“Hello girls,” Carrie said, carrying a tray of fudge to the display case. “Your Mom is on a fudge making mission this morning. I think she’s made more fudge today than she has all season.”
“It’s because we put up a notice on the website that orders needed to be in no later than the eighteenth in order to make it by Christmas.” I opened the back of the display case for her. “I think we might be cutting it way too close though.”
“I think we should have cut off Internet orders on the fifteenth,” Christy agreed.
“I’ve been having second thoughts about it, too,” I said.
Carrie put the fudge into the display case and turned to face us. “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”
We both groaned. “No.” Christy said. “What do you get a guy that you just started dating?”
“Oh,” Carrie said. “You’re at that awkward stage of your relationship. I remember it well. I think I got Tom a guitar pick for our first Christmas together.”
We both turned and looked at her. “A guitar pick?” I asked incredulously.
She laughed. “A guitar pick. Can you believe it? He loves playing guitar, and I stressed and stressed over it for weeks and finally found one that was sold on his favorite artist’s website and bought it for him. I felt like such an idiot when I gave it to him. He unwrapped it and looked at it like he couldn’t quite figure it out. I pointed out where I bought it and he said he loved it, but we kid about it now.”
“How long had you been dating at that point?” Christy asked.
“I guess it was a couple of months. I also bought him a gift box full of candy and I guess that kind of made up for it. But we still laugh about it to this day.”
Christy chuckled. “I don’t think Devon plays guitar. But he does drive a car, so I guess I could get him a key chain.”
Carrie laughed. “That would be about as appropriate is me getting my husband or rather, soon to be husband, a guitar pick.”
“And it would certainly make things easier for me,” Christy said.
We looked up as the front door opened and Brittany Wilson walked in. “Good morning, Brittany,” I said to her.
She smiled at me. “Good morning, ladies, how are you all doing today?” She had a shopping bag over one arm and her purse over her shoulder.
“We’re doing fine,” I said. “I see you’re doing some Christmas shopping.”
She nodded and held up the bag. “I swear, it feels like it never gets done. It’s like December twenty-fifth just finally arrives and that means shopping is over.” She laughed and stepped up to the front counter. “I need to set a budget, but I never do.”
“I hear you,” Christy said. “I do the same thing. Just when I think I’m finished shopping, I see one more thing, and then one more, and then one more. I think the stores plan it that way.”
“You can say that again,” Brittany said. “It’s like when I come in here. I swear I’m only going to buy a quarter pound of fudge or a chocolate pumpkin, but then I see all this wonderful candy and I end up spending far more money than I had intended. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I end up eating most of it myself.” She laughed and turned to the display case. “And you know I’m going to have to get some of that peppermint fudge. My Mom and dad love it.”
“How much would you like?” I asked, opening the back of the display case door.
“How about a pound of the white peppermint and a pound of the eggnog fudge? Can you put them in those gift tins you have?” she asked.
“You got it,” I said. “You’re going to give it to them as Christmas gifts?”
“That is exactly what I’m going to do. And if it’s wrapped up, I won’t be able to get into it and eat it before Christmas day.” She looked around the shop and then turned back to me. “Of course, I could eat it myself and then come back before Christmas day and pick up some more, right?”
I chuckled. “You could do that,” I said as I cut the fudge for her.
Carrie and Christy went back into the kitchen and Brittany went over to the bulk bins of candy and looked it over. Then she turned back to me. “Mia, how is Ethan doing on Suzanne’s murder investigation?”
I glanced up at her as I began to wrap her fudge. “He’s working a lot of hours trying to find the killer. I’m sure he’ll come up with something soon.”
She nodded and picked up a foil-wrapped hollow milk chocolate pumpkin. “I think I need one of these for me.” She brought it to the front counter and set it down. “Oh my gosh, those reindeer sure are cute.”
“Aren’t they?” I asked. “The white chocolate ones have peppermint filling, the cream-colored ones have eggnog filling, and the others have caramel.”
She picked up one of the white chocolate ones. “Did you decorate them? It’s adorable.”
“No, I don’t have a steady enough hand for such fine detail work. My Mom did that.”
“I envy your mother. She’s so good at what she does.”
“I envy her, too,” I agreed. “I can make most of the candy we make here, but when it comes to decorating the candy,
