Page 48 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘Chocolate croissants.’

‘Yum, sounds lovely.’

‘Yes, I can just picture it, all cosy with cushions, snug for the autumn and winter months, when people want to come and shelter and get warm after being out walking on the chilly beach.’ Emma was getting excited now.

‘Or from a chilly school bus.’

‘Absolutely. Yes, I can really see it. Hang on, that’s it, I’ve got it – The Cosy Chocolate Shop Café.’

This could be it, Emma thought, the answer to her prayers, the extra sprinkle of luck she so badly needed.

‘Well then, cheers.’ Holly raised her hot chocolate mug and they clinked cups together.

‘Cheers, Holly – to the Cosy Chocolate Shop Café.’

23

Emma’s mind was spinning in bed that night, but for a change, not about men or money. If she really was going to make the shop into a café as well, how long might it take to add a little seating area, get it furnished, and source the extra kitchen equipment and crockery she might need? Furniture-wise, all she needed to buy (or even better, with finances tight, rummage the odd house clearance or auction room) were two tables, and perhaps six chairs. She could use the two stools from the kitchen to make a counter bar, but she’d need to find a carpenter or builder to make the window seats – hopefully, at a really good rate.

One very lovely builder came to mind, but it was way too early to ask for help like that. And she still needed that particular builder to call her! The thought made her stomach go squishy. It was still only two days since their ‘date’, and despite her concerns she realised how very much she wanted to hear from him.

Surely, if he liked her, he’d have phoned by now, or even sent a brief text. Was he doing his disappearing act all over again? She felt like a teenager, all angsty. Damn, she wasn’t cut out for all this emotional stuff. She’d been off the dating scene for far too long. Were you still meant to wait for the guy to call you? Did you go ahead and call him? She had his number, after all. Did you send a text? If so, how to phrase it? She didn’t want to look desperate or needy, but she didn’t want him to disappear into thin air again either.

The next morning, she’d had several tourists in buying fudge and truffles to take home to loved ones, and someone else wanting a gift for the pet sitter. Emma did a ‘Thank you’ bar in both milk and dark chocolate with white squirly chocolate writing. They were very popular. At different times of year she’d write festive messages on them, and there was a ‘Happy Birthday’ version too. It’d soon be time to start making some of the ‘Merry Christmas’ ones, she mused. Then her mind wandered to a ‘Text me!’ message. Hah – she could send Max a chocolate message, lol – that was if she had known his address.

The day flew and it was soon past five o’clock. She locked the shop’s front door, flipped her pretty chalk-painted sign over to closed, and made her way to the kitchen for a quick cup of tea, bite of toast, and then another hour or two of chocolate crafting. It was time to start planning for Christmas, what to make and when, although much of it was instinctive now, with six years under her belt.

This evening she was going to craft some old favourites, the best sellers. Her customers loved the salted caramels, mint-choc discs, whisky, rum and brandy truffles, brazil nuts covered in milk chocolate (Mrs Clark), and her Northumbrian fudge, both the plain and her special recipe made with Alnwick Rum and raisins. She’d concentrate on the fudge, a few chocolate bars and the mints tonight, and then have a truffle-making session tomorrow.

Her tempering machine was already on the go, keeping the chocolate at just the right temperature and consistency – her best investment yet. She had started making everything by hand, initially, tempering the chocolate in a bowl, which was fine and very craftsmanlike, but it gave you a bloody sore arm and wrist! And, with Emma being the sole chocolatier, when the shop grew busier and she needed plentiful regular supplies, it was just not practical. She still did some tempering by hand at her busiest times, and when the mood took her, but her trusty machine was her best friend in the kitchen.

She had just started pouring dark chocolate with mint sugar crystals into the moulds when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. Agh, no. She didn’t want to spoil the mix, as it would start solidifying in the bowl, so kept going until the tray was full. By which time, of course, the ringing had ceased. She fumbled quickly in her pocket for her mobile. Missed call – Max! Agh, bloody typical – but yes, her heart gave a little flip, he’d called.

Okay, calm down, Em. Put the bowl to soak in the sink, wash your hands, and then call him back, whilst he’s still hopefully available.

Deep breath … call back … go. Ringing tone …

‘Hi. Is that Emma?’

‘Yeah … hi.’

‘Thanks for calling back.’

His voice had a lovely melted chocolate tone over the phone, with his soft North East accent.

Emma found herself smiling. ‘Yes, I’m sorry I missed it. I was right in the middle of chocolate making. Filling the moulds. Crucial point.’

‘No worries. So, are you okay?’ He sounded slightly nervous.

‘Yes …’ She found herself at a loss for words, and her heart seemed to be beating double time. She needed to buck up.

‘I enjoyed Sunday evening,’ he added.

‘Me too, thank you,’ she forced out.

‘Can we do it again sometime?’

Despite the excitement at hearing his voice, all the doubts and fears came flooding back on hearing that question. That would mean taking things further, getting to know Max more, prising open her heart – for what? If she didn’t really like him once she got to know him, what a waste of bloody time and energy. And if she did? Somehow, that seemed more confusing and downright scary. Could she really put herself through all that again?