Page 4 of Destiny Redeemed
She led me through a maze of side streets until we stopped in front of a small sweets shop. The worn sign creaked in the breeze, its faded letters barely readable: “Sweet Delights.”
“This is what’s within our budget?” I raised an eyebrow. “The door looks like it might fall off if someone sneezes too hard.”
“It’s actually in a good location,” Laurel defended. “Just a few blocks from Primrose Boutique. And the rent is reasonable because…”
“Because it’s falling apart?” I completed the sentence dryly.
“Because it needs some work,” she corrected primly.
I adjusted my plain brown cloak. “Did you bring the disguises?”
She produced a bundle wrapped in cloth. “Yes, one minor lady and her maid. But… are you sure about this location? It’s rather… modest.”
“Perfect for our needs.” After ducking into an alley to change, I emerged as Lady Elena, a merchant’s daughter fallen on hard times. The plain brown dress and minimal jewelry perfectly captured the image of faded gentility. The rough cotton dress itched against my skin, but it would serve our purpose.
The bell above the door jangled discordantly as we entered. The shop’s interior was… well, calling it cozy would be charitable. Dusty shelves lined the walls, half-empty jars of candies arranged haphazardly. The display cases held asad assortment of slightly stale-looking pastries. The wooden counter showed signs of water damage, and the whole place smelled faintly of stale sugar and resignation.
We could afford better places than this with the surging price of silk, but we needed to be mindful of our spending. Not to mention it might look too suspicious to a certain someone if we spend too much.
An elderly man emerged from the back room, his clothes as worn as his surroundings. “Welcome to Sweet Delights,” he wheezed. “What can I get for you ladies?”
I purchased a small bag of candied almonds, noting how his hands shook as he wrapped them. The sugar coating was uneven, and the nuts were slightly stale. Amateur mistakes that spoke volumes about the shop’s decline.
“These are quite good,” I lied smoothly, sharing one with Laurel. “Did you make them yourself?”
“Oh yes,” he brightened. “Family recipe, passed down three generations.”
“I can taste the history,” I murmured while mentally cataloging every flaw in his technique. “It reminds me of happier times…”
I let my voice catch slightly, drawing his attention. “Are you alright, my lady?”
Time to act, Ilyana.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I dabbed at my eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s just… these remind me of the sweets my husband used to love, before…”
The old man leaned forward, concern etched on his face. “Before?”
“Before the illness took him,” I whispered, letting a tear roll down my cheek. “And our fortune with him. The doctors… they tried everything…”
I could feel Laurel’s stare.
“Oh! Dear. It’s always painful to lose someone, and you’re so young…” He shook his head.
“It’s why I’m looking for a small shop, actually.” I wiped at nonexistent tears. “Something modest, to start over. A… a funeral shop, perhaps. To help others going through what I did.”
Laurel’s barely concealed snort turned into a convincing cough.
By the time I finished my tale of woe, complete with dramatically timed sniffles, the shopkeeper was practically giving me the store. An hour later, we emerged with a signed contract and a price so low it was practically theft. Legal theft, but still.
The shopkeeper even threw in his remaining inventory “for the poor dear’s fresh start.”
As we left, Laurel whispered, “A funeral shop? Really?”
I popped a candied almond in my mouth. “People never question tragedy, Laurel. They’re too afraid it might be contagious.”
“And the tears?”
“Onion powder in my handkerchief. Old theater trick—”
