There’s just something about chocolate.

It’s enough to cause a person to abandon the rest of the world in favor of complete immersion in the power of its taste.

Few things in life compare.

Irene Bae Joohyun knew this as clearly as she knew the sun was going to rise the next day.

It was an inarguable fact of life.

She concentrated, biting her bottom lip, as she folded the ribbons of dark chocolate in the pan once, twice, and a final time before sampling her work with her index finger.

She closed her eyes in surrender.

Perfection.

Next, she checked the thermometer in the pan.

An even 91 degrees.

Showtime.

One by one, she bathed each truffle in the dark chocolate coating before rolling it in the cocoa powder that would offer a nice contrast to the amaretto in the truffle.

Finally, she placed the last truffle on the wire rack with a slight twist of her wrist.

She set the timer and took her spot on top of the stepladder nestled in the kitchen’s corner and waited in anticipation for the required 12 minutes to creep by.

She felt good about things this time.

She’d used a tad too much heavy cream in the ganache on the last go round, and the hint of coconut she’d added this time might be the missing link to bridge the flavors.

The kitchen was quiet while she waited, the morning just getting started.

Distantly, she heard the bell in the front of the shop, but ignored it.

She checked the clock again.

It was time.

Biting slowly into a truffle, she closed her eyes and allowed the flavors to play in as she assessed.

It was closer this time.

She was on to something, but the recipe wasn’t quite there yet.

Damn it.

Just a hint too sweet.

It lacked balance.

The bell.

A second time.

Where was Yeri?

With an exaggerated sigh, she abandoned her project and made her way from the kitchen to the front of the bakeshop.

Kim Hyun Bin, one of the regulars, scowled deeply at her. “Well, it sure took you long enough.” It was nothing new.

Sort of his thing.

He harassed her daily and she smiled through it.

The man was pushing mid 30's and pretended to hate the world.

The problem was he didn’t and everyone knew it.

“Good morning, Hyun Bin. Sorry about the wait. Just taking care of a few things in the back. Your usual?”

Hyun Bin eyed the display case suspiciously. “What are those?”

She followed his gaze. “Caramel apple cinnamon rolls. Made with cream cheese frosting. My father’s recipe.”

He studied her skeptically.

It was rare for him to deviate from his standard blueberry muffin.

He was a staunch creature of habit. “Are they fresh?”

“Made this very morning.”

He rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t stand another minute of her.

It was part of his charm. “I’ll take two and a cup of joe. Regular, not decaf.” He scowled deeper. “Don’t you think you should write it down, for heaven’s sake?”

She grinned patiently. “Two cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee. I think I got it.”

“Good thing you can bake or you people would run this place into the ground. Your father never used to keep his customers waiting. Where’s Yeri?” He scanned the area behind the counter for any glimpse.

“Around here somewhere, I hope.” Yeri, her youngest and royal employee, was MIA but happened to be the one person Hyun Bin seemed to tolerate.

Which meant he was hot for her.

Irene prepared his order as she did every morning, and as he headed off to his regular table by the window, she turned to her next customers, a couple smiling brightly, a toddler at their sides.

In fact, one of the most adorable toddlers she’d ever seen. “Morning, guys. Welcome to The Velvet. What can I get for you?”

“Well, you’ve already sold us on the cinnamon rolls, I think,” the man said. “And an orange raspberry muffin too. The lady at the inn said we have to try those.”

Irene nodded knowingly as she rang them up. “That’s Lucy. She’s a fan.”

The wife smiled. “She insisted we stop by. Said you had pastries sent by God himself. The best in Illinois.”

“Well, Lucy leans toward hyperbole, but they are pretty good. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

“Are you the owner?”

Irene nodded. “I am.”

“It’s such a cute little place. So much character.”

Irene looked around, taking in the bakeshop through new eyes.

Checkered tablecloths, lots of framed art, photos from over the years. “Thanks. My father opened the place not long after I was born.”

She pointed to The Velvet’s logo on the wall affectionately, zeroing in on the little girl with the halo of flowers in her hair. “And that’s me. My dad’s retired now, but he’s left us all his great recipes, and hopefully, I’ve added a few decent new ones.”

She handed them their plates. “Enjoy and come back and see us.”

“We definitely will.” The family picked out one of the five tables in the shop and sat down to enjoy their breakfast.

As she wiped down the counters, Irene’s gaze drifted back to the couple and she watched as they fed the toddler, encouraging him to taste the cinnamon roll and laughing when he grinned back at them in lip smacking approval.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she and Taeyeon would have laughed with their own child, if they’d had one.

With so much warmth and adoration.

She’d like to think so.

She shook herself out of it.

Taeyeon’s commuter plane had gone down 3 years ago.

Actually, 3 years, 4 months, and a handful of days, but somehow it didn’t seem that way.

It felt like yesterday that Taeyeon was teasing her or whispering sweetly in her ear each morning.

It was easier now, thinking about Taeyeon.

But it was moments like these that Irene wondered if she’d ever get a chance at a family of her own someday.

She wanted that.

Kids, someone to share it all with, the whole deal.

She sat on the stool.

Time was marching on, and sometimes she felt like it was marching on without her.

26 years old was still young…right...

She wandered back into the kitchen and did what she always did when something was on her mind. “What do you think, Taeyeonie? Is it time for me to get back on the horse?”

Silence.

As there always was when she talked to Taeyeon.

But there were times when she felt Taeyeon’s presence in her life; she was sure of it.

The number 8 had a way of showing up a lot, and she suspected strongly that Taeyeon had something to do with it.

It had been her favorite number if for nothing else than the Magic 8 Ball she consulted for all important life decisions.

“Sorry I’m late.” Wendy Son rushed into the kitchen and began putting on her apron, pulling Irene abruptly from her thoughts. “Bless her heart; my next door neighbor didn’t know how to program her cable box. One sandwich short of a picnic, that one. I had to step in and help out and…”

She paused and shot Irene a curious glance. “What is it, sugar? You look like you just solved the mystery of life for all of us.”

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