Rebecca Raisin - Christmas At The Café

“Sugar?”

“Mmm?”

“I had an idea ’bout the chocolate festival. We sure gonna be busy serving folks, and all we’ve got organized for the l’il ones is painting those eggs. Why don’t we do some more activities for them so their parents can enjoy the day while we occupy the kids in here? You know, maybe some face painting or some such…”

“Great idea, Cee! We can do all sorts of things. I was going to make gingerbread Easter bunnies — they can decorate them with tubes of icing. And what about egg-and-spoon races? And egg rolling? This’ll be so much fun for Charlie!” I put the mop back in the bucket and swish it around.

“Right,” CeeCee says, blustering over with a bout of enthusiasm. “We better make a list. We’ve only got a few days to prepare.”

“I’ll ask the Mary-Jos to bring their face-painting kits. They’re like children themselves — I know they’ll have a great time.” Nothing has changed with the three Mary-Jos, cousins, who look the same, talk the same, and hang around Damon’s shop, fluttering their eyelashes at him in the cutest case of puppy love going around. They’re sweet teenagers, just bored in Ashford.

They delighted in making posters for the chocolate festival, I think mainly so they could drive to the bigger towns and gawk at the teenage boys as they handed them out.

“Surely they’ll jump at the chance to do something other than look pretty,” CeeCee mutters. “Let’s start on those gingerbread bunnies.”

Glancing at the clock, I see it’s almost six. I don’t want to get out to Old Lou’s too late and have Damon’s mind racing at where I am. My stomach flips having to lie again to CeeCee. “Let’s leave it for today. I’ll come in early tomorrow and make a start. How does that sound?”

She yawns and pads over the wet floor, careful not to slip. “You right, I got all excited on account of those kids comin’ here. Let’s start tomorrow, and you see ’bout asking the Mary-Jos if they can drag themselves away from Damon’s stoop to help out on Saturday.”

I nod and fumble with my apron strings.

“We done?” She surveys the café; everything except the mop bucket is as it should be.

“Looks like it. Head on home, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget your scarf.” This time of the evening there’s a chill in the air.

“Shoot, then I got to cross over your nice clean floor again. No matter, I’ll get it tomorrow. You go see that fine-looking thing now, you hear? Don’t fuss around here no more.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hug her tight and promise myself I’ll tell her all about Joel tomorrow.

Chapter Three

The wind wails softly as I step outside to empty the bucket and wash the mop. I go to put the cleaning equipment back in the small storage shed when I’m blinded by the headlights of a wide old car pulling in the car park. The engine rumbles like some kind of beast.

I shield my eyes from the glare of the lights before the car crawls into a space, and the bright headlights shine on the fence instead. I don’t recognize the car, but can guess by the classic model it’s something belonging to Old Lou. Cars like this are spread all over his property dying a slow rusty death from being pummeled by the elements.

The car shudders to a halt, and out steps Joel.

My stride falters when I see his familiar lopsided smile. He’s dressed in low-slung denim jeans, and a tight black sweater. His dark hair is swept back, as always, making his olive skin and deep brown eyes the first thing a girl might notice. But all I see is the same expression on his face when he was close to making a sale at the car yard, and I steel myself.

“Thought you might’ve got cold feet.” He saunters over to me, and pecks me on the cheek. Up close, I see dark circles under his eyes, and take a step back at the stale smell of cheap wine that cloaks him. “Figured I’d drop by and see you instead, and your…empire.” He waves a hand towards the café.

“Let me lock this up.” I point to the storage shed. “Go on inside.” I’m surprised to feel absolutely nothing from seeing him again. I thought maybe there’d be some kind of wistful flutter of the memory of our love but instead, there’s just numbness. I guess the spell he had over me is long gone.

He moves to hug me but I sidestep him. “Joel, I warned you about that. I’m with someone else now.”

Putting a hand to his chest, he feigns surprise. “It was just a hello hug between old friends.”

“Go on in,” I say more forcefully.

“OK, don’t run away now.” He winks, and runs a hand through his hair.

I ignore him, and turn back to the shed as I hear his heavy footfalls on the back steps.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to give him ten minutes, and then send him on his way. Damon will be waiting for me. Longing races up my spine when I think of going home and showing him just how much he means to me.

When I walk back into the café Joel’s standing by the cash register shaking the shrilling turkey. “What are you doing?” I ask, snatching it away from him.

“Whoa, you sure are defensive these days, Lil. I was wondering what the hell it does, that’s all.”

There’s no way I want him anywhere near Damon’s gift; silly as it sounds, it’s special to me, that goddamn turkey, and the memory it holds.

I stuff the turkey back on his spot, and cross my arms over my chest. “So, what is it you had to discuss with me?”

He rubs his hands together and surveys the kitchen. “Coffee first? Or maybe, a glass of something stronger?”

“Everything’s switched off. And we don’t keep alcohol here.”

He clucks his tongue, and slowly wanders around the café, picking up things as if he’s in a store. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It looks…cozy. No more stark white walls, and only a stick or two of furniture.”

I itch to say it’d taken a good two years and a lot of hard work to be able to afford luxuries such as paint and the odd assortment of shabby-chic secondhand furniture we’d acquired slowly. But I bite my tongue. He’s stalling for time, and I don’t want to drag this visit out any longer than I have to.

“Joel, I really have to go. So can we get down to it?”

When he turns to me, I hold my breath; something in his eyes scares me. “You know I left here with only the clothes on my back. I didn’t ask for anything from you.”

I return his glare. He can’t be serious. “That’s because there was nothing to take from me, Joel. Remember?”

“Is it serious between you and Damon?”

I rack my mind wondering who would have told him about Damon. Joel isn’t exactly popular in Ashford, and Old Lou never ventures into town. Even Rosaleen, the town know-it-all, wouldn’t stoop so low as to tell Joel anything.

“It sure is.” I pick up my handbag, and fling the strap over my shoulder. “If that’s all you came to discuss then your question is answered. I hope you have a nice life.”

He laughs, a low, mean sound. “I do have a question for you, Lil. How much does the café make these days? I’ve seen flyers all over the place advertising your so-called chocolate festival. Word is you’ve got yourself a nice little earner…”

The malice in his voice leaves me cold. “That’s none of your concern now, Joel.”

“No?” He steps behind the register and presses the button to spring it open. When I see his face drop, I hide my smile. The takings are safely tucked away in the freezer in an empty box of frozen peas. CeeCee and I figure no one would look there, not that there’s much crime around Ashford anyway.

“What, Joel, do you need a loan or something?” I try to keep the disdain from my voice. “You think you can walk in here and act like some kind of evil cameo from a Batman movie and I’m just going to stand here and take it? You really need a trench coat or some gloopy black eyeliner to be believable.”