Bliss and the Art of Forever - Alison Kent Page 0,55
reason to deny what he’d done. It was what it was. “His money got me and Addy here, and that’s all I could think about. I’d saved a lot of what I’d made tending bar. I did other odd jobs for guys in the club. Delivered packages. Picked up packages. They paid good money, and I never asked. Adding what was left from Duke to what I had got me started. And it seemed a lesser evil than being indebted to my folks. The fact that my dad even offered . . .”
Interesting how often he singled out his dad. “Did your mother know?”
“I’m not sure. I hadn’t talked to my folks in a while. I hadn’t seen them in ages. But I sent them a box of the chocolates I’d made in the bar’s kitchen and told them that was what I was doing with my life. And I told them about Addy.”
“They didn’t know about her?”
He shook his head. “We weren’t in touch. I wasn’t married to her mother. We weren’t really even in a relationship besides, well, the one that made Addy happen. Turns out I wasn’t particularly proud of that, but I didn’t know I felt that way until after she was born. Becoming a parent, being responsible for a life . . .” He reached down, swiped a stick off the ground. “It put a new spin on a lot of stuff. Including the whole extended-family thing, and wondering about relatives Addy might one day want to know. I’m surprised I didn’t take up genealogy.” He looked over, grinned. “That was a joke.”
Brooklyn took a deep breath, thinking about the children she and Artie had decided not to have. How different things would be for her today if they had.
“Anyway, they wanted to meet her, and they really wanted me to come back to Texas. But there was a very big chance I’d fail. So it was easier to risk my own money, and what I had from Duke, than to take what my dad offered. I mean, I wasn’t making the type of candy you can grab at the grocery store checkout, and Hope Springs is the size of a postage stamp. You can nearly buy a cheeseburger for what one of my artisan pieces costs.”
“You put a lot of work into them.”
“Work and the ingredients. Quality is not cheap. The chocolate. The liquors. I get pistachios from Sicily. Hazelnuts from Washington State. And every confection includes a touch of sea salt imported from Camargue, France.”
“Sea salt,” she said, and smiled to herself at all the things about chocolates she didn’t know.
“It balances the sour and the bitter and the sweet. You don’t even know it’s there.”
“You’re pretty amazing, this wealth of knowledge you have.”
“Not really. I read an article last year sometime about Cambridge offering a degree in chocolate. To research the melting point or something.” He shrugged. “Not exactly my cuppa, but if I know things, it’s because I’ve made a point to learn them, or had hands-on experience with them.”
Every bit of his story was so clear, so straightforward . . . “Have you ever explained to your mother where the money came from? The same way you just explained it to me?”
He huffed and shook his head. “She wouldn’t listen.”
“Even knowing you accepted it because of Adrianne?”
“Addy is six years old, and my mother is still mad that I deprived her of the first year of her only grandchild’s life.”
“I can see that, I guess.”
“Taking her side now?” he asked, arching a brow.
“It’s not about taking sides,” she told him. “It’s about family. You think she’s difficult, that she’s”—how had he put it?—“up in your business too much. Maybe she’s just having a hard time forgiving you for not telling her about Adrianne sooner. That first grandchild has got to be a big deal. All the little booties and tiny sleepers and knitted blankets. She missed out on that.”
“Yeah. I guess,” he said, breaking the stick into pieces then tossing them into the yard. “You and Artie never wanted kids?”
She waited for the catch in her throat to pass before answering. “Not while he was fighting fires.”
“That would’ve been tough. Especially since . . .”
“Yeah.” It was all she could say.
“Shit, Brooklyn. I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” Though it felt as if it were yesterday.
“Still. I need to learn to watch my mouth.”
“And I need to get back to town,” she said, standing. “I promised Dolly Pepper I’d