Christmas Wishes Part 3

Once the foil is off I see a smattering of letters embossed into the chocolate. “What does it say?” I peer closer.

They stand silently.

And then I see it. I feel my cheeks color, and I do the silly jump-clap dance again.

The teeny, tiny words spell: Will you marry me?

“Yes!” I scream and collapse into Damon’s arms. Charlie looks up, her smile dazzling as I pull her into the hug.

Damon’s face shines as he says, “Open the egg.”

I go to smash the egg in my palm as I normally do, when he grabs my hand to stop me. “Maybe just bite the top off first.”

Why can’t I be ladylike, just once? I take a small bite and the shell crumbles. Amidst the chocolate rubble lies an antique-looking diamond ring. It’s so feminine, and delicate I immediately love it. He reaches for the ring, and slides it on my finger. I hold my breath, hoping it’s not too small; he inches it over my knuckle — a perfect fit. In fact, it looks as if it’s always been there. I can’t help grinning at my finger, which I’m sure looks downright silly.

“I knew the very moment I met you, I was going to marry you,” Damon says softly.

I bite my lip as I think of all the things that spun through my mind when I first clapped eyes on Damon, and, if I’m honest, I thought he was as delectable as one of CeeCee’s pies, but wouldn’t have thought of telling a soul. “Is this why you’ve been leaving the house before daybreak?”

“Surely was. I had to enlist CeeCee’s help to make the egg, and then there was the matter of getting her approval on the right ring…”

Charlie toddles off to help herself to a snack. With one last look at the ring, I put my hands in Damon’s back jean pockets and pull him close. “I thought it was my bed hair that had you running scared in the mornings.”

“There’s not one thing I don’t love about you, Lil. Not even the way you choke over the coffee I make you in the mornings…”

“Oh, you noticed that?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “It’s like you’re forcing yourself to down a cup of poison.”

I feel myself color and I laugh. “OK, so I can go back to instant coffee now.” Damon’s coffee machine is like his other child; I didn’t have the heart to tell him how bad it tastes to me.

He nods. “I can’t wait to tell the world you said yes.”

“I can’t wait either.”

He leans down and kisses me, and I feel as though my life has just begun. I was only practising before. This is the real deal. We stand back gawping at each other, mirroring the same goofy look.

CeeCee pokes her head through the door. “Is there a Mrs Guthrie here?” she asks, pretending to be someone else. And that’s when I lose it. I’m a laughing, sobbing, shrieking mess of happiness.

Chapter Twelve

I flick the bedside light off, and tiptoe from Charlie’s room. Back in our room, Damon’s propped up in bed reading a book.

“Hey,” he says, smiling. He closes the book and pats the bed. “You sure you’re OK reading to Charlie every night?”

I creep under the covers next to him, and slide up against his warm body. “I’m sure. How can I refuse those big blue eyes of hers?”

He laughs. “I know that feeling. But maybe we’ll take it in turns. Don’t want your wolf voice to burn out.”

“Oh, you heard? She said I had to sound gruffer, and more snarly when the wolf speaks.”

“Wait until you read the dinosaur one. She’ll make you act out their roars.”

We lay back on the pillows, facing each other. “I think I better get Sarah to order me some princess books, pronto.”

“Mmm.” Damon traces my lips with a finger. “Lil, do you believe in soulmates?”

I think back to when I met Damon at Christmas time. I had the strangest sensation, as if we already knew each other, and that he’d come back to Ashford just for me. “Do you?” I ask, not willing to be the first to say it.

“I didn’t before I met you. I know this is going to sound corny, but I get this whole body-melt sensation when I’m near you. It’s not just how pretty you are, or your gorgeous curves, or your goofiness, it’s something more than all of that combined. Like there’s an energy around you that pulls me in your orbit. It’s the strongest feeling, like my soul recognizes yours. Gosh, that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Before a blubber-fest happens I cup his face, close my eyes, and kiss him as if we’re the last people on earth.

***

After the excitement of the weekend, there’s not much that can steal the smile from my lips. I tell Cee I have to run errands, so I can nip off to the bank, and withdraw the money for Joel. With my savings and the weekend takings I have almost six thousand. I’ll apply for the credit card, and do whatever I can to pay him and get his noxious presence out of my life.

Picking up my handbag, I see my engagement ring sparkling under the light. Excitement sweeps me over every time I think of marrying Damon. We stayed up late discussing what kind of wedding we’d like and both agree on something simple. I may even wear gloop, just that once.

I say goodbye to CeeCee and walk outside. It’s just after nine, and people mill lazily about on the streets. Everyone is probably pooped after yesterday’s celebrations. Funny how my weariness has been replaced with wonderment.

The bank is quiet as I walk to a teller.

“Hey,” Alyssa greets me. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, yeah? Good or bad?” I joke as I reach for my bank card.

“I was raving to Marlene here about the pie CeeCee brought in. She said it was a secret recipe…”

“A secret recipe? You must have had the orange-kissed strawberry and rhubarb pie, then. Tastes as good as summer holiday.”

“It surely does. Didn’t last too long, I can tell you.”

“They never do when it’s one of CeeCee’s.”

Alyssa smiles. “What’s going on with Cee? Is she moving or something?”

“No, why do you ask?” I frown remembering her spiel about friendships, and the importance of them, the morning of the egg hunt. A lump forms in my throat, I hope CeeCee isn’t planning on moving. Her kids live out of town — maybe she wants to be closer to them. Maybe finding out about Janey has made her rethink her priorities. I couldn’t imagine my life without CeeCee.

Alyssa continues, “She took out a bundle of cash. We can’t think of where she’d spend so much money in Ashford. But she wouldn’t tell. She closed her account and everything.”

Grabbing my bank card, I race for the exit.

Alyssa yells out behind me, “You OK, Lil? What’d I say?”

I lift an arm to wave and head out to the street back to the Gingerbread Café.

Out of breath, I spill inside the café. CeeCee is alone, mixing something over the stove. She turns when she hears my clumsy footsteps.

“Lil, you beetroot red. What…you taking up running now? You already too skinny!”

“CeeCee, you can’t do it. That money is for your retirement.” I know Curtis, Cee’s husband, left her a modest amount of money when he passed. Money he’d saved for exactly that reason, so she would have a nest egg and wouldn’t need to work if she chose not to.

Her face tenses. “Do what?”

I tilt my head. “I’ve just been to the bank, Cee.”

She clucks her tongue. “Mother o’ Mary, no one can have any secrets in this town. They had no right telling you that!” Her face darkens. “It’s my money, and it ain’t up to you how I spend it.”

“But, Cee…”

She holds a hand up. “No, Lil. I don’t need that money. And that snake was never goin’ to leave you alone. He’s gone now. The loan’s paid off and all done right. Mr Jefferson made it so. Joel won’t bother you again, and of that I can be certain.”

“Is that what you talked about the day he turned up over the road?”

She waves a hand. “Can’t remember.”

I gulp back tears. “So you paid him already?”

“I surely did. Couldn’t get there quick enough.”

“I’ll go to the bank. I can pay some of it back right now, Cee. Then I’ll…”

She shakes her head. “I don’t need it, Lil. It wasn’t a loan. It was a gift. Because that’s what friends do. When Curtis died I figured my whole life was finished. I couldn’t jump over that grief, Lil. But then you came along. Dragged me outta that house, and into the café. Made up some pretense about needin’ help, when you surely didn’t. Even made me take a wage when you were so broke you couldn’t pay attention! Well, things like that I ain’t never gonna forget. So now we even.”

She shuffles to a table and sits heavily, motioning for me to join her.

“But, Cee…”

“Hush. It ain’t important. You ever wonder why people trying to help you, Lil?”

I go to respond but she holds a hand up.

“Because you always helpin’ people first. You got a good heart, Lil, and it’s even better cause you don’t know it. You just think that’s how things should be. So take it when it comes back to you.”

I’m lost for words, wondering how she could be so generous. I’m going to have to plot some clever way for her to take the money back as soon as I get it.

“I’m going to go visit Janey today. You be all right here without me?” Her mask of composure cracks for a moment, as I see such pain in her eyes.

I quickly reassure her. “I’ll be fine. I think it’ll be quiet after such a big weekend.”

“OK, maybe I’ll call Walt, and see what he needs.”

I nod, knowing Walt will be happy to have CeeCee’s effervescent presence around at such a sad time. And as they say, laughter is the best medicine. “Why don’t you stay a while with Janey? I can get someone to help me here. Don’t think there’s anything more important than that right now.”

“You sure, Lil?”

“More than sure.”

“There’s a change on the wind, ain’t there?”

I know exactly what she means: things seem so different from how they were just a few days back. “Seems like it, Cee. I feel blazing happiness one minute, then so sad the next.”

“Sugar plum, I know, but you gotta enjoy every moment with that fine-looking thing… Time goes so fast, Lil. So fast…” She breaks off, her eyes glazing over, as she stares across the road. Damon’s sitting on the bench out front of his shop reading a newspaper. CeeCee looks sharply back to me, then over at Damon again. She jumps up suddenly and claps a hand over her heart. “I seen it! I seen it!” she says, her hands shaking.

I glance quickly at Damon, but can’t see anything unusual. “What, Cee?”

“A baby! You gonna have a baby!” She scrunches her eyes closed.

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Oh, Cee! We’re not even at that stage yet!”

Her eyes snap open. “It’s the second sight! Was I wrong about you and Damon?” she screeches.

“No, ma’am.” I grin back. Butterflies swarm in my belly at the thought of having children, but I don’t say anything. I just smile, and shrug. “We’ll see.”

“It’s gonna be a little boy, oh, he as cute as a button,” she says. “We better hurry up and get you married. I had this idea for your wedding cake…”

I watch CeeCee scramble from the table, her eyes bright with excitement. I rub my belly once, just in case she’s right.

Christmas Wedding at the Gingerbread Café

Rebecca Raisin

You are invited to the wedding of the year!

Snow is falling thick and fast outside the Gingerbread Café and, inside, its owner Lily is planning the wedding of the year. Her wedding! She never dreamt it would happen, but this Christmas she’ll be marrying the man of her dreams — in a Christmas-card-perfect ceremony!

The gingerbread is baking, the dress is fitted and the mistletoe’s in place — for once, everything’s going to plan. That is until her mother-in-law arrives… Suddenly, Lily’s famous cool is being tested like never before and her dream wedding is crumbling before her eyes.

In the blink of a fairy light, the Gingerbread Café has been thrown into chaos! Lily thought she had this wedding wrapped up, but with so much to do before she says ‘I do’, can Lily get to the church on time — and make this Christmas sparkle after all?

Praise for REBECCA RAISIN’s Gingerbread Café series

‘Christmas at the Gingerbread Café is a lovely, cheery festive read, a good old-fashioned feel-good romance to warm the cockles of your heart. This is one of my favourite Christmas reads of the year.’ Books with Bunny

‘This is a great novella that I really enjoyed reading and found that I didn’t want to put it down. It is the perfect read to get you in the mood for Christmas and my mouth was watering after reading about all of the delicious-sounding baking. If you are looking for a Christmassy romance then don’t look any further than Rebecca Raisin’s brilliant debut.’ Bookbabblers on Christmas at the Gingerbread Café

‘Raisin not only excels in creating a festive mood — the tone of family and friends coming together is sweet — but also portrays a lovely winter-wonderland setting, where things are covered in snow. This makes the book feel cosy and safe. It’s definitely an uplifting read.’ Sam Still Reading on Christmas at the Gingerbread Café

‘This is a short and incredibly sweet novella that explores a very endearing and unexpected romance. It is definitely one that will make you laugh and warm your heart, and one that can be happily devoured in one sitting.’ Louisa’s Reviews on Christmas at the Gingerbread Café

‘If you love Christmas, romance and HEA then you will love this sweet novella.

This one gets an A!’ Clue Review on Christmas at the Gingerbread Café

‘Wow — loved it, loved it, loved it! … It was just like I was visiting with old friends. Rebecca’s descriptions are so vivid I could very well have been stood in the café, hugging CeeCee and waddling out after sampling all the different chocolatey delights on offer. My mouth literally watered with every turn of the page. … I don’t know what I’m going to do whilst waiting for the next book — Christmas is so far away!!’ Crooks on Books on Chocolate Dreams at the Gingerbread Café

‘This book is sweet & delicious, and I am looking forward to the next in the series as they end all too quickly!’ All Booked Out on Chocolate Dreams at the Gingerbread Café

For Sophie Hedley because I love you.

Chapter One

Ten days

The fluffy white meringue hypnotizes me as it swirls around the mixer into soft valleys and peaks. A chocolate cake cools on the stainless-steel bench ready for me to layer with meringue, which will look like fresh snow for the cheery-faced fondant reindeers to graze in. High-pitched voices interrupt my reverie, and I turn to see the small children of Ashford making their way along the icy street, caroling.

It’s almost nightfall; through the tinseled window and flashing fairy lights I watch them sing, their faces lit up with the excitement of Christmas. I switch off the mixer, and dust my hands on my apron. Edging closer to the door, I listen to them pitch and warble. I sing along, enraptured by the catchy festive songs.

A couple of young stragglers pull away from the crowd of carolers, and race to the window of the Gingerbread Café. They push their tiny red noses against the glass; their breath fogs up the view. I duck my head around the door. “See those marshmallow snowmen? CeeCee made them especially, so when you’re finished caroling you can take as many as you want. Tell your friends too.” Their eyes go wide, as they squeal and dash back to the group, gesticulating wildly back to the sweet treats on display.

Smiling at their exuberance, I glance back to the window, and see why they’re so animated. At their age and height it must look like a monolithic ode to gingerbread. CeeCee insisted we make our own Christmas tree this year…out of gingerbread. It took us the better part of three weeks to work out how exactly to bake the pieces so they’d fit together to form branches. There were plenty of mistakes made, which were hastily eaten up by our regular customers.

We felt like the most accomplished engineers when it was finally erected and we’d decorated it with golden candy floss ‘tinsel’, and ‘baubles’ made from scarlet toffee. The ‘ground’ is made from marshmallow, and the Christmas presents made from chocolate dusted with edible glitter sit afoot the tree. All the late nights baking seem like nothing when a crowd of children stop and ogle it as if it’s something magical. I can’t wait for Damon’s daughter, Charlie, to see it. For a moment I picture her, with her beautiful blond curls, following the kids along the street, singing. I miss her when she’s gone, almost as if she’s my own child.

The doorbell jingles, catching me mid-chorus. I turn, half expecting the tiny revelers to rush in. “Oh, golly, that’s the voice I love,” Damon teases. His hands snake behind my jacket and he rubs the warmth of my back. “Operatic, and dramatic.”

“Very funny.” I grin. “I would have tried a bit harder if I knew I had an audience.” So, my singing leaves a lot to be desired. I blame my mamma — she’s sings as if she’s being strangled and unfortunately I inherited that gene.

“And I get to wake up to the sound of that voice every day until…for ever.”

Gazing up at him, my mouth hanging open like a love-struck fool, I say, “Ten days until I’m Mrs. Guthrie. Ten days until I swan down that aisle. I’m tingly with excitement even if I do have to wear gloop on my face, and be tortured with hair devices to make my curly hair…curly.”

He laughs so hard little dimples appear on his cheeks. “I’m tingly too, in more ways than one.” He half groans as he leans down and kisses me full on the mouth. I close my eyes as my whole-body throb reaches swoon level. This fine-thing sure knows how to kiss a girl, all right.

Slightly breathless, we pull apart, silent for a moment until the blood rushes back to wherever the hell it’s supposed to be. We stare hard at each other, but I don’t dare kiss him again. We’re likely to close up shop and jump into bed for the evening. As tempting as that is, I have cakes to bake.

But…no.

I have cakes to bake.

Damon runs his hands through his hair. “Let’s just close…”

Jelly-legged from his presence, I fight to stay strong. “Nope.”

He hooks his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans and pulls me against him. I step back, but he pulls me close again in an effort to convince me. “Lil…”

“Nope.”

His lips part slowly, and my restraint almost crumbles. Cakes, think of the cakes.

He moans low. “You’re a temptress…”

I laugh. “It’s a hard life.”

“Very hard,” he agrees, winking. He makes a show of exhaling, and shakes away the desire that is plain on his face. Composed, he says, “Let’s stop canoodling in the doorway before we end up in some compromising photos on CeeCee’s Spacebook.”

I imagine a picture of us wrapped together squid-like, flushed, for the world to see on Facebook. I giggle and drag Damon close to the fireplace when my friend Missy ducks her head in and says, “Hello, lovebirds! You’re looking mighty sweet all tangled like that.”

“Come out of the cold, Missy.” I wave her over to the fire. She struts in. Despite being heavily pregnant, she still manages to saunter rather than waddle.

Missy, who owns The Sassy Salon, has all these grand plans for my wedding hair and make-up, and, while it’s not usually my thing, it’s hard not to get caught up in her excitement. She is an expert, after all.

I rub her belly before giving her a hug. As always she smells sweet with perfume and hair products, her heavily made-up face perfection as she fluffs her big auburn curls. “I don’t intend to interrupt you two from whatever it is you were doing…” she arches an eyebrow, and grins “…but I wanted to give you these, Lil.” She hands me a brown paper bag. “Some make-up samples, colorstay, so no matter how much toying you do to your pretty little face, it should stay put.”

I go to protest, but she shakes a finger. “Before you start shaking your head, hear me out. You need to decide what colors you like…so just try it, OK? I know make-up is not your thing, but you’ll get used to it if you try it out a few times before the wedding.”

Damon lets out a huge belly laugh. I pivot, hands on hips, and give him a fake pout, he stops immediately and claps a hand over his mouth. “You think this is funny?” I tease; ruing the fact that at almost thirty years of age I still don’t understand the basics of applying make-up. I’ve tried, but it feels so unnatural, as if I’ve cemented my face, that I can’t help but mess with it, as a child would.

“No, no!” Damon holds his palms up, stifling a laugh. “Definitely not funny.” I give him a shove with my hip and turn back to Missy.

“I just hope I’m not going to look like a Dolly Parton impersonator.”

Missy rolls her eyes heavenward. “There’s nothing wrong with Dolly Parton, Lil. That woman knows what real beauty is.”

I guffaw.

“She’s my people and I won’t hear a bad word about her!” Missy laughs. I grin back. Missy dresses similar to Dolly Parton, all tight miniskirts, bold prints, the odd sequin or two. She’s vibrant and sassy and has a heart of pure gold.

“OK, no more Dolly jokes. So are there instructions with this stuff?” Doubt creeps in as I survey the bag full of colorful vials and tubes used for God knows what. Missy knows I’m erring on the side of natural rather than full-on war paint, but so far all I see are pinks and reds so bright they make my eyes hurt.

Missy scoffs. “No, there aren’t instructions! At least try the lipsticks and see which shade you prefer. We can sort the rest at the make-up trial, OK?”

“OK.”

“I better go and close up shop or else Tommy’ll think I’ve run off with another man.”

Laughter barrels out of us at the thought of a heavily pregnant woman running anywhere, least of all off with another man. “See you tomorrow, and thanks.” I hold up the bag. Missy air kisses us both and struts away. From behind you can’t even tell she’s pregnant — all the gingerbread men and slices of pie she’s consumed have obviously gone straight to the baby.

“Only ten more days…” Damon’s voice brings me back to the present as he kisses the top of my head.

Ten more days marks our one-year anniversary, and our wedding day.

I wasn’t searching for love a year ago, far from it, when it fell in my lap — or rather my café — in the form of this tight-jean-wearing, curly-haired, six-packed, glorious man. Some days it still doesn’t feel real, that this kind of passionate, all-consuming love could just happen, in the blink of an eye, but thank my lucky stars, it did.

Nipping my fingers into Damon’s back pockets, I pull his hips close. “Look at them…”

Ashford’s mini carolers huddle together as they wait to cross the road. They’re bundled up in woolen scarves and beanies, their mittened hands holding candles. They chorus Amazing Grace, and I stiffen in Damon’s arms. Oh, no. I bite the inside of my cheek. I wiggle my toes. Isn’t that what people do to stem their tears? It’s too late. My eyes well up; it’s no use. That song kills me. It’s the very heart of Christmas and it speaks to me like nothing else.

“Lil?” Damon says. “You OK?”

I half laugh, half hiccough. “It’s that darn song. It’s even more of a tear-jerker when six-year-olds are singing it.” My voice comes out a little strangled as I try to laugh it off.

“How could I forget?” he says wistfully. “The Amazing Grace blubber-fest exactly one year ago today.”

I cock my head. “Wait…what? You saw that?” This time last year I had my hand wedged well and truly up a turkey’s behind, stuffing the damn poultry to sell in the café as I sang my little heart out to Amazing Grace, laughing-shrieking-sobbing with the sadness of one whose life wasn’t going as planned. And that very same day, I met Damon.