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in and indulged in just one bonbon each. One had Asian spice (“milk chocolate center flavored with exotic spices and enrobed in milk chocolate, then embellished with ground ginger”). Two had French vanilla (“milk chocolate center with a milk chocolate coating, decorated with crumbled white chocolate”). The fourth went for nocturne, our darkest chocolate. Both center and coating are dark chocolate, and it’s even decorated with shaved dark chocolate. I could hear them telling the counter girls that they’d skipped the fabulous peach melba at Herrera’s, the town’s most elegant restaurant, so they could each splurge on a TenHuis chocolate.
    None of these people got a look at Sissy, however. She was occupied in her office, and I didn’t offer to call her out to put her on display.
    About fifteen or twenty other Warner Pier people came in—people I wouldn’t have expected to see, that is. In June, most of our customers are tourists, with a sprinkling of summer people. But that day it seemed that lots of locals had decided they needed expensive chocolate.
    In fact, I began to get a bit annoyed at the parade. It was so obvious that they wanted to gawk at Sissy. Then I reminded myself to have a sense of humor. The “new” would wear off soon enough. People would get used to Sissy as a regular part of our downtown scene.
    Or that was what I thought until about four forty-five.
    That was when Sissy came around to my office, and at the same time a woman I didn’t know walked in the front door.
    I immediately knew something was wrong. Sissy took a deep breath, and the tension in the shop grew as thick as my grandma’s mashed-potato soup.
    The woman was slightly familiar, in the way that nearly everybody in a town this small is familiar. I’d probably seen her at the grocery store or the post office. But I didn’t know her.
    I guessed her age at mid-fifties. Her most distinctive feature was that she layered her makeup on with a trowel, and her second most distinctive feature was phony blond hair.
    Okay, I admit that as a natural blonde, I’m critical of other people’s dye jobs. I have a rather smug feeling that they’re going to work hard and spend a lot of money, but the light blond hair I got from my Dutch ancestors is still going to look better than their expensive dos. But this hair was really awful. The color was harsh and the texture dry. Why anyone would want to have hair like that was beyond me.
    The other thing I didn’t understand was the stillness that fell over Sissy and the woman.
    Then Sissy spoke, and the stillness went away. “Hello, Helen,” she said. “Still busy spreading joy everywhere?”
Chocolate Chat

Since its earliest days, chocolate has been assigned medicinal or health functions.
Chocolate was cultivated by the Olmec Indians in South America as early as 1500 BC. By the time Europeans entered the picture in the 1500s, it was grown, processed, and used by many tribes in South and Central America and by the Aztecs in Mexico. At that time, chocolate was a bitter drink, and it was too expensive for ordinary people. Only the wealthiest and most important could afford it.
Those ancient chocoholics believed chocolate brought wisdom, knowledge, vitality, strength, and other qualities associated with good health.
The Aztec emperor Montezuma reportedly drank chocolate before visiting his harem. Was this the first link of chocolate with romance?
Over the years, chocolate was credited with relieving diarrhea and even improving an upset stomach caused by a hangover. Chocolate makers said their product encouraged sleep, cured the common cold, brought quick energy, and eased mental stress. Plus, they claimed it even reduced belching.

Chapter 5

    “I try, Sissy!” The woman’s voice dripped sugar sweeter than anything TenHuis Chocolade sells. She hadn’t seemed to notice the sarcastic edge to Sissy’s voice. “You’re looking as pretty as ever!”
    “Thanks, Helen.”
    Sissy turned toward