Christmas At The Café. Rebecca Raisin
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Название: Christmas At The Café
Автор: Rebecca Raisin
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9781474048491
isbn:
“I know. I do. But I can’t have people fighting my battles. I should have known better when it comes to him and his family, so I’ll take it on the chin, and work my way out of it. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”
He frowns as he sips his wine. “But what if you don’t make enough at the festival? Will you accept the shortfall from me?”
I try to look composed, confident. “No, there’ll be enough. I’m sure of it.” There’s no chance I’ll make enough to cover the twenty thousand, and the exorbitant amount of interest he wants to slug me, but if Mr Jefferson says I have to pay, I’ll get a loan or something before I even think of borrowing off Damon or selling the café. People might call me a fool not accepting his help, but there comes a time when you have to be in control of your own life. And nearing the big three oh, I can’t expect to be bailed out.
“I won’t keep hounding you, Lil, but what if he doesn’t leave? What if you have to sell the café, all on account of something as stupid as that idiot?”
“It won’t come to that. I promise,” I say hopefully. “And if all else fails, I’ll open up a chocolate shop.” My joke falls flat as I see his frown deepen.
“Really?”
“Easter eggs all year round, I say. No, not really — the café is my life. I’d be lost without it.”
“I wish you’d reconsider taking the money. I’d happily pay it to get him out of town and away from you.” His voice has a slightly harder tone and I realize maybe Damon does feel slightly threatened by the scurrilous Joel.
“He’ll go. I’ll work out a way, and I’ll fight to keep the Gingerbread Café. Either way I’m going to add chocolate to our repertoire. There’s something hypnotic about tempering chocolate and molding it into something completely different. I think of all the flavors and textures I can add…”
“Sounds like your mind is made up. We could incorporate it into the catering too. Chocolate martinis with a side of truffles. Say, we could even do chocolate buffets, set it out all pretty on a table and let people help themselves.”
“See? Now we’re thinking ahead. It’s much better than mooning about things I can’t change.”
He nuzzles into my neck; his warm breath on my skin gives me goose bumps. “Well, OK. I’m still learning that you can be stubborn as a mule.”
I let out a donkey-like haw, and we laugh together as the sun sinks completely, the orange hue replaced by soft sepia light. Shadows stretch on the floor beside us, and I get lost in the blackness of them, wondering how Joel managed to creep into my perfect moment, and break the spell.
The next morning at the Gingerbread Café, CeeCee is swamped with customers. I look on in awe as I jog past the window, and see a long queue inside. I’m late again on account of picking up some more supplies for the festival.
I rush in and don my apron.
“Sugar plum, glory be, it’s been hectic!” CeeCee has a sheen of sweat on her brow, and is smiling as if she’s won lotto. I grin back at her. From the looks of it everyone is here for chocolate and a rush of pleasure surges through me.
I serve customers, who are mostly local, and chat while I get their orders together.
CeeCee’s guffaws ring out when she tells the story about me blowing out the Paschal eggs. Seems she just has to tell everyone, including people who don’t ask.
“You shoulda seen her face, oh, it were priceless…”
I shake my head, and laugh at her hooting and hollering. CeeCee is always excitable when we’re busy. Everyone laughs along with her. “You should’ve been a stand-up comedian, Cee.”
With each order we slip in a free gingerbread rabbit, sweet-smelling biscuits that look cute with their white icing whiskers, and ruby-red bow ties.
Once the last customer strolls out with a backwards wave, we plonk down on the sofa for a break.
“I’m beat!” CeeCee hoists her legs up and closes her eyes.
“I’ve never seen it so busy. Seems like the whole town wandered in this morning.”
“There’s only a handful of chocolate eggs left. We’re going to have to make more tonight.”
“More? Gosh, we’re going to need a holiday after this festival.” I sigh, thinking of a summer holiday somewhere seaside with Damon. Cheesy love songs spring to mind. I envisage him chasing me along a white sandy beach. I grin when I realize I’m fantasizing about my life as if it’s one of CeeCee’s novels. They sure do give a girl inspiration.
“What you grinnin’ at?”
“Nothing. Just thinking of a holiday one of these days.” There’s no way I’m telling her I’m picturing a beach run while a song plays in my mind. She’ll think I’m cuckoo.
“So you heard from that snake?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
And there it is again: Joel, the total mood killer. “Not a peep. I can’t believe I wasted so much time with a man like him.” It’s so hard to see what I found attractive in him, now that I have Damon to compare him to. “I must have been a dumb fool not to see him for what he really is.”
She glances at me, her face softening. “You ain’t dumb or a fool, Lil. The heart sees what it needs to see. You ever think that maybe it happened the way it did was so when that fine-looking thing came into your life you could recognize real love? Plus, you still so young, not even thirty, you got the rest of your life to spend with a real man. One who adores you just the way you are. Gloop-less, baggy clothed, and ponytailed.”
I laugh. “Amen to that.” I just can’t be that girl that gets excited about hair and make-up. And form-fitting clothes are just not me. Jeans and tees are about as fancy as I get most days. Cee’s always at me: “Let down those gorgeous blond curl o’ yours, show off that figure.” It feels wrong, though, as if I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. Plus I can’t see straight when I’ve got that amount of gloop on my face. Feels like glue drying and I can’t stand it.
“So what you think Joel gonna do?”
I try to keep the worry from my voice. “Don’t rightly know. I just want him gone. Out of my life for good.”
“Me too, sugar plum, me too.”
People wave as they stroll past, some with an eyebrow raised seeing CeeCee and me lazing on the sofa as if we’re on holiday.
“Did you hear from Janey, yet?” I ask idly.
CeeCee jumps up. “No, not yet.”
I watch her retreating back, and wonder what the heck she’s not telling me. Seems like we’re both guilty of keeping secrets.
***
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