“You only like turtles.”
“Gimme.”
Britt handed one to Nikki and sampled another one herself. After letting the chocolate soften on her tongue, she chewed thoughtfully. The chocolate in this batch had a more nut-forward flavor than usual.
“Divine,” Nikki stated.
“Is there life after turtles?”
“Maybe.” Nikki chased the chocolate with a sip of her coffee. “So what’s Clint’s romantic story?”
“He’s never been married, but beyond that I don’t know much. I remember meeting a girlfriend of his at a family function once. But that was a long time ago, and I don’t think he dated her long.”
“Lifelong bachelors are an interesting breed.” Nikki tapped a coral-painted fingernail against her mug. “What might have kept him from settling down?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Your next assignment is to find out,” Nikki said.
“At the risk of sounding selfish, what’s in it for me?”
“I’ll use the Village’s ad space in theMerryweather Chronicleto advertise Sweet Art. Instead of promoting the Village as a whole, we often try to highlight one of our fabulous vendors.”
“Does Nora know that you’re bribing me with advertising in exchange for a dating dossier on Clint Fletcher?”
“Nora likes to spread the love around. We give all of our vendors a turn in the sun.Whenthey get their turn in the sun is completely at my discretion.”
“In that case, you have a deal.” Britt cut out more of the raspberries on the transfer sheet. “It occurs to me that I’m clueless about your romantic history, Nikki. Should Clint ask me, I’d like to be prepared.”
“I’ve been married twice.” Nikki reached for another chocolate, but Britt intercepted her with a shooing motion. “First,” Nikki continued, “to Artie. Artie was a big, booming redneck, and I use the termredneckwith absolute fondness. He loved Nascar, beer, and me. We married when I was twenty-three. Fifteen years later, he ran his truck into a tree after getting drunk at a friend’s house watching football. No one else was injured, thank goodness.”
“You knew that my friend Olivia was killed when she was hit by a drunk driver, didn’t you?” Britt’s group of female high school friends had been a circle of five—herself, Maddie, Olivia, Hannah, and Mia.
“I had heard that, yes. Drunk driving has taken someone from us both.”
“It has.”
“Such a rotten shame. When I think about how Artie died, I, very lovingly, call him a string of bad names.”
A rotten shamewas exactly how Britt would classify Olivia’s death. Olivia had died almost three years ago, when she’d been in her mid-twenties.
Back when the accident had happened, Britt had achieved her degree at the Culinary Institute, completed her time in France, and returned to Merryweather to run Sweet Art. Construction on her cottage had just finished, and she’d moved in a few days before Mia had called early one morning to tell her the terrible news about Olivia.
She remembered sinking into one of her kitchen chairs as ifher bones had turned to water. Her heart thudded sickly, her vision resting on the moving boxes lined up against one wall of her living room, a testament to the exciting new beginning she was enjoying in her own life.
In fact, everything about her life in that season had felt like an exciting new beginning. Her career. Supporting herself. Adulthood. The world was full of trails to hike, mountains to climb, chocolates to make, and countries to visit.
The last thing she’d expected was the sudden and tragic death of a close friend. During the days before and after Olivia’s funeral, she’d wrestled with God. If her perfectly healthy, young, happy friend could die one night while driving home from a restaurant dinner, then the same fate could happen to her or to anyone else she loved. And thatwas notokay with her.
Not at all.
Britt was a passionate person. The people she loved, she loved wholeheartedly. She knew that she couldn’t have survived, the way Nikki had managed to, had it been her husband who’d driven a beeline into a tree. She couldn’t have survived, the way her father had managed to, had it been her spouse who’d been murdered.
In the aftermath of Olivia’s death, Maddie, Hannah, and Mia had all looked to her with shattered eyes. They’d needed her to have a spine of steel, and so, of course, that’s exactly how she’d responded. She’d ensured that Maddie, Hannah, and Mia came through the trial as whole as possible. She’d thrown herself into her work, her romances, her activities.
She’d gone on.
When caught in the mud of difficult circumstances, she’d learned to keep trudging until her feet reached less muddy ground.
