Mason had to admit that it was cold. He remembered Willow Falls being warmer than this in November. Of course, he’d been in Switzerland for the last six years and hadn’t been back to the States in the winter for years. Since starting culinary school, he’d only come home for a quick trip every summer so he’d forgotten how low the temperatures could drop in Arkansas.
After much colder winters in Switzerland, he wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was worried about his chocolate.
Every time the front door opened with new customers, a blast of cold air swept around the small store. He was happy about the traffic, of course, but to taste its best, chocolate needed to stay between sixty-eight and seventy degrees. Another glance at the thermostat on the wall showed him that it the temperature inside was dropping.
“Eat it slowly and let it melt,” he told a lady as he offered her a piece of chocolate.
“Thank you,” she said, selecting a small, molded snowflake from his tray. She put it in her mouth and looked upwards as she allowed the taste to fill her mouth. Then her eyes opened wide. “This is amazing. It’s so rich but there’s something…”
“You’re tasting the mocha and peppermint undertones,” he told her with a smile. “This is the Winter Dark Chocolate. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“They’re about to turn on the lights,” someone said from the door.
In unison, everyone in the store stopped what they were doing—browsing his chocolate—and hurried outside. Figuring he might as well watch it too, Mason put his hands in his pockets and walked outside.
The square was dark except for the few street lights on the corners. Glow sticks and light-up toys flashed with color, and families and friends shuffled around in groups trying to get a good vantage point. He felt alone in the midst of so many strangers in the dark and wished he’d convinced his family to come down for the festivities.
A voice came over the loud speakers placed around the square, and the crowd turned to face the twenty-foot fir tree in the middle of the square. The mayor stood there with his family and a few other dignitaries. He held a giant switch in his hand as he gave a speech. From where Mason stood, though, the sound was too garbled for him to understand what the man was saying.
Sensing someone behind him, Mason turned to see Ruth coming out of her shop. As she zipped up her coat and put on her gloves, she gave him a small, stiff smile. From what he remembered, she’d been shy and awkward in high school but not unfriendly. And she hadn’t been unfriendly earlier in the day either…at least at first.
“Having a good evening?” he asked, hoping to break the ice.
“Busy,” she said shortly. “You?”
“I’ve been busy too. Too much so maybe. With the door opening all the time, my shop is getting too cold for my chocolate.”
“Surely a few degrees won’t hurt it.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Mason found himself watching her as she smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. She had grown into a beautiful woman, so different than her younger self, though she’d been pretty then too. She had the same straight dark hair and deep brown eyes. She was more rounded though with feminine curves and a soft edge to all her features. She’d always been tall—taller than most of the guys in school—but now she carried her height with straight shoulders and a lifted chin.
Her eyes met his then flicked away again. “Maybe. I’d ask you to tell me about it sometime, but I’m sure we’ll both be too busy working to do more than wave.”
“Or maybe that’s a hint that you don’t want anything to do with me,” he said. His mouth had a way of by-passing his brain, but he didn’t back away from it this time.
Before she could answer, the crowd began counting down, “Ten…nine…eight…” But as they counted, Mason kept his eyes focused on Ruth’s, willing her to answer him—to deny it.
“…three…two…one!”
All at once there were lights everywhere dispelling the darkness and revealing the cheering faces of the people around them. He looked up in awe at the network lights creating a canopy overhead. From a few blocks away, he heard cheers and music moving closer. He wasn’t very tall for a professional basketball player at six-foot-three, but he was tall enough to see over the crowd.
The first float of a parade came down the street behind three police officers on motorcycles. Well, the customers weren’t going to come back into his store until that was over.
Ruth stepped up next to him, shifting slightly closer so she could see around the man in front of her. After a few floats had gone by, she said, “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just stressed and frustrated.”
“About what?”
“My business is still new—less than two years old—and I’m barely running a profit. Such direct competition next door could really hurt me.”
He was both relieved that it hadn’t been anything personal and unsure how to resolve the issue since he couldn’t just change locations. “I don’t think you need to worry. I’ve apprenticed in several of the finest chocolate shops in Zurich where there are dozens of chocolateries all over the city, some with world-renowned reputations over two centuries old. But most of them have more business than they can handle. If they can be successful with competition like that, think how easy it will be for you with a completely different product.”
She bit her lip as if she was still worried but nodded. “Let’s hope so—for both our sakes. And I’ll try to be more neighborly from now on.” She held her hand out to him as if to shake on an agreement.
He took it, shaking it slightly but retaining it in his grasp for a moment. “I’m glad. I would love to talk shop with you. I’ve made a lot of chocolate in my training, and I mean a LOT, but I’ve never owned my own business before. Not to mention that Willow Falls has changed a lot since I was last here.”
“I’m sure it has. We never had anything like this when we were growing up, did we?” She waved her hand toward the lights around them.
Mason chuckled and shook his head. “Not even close.”
They stood together and watched the rest of the parade until Santa came by on a fire engine. Ruth looked back to her store as customers turned back to shopping. “Well, we’d better get back to it.”
“Yeah. So, later, okay?”
Her nod was very slight, but he saw it.
Pleased that he’d been able smooth things over with her, he went back inside and got to work. But even with people raving about his samples and buying more chocolate than he’d dared hope for, he found it difficult to keep his mind on business. Memories of Ruth kept coming back to him—as if his subconscious was busy sorting through dusty files.
She’d been the sort of girl who drifted through the halls, mostly undisturbed by the flirting, roughhousing, and stupid antics of the teens around her. He’d thought she was pretty but had never looked at her seriously. He wished he had. What a waste.
The crowds didn’t begin to thin out until almost ten o’clock so by the time he closed, he was more than ready to go home. He looked forward to crashing in his bed and snoozing until his alarm woke him up at the unholy hour of five in the morning. But before he went, he wanted to do one thing.
Taking a few of his last samples with him, Mason locked his shop and walked over to Sugar Lips. The front lights were out, but he could see that some were still on in the back. Maybe he should have gone around to her other door. Shrugging, he tried knocking anyway. He only had to wait a few seconds before Ruth came out to check and see who it was.
She walked through the dim storefront and unlocked the door. “I’m afraid I’m closed, sir.”
Mason was surprised by the teasing note in her voice. “Oh? That must be why you had the lights turned off.”
Ruth chuckled. “Come in. I was just about to take the trash out and go home.”
Mason glanced at her cookies, but the lights in the display cases were off. He’d have to come back and check them out later. He held out the little paper cups in his hand. “I brought you some samples to try.”
“Trying to drum up more business?”
“No. I’m just an artist wanting to impress a beautiful woman.” She looked up at him for a moment as if she was confused, so he urged her on. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
With a cute little shrug, she reached out and took one. “Thank you.”
“Let it rest on your tongue for a few seconds before you start eating it. That will bring up the temperature and give your taste buds time to savor it—especially since they’re a little on the cold side right now.”
While Ruth did as he suggested, he let his eyes linger on her face again. He couldn’t help it.
She looked up at him then, and though her brown eyes were almost black in the poor light, he didn’t miss the flash of surprise and pleasure in them. “This is amazing. Definitely not Hershey’s chocolate.”
Mason chuckled. “Most assuredly not.”
“The hint of orange is nice—but there’s something else there I can’t quite make out.”
“Ginger.”
Ruth nodded. “Yes, that’s what it is. Impressive. It’s complex but still delicate. And just the right amount of sweetness.”
He wanted to grab her and spin her in circles but restrained himself. “That is the best compliment I’ve gotten all night.”
“I have a hard time believing a jock like you made these.”
Mason clenched his jaw at the faint mockery in her voice. “Okay, so what? You thought I was only capable of throwing a ball around?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. I’m just curious how you got into this. Being a chocolatier is a big change from pro basketball.”
Nodding, he tried to tamp down his hurt feelings. He put the other two samples down on her display case and said, “It was a big change. Sometimes I’m not quite sure how I got here myself. But I promise I’ve put in my time. Culinary school, apprenticeships, and two years working under master chocolatiers in Zurich.”
“Mason, I really am sorry. I didn’t know calling you a jock would offend you.”
He shrugged. “It’s clear what you thought of me in high school, but a long time has passed since then. Maybe you should figure out who I am now.”
He nodded goodnight and left, careful to shut the door softly behind him so he wouldn’t look like a baby throwing a temper tantrum.
But annoyance and hurt still coursed through him. He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was just the stress of wondering himself if he was ready for this. He suspected though that it had more to do with wanting the lovely Ruth Haynes to think well of him.