Page 8 of Love Bites

I RESCINDED MYoffhand thought about bad moments.

As I stood in the charming little red brick building housing the Caldwell Crossing Savings & Loan, the only bank in town, I was questioning if Mercury was in retrograde.

“I am really sorry, but we don’t swap foreign currency for American cash. We don’t even have any in the safe. You can try the travel agency over in Miller’s Fork. They do all kinds of things like that and passport photos. They also sell suitcases.”

Deep down I knew that the teller with the shaved head and nose piercing was being incredibly polite. But no foreign currency? How did a bank even function without the basics of what a made a bank a bank?

“And where is this Miller’s Fork?” I asked as a man behind me who smelled suspiciously of cow manure began clicking his tongue at us to hurry up.

“About an hour north of here. You go through Stonebridge. Oh, make sure you find the covered bridge, and the maple farm. Both are really popular! If you stay north on the Licking Stick Road that will lead you through the outskirts of Stonebridge then you turn left at old man Potter’s purple barn. You can’t miss it. After that you make a right at—”

“I’ll just use Google maps, thank you very much.”

“You are so welcome.” She gave me a few bats of her long lashes.

I spun on the heel of my loafer, nodded at the man in the grimy overalls, and left the bank. Wonderful. Well, fine, I wouldleave the cash problem for Edgar. He enjoyed driving. I had more important things to do. Taking a moment to check my reflection in the mirror I was pleased with what I saw. I’d toned down the corporate casual to run with slim jeans, my leather Ferragamo loafers, and a sporty poppy red short-sleeve shirt, untucked. Very laid back. I’d not gelled my hair. I only wore the watch that was my father’s. It was old, yes—I had been an infant when he'd been taken from us in a biking accident—but I had never bought another watch to replace it. Sure, it was outdated, and the inscription on the back had worn off, but it was a small piece of him I cherished even though I had no memories of him other than the heartbroken tales Mother relayed to me when Opa wasn’t around.

Sensing that I was stalling, I took a stroll down Main Street to check out some of the local artisan shops. As I started to pick a direction, I bumped into a man carrying an overnight banking bag. Tall fellow, good-looking, with bits of sawdust in his hair.

“Excuse me,” I said with a smile as I stepped aside. He paused, stared at me as if I had sprouted another head, and then frowned. “I was not watching where I was going. Your town is so pretty it held me spellbound.”

That seemed a polite way to make excuses.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled as we stood there outside the bank like two gunfighters sizing each other up. Only I was not looking for a fight. I was searching for a local shop where I could find a gift for Capucine and Haider.

“You look to be a man who works with wood,” I stated in my friendliest manner. A warm wind blew down the street, rustling American flags and shaking the green leaves on the elm trees lining the road.

“Why do you say that?” he asked curtly.

“You’re covered in bits of wood,” I pointed out.

“Oh.” He glanced down at himself. “Yeah, I make things. Things out of wood. Why?”

“I was hoping to purchase a gift for two possible future business partners. Where is your shop where you make things out of wood?” I was doing my level best to be courteous to the man.

“Outside of town. Maybe you should buy something from a big store to help drive another small business out of business.” He made a face as I gaped. “Yeah, just order from that mega online mart.”

With that he stalked around me, bits of fine wood dust falling from his wide shoulders. Okay, so not everyone in New Hampshire was friendly. Feeling the sting of his words, I made my way to a boutique that carried floofy women’s clothes, scented candles, and delicate little beaded earrings and bracelets. I purchased a lemon yellow shawl for Capucine since she was tart like a lemon. Then I picked up a bracelet with bright blue beads. The color of the beads matched the color of Haider’s eyes. I laid it down beside the register with haste.

Not wishing to investigate why I had purchased such personal things, I left the store smelling of incense, and crossed Main to stand outside Harmony Chocolates, feeling rather unsure of my approach as well as the gifts in my hand. The craggy bark of my grandfather to get it done in my ear I stiffened my spine. With shoulders squared I once more entered the lion’s den.

The silver bells rang out. Haider Gray was just exiting the production room with a tray of freshly made chocolate—what I guessed to be peanut butter—cups when he spied me. Those stunning eyes of his widened. The swinging door to the candy magic room slapped shut behind him.

“I come bearing gifts,” I said, extending the two bags outward.

That was when I heard her to my left. “Am I hearing that evil voice again?” Capucine asked, stalking out of the office with her hands on her hips. “Why are you coming back?”

Haider stood stiffly, peanut butter cups resting on a large silver tray covered with wax paper, his curls shoved under a net. He had a smudge of milk chocolate on his cheek. It was an adorable little smear and—

“So, you are not talking even now?” Capucine’s voice pulled me from my admiration of Haider’s cute smudge.

I turned to face the lioness. “I came with an offering of peace and goodwill to all chocolatiers.”

“Pfft,” Capucine said, folding her arms over her tidy Harmony Chocolates apron. I could hear the clatter of an industrial mixing machine in the back. Vanilla scent filled the store. “I have no good will for that toad you call Opa. I know he took my recipe for apricot berlingots.”

I stared openly at her. “I have a shawl for you.” I could not imagine my grandfather taking a candy recipe from a fellow confectioner. Yes, he was shrewd but a thief? No. Still, she seemed to believe it. “It’s soft yellow. The color reminded me of the sunsets in Paris.” She rolled her eyes so hard I worried she would topple over. Haider, through all of this stood like a statue holding his cups. I shot him a glance. “I also found a present for you. A handmade bracelet from Miss Marie Moody across the street.” With infinite care I passed the bag with the shawl to Capucine as one would hold out a bite of meat for a tiger. “The beads are blue. Like your eyes.” That made those pretty eyes of his flare. “I mean no harm and am not here to spy. I merely wish to speak to you about your futures.”

Haider slid his tray onto an empty display case made from butter-toned wood with beautifully detailed legs. He stared at the bag then at my face then plucked it from my fingers. Capucine had lifted the shawl from the brown paper bag, hernose wrinkled in consternation. “I know that you are both diligent workers with much love given to this shop. I also know that the times they are changing as your Bob Dylan would say.”

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