Page 3 of Look for Me

Maybe she could ask Sandra for forty hours and healthcare benefits. However, this was probably a bad time. The widowed owner of the establishment seemed busy right now.

Really, there was no good time. Key Largo was a tourist stop, and this chocolate shop was famous for its chocolate barks and pralines.

Corinne looked for a clean kitchen towel to hand over to Sandra, who thanked her for it. “Want me to help you put that away?”

“No. You better get up front,” Sandra said. “Erika hasn’t come back from her dental appointment.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Corinne hurried for the door leading out to the old store.

Surrounded by red brick walls, the Key Largo Chocolate Shop was basically an open space with old kitchen tables and cabinets filled with chocolate, fudge, brownies, truffles, petits fours, you name it. Oh yes, and ice cream.

Corinne reached the counter, where a line was forming. She opened the next cash register. “May I help the next person?”

The tourist was laden with several cameras, some with telephoto lenses, hanging every which way off his neck. He was sweating heavily.

Corinne handed him a wad of paper napkins. The man thanked her in a thick accent, and began to wipe his forehead—lobster-red and flushed with sweat.

Corinne regretted helping him as soon as he did that. The napkin fell apart on his face. Bits and pieces of paper were stuck to his forehead and cheeks.

Oh, no.

She didn’t know what to say. She looked around, found a roll of paper towels, and tore off a few sheets for him. The man thanked her again.

That helped some.

Corinne tried not to look at him. She rang up his five boxes of double chocolate fudge with extra maple syrup and cut cherries on top. He swiped his card, and waddled out of the store with the shopping bag.

Anyone who worked in this store had trained to work at all the stations, even helping Hardin to make their signature items. That way, if someone called in sick, another person could fill in, and the shop would continue to function.

Usually, Corinne was at the back, stirring melted chocolate or making brownies and fudge and other sweet things she had no cravings for. Her entire life, she had never experienced any sweet tooth. She didn’t know whether it was genetic or not, since her mother had passed away many years ago. She never knew her father, and didn’t know if she inherited a sweet tooth—or for that matter, any medical problem, from him either.

Perhaps it wasn’t ironic that she was a single mother now too.

But yeah, no sweet tooth.

With Erika late for work, Corinne had to fill in wherever Sandra put her today. Out front, Corinne had to smile to the customers and be as polite as she could.

Back in Savannah, when she still had a job that provided her with 401K and health insurance, she was an office manager at a pottery studio. Sure, there were customers coming and going—buying pottery or taking classes—but for the most part, Corinne didn’t have to greet anyone with a smile on her face.

Especially when her entire body ached all over.

She shouldn’t have taken that short cut last night through the alley—

The cabinets rattled as a stampede of kids stormed in. They looked like they were from the nearby camp. Corinne wished she could afford to send Dahlia to camp someday.

The kids oohed and aahed and licked their lips as their noses and palms pressed against the clear glass panel separating them from the ice cream bar.

From the corner of Corinne’s eye, she spotted Erika rushing in, tying up her apron and then putting on a pair of gloves. The children all spoke at once. Their chaperone tried to calm them down.

Must be nice to be so young and carefree.

Corinne bagged and checked out a dozen customers before she could go lean against something or sit down to rest her sore feet. She had bought the tennis shoes from Walmart about a year ago, and had worn down the inside sole. She lined it with a new insole only yesterday, but it might not be enough.

Every night, she’d go home with sore feet and aching joints from half an hour of walking. That was why she had taken the short cut last night.

Bad move.

Thank God that a couple of homeless men had wandered into the alley to dumpster dive. They scared off her attackers, but not before Corinne saw their faces.

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