Anything interesting happen at the garage sale?” Britt asked as soon as Maddie let herself into Sweet Art’s kitchen for work on Monday morning.
“We raised a thousand dollars. Then Mr. Gustafson stopped by as we were cleaning up and handed me a check for a thousand more.”
“That’s awesome . . . and also highly evasive because you know that by ‘anything interesting’ I was referring to your relationship with Leo.”
Maddie hung her jacket and purse in the closet. Sweet Art occupied a building that had once been a bank before it had been relocated to its current spot within Merryweather Historical Village. The back half of Sweet Art contained Britt’s kitchen. The shop commanded the front half.
“It really was incredibly generous of Mr. Gustafson,” Maddie said, willfully ignoring Britt’s comment about Leo. “I’m going to keep on giving him extra truffles every time he visits.” Mr. Gustafson was a wealthy retiree with twinkly eyes who took his therapy dog to the hospital for fun and was in possession of a sweet tooth.
“You give him free truffles?” Britt asked with mock outrage. She stood at her cutting board in her white chef’s coat, slicing ganache. She’d snatched her dark hair into a top knot then added a cloth headband for good measure. Her features were crisp and beautiful.
“Of course I give him free truffles. He pays for five times that many, and he just handed Leo and me aone-thousand-dollar checkfor the Huntingtons. I’d say the free truffles are a good investment.”
“Nope.” Britt smiled wolfishly. “I’m going to have to dock your pay and issue a warning.”
“Can you issue my warning in the form of a Death by Chocolate truffle?” Maddie extended her hand for her morning fix.
Britt plucked up a newly made Death by Chocolate truffle and stretched across her work space to place it on Maddie’s palm. “Now tell me how things went at the garage sale between you and Leo. I’ve been eagerly awaiting the latest installment in your tale of unrequited love.”
Maddie ate half the truffle. It melted in a deep, dark, rich stream over her tongue. “My tale is going to remain unrequited, I’m afraid.”
“But why?”
“Because Leo and Charlie are Olivia’s guys?—”
“TheywereOlivia’s guys. Now they’re not.”
Maddie made a sound of protest.
Britt flicked a chocolate sprinkle at her.
Maddie batted it away.
“Leo is perfectly free to date anyone he wants now,” Britt stated. “And so are you.”
Maddie wanted to argue, but how could she? Technically, Britt was right. However, when it came to the bonds of friendship and contrasting loyalties and complicated matters ofthe heart, “technically right” didn’t have much bearing. She had a sudden craving for potato chips.
Britt gave Maddie a forceful look. “They’re not Olivia’s guys anymore. You can’t let that get in your head. Okay?”
“Okay, attack dog. I hear you.” Maddie finished her truffle.
“What else is making you think your tale has to stay unrequited?” Britt asked.
“The fact that I don’t think Leo’s interested in me.”
“You don’t know that to be a fact. Did he do or say anything promising during the garage sale? Anything?”
“Well, two very small things did happen.”
Britt cocked her head, waiting.
“He looked at me at one point as if struck by something. It was sort of an . . . arrested look? I’m not convinced, though, that it had anything to do with me. It could simply have been that he had an epiphany about eighteenth-century France.”
“What’s the other thing that happened?”
“My mom did what she’s fond of doing and tried to set me up with an unsuspecting single man right in front of Leo. It could have been my imagination, but Leo seemed displeased.”
“At the prospect of you going out with the other guy?”
