Page 1 of Not the Billionaire

ONE

Good morning, Mr. Schultz.”

Sebastian Schultz strolled through the door of the gift shop, just off the lobby of the Schultz Chocolate building, freshly showered after working out with his personal trainer in the private company gym downstairs. “Good morning, Linda.”

“How was your workout?” she asked.

“Intense, as always.”

Without another word, Linda lifted the plate at the end of the countertop filled with Granny Schultz’s Truffles—the signature item that had started it all. Stopping in the shop for a truffle had been his usual morning routine since he was a kid, and Linda had grown accustomed to it in the twenty-five years she’d been with the company.

Sebastian’s mouth watered as he took one from the outstretched plate and bit into it. His eyes closed as they always did when the smooth chocolate center melted in his mouth. There was not a better truffle. None he’d ever tasted could compare. The flavor was enough to take any mundane day and turn it into something special.

He leaned his elbow on the countertop. “How was your grandson’s Little League game?”

“It was a close one, but they won 5-4.”

“Did he get to pitch again?”

“He did. He’s getting better and better every time.”

“He’ll be pitching in the Majors in no time.”

Linda’s cheeks crinkled up around her eyes as she smiled proudly.

“Any visitors this morning?” he asked, wiping a fleck of chocolate from his lip and licking it off his finger.

“You ask the same question every day for years, even though you know we open at nine.” She pointed to the clock on the wall to her right that read 9:05 a.m.

He chuckled.

Just then, the electronic chime above the door sounded, and in walked a petite blonde woman, glancing from one chocolate display to another with a seriousness that caught his attention.

“Well, there ya go.” Linda tilted her head and smiled. “A visitor.”

Sebastian observed the woman for a few minutes as she moved back and forth across the room, whispering under her breath to herself. He glanced over at Linda, who looked as amused as he was, then back at the woman. She seemed focused on whatever it was she was searching for.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly wandered toward where she stood with a box of chocolates in her hands, intently reading the packaging.

She set the box down and picked up another. Her nose scrunched up, and she shook her head. “Cherry? Gross!”

“Did you call those gross?” he asked.

The woman startled and placed her hand over her heart. Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, and she bit her bottom lip nervously. “Uh … I’m not a fan of chocolate covered cherries.”

“Have you ever tried a cherry truffle?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“The center is made with real cherry juice from up north in Traverse City.”

Her nose scrunched again. “No thanks.”

“Okay, we’ve established that you don’t like cherry. So, what’s your favorite?” He nodded toward a display of chocolate truffles in various flavors beside them.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had one.”

His mouth fell open, dumbfounded. “Never?”

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