Page 13 of A Whisker in the Night

Georgie huffs. “The only bottom line I’m interested in expanding is right here.” She gives her rump a light tap. “Now get a movin’. It’s time to get my chocolate game a groovin’.”

“Hear, hear,” I say, giving my belly a rub and the baby gives a little happy dance because they clearly agree, too.

The grounds here at the farm are laid out in a sprawling fashion. There’s a large sign to the left that readsThis Way to Make Your Wildest Blueberry Dreams Come True—where acres of green bushes happen to be dotted with those cute juicy little berries just waiting to be picked.

Another sign points to the right and readsGuided Tours and Hayrides, and sure enough, I see a tractor pulling a flatbed piled with hay, pluming with dust in its wake as it heads down a country road.

And the most glorious sign of them all readsGift Shop and Chocolate Heaven Straight Aheadas it points to the large crimson structure.

Sherlock gives a soft woof as he happily leads us in that direction.

The historic red barn dominates the landscape with its weathered crimson exterior glossy in the spring sunshine. Double doors decorated with oversized wreaths stand wide open, welcoming visitors into what has to be the most magical gift shop in Maine.

The wreaths are adorable with pastel eggs, spring flowers, and cute little chocolate bunnies peeking out from silk flower nests. They’re so cute, I hope they sell those in the gift shop.

As much as I’ve been craving chocolate, I’ve been craving some seriously cute Easter décor, too. Of course, that stood for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, and I’m sure this odd craving of mine will still be in effect for the rest of the holidays until I give birth. Suffice it to say, I’ve amassed quite the army of storage bins because of it, too.

We take one step inside and are treated to a light and bright palatial space with rustic wood floors, giant wicker chandeliers up above, and a glorious gift shop to the left with a country appeal where most of the goods are brimming from barrels or stacked on wood crates.

And to the right, at the back of the converted barn, a magnificent floor-to-ceiling glass wall offers a tantalizing view into the chocolate factory itself. It’s an all-white room filled with women and men in white chef’s clothes, working on what seems like an endless line of chocolate creations.

Soft country music plays from unseen speakers as mobs of people move around every which way, but most of them seem to be migrating toward chocolate heaven and that’s because of the scent of this place. It is heaven indeed.

The thick aroma of warm, sweet chocolate dominates our senses.

Georgie gives a hard groan as she looks longingly at the chocolate dream team. “I think it’s time to butter my chocolate britches.”

Mom groans as well but for entirely different reasons. “I don’t know what that means, but I don’t like it one bit.”

“You don’t like anything,” Georgie says, hooking her arm to my mother’s. “How about we dive into a vat of chocolate and loosen you up?”

Mom huffs. “More like get me arrested.”

“I never said I didn’t have a whole day of fun mapped out.” She whisks my mother off in that direction, despite my mother’s sputtering protests.

“I think they’re making chocolate bunnies as we speak,” Georgie calls over her shoulder at me before weaving through a forest of people. “Look at those little conveyor belts! The tiny molds! The—ooh, is that a chocolate waterfall?”

Heaven help,Mom wails internally.

“And they’re off,” I say as I scan the vicinity in hopes to find my target for the day, Hammie Mae Westoff, but if she is here, she blends in with the thicket of people.

The place is more or less packed, and there’s a buzz of excitement in the air as mostly women with children zip from the gift shop to the window at the chocolate shop and vice versa.

“How about we scour the gift shop first?” I say to my furry menagerie. “I have a feeling that’s where the chocolate is sold. We can always see how it’s made once I’m stuffing my face with it.”

Sherlock barks,I sure hope they have something I can stuff my face with, too.

That’s all he thinks about is food, Fish mewls to Jellybean as they both poke their heads out of my tote bag.

That’s all Hamish thought about, too,Jellybeans says with a sigh.That’s why he opened a restaurant. Verity says he was good at one thing and one thing only: eating all of the profits away.

I give a slight nod. “I could see the hazard in that,” I whisper. “Jasper and I have put a good dent into the profits at the Country Cottage Café ourselves. But that’s because I don’t cook.”

Fish chitters with a laugh.Bizzy has been officially banned from the kitchen. If you need a good structure fire, she’s your girl.

“It’s true.” I sigh. “Heaven help this little one.” I give my belly a pat. “Unless Jasper starts tossing around pots and pans in the kitchen, there’s no hope of a home-cooked meal.”

We head for the gift shop and soon we’re enveloped in a boutique wonderland. Rustic wooden beams strung with twinkling lights soar overhead, while below, artfully arranged displays showcase everything from handmade chocolates to local crafts.

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