“Another work of art,” Cheryl exclaimed, letting Devin go and admiring the dessert. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “This one is from Dad,” she said, with obvious pride in her voice. “It’s one of his specialties.”

  “Is he here? Come, introduce me and we can pick our entrées for the night. Will you be ready for our orders soon, Lena?”

  She nodded, glad to have the recipe cards with their specific timelines. “Let us know which dishes you pick, and we’ll have them out in about ten minutes.”

  “You sounded so professional when you said that,” Devin said, giving her a wink as she stowed a tub of whipped cream in the fridge. Lena hoped professional was just another word for sexy.

  “And not a single swear word,” Cheryl added. “Well done, dear.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Devin followed Cheryl out of the kitchen and introduced her to her dad. Cheryl gave him a big hug, which Devin had warned him to expect, and then praised his Sacher torte and started a barrage of questions about its history and how he had made it. She couldn’t have picked a conversational opening more designed to put her dad at ease, so Devin was able to just relax and let them carry the conversation while she thought about Lena and mulled anxiously over the visit from the Comstocks. Mostly, though, she thought about Lena.

  She had looked adorable in the kitchen, with her short hair clipped off her face and her cheeks flushed from the heat of her simmering sauces. Well, more likely flushed from the smoke wafting off the burnt piece of pork or chicken, whichever one she had pulled out of the oil when Devin had entered the room. Lena had seemed much more at ease than she had last night, and even though the meal might not be perfect, it would be an improvement. That might give her the impetus to maintain an upward trajectory through the rest of the season. She knew it was important to Lena to do well, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what made Lena feel such a need to prove herself when she was obviously accomplished in her career.

  Devin looked over the short handwritten menu, trying to decide which of the meals to order. She knew they were each expected to order a different one, and not all pick the same one. The burnt meat—well, darkly browned might be a more tactful way to describe it—could either have been the schnitzel or the chicken with mustard sauce. Luckily, Devin didn’t know which, since she was torn between wanting to take one for the team and order the meal she knew would have some issues, or let either her dad or Cheryl unknowingly get it instead. How self-sacrificing was she feeling? Apparently, ordering the cabbage as a side was no longer an option since it had been vigorously scratched off the list.

  She pulled her mind off Lena and back onto the conversation when she heard the subject change to the sale of the shop. She was ready to step in if it seemed too difficult for her dad to talk about it.

  “I was so sad to hear that you were selling your shop, and after how many generations have owned it? Three?” She shook her head. “You seem far too young to retire, but I imagine running the store and making all those wonderful chocolates on your own is exhausting. And Devin, how amazing you are to come back and help every season.”

  He sighed and reached over to pat Devin’s hand. “Yes, she is amazing, but she has her own life to live now.” He forced a smile, but his acting skills hadn’t improved a bit since this afternoon. “And I’ll get to use my chocolate-making skills to make new friends in my retirement community. That will be exciting.”

  Devin sighed. She was going to have to help him find a new hobby or activity, preferably one that gave him a similar sense of purpose and enthusiasm as running the shop had done. It wouldn’t be the same, but she wanted him to stay interested in life and not let his passions fade away. Apparently making chocolates for his new neighbors wasn’t enough to pique his interest.

  He shifted the subject to the buyers’ visit today, and soon he and Cheryl were laughing about his failed attempts to look casual, and the acting advice he’d gotten from Shay. Devin settled back again, letting the two of them talk. They seemed comfortable together, even lapsing into seriousness for a moment when Cheryl asked about her mother, then returning to humor when her dad started telling stories about some of Devin’s more spectacular chocolate-making mishaps from her childhood.

  “I was five,” she interjected at one point. “I could barely reach the register, so I probably shouldn’t have been left alone at the counter. I think we both know whose fault that mistake was.”

  “I went to the back room for thirty seconds to get another tray of vanilla caramels. I honestly didn’t think you’d have time to sell a dozen fancy chocolates for fifty cents.”

  Lena stuck her head out of the kitchen and interrupted their laughter. “Hello,” she called. “Weren’t you supposed to come tell us what you were ordering?”

  “I thought one of you would come out and take our orders, dear,” Cheryl said. “I didn’t realize we were meant to come back there and tell you what we wanted.”

  “Well, it’s been longer than ten minutes, and everything is ready, so we’re bringing out the plates. Hurry up and decide which dish you want.”

  “It smells good in here, but the servers seem kind of crabby,” Devin said.

  They laughed again, then hastily decided who got which meal. She and Cheryl let her dad get the bratwurst since it came with the potato salad, and they knew that would be good. Devin took a gamble with the chicken.

  The chefs trooped out of the kitchen as the most bizarre Christmas parade Leavenworth had ever seen, with Lena in the lead pushing a cart full of food, Layla carrying Jack behind her, and Kirby bringing up the rear, wrestling the playpen through the swinging door. Cheryl introduced everyone to Devin’s dad once they had all arrived at the table.

  “All right, who gets the schnitzel?” Lena asked, sounding more frazzled than she had when Devin had talked to her in the kitchen before. She wondered what had happened in the past fifteen minutes to change her mood.

  She put the plate in front of Cheryl when she raised her hand, then gave Devin and her dad their plates.

  “These look delicious,” he said. “Your plating is very nice.”

  “He’s right,” Devin agreed, looking at her carefully arranged meal. She could barely tell that she had lost the darkly browned lottery. “It’s much improved over last night.”

  “That was all Kirby,” Lena said, and Devin heard pride in her voice. It surprised her that someone as competitive and driven as Lena claimed to be was always so quick to give credit to others and to recognize their accomplishments. “He has a real eye for this.”

  Kirby turned shockingly red at her words and stared down at his plate, but Devin thought she detected a hint of a smile on his face. She guessed that he needed someone like Lena in his life, with her easy praise and kindness. She wondered if Lena had wanted for that, too, when she was young.

  The three of them joined the group at the table, and Lena sat next to her, close enough that every time Devin shifted in her seat, her leg brushed against Lena’s. She fought to keep her attention off that one area of her body and tried a bite of her chicken. She chewed hesitantly at first, but even though there was a hint of charred breadcrumbs, the food was very good.

  Layla was watching her eat. “It’s burnt,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s slightly overcooked, but still good,” Devin corrected her. “I want the recipe for that sauce because it’s wonderful.”

  Layla took a hesitant bite, then smiled. “It is good, isn’t it?”

  Devin nodded. “It’ll be a very popular dish, I’ll bet.”

  Lena seemed to relax next to Devin as they talked about the food. Cheryl’s schnitzel was perfectly fried and not greasy, and her dad raved about the potato salad. The meal was a success, even with the charred bits.

  “Now we just need to replicate this for nearly a hundred guests in one night, instead of three,” Kirby said morosely. Apparently, he and Lena shared the same pessimistic streak. Or maybe it was a realistic streak. Devin decided that time would tell.

  “We’ll be faster when we’re each doing our own part of all of them, like an assembly line, instead of working on a single complete entrée and side from start to finish,” Lena said. She nudged Devin with her elbow. “See? I listened to your lecture.”

  They continued to eat while the conversation flowed around the table, mainly handled by Cheryl and Ron since Kirby barely spoke and Layla was distracted by Jack.

  Devin leaned closer to Lena. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You sounded a little cranky when you came out with the food.”

  Lena scowled. “Let’s just say there was an unfortunate incident involving an entire shaker of salt. I’m now eight dollars poorer.”

  “That’s too bad,” Devin said, trying not to laugh. “But if you decide to become a chef on television, your swearing might make you a star.”

  Lena grinned, then assumed a serious expression again. “Tell me truthfully, is the food really better than last night? Am I getting better at this?”

  “Truthfully, yes to both,” Devin said. “And not only is everything delicious, but you’ve also taken some positive steps toward building up your team. You’re going to be a good influence on these kids. Well, with self-confidence and cooking, anyway. Not language.”

  “Thank you,” Lena said, pressing her leg against Devin’s. “Your dad looks like he’s doing okay,” she said. “I hope today’s emergency text wasn’t about anything serious?”

  “Just the evil developers coming to call,” she said, briefly describing the visit.

  Lena shook her head. “Do you really think they can learn how to make chocolates like you and your dad? You both grew up in that shop. Plus, it seems more specialized than regular cooking. I mean, I know the basics of making a meal, so I can follow a recipe and figure out how to make enough for a bunch of people, but what do they know about chocolate?”

  “I don’t know,” Devin said with a shrug. Lena was close enough that Devin could feel their shoulders touch. She tried to focus on creating coherent sentences. “Buying some pieces of candy and eating them while you’re on vacation is nothing like making hundreds of those pieces, in all different varieties, every day. It’s promising that they realize they need someone to be in the shop with them, at least at first, teaching them and helping to make the product, but who knows how long it will seem exciting and fun to them. I think it could be a very tedious job for someone who isn’t excited by the flavors and the challenge of coaxing the chocolate into the shape and flavor and texture you want it to be.”

  She paused, thinking about some of the things the Comstocks had talked about today. “I knew they were empty-nesters, and from what they said, it sounds like family trips to Leavenworth over Christmas were a real highlight for them. I think they’re missing their kids, and this is a way to replace them with something that reminds them of happy memories. I’d bet a lot of money that the reality of running the shop won’t stand up to that dream, and they’ll resell the place before the next Christmas season even arrives. Who knows if the next buyer will want to keep it as a confectionary, or if they’ll just want the building for something else.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I was thinking today that it would be easier for us if the person buying the shop didn’t want to sell chocolates anymore, rather than trying to do it but making changes that affected the quality of the product we’ve developed. I pictured it full of those meerschaum pipes tourists love to buy, and smelling earthy and smoky like tobacco,” she admitted with a light laugh. “But I don’t know if either option will make us feel less sad. Either way, it’s going to change. I just want to get the pain over with because I can’t keep living like this, straddling two worlds.”

  “Are you sure you’re picking the right one?” Lena asked quietly. “I’d hate for you to regret your choice after it’s too late to change it.”

  Devin wasn’t sure how to answer. “I don’t like the thought of selling the shop,” she admitted. “But I don’t feel a sense of peace if I picture living here and running it, season after season. It makes me feel caged in. I love the beauty of this area, with the mountains and great places to hike or raft in the summer, but I don’t think it’s enough for me. It never has been.” She sighed. “I just don’t know what I want.”

  Her dad cleared his throat, and Devin looked up to see the entire table watching them. She hadn’t realized how much she had been leaning toward Lena while she spoke, but at least she didn’t think they had heard what she was saying since she was practically in Lena’s lap and whispering in her ear.

  They both sat up, edging away from each other slightly. “We were just talking about the schnitzel gravy,” Lena said smoothly, looking unruffled by their attention. “I think it could use more salt, but Devin disagrees. Thoughts?”

  Cheryl shook her head. “As owner of this fine restaurant, I decree that the swear stein is temporarily the lying stein. You owe it a dollar.”

  Everyone laughed, which startled Jack and made him start to cry. Devin decided she was quite fond of the kid, since he effectively stole all the attention away from her and Lena.

  “If I keep changing twenties around town, people are going to get suspicious,” she muttered to Devin. “They probably think I’m spending my evenings in a strip club.”

  Devin laughed. “Unlikely. There are codes to keep those out, too, just like the evil developers.”

  Jack’s squalls were getting louder, slightly lessening Devin’s fondness, and Layla was desperately trying to quiet him.

  “Let me try,” Devin’s dad said, and Layla hesitantly shifted the baby into his arms. He held the baby against his shoulder. “This always worked with Devin when she got fussy,” he said, and then he started reciting temperatures for different phases of chocolate making while he bounced gently up and down. Jack immediately quieted, staring at him as if fascinated by his words.

  “He’s not joking, is he,” Lena stated.

  Devin shook her head. “I knew those temperatures by heart before I learned my times tables. The family myth is that I was some sort of chocolate child prodigy, but I was just repeating things I’d been told over and over.”

  Layla looked as if she was about to cry from relief. “Does it work with anything, or just chocolate?” she asked earnestly. Devin’s heart went out to her since she sounded so alone.

  “It’s not the words, dear, but the tone of voice and the bouncing,” Cheryl said. “Jack doesn’t understand or care what he’s talking about.”

  Her dad switched to reciting some statistics for the Seattle Mariners, keeping his voice and his bounce exactly the same. Jack started to cry again, so he returned to chocolate.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Cheryl said before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Fine, I owe a dollar. Looks like we have a future chocolatier in our midst.”

  Devin’s dad carefully laid a now-dozing Jack in his playpen and came back to his seat. “Chocolate is loved nearly universally. It melts at our body temperature. It responds to us, offering better health and happiness, and we respond to it.”

  “Speaking of which, I think it’s time we tried your creation,” Cheryl said.

  “I’ll get it ready to serve,” he said, getting up from the table.

  Devin was going to go with him to help, but Lena put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me,” she said, and Devin stayed in her chair, ceding kitchen rights to Lena. She was glad to see her stepping up to the challenge of being in charge of it.

  The two of them were back in no time, each plate holding a generous serving of torte and lightly sweetened whipped cream. Devin picked the garnish off hers and ate it first since it was her favorite part. The dried apricot half had been stewed in syrup until it was soft and dense, and then it was enrobed in dark chocolate.

  “I could eat a hundred of these,” Lena said, biting into hers.

  Everyone devoured the cake, and then Kirby and Layla went into the kitchen to get seconds. The adults stayed at the table, saying it was delicious but too rich to eat more, and then they gave in and followed the kids. They ended up eating seconds gathered around the island, with the door propped open so they could hear if Jack cried. They all seemed to relax, and even Kirby joined in a conversation with Lena and Devin about the best places to white water raft on the Yakima River.

  Devin looked over at her dad, eating his second piece of torte while he talked to Cheryl and Layla. This was part of his passion. Part of his heritage. Bringing people together and making them happy. He was unfailingly humble about it, though, always saying that his beloved chocolate did the work while he merely gave it some shape and offered it to others.

  Devin sighed. Was Lena right? Were they making a decision they would regret, or would selling the store allow both of them to move on to new, even better opportunities? She didn’t know the answer, but she hoped she’d be able to figure it out before the season ended.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lena went through the swinging door into the chocolate shop’s kitchen on Friday and saw Devin leaning over her kitchen counter, surrounded by trays and trays filled with candies for today’s wedding. She was putting the finishing touches on what looked like a few dozen chocolates, piping a dollop of ganache in one corner of the little squares and then switching her piping bag for a pair of tweezers to press a tiny curl of candied orange peel onto each drop.

  She set down the tweezers and stood upright, arching her back in a stretch that pulled her lavender T-shirt, leaving a hint of skin visible above the apron she wore tied around her hips. The move made Lena start to reconsider her presence here today. She had come as a chum, a good pal, ready to help. Instead, her body seemed to be planning some things that were definitely beyond the friend zone.

  “Can you please hand me the other piping bag?” Devin asked, holding out her hand in Lena’s direction.

  Lena took the bag off the counter and walked over to Devin, standing perhaps closer than she should have when she handed it to her. “Here you go,” she said, making Devin startle and nearly drop the ganache.