Chocolate Dreams at the Gingerbread Cafe by Rebecca Raisin Read Free Book Online Page A

behind her and holds the mold so she can brush the first layer over the hearts. “Now you ready for the fun part?”
    Charlie puts the brush to her mouth and paints her lips with it. “I can’t help it!” she says when she notices us staring at her mouth, which is coated brown as if she’s wearing lipstick. CeeCee hoots. “You keep that brush just for your eggs now.”
    We spoon in the chocolate to completely fill the molds and then tap the sides.
    â€œSounds like a horse gallopin’ to the finish line!”
    I laugh with CeeCee as I survey the bench; we’ve spilt chocolate all over it and it dries quickly in all sorts of obscure dribbles.
    â€œHere comes the messy part.” I rip off a layer of baking paper, and spread it on the clean end of the bench. We laugh as we upend the molds and watch the excess chocolate fall out like lava, leaving only the thin shell. Charlie immediately dips her finger into turned-out chocolate.
    â€œThey look perfect already,” CeeCee says, admiring the even, half shells before she puts them in the fridge to set.
    We get through three more batches of chocolate eggs, some tiny ovals, some huge as gridiron balls, before we decide to take a break, and sample some of our creations. Charlie hugs us before tottering back to Damon’s shop. Not before taking a handful of treats as she leaves.
    â€œI’ll make us a couple o’ gingerbread milkshakes to go with our chocolate — what do you say?”
    I groan in mock protest. “I can see this little fad adding a few inches to my hips.”
    CeeCee harrumphs as she mixes up our drinks. “You too skinny anyways.”
    â€œPfft. You would say that even if I was as big as a barn.”
    CeeCee dips the milkshake glasses into honey, then coats the rim with gingerbread crumbs before filling them up. She mooches over and hands me a glass, and we flop to the sofa. I take a big gulp, and close my eyes at the sheer deliciousness of it. The ice cream makes the drink thick, it’s spicy from the ginger, and sweet from the gooey treacle mixed through.
    CeeCee smacks her lips together and says, “Glory be, that about as good as a cuddle from yo’ mamma.”

Chapter Six
    â€œThat’s the prettiest thing I ever seen.” CeeCee tilts her head, and stands back to get a better look at the window display. We’ve added the newly decorated eggs, including one of Charlie’s, which looks as if she’s scrawled white hieroglyphics on the dark chocolate shell. We added a chocolate honeycomb wall and little bees made from licorice adorn it.
    The display looks like a fancy barnyard, with the spun sugar glinting under the small down lights, and all the cute little animals we made out of chocolate or fondant peering up at us. Easter eggs of every shape and color look downright mouth-watering littered throughout the magical setting.
    â€œLet’s go check it from the street.” CeeCee grabs my arm, and pulls me into the bright day.
    â€œWould you look at that?” I say. “Walt’s shop is closed again — that’s the third time in a week or so. Why do you suppose that is?”
    CeeCee crosses her arms and follows my gaze. “I don’t rightly know.”
    â€œYou think sales are slow?”
    She turns back to our Easter display, and says, “Could be.”
    Walt’s shop is dark. His display window is filled with colorful one-off pieces of furniture he lovingly hand-crafts. He uses wood recycled from old boats, their assorted paints faded and chipped, and mismatched to produce the most beautiful eclectic pieces you’ve ever seen. He says his furniture tells a story. The wood he uses has sailed around the world and seen more life than most of us ever will. My heart aches thinking Walt and Janey might be suffering financially.
    â€œMaybe we should make him a box of goodies tomorrow, Cee. There’s nothing one of your famous pies