Music pumped from speakers in the back of Adeline’s chocolate shop as she boxed up a fresh batch of chile truffles. She’d probably get another complaint from Davis, the neighboring hardware store owner and her childhood rival. It wasn’t the volume of the music that bothered Davis, but the type of music. Apparently he didn’t want to listen to reggae at eight o’clock in the morning—or at any other time, for that matter. But it set the tone for the rest of Adeline’s day. After listening to those Jamaican beats, she could handle anything that was thrown her way.
She had challenged Davis to listen to one full song and not smile. He’d accepted the challenge and won. Adeline had been baffled. How could anyone listen to reggae and not want to dance or learn how to play the bongo? Adeline had relu
