Page 30 of Mistletoe Sky
She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted it so desperately. But when they’d reached Rosemary Cottage, he’d wrapped her in a hug and said, “See you soon. And let me know if you need anything at all. Promise me that.” She’d promised and watched from the window as he drove his carriage back to the stables.
She wondered now if Marius had not wanted to kiss her? Or had he felt like the night was too tied up in past traumas and fears to allow for something so beautiful and soft and romantic?
Oh, she didn’t know what to think.
It was eleven thirty when Willa locked her bike in front of the Caraway Fudge Shoppe. Incredibly, it was bustling, with tourists lining the front counter and circling outside, shivering. Willa was amazed. The interior glowed with orange light, and the glass counters were stocked with all her favorite kinds of fudge: chocolate, chocolate raspberry, and even the butterscotch flavor she’d made up long ago. Hurriedly, she breezed past the line, ignoring the tourists who told her to wait her turn.
She found Amelie at the cash register, her cheeks rosy, her eyes slightly frantic. She’d just packaged a massive order for a jolly-looking woman in her sixties, who was saying, “Everyone on the ferry said Caraway Fudge Shoppe was closed down, and I said, It can’t be! It just can’t be! And I was right!”
“You were right!” Amelie cried.
“You must be the daughter who took over?” the woman went on. “I’ve been coming here for years. Your father always said his daughters moved away.”
“But I’m back,” Amelie said, smiling. There was sweat on her forehead.
The woman paid and left, drawing the line farther up the glass counter. Amelie looked nervous, as if she didn’t know how to handle all of them. Willa knew it was a two-person job. She flung herself into the kitchen and reached for an apron. When she re-emerged, Amelie was gaping at her. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Helping out, of course!” Willa said, putting on a smile for the customers.
“Look, Mommy!” a little girl cried. “They’re twins!”
“That’s right, honey!” The mother smiled and lifted her daughter into her arms so that she had a better vantage point of the fudge in the glass counter. Together, they selected five different flavors, all of which Willa packaged up lovingly as Amelie handled another order.
Easily, they fell back into the routine they’d known since they were girls. It was like they were eleven, thirteen, fifteen, or eighteen again.
As Willa worked, she made sure to wear a big, happy, Christmassy smile. She knew that was what the guests were looking for when they entered. Sometime after noon, she and Amelie discovered that they could play Christmas music through a speaker system that their father had installed sometime in the past twenty years, and that only added to the magic of the little place. Willa couldn’t fathom how much fudge they’d already sold. It was incredible how much Amelie had managed to make just that morning. But it was clear that they would run out before the day was through.
Willa’s big smile made her think of her mother, who hadn’t always been happy working at the fudge shop, and how she’d had to fake it. Was Willa faking it now? Each time she heard her sister’s voice or saw her sister’s smile, a new jolt of happiness went through her. She couldn’t remember being this happy at any point over the past twenty years. Everything had felt like a struggle: advertising, the big city, dating, money, life.
Maybe she and Amelie should have stayed at the fudge shop where they belonged.
At around four thirty, there was a brief yet surprising slowdown. The fudge shop was empty save for the twins. Amelie gasped and fell onto the chair in the corner, shaking her head so that her red hair fell around her shoulders. To Willa, she looked so beautiful, rougher around the edges than Willa, with those unplucked eyebrows and less makeup than Willa liked to wear.
“You saved me,” Amelie said after a dramatic pause. “I seriously wasn’t sure how I was going to get through the day.” She reached into the counter and sliced herself a piece of peanut butter fudge, then took a bite, closing her eyes.
Willa did the same: slicing off some butterscotch and eating it. It was to die for, the best thing she’d eaten since she was eighteen. “This is insane, Amelie,” she said.
Amelie laughed. “It’s our secret family recipe, remember?”
“Sure, but you mastered it,” Willa said. “And I’m guessing you haven’t made fudge since you were eighteen?”
“Not once,” Amelie said. “I haven’t even eaten it.”
“Neither have I,” Willa admitted.
They held the silence, letting their fudge melt on their tongues.
“How did you know I needed your help today?” Amelie asked finally, reaching forward to slice herself another piece of fudge.
Willa laughed. “I couldn’t focus on work. I got on Mom’s bike and just started riding. I ended up here.”
“There aren’t many places to end up on such a small island, I guess,” Amelie said. “I spent time on other islands through the years. Nantucket. Key West. They all have that ‘island feel,’ I guess, but none of them were like Mackinac.”
Willa closed her eyes, letting the sugar rush take over.
“Maybe it was our twin connection,” Amelie suggested. “Maybe you could sense I needed you.”
“Maybe,” Willa said, smiling.
