Christmas At The Café. Rebecca Raisin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ display looks like a fancy barnyard, with the spun sugar glinting under the small down lights, and all the cute little animals we made out of chocolate or fondant peering up at us. Easter eggs of every shape and color look downright mouth-watering littered throughout the magical setting.

      “Let’s go check it from the street.” CeeCee grabs my arm, and pulls me into the bright day.

      “Would you look at that?” I say. “Walt’s shop is closed again — that’s the third time in a week or so. Why do you suppose that is?”

      CeeCee crosses her arms and follows my gaze. “I don’t rightly know.”

      “You think sales are slow?”

      She turns back to our Easter display, and says, “Could be.”

      Walt’s shop is dark. His display window is filled with colorful one-off pieces of furniture he lovingly hand-crafts. He uses wood recycled from old boats, their assorted paints faded and chipped, and mismatched to produce the most beautiful eclectic pieces you’ve ever seen. He says his furniture tells a story. The wood he uses has sailed around the world and seen more life than most of us ever will. My heart aches thinking Walt and Janey might be suffering financially.

      “Maybe we should make him a box of goodies tomorrow, Cee. There’s nothing one of your famous pies can’t fix.”

      She nods. “That surely will help.”

      I know firsthand how hard it is to stay afloat in such a small town. We’ve seen plenty of businesses come and go but Walt and Janey’s furniture shop is one of the oldest. They’ve been here forever. Walt is the event organizer for Ashford. He arranges the Christmas carols every year, and all the festivals and gatherings we have throughout the seasons. It strikes me how odd it is he hasn’t been more involved in the chocolate festival. And CeeCee’s uncharacteristically quiet about it all; she’s Janey’s best friend, and surely knows what’s going on. Though, it could be a pride thing — I’m sure if it’s a financial problem they don’t want everyone knowing.

      “Once I get this Joel mess sorted out, why don’t we look at buying a few more of his tables for out front here?” I motion to the pavement, where we have a motley mix of wooden tables, and mix-matched chairs.

      “You a good girl, Lil. I think that’d be nice.”

      We stare at Walt’s store for a while longer. I realize I haven’t seen Janey in town over the last week or so. Usually Janey comes in to shoot the breeze and sit with CeeCee while they talk about their church and their grandbabies.

      “Did you play bridge with Janey this week?” I ask CeeCee.

      “Nope. I got word from Rosaleen it were off because we had odd numbers. Happens all the time. We’ll see if Walt turns up tomorrow.” CeeCee bustles back inside before I can respond.

      ***

      Later that day, we decide to shut the café a tad earlier than usual. All these early starts and late evenings have taken a toll. The street has gone sleepy with so few people about. Everyone is conserving their energy for the weekend festivities; well, I hope so, at any rate.

      “Sugar plum, you try and put the thought of Mr Jefferson’s verdict out of your pretty little head. Go on and enjoy the night with that fine-looking thing, and worry about it in the a.m.”

      I couldn’t seem to get hold of Mr Jefferson on the phone all day. The niggly feeling he’s going to have bad news for me hasn’t been far from my mind. “I’ll be fine, Cee. Bet you he’s found a way to fix it, and will call with the good news tomorrow. Why don’t you take a few bunnies home? Not sure we taste-tested them enough.”

      She haws, loud and high, and pats her handbag. “Already done. I never tried the white chocolate rabbits — can’t go selling the merchandise if I haven’t tasted it for myself.”

      I pat my bag. “I’ve got a helping of caramel-filled eggs. You never can tell when you’ll get a sugar craving.”

      “It’s a wonder we ain’t bigger!” She guffaws, and pats her rounded belly. “Wait a minute! You the only skinny one — that just ain’t fair!”

      I scoff. CeeCee’s got a real thing about calling me skinny, when in actual fact I’ve got proper country-girl curves, which are only getting bigger with all the chocolate I’ve been eating.

      I shut off the lights and we head out of the front door into the balmy air. Damon’s shop is still open, and I wave to him as CeeCee and I stroll up the street. “You gonna walk?” I ask. CeeCee usually hitches a ride with Sarah when she closes her book store. “Yeah, sugar, after all that chocolate today, I think I might need to make it a regular thing. Plus we’re early. You go on ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pecks me on the cheek.

      “I’ll pop in and tell Sarah you’re walking home.” CeeCee lives a bit further out on the other side of town from me, a good twenty-minute walk.

      “You tell her I need another selection of those bodice rippers you keep teasing me over,” CeeCee says.

      Laughing, I nod and walk into the tiny bookshop.

      As usual Sarah is propped up behind the cash register, her head in a book, jeans-clad legs crossed and perched on a stool. “Hey, Lil.” She dog-ears the page of her book, and closes it.

      I smile in greeting as she stretches and shakes away the dozy look on her face. “Cee’s going to walk today on account of how much chocolate we’ve consumed.”

      Her tinkling laughter rings out. She’s tiny, and looks like a doll with her smooth black bobbed hair, and perfectly cut bangs that hang just above her eyebrows.

      “You know, the smell of melted chocolate travels all the way over here. I planned on coming over but I got to reading…”

      I run a hand over the cover of the old hardback book. “That good?”

      “A classic…”

      Plunging my hand into the depths of my handbag, I grovel around for the box of caramel eggs and offer them to Sarah. “Here’s something to keep your energy up.”

      She laughs, and takes the eggs, unwrapping one and popping it into her mouth. “Gosh…wow.”

      “Keep going, plenty more where they came from.” I walk around the small shop looking for cookbooks. The small space has an otherworldly feel about it. It’s dusty and dingy with books piled on top of each other or double stacked on shelves. Old books mixed with new, a veritable treasure trove of wonder. Sarah knows instinctively where everything is, but it’s fun to mosey your way around and find something hidden, a gem for yourself.

      “So you all organized for the festival?” Sarah asks.

      All the coordinating was done weeks ago. All that’s left to do is the fun part. “I think so. We’ve made most of the eggs, and the truffles, now we’re making the medley of cakes, and fudges, and slices…”

      “Stop! You’re making me salivate… How can you stand to cook like that without gorging on it all day?”

      “We do gorge! Trust me, we do. It kind of goes on all day till I can’t fit another thing in. Maybe I should СКАЧАТЬ