Christmas at the Gingerbread Café (4 page)

“So far so good,” Damon says, setting down a tray of empty Chinese soup spoons that moments before had been filled with tuna and mango ceviche.

“Wow, that was quick. Are we making enough?” We’re halfway through, and so far it doesn’t look as though people are slowing down with the food.

Damon winks. “We’ll have plenty, don’t you worry. The noise level goes up every time I go out there, and I hazard a guess that the alcohol consumption is rising right along with that noise. People are starting to dance. I think I saw the mayor doing Gangnam Style…”

“Oh, golly! I can’t wait to see pictures of that.”

Damon’s right. If anything we’ve over-catered. I want to make sure we’re known for quality food, and plenty of it.

“What’s next?” Damon says, standing so close I feel his breath on my neck. Goose bumps break out on my skin, and I blush at the thought of him noticing them.

I clap my hands together. “OK, we need to slice the turkey and cranberry tart, and assemble the choux pastries—”

“With rare beef and horseradish?” Damon interrupts.

“Yes, good memory. Be careful with the choux…”

“I know, I’ll treat it like I would a lady, gentle and lovingly.”

I scoff and roll my eyes at Damon. “Can you get any cheesier?”

He grins back at me and I notice when he’s really smiling he has these teeny tiny little dimples, which are inordinately adorable on a fully grown man.

Damon takes the tart from the oven, and begins slicing it. The scent of roasted turkey makes my mouth water. Before I know it, Damon’s beside me again. “Here, try it.” He slides a small corner of the tart into my mouth. It takes me by surprise and, in a rush to close my mouth lest I stand gawping, I feel my lips brush his fingertips. He leaves them there for what feels like for ever.

“Good?” he asks.

I nod. Unable to speak and not only because I’m chewing.

His expression changes, to something more serious. “You have to try new things once in a while, don’t you think?”

I mumble agreement, and look down to the smoked-salmon blinis I’m making. Damon knows I always try my food before I send it out, so I know he isn’t talking about the canapés. He goes back to the tart, and I let out a breath I’ve been holding.

The evening progresses so fast, I’m almost sad to think we’re just about done.

Damon has a tea towel slung over his shoulder and is busy stacking the multitude of dishes into the industrial-sized dishwasher.

“Glad to see you know how to work one of those,” I say. “You’ll make someone a mighty fine husband one day.”

He takes the tea towel from his shoulder and hangs it on the oven rail. “Oh, yeah? A man who cooks and cleans — you think there’s a market out there for that?”

“Depends — what else can you do that might satisfy a lady?” The words tumble from my mouth before I’m able to stop them. I spin on my heel and head to the bathroom before he can respond. As I reach the door, laughter spills from me.
I can’t believe I just said that.

Christmas Eve and the excitement is palpable. The magic of Christmas never fails to amaze me. I bawled like a baby not two hours ago, when we delivered our gingerbread house to the children’s hospital in Springfield. Damon came up with the idea when we were musing what to do with it. Those courageous kids’ eyes went so wide when they saw four of us carry it in. We set it up nice and pretty in the games room. CeeCee made the kids gift bags full of treats, and they were so excited, it made my heart skip a beat. Just thinking of them being away from home at Christmas, and being so brave, made me appreciate everything I had in my life. I gave them all great big hugs before we left, and promised them we’d return for new year with some party supplies.

It’s arctic out. I shrug down into my jacket as CeeCee and I close the shop, and breathe a sigh of relief. That’s work over for us for a few days. No more baking and no more late nights.

“So,” CeeCee says. “I’ll see you tonight at the carols. I’m gonna make us a little feast, so you two lovebirds don’t worry about a thing. Just concentrate on getting yourself prettied up.” She casts a cursory glance from my head to my toes. “You not gonna wear jeans, sugar plum.”

“Firstly, we’re not lovebirds. Secondly, I’m planning on wearing a dress, but not if you’re going to make it into something it isn’t.” I arch my brow, and try to stare CeeCee down, but I know from experience I won’t win this battle.

“Most the girls in town would give their eye teeth to have your figure, and you hide it behind those old jeans, and scruffy sweaters. You got it, flaunt it, I say.”

“Oh, please, CeeCee…”

“There’s not a man gonna be able to resist you, especially the fine thing across the way, mmm hmm.”

“You sound like you want to eat him.”

She guffaws, her beautiful face crinkling up like paper. “You got that right — like gooey caramel, that boy.”

Laughter barrels out of us, and I know we don’t sound very gentle.

“You go on now, and get yourself ready. I’ll see you at the town hall.”

I lean down to kiss CeeCee’s soft cheek; she smells like cinnamon and honey. “Thanks, Cee. I’ll meet you there later, then.”

Damon’s shop is dark. He must have locked up while we were hooting and hollering.

Walking home from town, I notice it’s gone quiet, sleepy. People have left for home to get ready for tonight; the schoolkids on holidays are probably toasting marshmallows by the fire. It’s a nice feeling, the town relaxing in on itself. There’s something incredibly sweet about small towns at this time of year. People look out for one another, and any tensions fall by the wayside. It’s a nice place, old Ashford, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Jogging the few blocks to my house, I feel light as a feather. My weary legs don’t ache any more. Funny how knowing I have a few days off energizes me.

Inside, my red dress lies sprawled over my lounge like a crimson wave, and my boots sit patiently on the floor. I know I’ll be toasty warm inside the town hall; it’ll just be a matter of not turning into an icicle walking there. We used to suffer in an amphitheater, year after year, each hoping the carols would end so we could go home and warm up. Until last year it was decided the carols, and all the Christmas festivities, would be held in the town hall from now on. It’s a wonder no one thought of it sooner.

I head straight to the tub for a good soak. Who knows, I might even consider putting some gloop on my face. Just a small amount, mind.

Once the bath is run, I undress and survey my body in the mirror. I’m not thin; I have proper country-girl curves, but they seem to suit me, I think. I rub the soft swell of my belly, thinking about Joel, and our plans to start trying for babies just before he walked out. I wonder if that’s what frightened him off, all that responsibility. He was never one to be tied down, always scheming to make millions. Grand plans to get rich quick. I listened to him intently, and I supported him, because he loved me.

I’ve never been attracted to the bright lights of a big city. All I crave is a happy, simple life. I have my job, and good friends, and family. Babies would be nice somewhere down the track. There’s nothing I don’t have right here in Ashford. Well, except love. And babies.

I scold myself for all this soppy thinking, and plunge myself into the bath. Tonight the town will come together and we’ll sing and be content with what we have, and it’ll be enough.

My red dress fits snugly, and my boots clack as I walk around fussing with the rest of the outfit. I’m not sure about the gloop. Scarlet lipstick smears my lips, and it just feels wrong, as if I’ve gone and dunked my mouth in lard. Mascara coats my lashes and it’s all I can do to see past them; I get the heebie-jeebies when I glance upward and it looks as if I’ve got spiders’ legs poking out of my eyes. And women do this every day? A knock at the door startles me. Damon. Groaning, I peep at myself once more. I’m worried I look like a clown with so much stuff on my face. And I’ve spritzed on too much perfume, I’m sure of it.

I fan myself with my hands to dispel the scent as I walk to the door.

“Well, look at you.” His gooey caramel-colored eyes hone in on my face.

“Too much?” I ask. He ignores me and his gaze travels down my body, making me squirm.

“You look beautiful. Truly beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

I shift my feet and try not to stare at the floor. It’s not a date; it’s simply an escort to a public event.
It’s not a date
. Damon’s grinning like a fool, and he’s dressed up for the occasion too. He’s still wearing super-snug jeans, which I don’t rightly oppose, but he’s swapped those awful checker shirts for a tight sweater that stretches over his stomach. I can see the outline of his muscles. He’s holding a thick black jacket over his shoulder. And a grey woolen scarf is wound expertly around his neck. He smells divine, like something sweet and sugary. Something edible. I retreat to grab my coat. An uncomfortable heat spreads through my body and if I didn’t know better I’d say it was desire.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Sure am.” I’m debating whether to hold his hand when his phone rings. I force a smile on my face as he motions to the cell and walks back down the driveway. Who in the hell keeps calling him? I’m feeling about as smart as tree bark even entertaining the thought of going out with Damon. It’s as if I have a gift of picking men who want to break my heart.

Hold his hand?
Goddamn it, girl.
While I wait for him to finish, I head back to the bathroom and roughly wipe off the lipstick. Who was I trying to be anyhow? It’s just not my thing. My eyes prick with tears, and I wonder what’s got into me.

“Lil. Lil?”

“I’m coming,” I say with one last look at the girl in the mirror.

Damon frowns when he sees me. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Let’s go — we don’t want to be late.”

He goes to speak then changes his mind.

We walk to the town center, and Damon chatters away about inconsequential things. I nod, and say, “Mmm,” but my heart isn’t in it any more. I’m annoyed at myself for being upset.
Joel, remember, you love Joel.
But I begin to wonder if that’s true. Maybe I just like the idea of being married because it means someone loves me above all else.

“Have I done something to upset you?”

An awkward silence hangs between us, while I walk a pace ahead. “Why do you say that?”

“You seem distant, and before you were positively glowing.”

“I’m fine. Just tired. I might call it a night. I’ll introduce you round, then head on home.”

He catches up and puts his hands in his pockets. “Aw, what? What’s upset you, Lil?”

I pull my coat tight and cross my arms. “Nothing, it’s been a long day, that’s all.” There’s an edge to my voice and I can’t seem to disguise it. I hope I don’t start crying on account of this fool.

He slaps his head. “Was it the phone call?” Stopping in front of me, he holds my face and forces me to look into his eyes. Lowering his voice to a husky whisper, he says, “Was it?”

“The call? Don’t you mean
calls
? You sure are popular on that damn cell. Don’t you know that’s a lot of radiation going in your ear, right into that brain of yours?”

“Is that what’s bothering you, all the calls?” He looks truly concerned, but that doesn’t wash with me. Joel’s phone was ringing off the hook near on a month before he walked out. I know what this is.

“It’s nothing to do with me. Your phone is your business.”

“Lil, I’m not going to lie. I like you. I like you a lot. But there’s things you don’t know about me. And I was gonna tell you…”

“What? That you’ve got a girl back in New Orleans that you’re stringing along?”

He has the audacity to laugh. I glare up at him.

“No! There is no girl…well, there is a girl…”

Storming forward, I push past Damon, and head towards the town square.

“Wait! Would you wait?” he says, pulling me back by my elbow. “Let me explain.”

Feeling utterly stupid, I brush tears away with my sleeve. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”

He groans, looks up at the sky. “You’re making this hard.”

I open my mouth to respond and he leans forward and cups my face with those big hands of his. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Before I know it, he’s planted his lips on mine and I’m truly lost. Warmth spreads through me, while our lips collide. My body betrays me; my legs feel like jelly. My heart hammers against my chest as I pull him closer. I melt into him, and move my hands to his face, until my brain clicks back into gear.

There is a girl.

I step back, and glower at Damon. “What do you think you’re doing? You got a girl back home and you’re—”

“I sure do.” He’s grinning at me like a damn fool again. What is he playing at? He’s got this love-struck, goofy look on his face.

“Are you drunk?”

He touches a finger to his lips, as if he’s reliving the memory of our kiss before smiling at me again. “Come on, let’s walk, and I’ll tell you all about the girl back in New Orleans.”

I snatch my hand away when he tries to clasp it. “Shoot.”

“Her name’s Charlotte, and she’s as pretty as a picture.” He darts me a look that says wait. “She’s got these blond, itty-bitty curls, kind of like yours…”

“Get to the point, Damon. You aren’t exactly winning me over here.”

“She’s turning seven next month. Charlotte, or Charlie as I call her, is my daughter.”

A million thoughts flash through my mind, and I try to pluck one as they rush past. “Is that who keeps phoning you?”

“Yeah. I gave her a cell phone, and told her to call whenever she’s missing me.”

“She must be missing you a lot.”

He clasps my hand and I let him this time, as I brush a stray curl from my face. “And what about her mamma?”

“We were married, happily for a while. The plan was always to come back here, once we had Charlotte. This is where my family are from, and I like small towns. I want Charlie to grow up safe, to be able to run around till dusk without worrying something bad is going to happen. But Dianne won’t have it. She landed a corporate job, personal assistant to some bigwig, and everything we planned went out the window. Work took over her life — at least I thought it was work. Turns out Dianne was doing more than just typing for her boss.”

His expression darkens for a second, as if he’s revealed too much, my heart breaks for him: it really does. I know what he’s been through, and it hurts. It sounds just like me and Joel, except he’s got a baby girl to think about. “It must be hard not seeing Charlotte every day.”

“Harder than I could ever imagine. And you know, I could’ve forgiven Dianne — well, I would have tried to, for Charlie’s sake. But she’s changed. I don’t recognize her at all any more, and I know I can’t live that kind of lie.”

“What will you do? About Charlie?”

“She’ll be here the day after Christmas for a week, and I guess that’ll be it from now on. Holidays and weekends, and whenever I can convince Dianne to let her visit. Once Charlie’s older she can decide for herself where she wants to live.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t stay in New Orleans, so you could be closer to her.”

He looks curiously at me. I get the strangest sensation, as if he’s come back here for me. But we didn’t even know each other. My heart starts to pound. I’ve been listening to CeeCee’s babble about second sight for too long.

“I belong here, in Ashford. And this is where I’m staying. Do you mind if I kiss you again?” Without waiting for a reply he bends and kisses me, so softly I swoon. I run my fingers through his too-long hair, and smile inwardly when they don’t get tangled. Maybe those bodice-ripper books are right, after all.

We break apart. “You are sweeter than sugar,” Damon says, his voice soft.

He gently kisses the tip of my nose and pulls me to him. I embrace his warmth, and love the feeling of his strong arms around me. I can worry about all kinds of things tomorrow, but for tonight I’m going to pretend he’s mine, and there are no other complications, and I’m going to enjoy it.

We cross the icy road and see practically the whole town gawping at us. They’re all circled around a bonfire that’s a few feet in front of the town hall. A cheer goes up, and I flush red right to the very roots of my hair. How did we not notice them? I must’ve been spellbound by the damn man.

CeeCee is milling at the front of the crowd, near the bonfire, as we amble on over. Tears spill down her face, and I gather her in my arms. “I knew it. I knew that boy were special.”

“It was one kiss, Cee,” I whisper to her.

“I bought mistletoe, so don’t you worry,” she says, brandishing the leaf in front of me. We both sputter through our hands. She truly thinks of everything. We huddle around the fire, trying to keep warm while delicate flakes of snow drift down upon us. Children run and play as if it’s the middle of summer, not feeling the cold the way we adults do.

I see kids I recognize from the café, scrambling over the big old fiberglass sleigh that Walt sets up. We’re down to one reindeer now, poor old Rudolph, whose nose gets kissed by just about every family in town for luck. The children’s laughter and squeals punctuate the air, and I smile for them, remembering my own excitement at this time of year when I was their age.