Part 2 (2/2)
”But it smells so chocolatey in here,” said Lucy.
Tamzin's shoulders popped up. ”It's phoney. Well, I mean, the chocolates themselves do have a scent, but we amplify it with a gizmo; it's in the corner. Every few seconds it squirts out a little puff of chocolate scent.” She paused, obviously having second thoughts. ”I think that's off the record, a trade secret.”
”Are you giving away secrets?” Lucy jumped a bit at the booming male voice, and turned to meet the fortyish man entering the shop.
”Not at all, Trey.” Tamzin was all aflutter and Lucy briefly wondered if she was having some sort of respiratory problem from the way her amazing chest was rising and falling.
The guy was handsome; Lucy had to admit Corney was right. He had streaky sandy hair that fell over his brow, liquid brown eyes a girl could drown in, a square jaw, and a firm handshake.
”Trey Meacham,” he said, grabbing her hand. ”You must be Lucy Stone.”
”Right,” said Lucy, somewhat dazed herself. ”Tamzin was just telling me about your commitment to quality. Congratulations on the award.”
”We're deeply honored,” said Trey. His voice was deep and his tone serious. ”It's kind of like hitting a home run the first time you come up to bat. I never expected to be so successful so soon, especially considering the economy. But chocolate, you know, is an affordable luxury. I think that's the secret. And people are weight conscious, too. That's why we package them this way-you can buy three in a box for fifteen dollars.”
Lucy's jaw dropped. ”Fifteen dollars for three?”
”A terrific little gift, an indulgence.” He paused, registering her shock. ”Think about it, what other luxury can you enjoy for fifteen bucks? Or as little as five, actually, because we sell them singly, too.”
Lucy was thinking that a Snickers bar, her favorite, cost eighty-nine cents, but she didn't mention it.
”I can see you're not convinced,” said Trey, throwing in a charming chuckle. ”You'll have to try a couple.”
He nodded at Tamzin and she withdrew a tray of chocolates from the case and set it on the counter, fluttering over it like a Tiffany salesman displaying an a.s.sortment of jewelry. The counter, Lucy realized, was lower than usual and gave Tamzin an ample opportunity to display her remarkable endowment.
”No, no,” said Lucy. ”I'm on a diet.”
Trey's brows rose in astonishment. ”You? But you don't need to lose an ounce!”
Lucy knew this was pure flattery, because she was dressed in a puffy quilted parka that entirely concealed her figure. ”Swimsuit season's coming,” she said.
”Swimsuits ... that's a good one,” said Trey, with a nod out the window at the snow that had begun to fall.
Following his gaze, Lucy noticed his car, parked out front. It was an enormous green Range Rover, the current favorite gas-guzzling status symbol among the region's strivers and doers. She thought of Eddie, who'd risked life and limb in a war that was supposed to be about terrorism but just happened to be in a part of the world that contained enormous oil reserves.
”Really, you have to try them to appreciate the quality,” said Trey, recapturing her attention.
”And the unique flavors,” added Tamzin.
”That's right,” agreed Trey. ”And I'd like to mention especially that we're trying to overcome the male bias against chocolate.”
”Chocolate's not just for the ladies,” said Tamzin.
”Right. That's why we've got Mucho Macho. It's a manly blend with hints of beef jerky and German fingerling potato.”
”In chocolate?” Lucy thought the mixture sounded repulsive.
Trey nodded. ”Chocolate isn't just for sweets, you know. Think of chicken mole. In fact, we've got a chicken mole truffle.”
”And lavender,” said Tamzin. ”So creamy and delicate. We call it Lovely Lavender.”
Lucy was pretty sure she liked her lavender in a bar of soap. ”Interesting,” she said, suddenly remembering that time was fleeting and she had to meet a deadline. ”Listen, I've got to wrap this up. Do you have a press release or something with the basic facts about the company?”
”Absolutely,” said Trey, opening a slim leather portfolio and handing her a professionally produced PR packet.
”And I need a photo, too,” she said, producing her camera.
Trey hopped around the counter and stood next to Tamzin, beneath the rooster. ”Be sure to get Chanticleer,” he said, grinning broadly. ”Say chocolate!”
Lucy felt like groaning, but she snapped a couple of pictures instead.
”Well, thanks for everything... .”
”You can't leave without some chocolates,” Trey said, grabbing one of the big boxes and forcing it into her hands. ”Remember, a day without chocolate... .”
”Is a really crummy day,” offered Tamzin.
”Well, yes,” agreed Trey. ”But I was going to say that a day without chocolate is like a day without suns.h.i.+ne.”
”Oh, that's nice,” Tamzin said, patting Trey's shoulder and straightening his collar. She turned slowly and regarded Lucy, obviously making some sort of connection. ”Did you say your last name is Stone?”
”That's right,” replied Lucy.
”Are you related to Bill Stone? The carpenter?”
It was an instinctive reaction, a tightening of the gut and an increased awareness, as if a predator was heard snapping a twig. ”Sure, he's my husband,” said Lucy.
”Well, he's a really nice guy,” said Tamzin.
Lucy's jaw tightened. ”I know,” she said. ”Thanks for the chocolate.”
Making her way out of the shop she wondered how Tamzin knew Bill, and why he'd never mentioned her. Walking carefully down the icy sidewalk to the Pennysaver office, she also wondered about the relations.h.i.+p between Trey and Tamzin. Was it purely business, or something more? And hadn't Barney said that Max was obsessed with Tamzin, repeating her name over and over when he spent the night in the town lockup? Lucy knew the speed with which news traveled in town; Tamzin must surely have heard of Max's death, but she hadn't seemed at all upset. Come to think of it, thought Lucy, pulling open the office door and setting the little bell to jangling, there hadn't seemed much of anything genuine about Tamzin, starting with her blond hair. And what about Trey? Wasn't he a bit too slick? Then again, she cautioned herself, she wasn't exactly Oprah or Barbara Walters herself, probing for shocking revelations. The interview was simply an opportunity for them to pitch their chocolates and her job was to write a flattering puff piece.
”Whatcha got there?” inquired Phyllis, pointing to the blue-and-yellow box.
”A small fortune in chocolate,” said Lucy. ”Want to try a Lovely Lavender, or a Mucho Macho?”
Ted was already opening the box. ”Mucho Macho?”
”Beef jerky and some sort of potato.”
Phyllis was studying the array of chocolates in their gold foil compartments, trying to match them to the pictures on the inside of the box top. ”Pretty small if you ask me. I like something to chew on. A mouthful.”
Lucy shrugged. ”I'm on a diet.”
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