Sweet Misfortune: A Novel Read Online Free Page A
Author: Kevin Alan Milne
Ellen’s words. “Okay. If you really think it will, then the new wish of my heart is to have my family back. I saw them in the car, and… and I’m old enough to know they’re gone. But I want them back!
That’s
my wish.”
Ellen felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. For the first time ever on the job, she allowed the emotions that swelled inside her to spill over in the form of tears. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I know that’s your wish. That’s my wish too. But—but—”
“But I can’t have that wish, can I?”
Ellen breathed out a long, painful sigh, then brushed away the tears that were running down her own face and tucked a wisp of hair behind the girl’s ear. “I’m afraid not, sweetheart.”
S OPHIE WADDED UP the tiny paper and threw it on the ground in front of her. It landed without a sound in a small current of water running along the edge of the street. She watched as it floated slowly away, carrying with it all of her hopes and dreams. Part of her wanted to chase after it, to pick it up and dry it off, and pretend like everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t be okay, and she refused to kid herself. Her parents were gone, her grandparents were gone, and there was nobody left in the world to love her. Her mind flashed back to scenes of the wreckage—the UPS truck driver, the cars flipped every which way, the man with the missing fingers, and especially her own parents’ lifeless bodies. “It’s
my
fault,” she whispered numbly to herself again. “All my fault.”
Chapter 3
Something you lost will soon turn up,
but some lost things are better left unfound.
September 21, 2009
S OPHIE’S STORE WAS LOCATED IN A SMALL RETAIL SPACE on Commerce Avenue, marked by a sleek, brushed-nickel sign that protruded horizontally from the building just above the front entrance. The laser-embossed lettering read, Chocolat’ de Soph, followed by a much smaller cursive subscript: Confections of the Heart.
The interior of the store was decidedly upscale. Several large postmodern paintings hung on the walls at varying heights and angles, their colorful patterns providing sufficient visual interest against the gloss-black paneling and stainless-steel trim to keep the clean, contemporary décor from getting stale. Four Austrian-crystal dishes sat atop an etched-glass display case; they would be used later to hold free samples of the day’s fresh fudge. Matching granite tables, each supported by a thick, hammered-steel base, stood in opposite corners near the store’s tinted bay windows. The tables and their barstools provided both space and ambiance for patrons who wished to sit and enjoy a warm drink while nibbling on Sophie’s rich chocolate creations.
The morning hours passed as they always did, with Sophie quietly rushing from one task to another. There were nuts to chop, molds to fill, butters to melt, powders to blend, creams to stir, liquids to measure, sweeteners to add, and a thousand other tasks to complete before the doors opened at 10:00 AM . Compounding all of that, Sophie had to make sure that Evalynn stayed clear of the peanut-butter balls in the refrigerator until they were firm enough to dip.
Evalynn, for her part, offered little noticeable help. Most of her effort was spent fingering the chocolate creams to determine which one she liked best. Sophie didn’t mind. Even though she would have rather been alone with her thoughts, she appreciated her friend’s gesture; Evi’s presence alone had helped lighten her weighty emotional load.
At nine forty, with nearly everything ready, Sophie grabbed a pen and a handful of narrow slips of paper from the small office that adjoined the kitchen area at the rear of the building and sat down to complete her morning preparations. Writing out those unique fortunes had become her favorite part of the job, and it was probably the main reason her niche business had managed to stay afloat in a slowing
That’s
my wish.”
Ellen felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. For the first time ever on the job, she allowed the emotions that swelled inside her to spill over in the form of tears. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I know that’s your wish. That’s my wish too. But—but—”
“But I can’t have that wish, can I?”
Ellen breathed out a long, painful sigh, then brushed away the tears that were running down her own face and tucked a wisp of hair behind the girl’s ear. “I’m afraid not, sweetheart.”
S OPHIE WADDED UP the tiny paper and threw it on the ground in front of her. It landed without a sound in a small current of water running along the edge of the street. She watched as it floated slowly away, carrying with it all of her hopes and dreams. Part of her wanted to chase after it, to pick it up and dry it off, and pretend like everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t be okay, and she refused to kid herself. Her parents were gone, her grandparents were gone, and there was nobody left in the world to love her. Her mind flashed back to scenes of the wreckage—the UPS truck driver, the cars flipped every which way, the man with the missing fingers, and especially her own parents’ lifeless bodies. “It’s
my
fault,” she whispered numbly to herself again. “All my fault.”
Chapter 3
Something you lost will soon turn up,
but some lost things are better left unfound.
September 21, 2009
S OPHIE’S STORE WAS LOCATED IN A SMALL RETAIL SPACE on Commerce Avenue, marked by a sleek, brushed-nickel sign that protruded horizontally from the building just above the front entrance. The laser-embossed lettering read, Chocolat’ de Soph, followed by a much smaller cursive subscript: Confections of the Heart.
The interior of the store was decidedly upscale. Several large postmodern paintings hung on the walls at varying heights and angles, their colorful patterns providing sufficient visual interest against the gloss-black paneling and stainless-steel trim to keep the clean, contemporary décor from getting stale. Four Austrian-crystal dishes sat atop an etched-glass display case; they would be used later to hold free samples of the day’s fresh fudge. Matching granite tables, each supported by a thick, hammered-steel base, stood in opposite corners near the store’s tinted bay windows. The tables and their barstools provided both space and ambiance for patrons who wished to sit and enjoy a warm drink while nibbling on Sophie’s rich chocolate creations.
The morning hours passed as they always did, with Sophie quietly rushing from one task to another. There were nuts to chop, molds to fill, butters to melt, powders to blend, creams to stir, liquids to measure, sweeteners to add, and a thousand other tasks to complete before the doors opened at 10:00 AM . Compounding all of that, Sophie had to make sure that Evalynn stayed clear of the peanut-butter balls in the refrigerator until they were firm enough to dip.
Evalynn, for her part, offered little noticeable help. Most of her effort was spent fingering the chocolate creams to determine which one she liked best. Sophie didn’t mind. Even though she would have rather been alone with her thoughts, she appreciated her friend’s gesture; Evi’s presence alone had helped lighten her weighty emotional load.
At nine forty, with nearly everything ready, Sophie grabbed a pen and a handful of narrow slips of paper from the small office that adjoined the kitchen area at the rear of the building and sat down to complete her morning preparations. Writing out those unique fortunes had become her favorite part of the job, and it was probably the main reason her niche business had managed to stay afloat in a slowing
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