The Anatomy of Chocolate
She ordered an anatomically correct chocolate kidney. Four dozen of them. Nora kept her questions to herself and proceeded with the standard processing form: delivery date, chocolate type, shipment details. As the woman answered, Nora’s hand dropped to her lower back and searched for inspiration. She had molds for skulls and hearts and even a spine, but nothing for a kidney.
Nora gave a quote and the lead time. The woman said she needed them sooner. Nora said it would cost extra. Without hesitating, the woman began reading the numbers off her credit card while Nora hurriedly typed the information into the system. There was a pause. Nora sensed the call was ending, so she blurted out, “I don’t mean to pry, but what are you doing with four dozen chocolate kidneys?”
But the line had already gone dead. As soon as Nora set the phone down, the shop’s front door jingled open, and one of her regulars rushed inside.
“Hi, Frank,” she said, her mind still elsewhere. Despite the cool October morning, little droplets of sweat had already formed on his forehead.
“Morning, Nora. I’ve really screwed myself this time. I promised the wife I’d have something special for dessert when the kids got home. Melissa’s soccer team made it to the county finals, so we’re having everyone over to celebrate. You don’t have anything that looks like a cleat, do you?”
“How about a soccer ball?”
He smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Let me see how many I have,” she shouted over her shoulder as she floated toward the storeroom. A few beats later, she came back and placed everything on the counter. “I have six milk chocolate and four dark. Does that work?”
Frank gave her his credit card, and she rang him up. The day moved swiftly after that, so swiftly that she completely forgot about the mysterious order from earlier.
Until she got home.
When she walked into the kitchen, she saw her husband at the table, drinking some tea and fiddling around with a crossword puzzle.
“Eight-letter word for ‘medical cut’,” Will said without looking up from the paper.
“Incision,” Nora said without thinking.
“It’s those polyphenols from all that dark chocolate you eat,” he said, writing it down. “That’s why you’re so much smarter than me.”
She smiled and kissed Will on the top of his head. “Maybe I’ll bring a few bars of extra dark to protect those precious neurons. I mean, ‘incision’ is beginner…”
Nora stopped mid-sentence and shook her head.
“Everything okay?” Will asked.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just remembered that this woman called this morning right as the shop opened. You’ll never guess what she wanted.”
“Please tell me it’s not another bachelorette party.”
Nora laughed. “No, no. Nothing like that. But it was an unusual request.”
Will pushed the crossword away and leaned forward. “Well, what was it?”
“The woman, she wanted…kidneys. Four dozen kidneys.”
“Kidneys?”
“Yes. And they have to be anatomically correct.”
“What could this woman possibly want to do with chocolate kidneys?”
“I was wondering the same thing…Oh, wait!” Nora said, springing out of her chair. She grabbed her phone and started scrolling through it. “I have the order form, and it’ll have the delivery location,” she said, tapping away. “Now, all we have to do is look up the address. It’s probably a hospital or a university or…wait…Trattoria Lucia?”
The husband discovers that there’s a hematology conference in the next town over. They must be having dinner or something at the restaurant.
Tune in Next Week for Part II