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Rated: E · Chapter · Children's · #1184799
Chapter 2. Enjoy.
Mr. Greydocks, the owner of the confectionary shop, watched with mixed pleasure and bewilderment to see the green-eyed, golden-haired little girl. Everyday, she would visit his shop, savoring the sweet, decadent smells and admiring the mouth-watering displays of chocolate, caramel and candy. She would usually buy a few packets of peppermint candy.

Everyone in the small town of St. Morning knew the Stone family. Mr. Harold Stone, Bridget's father, owned several lumber companies in town. Mrs. Genevie Stone was his lovely wife who met an unfortunate accident one summer when a bus rammed the side of her car. Since then, she was paralyzed from her waist down and sustaining pains in her upper body.

Mr. Greydocks seemed unfailingly fascinated by the child's quiet confidence. She was like a present that you couldn't open until Christmas day. When he had asked why she fancied the peppermint candy, Bridget smiled. "It's like there's winter in my mouth everytime I have one."

As Bridget approached the counter, Mr. Greydocks had the candy ready in a small, brown, paper bag. "Here you are, Miss Stone." Mr. Greydocks said with usual cheer. The golden-haired girl reached up to pay for the candy. She silently took the paper bag and gave an acknowledging bow before she turned around and left.

Mr. Greydocks peered through his spectacles. She wore a crimson dress, covered with a mink fur coat paired with matching boots. To top it off was a fur scarf, a bit too long for her size maybe, but she looked the part of being an aristocrat's daughter.

On her way back with a slower pace, Bridget slowly unwrapped a mint candy and sucked on it. As she passed the newly occupied apartment, she noticed the truck was gone and a few empty boxes were piled by the door. She approached the wooden porch where the rose vines were gracefully intwined with. Bridget gazed at the silhouette through the window. There was a broad figure with a rather square head on its shoulders. Still sucking on her mint candy, Bridget squared her shoulders, marched up to the door and knocked.

The figure on the window gave a little start. The sound of tumbling. Boxes bumping. Finally, the door unlocked and swung open.
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