Free Hot Fudge Frame-Up: A Fudge Shop Mystery by Christine DeSmet

inn—then caught myself. I reminded myself I would be moving in temporarily only and alone and not as a bed-and-breakfast operator, and only because of the industrial kitchen.
    Pauline hurried after Bethany and the little girls gathering in the doll aisle like real butterflies puddling around a water puddle.
    I headed behind the cash register counter to stash the cookbooks for later reading when the shop wasn’t busy.
    The cash register
ka-chinged
as Cody rang up purchases of fudge he’d neatly wrapped. We’d just sold out of the Cinderella Pink Fudge and Cody said we also needed more luster dust. Cody loved how luster dust made fudge sparkle. I’d need to get busy with my kettles and make fudge fast in order to fulfill my obligations for sharing my fudge with businesses this weekend. A quick sweep with my eyes told me Piers and Kelsey weren’t around. I relaxed, but only a little. Dillon and Sam were there for a reason—probably me.
    Dillon was now outside the bay window, tossing something into the water. His dog flew into the harbor in a belly-flop splash. The sight made me smile because of the pure joy I saw in both man and dog. Pauline was right; I hungered for such play myself.
    Sam, on the other hand, was standing at the glass-enclosed fudge case with a list. He’d told me that family counseling went better when everybody was fed fudge first. He said that fudge got them reminiscing about old times. I also found that a surprising number of people remembered making fudge with their grandmothers or mothers on a Saturday night or at holidays. They’d watch television or a rental movie while eating a fresh batch of the savory, sugary chocolate treat. The thought made me feel good about Lloyd’s suggestion that I should become more knowledgeable about my shop’s heritage. I’d have to sit down soon with a copy of Alex Faust’s cookbook to see what he’d said about the bait shop’s history.
    Sam said, “I finished moving your boxes from the cabin into the back storage room for you. Your grandmother asked me to help you out.”
    I realized the healthy glow I’d seen earlier on him was actually sweat. His white shirt had wilted. I didn’t have the heart to tell Sam I didn’t need to move into the shop.
    “Thanks. Can you excuse me, Sam? I’ve got more of the maple fudge back in the kitchen for you.”
    Sam followed me to the kitchen to the right, uncharacteristic of him. I was nervous, thinking something intimate was about to happen. Was I hoping for it?
    “Is there something you need to talk to me about, Sam?”
    “No, but I wondered if you needed those boxes moved around in that room.”
    So that was all he wanted—to lug boxes. “No, but thanks. My grandfather sort of chucked stuff in there over the years, and we’ll have to sort through it all. But you can help me haul fudge ingredients out to the copper kettles if you’re in a mood to move things.”
    I had Sam reach up high for the kilo bars of white chocolate where the dog couldn’t reach them while I checked the refrigerator for cream. Mom had been back sometime during my absence and had left plenty.
    Sam said, “Let me get the cream for you.”
    “Thanks, Sam.” His closeness created an agitation in my veins, but he seemed oblivious as his arms grew fuller. “Don’t you have other appointments today?”
    “It’s lunch hour.”
    I’d forgotten. That’s why Dillon was here, too. He’d promised to check on me. Maybe I was like a sister to Sam and Dillon, and that’s all we had. As I reached up for some more chocolate bars, Sam came behind me to reach over my head. His breaths puffed into my hair in a ragged rhythm. My imagination saw his lips edging forward to kiss my ear. I held my breath, but Sam just went ahead and got the chocolate down.
    Sam had forgiven me for jilting him, but his social worker training made him live by plans. He preferred an orderly life. I’d been a messy character in his past, and I was messy now. He likely