. “I’m the gingerbread man, little one.”
Clarissa bore back. Her mind was in shambles.
“I don’t understand... wait. No… it can’t be. Please, Rick, tell me it’s not true. The lady at the shop told us a fairytale about King Ricardo III and gingerbread cookies... Are you saying... Oh my God!” With trembling hands, she covered her mouth and stared at him in shock. “It’s true, isn’t it? It is you. You’re King Ricardo III, the cursed one. No. No, no, no,” she whimpered as she slowly retreated. “It can’t be. Please tell me it’s not so.”
