The Chocolate Puppy Puzzle (5 page)

I walked away, and Joe stood where he’d been. I didn’t look back. I was too mad, and maybe too scared. Because Joe had come up with a new wrinkle in an argument that had been going on since the previous June, when Joe had first told me he wanted to marry me.

Or had he? Frankly, whenever he brought it up, he used the phrase he’d just declaimed. “I want to get married.” Somehow that wasn’t the same as saying, “I want to marry you.”

But this was the first time Aunt Nettie had figured in the argument.

I was ready to admit that Aunt Nettie was special to me. Twice in my life—first when I was sixteen and my parents were getting a divorce and later when my own marriage broke up—she’d stepped in, given me a home, and made me feel that I was a worthwhile person even if my life was in shambles. If I had a shred of mental health, I owed it to Aunt Nettie. And she wasn’t even a blood relation; she was my mother’s brother’s widow.

But the last thing Aunt Nettie would want was to come between Joe and me. She had made it clear that she approved of Joe.

Right at that moment I wasn’t sure I did. I walked on, mulling over how quickly my life had changed from happy to horrendous. An hour earlier I’d been enjoying the lovely fall day with nothing on my mind but delivering chocolates to the Rinkydink. Now I was frantically worried about a charmer who was broadcasting phony signals and moving in on my aunt, and I’d had an argument with my boyfriend.

I needed comfort. I resolved not to think about my problems for the rest of the afternoon. I couldn’t settle the question of whether or not I wanted to marry Joe while I was upset, and I couldn’t risk quarreling with Aunt Nettie by making any overt attack on Aubrey Andrews Armstrong.

As I went in the door to TenHuis Chocolade (“Handmade chocolates in the Dutch tradition”), I breathed deeply to get the full effect of the chocolate aroma. After I’ve been inside for a little while, I get used to it, so whenever I come in I try to inhale all the chocolate atmosphere I can.

TenHuis Chocolade is my real home, I guess. For one thing, Aunt Nettie and I spend more time there than we do in her hundred-year-old house on Lake Shore Drive, the place where we sleep and store our clothes. For another, it’s a friendly place—a cozy retail shop, a shiny-clean workroom, and a comfortable break room.

As I came in I could see Aunt Nettie through the big glass windows that separate our small retail shop from the big workroom where the chocolates are made. She was standing beside Dolly Jolly. I could tell by the color of the substance on the worktable that Aunt Nettie was teaching Dolly to roll uniform balls of strawberry-flavored filling for strawberry truffles. (“White chocolate and strawberry interior coated in dark chocolate.”) Dolly was sticking out the tip of her tongue, a sign that she was concentrating.

I couldn’t hear what Aunt Nettie was saying, but I could see Dolly roll a ball of pink soft filling, compare it to one Aunt Nettie had formed, then set it on a scale. After more than thirty years in the chocolate business, Aunt Nettie can roll those balls for hours on end and have every one come out within a microgram of every other one. This is a trick that the “hairnet ladies,” the skilled workers who actually produce TenHuis Chocolade, claim a chimpanzee can do. And maybe a chimpanzee could—once she’d had enough practice. But you have to learn to judge exactly how big to make the little balls. The truffle fillings have to be uniform; we can’t sell Customer A one that’s larger than the one we sell Customer B.

Dolly Jolly was looming over Aunt Nettie just the way she looms over everybody.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it!” Dolly shouted.

“Those look good,” Aunt Nettie said. “It only takes a couple of rolls to get them round. You don’t have to handle them a lot. Now you can start rolling them in chocolate.”

Dolly took a metal bowl over to the vat of dark chocolate. She used the spigot at the bottom of the vat to drain chocolate into the bowl, then turned to Aunt Nettie, looking quizzical.

“A little more chocolate will make it easier to work with,” Aunt Nettie said.

I walked over to them. “Where’d you disappear to, Dolly? I got up to talk to Maggie McNutt, and when I came back you were gone.”

Dolly’s face turned even redder than it usually is. “I had to get back to work,” she said. For once her voice didn’t boom. In fact, I could hardly hear her. “Just wanted to meet Maia Michaelson.”

“What did you think of her?”

Dolly shrugged. “Glad I’m not part of her family,” she said.

“Yeah, being related to Maia is a scary thought,” I said.

Dolly didn’t seem inclined to make any further comment, so I left Aunt Nettie showing Dolly how to roll truffles and went into my office. My office is a glass cubicle between the shop and the workroom. It’s not as homey as the rest of TenHuis Chocolade, I guess, but during the pre-Christmas rush I almost live there. I glanced at the framed picture of Joe standing beside his favorite antique wooden boat. I wasn’t going to think about Joe that afternoon, so I laid it facedown.

The chocolate business is seasonal, and the seasons start with Halloween and end with Mother’s Day. With October a third gone, we were past Halloween preparations, almost through with Thanksgiving, and well into Christmas. Dolly might be learning to roll truffles, but most of the other employees were molding Santa Claus figures and filling chocolate Christmas tree ornaments with tiny chocolate toys. Toward the back of the room, eight women were standing around a big stainless steel table, wrapping cubes of molded chocolate in gorgeous foils to produce chocolates that looked like tiny little gift boxes.

The scene was giving me the dose of comfort that I needed. I sat at my desk and counted my blessings for a minute. When I’d left Dallas a year and a half earlier, I’d been recovering from a lousy marriage and a mean-spirited divorce. I had finally finished my degree in accounting, but it had been a struggle. TenHuis Chocolade hadn’t been in very good shape, either. My uncle Phil had always handled the business side. When he was killed by a drunk driver, the whole thing had been dumped on Aunt Nettie, who made wonderful chocolates, but hated to balance her checkbook. After I’d taken over as business manager, I’d discovered unpaid bills, lousy customer relations, and poor shipping schedules.

Now Aunt Nettie’s unconditional love had given me a new sense of my own worth. I’d formed a circle of friends I felt I could rely on—even if my boyfriend was acting like a jerk right at the moment. TenHuis was back on a firm financial foundation, with chocolates shipped on time and all the bills paid. I could honestly say I’d accomplished a lot.

Then I caught sight of our fall display of molded chocolates on the shelf behind the cash register. Aunt Nettie called it “Pet Parade.” It featured tiny figures of puppies and kittens in dark, white, and milk chocolate. Some of them were even spotted dogs with lop ears, dark chocolate with white spots, or white chocolate with milk chocolate spots. There were tiny baskets of kittens or puppies. Each little animal was darling. My Texas grandma would have said each one was cuter than a spotted pup under a red wagon. In fact, a five-inch toy red wagon filled with one-inch puppies had been one of our best sellers that fall.

But now those puppies made Monte and his owner flash into my mind.

What if Aunt Nettie really fell for Aubrey Andrews Armstrong? She could get badly hurt. I couldn’t stand that idea.

But, as Chief Jones had pointed out, Aunt Nettie was a grown woman. He was right. I had no right to influence her. I’d have to be gracious about Aubrey.

I smiled brightly into my computer screen. “Have a nice evening,” I said sweetly.

I might see Aubrey as a real threat, but I had to keep my mouth shut about it.

I stuck to that resolve for an hour. Until Maggie McNutt came into the shop.

D
espite my resolve, I guess I had never stopped worrying about Aubrey. Anyway, shortly after three p.m. Maggie McNutt came in the front door of TenHuis Chocolade carrying two large trays, and as soon as I saw her, the movie producer popped into my mind.

I recognized the trays as the heavy foil ones we’d used to display our donated chocolates, and I went out to the shop to meet Maggie. “Those are just throwaway trays,” I said. “You didn’t have to return them.”

Maggie spoke in a low voice. “I wanted an excuse to speak to you,” she said. “I need a favor.”

“Sure. As long as it has nothing to do with Aubrey Andrews Armstrong.”

Maggie’s eyes popped. If she’d been holding another plate of bratwurst, I feel sure she would have dropped it. “Why did you say that?” she said.

“I guess he made quite an impression on me.”

“What kind of impression?”

“Oh, he reminded me of a lot of the promoters I met back when I did the Miss Texas pageant. What kind of favor do you need?”

My answer seemed to calm Maggie. “Are you on speaking terms with Maia Michaelson?”

“I rarely have anything to say to her, but I guess we’re on speaking terms.”

“Well, I’m not. But she needs to be warned about this . . . this Armstrong.”

“You make the name sound like a curse.” I lowered my voice. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much! I mean, nothing! Nothing at all! I mean, I’m like you. He’s the kind of promoter you spot around beauty pageants and talent shows. Some of them are legit. Some are not. They just need to be approached with caution, and Maia seems to be swallowing his act without question.”

“Maia’s not the only one. Aubrey has invited Aunt Nettie out to dinner.”

“Gosh! Can you keep her from going?”

“How? She’s a grown-up woman and a lot smarter than I am. If I say anything, it’s going to make me look as if I don’t want her to get out and have a social life.”

Maggie put her elbows on the top of our showcase and dropped her head into her hands. She obviously wasn’t looking at the chocolate puppy dogs inside. She seemed close to despair. “What am I going to do?” she said.

She’d barely finished asking herself that when the door to the shop swung open, and of all the people in Warner Pier, who should walk in but Mae Ensminger, also known as Maia Michaelson.

I’m sure I looked guilty. “Oh!” I said. “Hi, Mae! I mean, Maia!”

Maia tossed her black curls and laughed her merry laugh before she spoke. “Hello, Lee. Hello, Maggie. Is Nettie busy? I thought we ought to coordinate our wardrobes for tonight.”

Coordinate their wardrobes? Like junior high? “I’ll see if Aunt Nettie can come up front,” I said. “She’s training a new warning. I mean, worker! She’s training a new employee.”

I slunk back to the workroom. Why does my tongue insist on embarrassing me like that?

At least, I thought, Maggie and Maia weren’t speaking, so it seemed safe to leave them alone together. But a minute later, when Aunt Nettie and I came back to the shop, they
were
speaking. And both of them sounded angry.

“More worthwhile than a stupid romance novel,” Maggie said.

“Not romance! Mainstream!” Maia countered. “And now a screenplay!”

“Of all the gullible—” Maggie spit out the words, but in midsentence she stopped talking. Her face became pale. I realized she was looking at the door to the shop, and that it was opening.

Aubrey put his head inside and spoke. “Are you nearly ready, Maia? I’m sure that Ms. Nettie and her charming niece can’t allow me to bring Monte inside.”

Maia’s voice fluted. “I’ll be right out. Maggie McNutt was just leaving, going back to her sweet little high school students.”

Maggie shot Maia a look that would have been lethal to a normal person. Then Aubrey stepped back and held the door open for Maggie. She marched past him without a word.

Maia laughed. “Now, Nettie . . .” she began. I went into my office and did something I rarely do. I closed the door. It was glass, like the walls, so I could still see Maia posturing and posing in the shop. But at least her voice wasn’t as loud.

I stared at the computer again, and again practiced seeing Aunt Nettie off on her date. I gave a parody of a smile. “Have a nice evening,” I said.

I was truly unhappy about Aunt Nettie being involved for even one evening with Aubrey Andrews Armstrong. But it was none of my affair. She would never interfere with my love life, and I had no right to interfere with hers. Butt out, Lee, I told myself firmly. And keep out of Maia’s life, too. She’s another grown woman. It’s none of your business.

I kept my eyes on the computer screen until Maia left the shop, but when the bell on the door rang again I looked up. That afternoon we had no counter staff, so if anybody wanted to buy chocolates, it was my job to wait on them.