In which things are looking up for the Chocolate Dragon.

Find earlier parts HERE

Millicent wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and scurried out into the swirling winds and threatening snow, to the shed. Hopefully, it would not be too difficult to get Thomas’ sign out. He had finished that just before he took ill. So proud of it he was. Oh, how he smiled that day. It was a small thing, to be sure, but he was certain it would have a powerful impact on their business this season.

And she had nearly forgotten it! How could she have been so remiss as to forget such a thing?

She shook her head as she wrestled the shed door open. They were always stubborn when their air turned cold. Blinking fiercely against the cold, she willed her eyes to adjust to the shed’s dim interior. There in the back corner, propped between two barrels that held Thomas’ tools. It looked as fine as the day he had placed it there.

How could she have forgotten? She raked back wind-whipped tendrils of hair.

She tiptoed through the garden tools, the odd bits of scrap wood, and a pair of broken chairs from the dining room that Thomas had promised to fix. Her fingers lingered along the back of the nearest chair. Royal had tripped over it; it had fallen, and the wooden back split. Poor mite felt so bad. He sobbed like the world might end. Thomas had picked him up and comforted him with one arm, while gathering up the damaged chair in the other, and taken both out to the shed, explaining the process they would use to mend the damage.

Her face wrenched into knots as she held her breath. No, now was not the time for tears. That was for late in the night where no one heard, or was upset by them, or told her she didn’t need to cry. For now, she needed to focus on what was important, which certainly was not her feelings. She needed to make the Chocolate Dragon run, and run profitably, to get through this winter. That was what she needed to do.

One deep breath. And another. Her bleary eyes cleared just enough to make it through the shed and retrieve the sign. The hooks Thomas had promised to add were there, so it should be quick work to get it hung near the door. Oh, but it was heavy.

She wrestled it through the weather to the back door and into the shop. Ambrose met her straight away—he was in early today. He seemed taller, broader of shoulder than he had yesterday. And was that a bit of fuzz coming up along the line of his jaw? Boys grew so fast!

“’ere, let me help you with that Mrs. Brown.” He set aside the polishing cloth for the display counters and hurried to her. “That’s a right fine sign ‘e made up. It’ll be a privilege to hang that up outside, if you’ll let me.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that.” She allowed him to take it from her. “What brings you in so early today?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Just woke up early, and it seemed the thing to do, what with it being a busy season and all.” He lumbered out with the heavy sign.

Millicent looked over her shoulder. Pouncer watched her from the corner. “Did you or Criollo have something to do—”

“Don’t start blaming us for everything now. We promised not to persuade, and we meant it. Why don’t you trust us?” His dark gray snake-tail lashed.

“Not all small dragons I have known were creatures of integrity.” She avoided meeting his gaze.

“And not all warm-bloods I have known have been. But I am willing to trust you, at least a little. Will you not offer the same courtesy?” Pouncer bared his fangs just enough to announce his displeasure.

Millicent’s cheeks flushed. “I suppose you are right. I am sorry.” It was not often one was humbled by a dragon. And it wasn’t very pleasant. But the tatzelwurm was right; it would not do to argue. “Let us get one with things, then, and I will try to do better in the future.” She picked up the polishing cloth and cleaned the counters. The girls would be bringing in freshly baked goods soon, and customer would follow soon after.

An hour later, Mrs. Smith sat down to her chocolate with brandy, not wine, thank-you-very-much, and a plate of lavender shortbread. Her sharp, dark eyes smiled, though her lips were pressed tight as if to contain something far too big for her eyes to express, so big Millicent could see it from across the room.

“Go talk to her.” Criollo nudged her leg. “Pouncer said he heard her inviting Widow Spencer to tea on the street outside the shop. Go on now.”

Millicent sighed. “Very well.” Her feet dragged. She was a baker and a kitchen manager—and very good at both. It was Thomas who was the face of the Chocolate Dragon—the one who talked to customers, who entertained them, made them feel welcome, and want to come back. She’d rather talk to her bread and coax it to perform.

It always listened to her. People, not so much.

But someone had to do the job now. Until the boys were older, and could take on the role, someone had to do the job. So, unless she sent a dragon to do it—

She slapped her forehead. Oh, great heavens! Best get on with it, lest her imagination get away from her. What a thought indeed!

“Good day, Mrs. Smith. How lovely to see you this morning. I see you are enjoying your favorite shortbread.” She forced her hands to release the folds of apron she clutched.

Mrs. Smith set down the piece of shortbread she had been about to eat, a little remorseful, but with a clear intent to return to the undertaking very soon. “You do make the loveliest delicate short bread—so perfect with tea.”

Now or not at all, she had to say something now.

Criollo’s tail wagged furiously as he watched her from across the dining room. His head bobbed in an encouraging nod.

“Might you like to serve them at your home for a tea?”

Mrs. Smith’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “I did notice that sign you just put up. Was that Mr. Brown’s work?”

“Indeed. He made it for this Christmastide season.” Her voice barely squeaked as she spoke. Much better than choking and unable to speak.

“Well, I had not quite made up my mind about it, you see. But … yes, yes. I should very much like a box of your shortbread and perhaps some arrowroot cookies as well.” Mrs. Smith pulled back her narrow shoulders and folded her hands decisively.

“Absolutely, it would be my pleasure. Give me just a moment, and I will bring my ledger around to records all the details.” She hurried across the room.

“I told you.” Criollo reared up on his back leges and yipped.

“You cheeky creature.” She rolled her eyes as she retrieved the ledger from the drawer under the counter.

She took the details in short order.

“My tea already sounds much more manageable now.” A weight, albeit a small one, seemed to slip from Mrs. Smith’s shoulder. “By the way, did you hear that Chester, Sir Fitzhubert’s dog has died?”

“Died? No. I confess that is a surprise.”

“Well, your little dog could not possibly be at fault for any of it. And I doubt he could have inflicted any sort of fatal damage on that dangerous beast. If you ask me, we are all better off without that monster roaming about.”

Millicent nodded pleasantly, lest showing greater enthusiasm for the outcome somehow bring her trouble, and left Mrs. Smith to finish her newspaper over chocolate and biscuits. Who was she to disagree? They were all better off without that out of control, vicious beast wandering about terrorizing children.

Two more regular customers came in to place orders for their upcoming parties.

No sign at all of persuasion. They all seemed genuinely pleased by the information on the new sign, and relieved for one less concern to manage during the season of hospitality.

Except for Mrs. Lyles, who stopped in mid-afternoon. She seemed put out, as though it were a personal affront that Millicent should be active in the pursuit of her own business opportunities. But she still placed a rather large order—and not at the last minute. She did try to negotiate on the price, so Millicent offered her a choice of percents off or an overall decrease in price. Being bad at maths, Mrs. Lyles chose the percents, which would not have worked out to as much as the discount Millicent had offered, but anything to please a customer, no?

Oh gracious, she was starting to sound like a dragon herself now! Was it a bad thing?

What were those two doing to her?

Do you think Millicent is going to regret her choice? Tell me in the comments!

Catch up on parts you missed here.