Diana Palmer - Christmas Wishes Part 3

“I been running over hell’s high acre,” CeeCee says, which is her roundabout way of saying she’s been busy. “A night in sounds about right to me too.”

Missy fills a paper bag up with cookies. “Golly, I’m going to be the size of a house when this baby comes out. And you know what? I don’t give a damn.” She rubs her belly. “OK, sugar, a night in… I’ll scoot over and tell Sarah.”

“You ain’t scooting anywhere on that icy road,” CeeCee says, her voice stern. “I’ll go an’ tell Sarah, and I may as well take this here pile of truffles for her. You know what she’s like if she doesn’t have a chocolate fix. It just ain’t fair you girls so skinny.”

Missy laughs, and showers me with crumbs. “I’m so skinny? I can’t even get in the door sideways!”

CeeCee rolls her eyes. “That won’t be for ever, Missy.”

Missy winks. “I hope you’re right. Lil, let me know when you’re ready and we’ll go see Bessie and try our dresses on.”

“Sure,” I say. “How about the day after tomorrow? I should be all caught up here by then.”

“Done. Don’t forget I want a piece of that pie when it’s ready, Cee.” She click-clacks her way out of the shop, somehow making pregnancy look glamorous.

Chapter Seven

Four days

It’s well before dawn the next morning, and we’re taking a break after making a huge batch of dough to make braided loaves for our lunch special. The yeasty smell of dough proving accompanies us as we sip our candy-cane coffee.

The doorbell jingles, and in walks Guillaume, gruff, and unsmiling. “Lily-Ella, what is the meaning of this?” He brandishes a piece of paper.

“What?” I ask. His face is dark with fury.

“You don’t want your reception at L’art de l’amour any more? I have already ordered the supplies! Found extra staff! And you send me an email to tell me this!” His thick French accent rises with each word.

CeeCee frowns. “Let me see that.” She rests her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she reads, mumbling as she goes, “Well, I’ll be…”

Olivia. I don’t have to read the email to be able to guess what it contains. I hurriedly reassure Guillaume. “Please don’t worry. We’re definitely having our reception with you. And in future, if anything changes, I’ll speak with you in person. I have an inkling someone has their heart set on making trouble, but it won’t happen again.”

Guillaume’s dark expression softens slightly as he gazes at CeeCee.

“Guillaume?” I say. “Everything can still go ahead as normal.”

CeeCee flushes, and pretends to be interested in the fire all of a sudden.

“Guillaume,” I say again, touching his arm.

“Oui?”

A grin splits my face; when he reverts to French I know he’s dumb with love for CeeCee.

“I said, everything can still go as planned, right?”

He tucks his hands into his pockets. “OK. Yes. Merci. ”

My anger at Olivia will have to wait as I fight the urge to question CeeCee and Guillaume about why they can’t make eye contact.

“CeeCee,” I can’t help but tease, “are you OK? You’ve gone as quiet as a mouse.”

She turns from the fire, her hands on her hips. “Yes, yes. I’m…deep in thought on account of the letter, is all.”

“You’re deep in thought?” Who says that? My heart lifts, thinking love can find a person when they least expect it. I may be jumping the gun, but the vibe radiating from these two is enough to make the most oblivious person notice.

“You gonna make something of it?” She stares down her nose at me.

I laugh and shake my head. “No, ma’am.”

“I must go.” Guillaume shuffles his feet, and stares resolutely at the floor. “Lil, I hope there is no more problems. I cannot cook unless I’m happy. And this email, it did not make me happy.”

“I understand, Guillaume. It won’t happen again. And we want you to be happy.” I smirk at CeeCee, who looks away.

“Au revoir .” He gazes longingly at CeeCee once more before spinning on his heel.

I wait two counts before saying, “What in the heck was that, Cee?”

“It’s that soon-to-be mother-in-law—”

I wave her away. “Oh, I know, it’s her. But I meant that…” I point to Guillaume as he strides past the front window, shrugging down into his jacket against the snowfall.

She clasps her hands and grunts to herself.

I place my hands on my hips. “CeeCee, spill already.”

She takes a huge breath and says, “Fine! Glory be, you sure are nosey. You like a bloodhound or somethin’.”

I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow.

She giggles like a young girl. “Well…we’re just friends.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She sighs, but it’s half-hearted and she grins. “It just sort of happened, but it’s not like you young things. He’s a companion, someone to cook for on these cold winter nights. That’s all it is ’fore you go thinkin’ silly on me.”

“Oh, Cee. That’s so beautiful.” I am stunned she hasn’t told me, but I can see it’s a sensitive issue for her.

She fusses with her apron. “I don’t want folk knowing just yet, though it won’t be long before Rosaleen finds out, I’m sure. Just till I know exactly how I feel. Sometimes, when I think of Curtis, guilt rips me up inside. I promised I’d love that man for ever.”

I cluck my tongue. “You do still love him, Cee. But surely there’s enough room in your heart for a friendship?”

She averts her gaze. “I know, just some days are harder than others. Especially this time of year, the memory of Curtis passing hits me hard. And at any rate, I s’pose hand-holding ain’t a sin, after all…”

I smile, picturing CeeCee and Guillaume holding hands across the table as they share a home-cooked meal. Sweet.

“You should enjoy it for what it is, Cee. You’d be the first to tell me not to overthink it.”

She shrugs. “I know, cherry blossom. I’m OK, I truly am. It’s been real nice having someone to cook for again.”

I pat her arm. “I’m happy for you.”

“Why don’t you scoot over the road and tell Damon about what Olivia did?” Like an expert, she changes the subject.

“I’ll wait,” I say, my mouth a tight line as I remember the last few days. “He’ll be along soon, and I’ll explain then.”

“Well, OK. Let’s bake.”

“Good Lord, that syrup smells like heaven itself,” CeeCee says, dipping a spoon into the mix of berry coulis I’ve just made. The doorbell jingles and in walks Damon with his mother.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, sidling up to me.

“I’m fine.” I manage a tight smile as I think of Olivia running around behind our backs trying to make trouble.

Olivia smiles her huge smile, and says, “Whatever you’re baking smells divine!”

CeeCee and I exchange glances, and she nods to me. I swallow the lump in my throat, unsure about confronting her, but knowing I have to.

“I’m glad you’re both here,” I say, clasping Damon’s hand. “Guillaume paid me a visit early this morning…” I glance at Olivia expecting her to blanch, but she’s still smiling as if nothing is amiss.

“What’d he say?” Damon asks.

“It was more of what he thought we said that was a concern.”

“Do we have to guess? What is it, Lil?” Damon’s forehead furrows.

I sigh, and find the piece of paper Guillaume left behind. “Read it yourself.”

Damon takes the printed email, and reads quickly. “What? Who would do that? Is he mad?”

I hold back a guffaw. Who would do that? Does he have no idea? “He’s OK now, we’ve sorted it out. But there’s this—” I point to the email “—and a few other things. Olivia, do you care to explain?”