“Be my guest.” I gesture an invitation.
“And they have those fancy gold sprinkles on them,” Dot says approvingly. She chooses the biggest truffle and bites into it. “Oh, that is tasty.”
“Want one, Mom?” I offer. “Dani?” Although she’s already eaten two I accidentally messed up as I was dipping them.
“I’ll stick with eating these yummy little wafers,” Dani says, popping a few more into her mouth. “I have to run anyway.” She takes a few more wafers, gives me a tight hug, and heads out, calling over her shoulder, “Text me if I miss anything!”
Mom chooses a truffle. “I could use a little courage right now,” she admits.
“Me too.” I take a lopsided one for myself. The flavor is sweet, but the champagne cuts the sweetness with a crisp note. The strawberry is perfectly ripe, and the crunch of the gold sprinkles adds textural interest. I taste the faint floral note, feel thefamiliar zing down my spine and through my tummy. We need extra courage to face this daunting letter from the county. We need extra courage to face most of life right now. I should have added more sprinkles. We may need every last sprinkle before we’re through with all of this.
“You better go easy on these fancy sprinkles or you’ll run out,” Dot says. “I’d eat them by the handful.”
I glance thoughtfully at the little glass cylinder. It’s the oddest thing, but they don’t seem to run out. I’ve been using them a lot, and the glass container is always full. Every time I pour some out, there’s the same amount left. Maybe when I have my own shop, I can keep using them, putting them in special chocolates for customers who need an extra dose of courage.
Thinking about my chocolate shop reminds me of something.
“Mom, we need to decide what flooring we want Walt to order for the shop. He needs to know today so he can order it in time to be ready when they have the new subfloor installed.” I start transferring cooled truffles to a Tupperware container. “Do we want carpet again, or that vinyl plank flooring might be a nice change?” I’m personally voting for vinyl. I’m not a fan of the carpet.
I look up to see Mom and Dot sharing a long glance. Mom is twisting one of her pearl stud earrings nervously.
“Emmie, I was thinking of something a little different for the floors,” she says softly.
“Oh, what do you have in mind?”
Mom glances at Dot again, who nods encouragingly. “It’s time, Gwen,” Dot says softly.
Time for what? I look from one to the other, feeling like I’m missing something.
“I was thinking of putting in really nice wood floors, dark wood,” Mom says.
My heart sinks and I hesitate a long moment. “We could do that,” I say at last, “but those are expensive.”
How will I ever afford to rent my own shop if we spend a lot of money for wood floors? And yet it’s her money. I can’t tell her no. “I mean, if that’s what you really want…” I try to mask my reluctance.
“No,” Mom says, and her eyes are sparkling like she has a secret. “It’s whatyouwant.”
I’m confused. “I want dark wood floors in my chocolate shop, Mom,” I clarify gently, wondering if somehow she’s misunderstood.
“Exactly,” she says, looking almost smug.
I glance at Dot, at a loss. Dot rolls her eyes. “Just tell her, Gwen,” she says. “The poor thing is completely confused.”
Mom takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. It’s time.”
I’m officially lost in this conversation.
“Emmie.” Mom reaches across the marble slab and takes my hand. Her fingers are fragile and warm against the smooth, cool marble. “I’ve been thinking about your chocolate shop, and how you’re having trouble finding a suitable space anywhere. I’m so glad you decided you were open to finding a place here in Poulsbo. I know how few properties there are to choose from, but I think I’ve found the perfect place for you.”
“Really?” I’m surprised. “Where?”
She takes a deep breath. “Here.”
“Here?” I’m so confused. “In Poulsbo?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Dot interrupts. “Just tell her!”
“Emmie, I want to give you the shop,” Mom announces.
