The Chocolatier's Wife (5 page)

Ah
,
well
,
h
e
thought
,
avoidin
g
contemplatin
g
tha
t
subjec
t
to
o
deeply
,
th
e
di
e
i
s
cast.

He avoided his brother by the simple expedient of seeing before being seen,
turning
off
into
an
alley
to
take
the
short
way
to
the
shop
as
the
younger man came
rushing
up
the
street
with
his
limping
gait. Of
course
Andrew must
have been
summoned,
doub
t
less
to
be
told
all
about
the
stupidity
of his
older
sibling
and the
new
things
his
future
held.
It
would
be
good
for Andrew, William thought,
for
it
was
a
far
better
life
than
hunching
over account books
and
comparing
manifests.

William’s
shop
was
part
of
a
neat
row
of
stores
on
the
main
market street. Old sailcloth had been hung inside the large display windows that flanked
the
main
door
to
keep
prying
eyes
from
peering
in
before
the
he
was ready
to
declare
the
place
open.
The
iron
arm
that
would
hold
the
shop
sign
hung
bare,
which
it
would
until
he
finally
a
n
nounced
the
name
of
it
to
the world.
For
now,
he
called
it
a
chocolatier
if
he
needed
anything
descriptive beyond shop.

Inside,
it
was
filthy. Once
upon
a
time
it
had
been
a
bakery,
until
the local
butcher
found
his
wife
and
the
baker
(here
William
paused
to
think
of several
suitable
and
quite
scandalous
puns
involving
mating
and
baking) in
an
improper
circu
m
stance, and
murdered
them
both.
He
confessed
to the
crime
immediately,
and
how
could
he
not,
covered
as
he
was
by
blood, and
sugar,
and
flour?
No
one
wanted
to
take
the
place
over
for
some
time, and
then
it
was
bought
a
few
years
ago,
but
never used.
Since
he’d
never met
the
previous
owner,
he
didn’t
know
why
it
was
bought;
only
that
it was
abandoned
until
another
man—this
time
William
himself—was
foolish enough to lay money down for
it.

Th
e
afternoo
n
su
n
pushe
d
it
s
wa
y
throug
h
th
e
sailclot
h
an
d
painte
d
everythin
g a
gray
-tone
d
gold
,
outlinin
g
dust-limne
d
counter
s
an
d
displa
y
rack
s
i
n
mudd
y
shadows
.
I
t
wa
s
severel
y
depressing
,
an
d
an
y
thought o
f
beggin
g
Tasmi
n
t
o
com
e
an
d
hel
p
hi
m
righ
t
th
e
plac
e
wa
s
banished
.
Remember
,
‘twa
s
cheap
,
especiall
y
fo
r
th
e
district—
a
steal—an
d
yo
u
were luck
y
t
o
ge
t
it
.
Par
t
o
f
hi
m
di
d
no
t
wis
h
t
o
disma
y
he
r
furthe
r
tha
n
sh
e
woul
d
b
e
whe
n
sh
e
hear
d
th
e
news
;
par
t
o
f
hi
m
like
d
th
e
ide
a
o
f
carryin
g
he
r
acros
s
th
e
threshol
d
o
f
th
e
sho
p
o
n
th
e
da
y
o
f
thei
r
wedding
,
presentin
g
th
e
future h
e
wa
s
providin
g
fo
r
the
m
lik
e
a
polishe
d
jewel
.

The
door
opened, and
he
turned.
Cecelia
stepped
into
the
shop,
her pretty face fa
l
ling slack
with horror.

“You
should
not
be
here,
my
dear. The
neighbors
will
not
be
very charitable.”
I
n
deed,
the fact
he
had
hired
the pretty
young
widow of
one
of his
former
crew
members
had
caused
a
bit
of
a
stir,
and
while
he
didn’t
care what
they
thought,
he
was
afraid
Tasmin would,
and
that
was
something he did care about.

“That
poor,
poor
woman.
She
will
take
one
look
at
this
and
run
for her
life
and
I
will
be
helping
her.
Iyei!
God
in
his
heaven!
What have
you done?”

He
ignored
her,
thinking about
the
many
things
that
must
be accomplished. He wanted to open his shop in
six
months.
“You know
what this place needs?”

“A huge fire,
after which you can begin all over again?”

"Sailors."
He
smiled
as
if he'd finally found
the
cur
e
for
all
of
his
troubles. "No
one
knows
how
to
clean
like
a
sailor.
We
shall
have
the
tile
up
and replaced
with
a
nice,
rich
wood
deck,
the
counters
repaired
and
repainted. Yes.
'Tis
the
best
answer."

Chapter
4

Setemerio 23
rd
, Scarlet
Moon Qtr. 1786

Dear
Tasmin,

I am very pleased that you have asked this of me; please find enclosed
all of
the
bu
t
tons from my
jacket.
If
it would protect you, I
would send
you
my
shoe
buckles
and
even
my
sword as
well,
for the
hilt is partly of
brass.