The Grim Reaper’s Mate

The Gift

Angel (formerly Christine)

Why is this so blasted hard?! Cook made it look so easy!

I tried again to get the chocolate out of the mold in one piece, but it just crumbled into a pile of chocolate shavings. I couldn't even get solid chocolate right! How was I supposed to make bonbons?! Oh, and there were orders. David opened his big mouth on the first day he reopened and told the kids that soon the 'chocolate lady' would have delicious bonbons for sale. It's been a month, and all I've managed to make is burnt chocolate, chocolate powder, chocolate that looked like poop, and chocolate mold-shaped bits of shavings. Not one chocolate had turned out right! The kids came in every afternoon when we opened at three asking if there were chocolates yet. David just had to make it worse by telling them I was working on new recipes of the yummiest chocolates they will ever eat.

"Jerk, jerk, JERK!" I cursed him under my breath as I scooped the shavings into what was now my 'failure but edible' container to be used for something else. "How did you do it, Cook? You made pretty chocolates topped with gold and pink flowers. How?!"

The bell at the door jingled. I glanced at the clock. It was still only noon. David had another late night mob job, so he was still in bed. I thought the door was locked? Who could have possibly come in?

"We're not open until three!" I called from behind the curtain leading into the small kitchen. I didn't hear anything. Did the bell sound come from somewhere else? No. I'm certain it was our bell. Dusting off my hands on my apron, I stepped into the shop. A tall, dark man was looking at a display of lollipops that had a blank place with 'Bonbons coming soon' on a card there. He picked up the note and turned to look at me.

I was both terrified and besotted. He has got to be the most handsome man I've ever seen. A sharp, chiseled jaw. Clean-shaven. Black eyes that peered at me with an intensity that made me want to run away. Jet black hair with shocks of white in it. He looked both old and young. And he was tall. Very tall. But also very thin. He was dressed in a dark suit.

"Um, I'm sorry, but we're not open yet," I said softly.

"I saw the sign on the door. I heard that this place has been promising chocolates to the local children and has yet to deliver. Any reason why?" He asked me, while also staring at me knowingly. For a moment, I felt like he was peering into my soul. Like he could see past the hair dye and apron and knew I was the glamorous, wealthy Christine in another life.

"I'm, um, uh, still trying to get the, ah, recipe right. That's hard, y'know?" I was nervous. I don't know why, but he made me feel extremely nervous, and all he did was ask the same question others had asked. Where's the chocolate?

"Is it hard? Really? Or do you just not know what you're doing?" He asked with a sinister grin. I don't know why, but I felt like I couldn't lie to him. Plus, even when he looked dangerous, I was oddly attracted to him. I also felt like I'd seen him before. He seemed familiar to me.

"Both. But more because I don't know what I'm doing. I'd really like to become a good chocolatier! I want to do something that makes people smile and be happy. Chocolate used to be one of the few things that made me happy. I just thought it was a worthy thing to pursue. Why am I telling you this? Have we met before? I feel like I know you from somewhere." It was like my tongue was speaking on its own! Had I just revealed too much?

His smile softened, and I saw a flash of what I can only describe as a look of fondness in his eyes. He c*cked his head to the side and looked me over. I fidgeted.

"Oh? I'll tell you what. I'm here to check on you and make sure you're okay. I can see that you could use some help," he said, walking toward me. I wanted to back away from him, but I stood my ground. What did he mean that he wanted to check on me?

"Check on me? Make sure I'm okay? Just who are you?" I demanded. Was I already found out? Had I somehow blown the cover David gave me? We did everything by the book! We made sure my money stayed hidden and unused in a suitcase in my closet. His boss provided what we needed. How could I have been discovered? I even look completely different!

"Let's just say, I'm not your enemy," he told me with a small smirk.

"Then who are you?" I asked, feeling my bravery waver now that this imposing character was closer to me.

"Don't worry about that. I'm not here to hurt you. If I were, you would already be dead before you could even tell me the shop wasn't open. Call it a morbid interest in your well-being, or perhaps I'm doomed to keep an eye on you," he said as he leaned over me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I felt like I was facing death. Everything in me was screaming to get away from this man, but I was rooted in place. I couldn't move.

"Um, o-okay," I breathed so quietly I could hardly hear my own words, but it seemed he heard me just fine.

"No need to stammer, my dear. I'm here to help. It looks to me like you could use some help, anyway. A gift? No. Something better than a gift. A talent. Yes. A talent for making chocolates. That's what every successful person has. A talent to go with their passion. Now, are you sure, absolutely certain that you want to be a chocolate lady? This is what you want for your life? To wear an apron and pour hot liquid into molds and burn your skin and stand on your feet only to hand out undeserved goodies to grimy-handed children who have the gimmies?" He asked.

What was happening right now? I felt dizzy and uncertain. If I could ask for anything, would it be to slave away in a kitchen making treats for children?

I thought about how miserable idleness and money made me. I missed the coziness of being poor but happy. I thought about the one time my father had saved some extra pennies just so he could surprise me with a small piece of chocolate just before my mother left us. She had become cold and cruel, and he tried hard to make it up to me by giving me whatever he could. I thought about what it meant to me to try chocolate for the first time, and then I thought about all those poor children in the lower district. Had any of them ever even tasted something as expensive as chocolate? Would making chocolates for people to enjoy make me happy? Would seeing them smile also give me joy, even though it would be hard work? I knew in my heart that the answer was a resounding yes. I wanted to give back in life. I wanted to be the reason people smiled. Because of something my life contributed.

"Yes. I would wish for that. To live a life that brings joy to others. For people to smile when they see me because I'm associated with happy things. I want those grubby little hands to reach for my creations because it will give those children a momentary escape from the hardships of their lives. I want to live a meaningful life," I said.

"As does everybody," he agreed. "But does making something as trivial as chocolate for people give one a meaningful life? I suppose I shall see. Thank you for humoring me with your time today. Until next time, whatever you wish, my dear," He bowed and took my hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. It made me a little uncomfortable, but I endured it, as I had been conditioned to do when something was unwelcome. The back of my hand tingled as soon as his lips touched it. I yanked it back and rubbed it. What was that just now? That feeling?

He straightened up and left the shop without another word. The bell jingled on his way out, but when I went after him to make sure the door was locked, I was shocked to see that it was still locked. I looked out the shop window, but the man was nowhere to be seen.