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The Chocolate Store
It was a dark, rainy winter night, everything was quiet at the old Victorian home that was used as our family’s chocolate store. You could hear the water splashing of the fast cars driving by, but still you could feel the quietness surround you. The scent of chocolate filled every corner of the store. It was a Sunday, so everything was closed. I had extra paperwork to do so I decided to stay the night and finish ahead.
The shop opened their doors from Monday through Saturday. So Sunday seemed like the best idea to concentrate in doing the taxes and payments.
It was a 100-year-old, four story home with old wooden floors. There were two bedrooms that shared a bathroom on the second story. They smelled like moth balls and cedar planks. I guess my grandmother used them to keep her summer clothes and coats away from the insects that ate fabric. It was not a great scent.
I had not gone upstairs in a while. But I was never afraid of being by myself in the store. Not even when it got burglarized several years before and that time I was still inside when the robbers came in. The Two men with guns got scared when they saw me, so they ran faster than I did when seeing them. I got very lucky at that time!
I started walking up the stairs and suddenly…. heard a loud thump on the wall, followed by a creaking noise on the floor. I knew I was by myself, so who else could have done that? Trembling, I looked up but saw nothing.
I turned the light switch on. Which I usually never used because I had practically grown up in that house and knew it upside down. My mother helped my Oma (grandmother in German) during the heavy seasons of sales, which were New Years, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s day Thanksgiving and specially Christmas…. Who doesn’t like a great chocolate after each meal in the cold weather of New Jersey? So my mother inherited the store when Oma passed away.
Many, many are addicted to our sweets. One client in particular jogs 5 miles, eats a full box of chocolates, and runs back twice a week. What can I say…. they are still one of the seven best in the US according to Good housekeeping magazine.
So I turned the light on and continued ascending up the flight of steps. When reaching the last one, I heard someone mention my name. Just as my grandmother called me…. Suze. Once again…Suzeeee! At this point I was freaking out! I did not know if to run back, scream, or poop myself. But since it was my grandmother the only one who called me that way… I looked around to find the source of the noise.
As I entered what used to be her bedroom, I saw her there. This bright light that illuminated the area. She was trying one of her long mink coats, and looking my way as in asking me to come closer.
I hesitated, and doubted what I was seeing. Should I, shouldn’t I? Oh well, I did. She pointed to a little wooden door on the left side of the wall in the small closet. I pulled the handle and saw a gray metallic box, At that point I was so anxious, so opened it .Inside there was only one thing… a spam can…What!? Really!? Seriously!? Spam!? And old spam can? What? What is this a joke? Was I punk’d? An old can? Looked up and she was gone. Why is this even here?
Anyways, the next day I took it to the pawn shop to see what that was worth… It turned out my Oma’s family had the Spam Company and that can was the first spam ever been produced…it was worth 5 million dollars.
Well done grandma!
