Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 366

Larson fell silent, for once completely at a loss for words—a rare sight that made Emma burst into laughter.

He shot his sister a mock glare, half annoyed and half amused. "Weren't you both planning to order some candy and pastries from the old confectionery to bring along? You should finalize your choices soon. When are you going?"

"Tomorrow or the day after," Emma replied, mentally calculating the time. She knew a place famous for its handmade sweets—a little shop specializing in traditional recipes. But custom orders required waiting in line, and with time running short, there was no room for delay.

Grandma chuckled, letting Larson off the hook. "I'll go with Emmie," she said warmly.

Larson looked relieved. "I'll have the driver take you both. I'll sit this one out," he added quickly, clearly glad to change the subject away from any questions about his love life.

The confectionery was tucked away in a narrow lane of Cresthaven, a street now lined with boutiques and specialty shops. Tailors offered bespoke suits, others displayed silk evening gowns, handmade shoes, jewelry, intricate embroidery, and luxurious woven fabrics. Many proudly advertised themselves as heritage craftsmen; their storefronts glimmered with "Award-Winning Artisan" plaques.

Nothing came cheap here.

Since they had the afternoon, Emma decided to stroll with her grandmother through the lane. She wanted to pick out a present for her aunt, who worked in fashion. Maybe a hand-embroidered scarf, a richly woven shawl, or a piece of traditional clothing—surely her aunt would appreciate something unique and beautifully crafted.

They wandered from shop to shop, admiring the artistry at each stop.

Eventually, they found themselves outside a traditional formalwear boutique. Linking arms with her grandmother, Emma entered without a second thought. Her aunt, a fashion designer, would love something from here.

She never expected to run into Theodore.

There he was, slouched on a wooden settee, looking utterly drained, lost in thought. Emma felt a stab of annoyance—she'd been bumping into Theodore far too often lately.

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