Postcards from Cedar Key Read Free Page A

place in the country for farm-grown clams. So I designed a mold to depict these. But those on that side,” I said, gesturing to my left, “are purchased wholesale from the wonderful chocolate shop in Daytona Beach, Angell and Phelps. I order my truffles and all the other chocolates in the case from them. I agree with their policy on selling only fresh chocolate, and they have no preservatives, so if I happen to be out of what you might like, I can order them and have them for you in just a couple of days.”
    â€œI’ve been to that chocolate shop,” Saxton said. “I’ve done book signings on the east coast of Florida and found my way to their shop. You’re right, they’re quite wonderful chocolates.”
    â€œSo what can I get for you?” I asked, putting on a plastic glove.
    â€œI’ll take four of your truffles, please. That’ll do me for today and tomorrow . . . and then I’ll just have to come back on Sunday to restock.”
    I placed the chocolate into one of my extra small boxes, applied the seal, and rang up the sale. “Here you go,” I said, passing them across the counter.
    â€œThank you, and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
    I watched him leave the shop, and three things struck me: He was one of the few people meeting me for the first time who had avoided any comment on the purple streak in my hair. I had very much enjoyed conversing with him. I wasn’t displeased at all that Saxton Tate III would be returning to my shop on Sunday.
    Before the afternoon was over I had made quite a few sales. All of the customers had been tourists visiting the island for the weekend, most of them purchasing chocolate, but a few had bought some of my smaller gems.
    Just before five I stepped outside to see how busy Second Street was and saw Eudora Foster walking at a brisk pace toward my shop.
    â€œHello,” she hollered, and waved. When she got closer she said, “Have you already closed? I was hoping to get some chocolate.”
    â€œYou’re in luck. The shop is still open.”
    Chloe had introduced me to Eudora, known to the locals as Miss Dora, the week before. She had taken over the yarn shop down the street, Yarning Together, and Chloe was her business partner.
    â€œCome on in,” I told her.
    Before walking to the glass case, Dora paused at the table that held my gems.
    â€œOh, goodness. Aren’t these gorgeous. I’ll have to tell my daughter, Marin, that you also sell crystals. She just loves those. Where do you get them?” she asked, picking one up and allowing it to lie in the palm of her hand.
    â€œFrom Sedona in Arizona. I visited there a few years ago and I was quite impressed with the quality of their gems. So I order them wholesale from a shop there.”
    â€œThey’re just lovely.” She replaced the crystal on the table as her attention was drawn to the glass case of chocolate.
    â€œOh, what a nice selection.” Dora leaned forward to get a better look. “I see you have my favorite—raspberry truffles. Those are from Angell and Phelps, right?”
    I nodded as I slipped the glove onto my right hand.
    â€œWell, I’ll have one pound of those, please. Were you busy today?”
    I began placing each chocolate into the box. “Yes, fairly steady with tourists, so I think I had a good first day.”
    â€œYou’ll find that the weekends will be your busiest times. That’s how it is at the yarn shop too. Oh, I wanted to ask you . . . Chloe said that you own your own alpacas?”
    â€œI do. Bosco and Belle stay with my friend at her alpaca farm in Maine, Rumination Farm. I’d always knitted, but Jill got me into spinning a few years ago and that led to me purchasing a couple of my own alpacas. I had no place to keep them in Salem, so I’m fortunate that she boards them for me. Plus she does the shearing along with the process of turning the raw fleece