LITMIR.BIZ

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do? I run home and pull out my violin.

       Ransom was just being polite.

      I’m doing this for me, she kept telling herself. It has nothing to do with him.

      Coco made sure to hold the violin properly, with her left arm curved underneath the instrument, the chin rest placed between her left shoulder and jaw. She began playing softly.

      She had forgotten how much doing so soothed and calmed her. Coco had been playing the violin since she was ten years old and loved it, although in recent years she’d put it away to focus on building her business.

      She drew the bow across the strings, creating a rich, mellow sound. Every now and then she would pluck a string with her index finger, creating a totally different sound. She played until she felt nice and relaxed, then decided to leave the violin out, because she’d really missed playing it.

      Still feeling the effects of the busy day, Coco walked through her house to make sure it was secure. Then she headed upstairs to her bedroom and prepared to take a long hot shower.

      Her oldest brother, Daniel, called her not too long after. “Are you in bed?” he asked.

      “Not yet,” Coco answered, putting him on speakerphone while she slipped on her robe.

      “I’m not going to keep you, but I promised Grace that I’d call you tonight. She wants to know if you’re coming over on Saturday for Cinnamon’s birthday party.”

      Coco smiled at the mention of her niece’s name. “Of course I’ll be there. Cinna’s going to be the big five. I can’t miss that.”

      He gave her the time and location of the party, and then they ended the call.

      Coco slipped on a pair of pajamas, then stretched out on the sofa in the sitting room to watch some television before she called it a night. She always watched the news before going to bed.

      She frowned. A couple of teenage wannabe gangbangers had attacked a woman, who’d later had a heart attack. She was in the hospital in critical condition.

      Coco thought about the types of teens hanging out at D-Unit and felt a growing concern for Ransom. It was admirable how much he wanted to help them, but did those boys really want help? Did they want a better life, and were they willing to work toward it? She wasn’t sure, and with all the gang activity spreading, she couldn’t help being skeptical.

      Her brothers were always after her to stop prejudging before she had all the facts. She didn’t have any children, so her only connection was through her friend’s children and her niece, who was only four, soon to be five. The only teens that frequented her shop usually came with their parents.

      “You can’t save the world, Ransom,” she whispered.

       Chapter 3

      Coco caught a glimpse of Ransom as he crossed the street with two of his students the next day. She eased over to the window, observing the teenagers. They were dressed in baggy pants and long T-shirts. They looked like thugs to her, but it was clear that Ransom saw something else.

      He was talking and laughing with them as if they were all friends. If they were such good kids, then why were they suspended in the first place? Coco wondered.

      “I hope Michael knows what he is doing,” she whispered, as her mind traveled back to what she’d heard on the news last night. She fervently hoped that her brother wouldn’t come to regret his decision.

      She considered calling their father, but didn’t want to upset Michael. He was running the factory, and would be furious with her if she involved their dad.

      Her assistant manager, Valencia, arrived and walked to the back to clock in for work.

      Coco hid her shock when Ransom entered the shop a few minutes later. Smiling, she greeted him cheerfully. “How are you, Ransom?”

      “I’m good,” he responded, taking a seat at the bar. “I figured since we’re neighbors, I should come check out the chocolate here. I’ve heard a lot of great things about this place.”

      “So you’re coming to see if it lives up to the reviews, huh?”

      He met her gaze. “Something like that.”

      She cleared her throat. “So, how do your students feel about having to work in the factory with Michael?”

      “They were actually excited about working with him. I also have one working two doors down at the restaurant, and another at the grocery store.”

      She frowned. That was not what she’d expected him to say. “Really? They wanted to do it?”

      “Yeah, they were eager to work in the factory. I suspect more out of curiosity than anything,” Ransom answered. “To be honest, I was surprised Mr. Chou agreed to let me send a kid over. I half expected him to nix the idea.”

      “He’s a nice man and the father of eight, so he must really love children. I know he does a lot in the community.”

      “I’d heard that,” Ransom told her. “That’s why I went to talk to him.”

      “I know you probably think I’m a snob or something because I refused,” Coco stated, folding her arms across her chest. “But I’m really not.”

      “To be honest, I did think that,” Ransom admitted. “But now that I’m seeing this place from the inside, I can tell that you cater to a certain type of customer.”

      “It’s not only that, Ransom. What would I have him do?”

      “He could sweep up for you, or wash dishes—anything. He doesn’t have to work with your customers.”

      “I hadn’t considered that,” she said. “Oh, I’m forgetting my manners. Ransom, would you like something to drink? It’s on the house, and hopefully, it’ll impress you enough to give a good review when you’re asked about the shop.”

      His smile sent a thrill through her. “Thank you. I’d like to try one of those…drinking chocolate. Is that a fancy name for cocoa?”

      Coco laughed. “‘Drinking chocolate’ is a European term for hot chocolate, Ransom. It’s not a powder like cocoa, but actual pieces of chocolate melted into a cup of boiling water or milk. I always use milk.”

      “So which one would you recommend I try?”

      “That will depend on what flavors you like,” she answered with a smile. “The dulce de leche is made with real white chocolate and natural caramel.” Coco surveyed him for a moment, then said, “You look like a German chocolate kind of man. My German chocolate drink is made of milk chocolate, caramel and coconut milk. Once you take a sip, you’ll swear you are back in your grandma’s kitchen. I also have strawberries and white chocolate, chocolate mint and Moroccan spice.”

      “I’ll try the German chocolate,” Ransom decided.

      His cell phone rang.

      “Would you excuse me, please? I need to take this call.”

      While he was talking to someone back at the center, Coco glanced up at him, studying his profile. This man looks so familiar to me. I must have seen him someplace. But where? There was something oddly familiar about him, although she was still positive they had never met before now.

      She poured the hot liquid into two cups, one for Ransom and one for herself. There was nothing wrong with bonding over a mug of drinking chocolate.

      She handed him the cup when he put away his phone.

      “Thank you.” He took a sip of the soothing liquid and smiled. “You were right. This is delicious and it does remind me of my grandmother’s kitchen. She used to make me German chocolate cakes for my birthday every year until the day she died.”

      “When was that?” Coco inquired.

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