Day 21
"I can't remember the last time it got this cold here." Shauna placed a bundle of freshly-cut logs down by the fireplace.
"Yeah. The outdoor thermometer says it's ten degrees," Troy replied. "Feels a hell of a lot colder. Really everything under forty feels the same—bitterly cold." He looked down at the collection of wood they accumulated. "Alright. I think that's enough for today."
"Good. I don't think I could go back out there." Shauna pulled her gloves off, seeing her fingers were red.
"Then stay in here and get warm." Troy kissed her cheek. "I've got a couple of things to do, then we can just spend the rest of the day together."
"Thanks, Sam. Are you sure you don't need anything?"
"Positive." He kissed her again. "I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you, too." Shauna wrapped herself up in a blanket, tightening it around herself when Troy left the house. She looked out the window, watching him do the remaining chores around the ranch. Poor Sam. He works hard. I shouldn't be sitting around while he's out there. She imagined he was pretty cold as well, but he wasn't very likely to express it. It was rare for him to express discomfort of any kind.
Ten minutes passed before Shauna stood and decided to make something as a little thank-you for Troy's work. He usually makes hot chocolate. He must have the recipe somewhere. She searched the kitchen, but came up with nothing. Not a single hot chocolate recipe could be found.
Of course not. He probably has it memorized. Or he made it up and never bothered to write it down. Of course. I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Sam. Shauna sighed. She had a lot of patience for her husband and his spontaneity, but she wasn't nearly as spontaneous. She did try on occasion. Now was one of those occasions.
Shauna had everything set out on the counter that she knew for certain that Troy used when making hot chocolate. There were some things missing, but she didn't know what. I want this to be a surprise.
She didn't want to risk ruining the hot chocolate, so she called the one person she had a hunch might know what the recipe was, all while looking out the window to make sure Troy was still occupied with work.
"Who may I ask is calling me at this hour?" Dietrich asked.
"I'm sorry, Hans, did I wake you?" Shauna replied.
"No, but I was just getting ready to settle in for the night. What do you want?"
"I need your help with something."
"Did Troy make off with the checkbook to a horse auction again?"
"No."
"Is he acting stranger than he usually does?"
"For once, no. He hasn't done anything. That's not why I called you."
"Alright. What is it, then?"
"I would like to know if you know anything about how he makes hot chocolate."
"What makes you think I would know something about how he makes hot chocolate?"
"Because you're his best friend. Surely he's mentioned something to you about it."
"I know he once put eggnog in it and that came out wonderfully, but apart from his regular recipe—if that even exists—I have no idea how he makes it. I know there is a lot of heavy cream, a lot of milk, a lot of chocolate—"
"All of which I have. I just want to know if you know how much of each goes in."
"This is Troy we are talking about. There is no measuring, no counting. He just throws things into a pot and it somehow comes out very good. It is about the one thing he can cook without detonating your kitchen."
"That's very true. I don't think we need to recount what happened with the ice cream maker a few summers ago."
"I am still trying to understand how anything that day happened, but Troy is known for producing miracles."
"Indeed he is. Anyway, I don't suppose you'd have a rough idea on how much of each ingredient goes in the hot chocolate."
"Unfortunately, no. I wish I had a better answer for you. But, out of curiosity, why can you not ask Troy yourself?"
"I want this to be a surprise."
"Ah. Alright, well, I can say this—more cream than milk, and use bar chocolate, not powder."
"Okay. Thanks, Hans."
"You are most welcome, Shauna. Good luck."
Shauna hung up after bidding Dietrich a good night, then set to work making the hot chocolate. Over the course of her talking to Dietrich, she had no idea that Troy had come back into the house, so when she turned to put the powdered baking chocolate away, she was facing her husband.
"Hi, sweetheart," Troy said.
Startled, Shauna shoved Troy in the stomach. "What is wrong with you, Sam?! Don't you have the courtesy to announce yourself?!"
"Sometimes. What're you doing?"
"Nothing! It's a surprise. Go away."
"Well, it's a little too late, because I see you've got just about everything out to make—"
"I'm not making what you think I'm making."
"I think you're making hot chocolate. Am I right? Do I win?"
Shauna gave up. "Yes. I am trying to make hot chocolate. Emphasis on 'trying.' I don't know how you do it."
"Ohh, you want to know how I make hot chocolate?" Troy grinned. "Sure. I'll teach you. First—what is that?" He gestured to the container of baking chocolate.
"I was putting this away. I called Dietrich to see if he knew how you made it, and he said that you use bar chocolate instead of powdered."
"That's right. You can't get the same rich and creamy feeling with powdered baking chocolate. Bar chocolate, and specifically milk chocolate is best. Not the unsweetened stuff."
"That does explain why you bought a bunch of candy bars a while back."
"Yep. Just chuck a few in the pot, melt 'em, then add your milk, cream, stir together, and give it a taste. Sometimes, these all together are sweet enough. If not, don't add regular sugar. Add half a chocolate bar."
"And you don't measure any of this?"
"Nope. It's worked out so far."
"I'll never understand how you do it, Sam."
Troy smirked. "I came up with this on a whim, and it's been that way ever since."
"Still. Feels like something that needs at least a little bit of planning."
"It's hot chocolate, sweetheart. It's not the end of the world if it goes wrong."
"True."
"And I only make it a few times each winter. It's supposed to be fun and special." Troy kissed Shauna's cheek. "Just like you, except I get to have you all year round."