Kellie Hailes - Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop

Serena exhaled. What a mess . ‘Well then, I guess you do have an inkling of what it was like to be me.’

The impatient bellow of a milk-full cow broke through the nerve-crackling tension.

‘Look, Ritchie, let’s just finish milking the girls and, I don’t know… you can stay. You can go. It’s up to you. It’s your life. The only thing I know is that it’s time I lived mine.’ Serena strode to the end of the parlour, opened the gate so the cows could leave, and pretended to check them over one more time, keeping her face out of view, not wanting Ritchie to see the solitary tear that trickled down her cheek.

CHAPTER THREE

Ritchie stared at his notebook. The page stark white. Empty of his usual ideas for songs, lyrics, album themes or title ideas. The page was as desolate as his heart. He’d hoped seeing Serena would be enough to get his creative juices again, but it appeared he was juiced out. Being around Serena wasn’t enough, he had to get her back. But how did you get a woman who didn’t want to be got?

It was about as easy as writing a song that refused to be written.

‘Oh. You’re here.’

Ritchie glanced up to see Marjorie hovering at the kitchen door.

‘Sorry. Do you want me to go? I can go for a walk. Go to my room…’ Ritchie knew Marjorie wasn’t his biggest fan. Not that he blamed her. There was no reason why she should welcome with open arms the son-in-law who’d not once made the effort to meet her with. But he was here now, and if she was willing to let him stay, even under duress, then it was time to make the effort.

‘No. You’re fine there. I was just wondering where Serena had got to.’

Ritchie dropped his gaze to the table. ‘Dunno. I heard the truck take off earlier. I’m guessing she’s gone back to the shop.’

‘That bloomin’ chocolate shop.’ Marjorie strode to the dining table, pulled a chair out, made to sit down, then changed her mind, pushed it back and began to pace up and down. ‘I don’t know what’s got into that girl’s head. Since when has she cared about chocolate? Or owning a business? How does she even know how to run a business? It’s not like she’s been doing the farm accounts. Roger’s the one who deals with those. Was it you? Did you put the idea in her head? Did you fund it with all your money?’ She marched up to Ritchie and shoved an accusatory finger in his face. ‘Are you the reason she’s left home, again?’

‘Woah.’ Ritchie threw his hands up. ‘Don’t shoot. I haven’t got a thing to do with this. I didn’t even know she could make chocolate. And where she got the money from is beyond me. She hasn’t touched any of our joint bank accounts. Unless she…’ An image of Serena’s five-carat canary-yellow diamond engagement ring and matching yellow and white diamond encrusted wedding ring flashed through his mind. Had Serena been wearing them? Could she have hocked them to start her business? Surely not. Ritchie shut his notebook with a firm slap. He peered down to see if his heart had plummeted to the floor. No. The floor was clear. Of course it was – the pain crushing his chest was proof of that.

‘What? What’s wrong?’ Marjorie took a step back and folded her arms. ‘Have you figured something out? Tell me. I’m her mother. I need to know what’s going on with her. Something’s not been right since she got back, and she won’t talk to me about it. Changes the subject if I even touch on her being out of sorts…’ The hardness in her eyes softened into what looked like helplessness. ‘And I’ve been so worried.’

Ritchie understood the feeling well. Too well. It was time he took charge of the situation and sorted things out. ‘Where is she likely to be right now, Marjorie, back at the shop?’

Marjorie glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s after five. Probably at the pub.’

‘Then that’s where I’m going.’ Ritchie stood and stalked to the door before turning around. ‘Where’s the pub again?’

‘I’ll show you – I’m coming too.’ There was a rattle of keys as Marjorie grabbed the set from the hook by the back door.

Ritchie nodded, his heart going out to the woman. Apparently he wasn’t the only person Serena was holding out on.

The Bullion’s oak door slammed behind Ritchie and Marjorie with a crash. People looked up from their conversations, their mouths dropping into wide ovals whey they saw who’d come to join them in their revelry.

Ritchie adopted an easy-going smile. One he hoped said, ‘it’s no big deal. Let’s not make a fuss. I’m just here with my mother-in-law for a quiet beer’. At the same time, he took a moment to enjoy their awe and bask in their admiration. All the while, he was glancing over the crowd, looking for Serena, hoping she too would see the effect he had on people. He wanted to remind her what she was missing out on.

He scanned the bar for a sight of her customary topknot above the heads of the rest of the punters, but no bouncing curls were to be found.

Apprehension stopped his swagger in its tracks. Her mother had thought Serena would be at the pub, but – what if she wasn’t here?

‘Oh, look, it’s Jack.’ Marjorie stepped around him, strode towards the bar and touched the elbow of a bloke sitting on one of the stools, a half-empty pint glass sitting in front of him.

‘Jack, have you seen Serena? I thought she’d be here, having her usual with you.’

Uneasiness settled in Ritchie’s stomach as he took in this Jack . Sandy blond hair that was short at the sides and backs, but with a little more length on top. His face was round, but chiselled. Broad shoulders gave way to a waist that didn’t look to have an ounce of beer-gut on it.

Serena had been having drinks with this movie-star handsome guy?

‘Hi, I’m Ritchie.’ He thrust his hand out. ‘I take it you’re Jack? Nice to meet you. How do you know Serena?’ Ritchie sat down on the stool next to Jack and indicated to the barman he would have whatever Jack was having.

‘Jack and Serena go way back.’ Marjorie settled onto the spare stool.

‘Is Roger here, Marjorie?’ Jack craned his neck, giving Ritchie the opportunity to get a better look at him. Solid, straight nose. Eyes that were emerald green. Easily as good looking as he was, but in a clean-cut style as opposed to his edgy rock way.

‘No.’ Marjorie nodded at the barman as he offered to pour her a glass of red. ‘He’s prepping the sheds. It took its time getting here but winter’s finally on the way. They’re saying there’ll be snow for Christmas, but I doubt it. Only snows this early once a century. If that.’

Jack nodded. ‘Yeah, don’t see it snowing. But the weather’s been a bit off. Driest autumn I can remember in quite some time. Still, I’m not taking any chances. We’ll be housing our stock tomorrow.’

‘We?’ Ritchie leaned in. ‘Do you and your wife have a farm as well?’

Jack’s eyes flicked over to Ritchie. ‘No. I’m not exactly lucky in love. I manage the day-to-day running of Jody McArthur’s farm.’

‘Oh. I see. Serena’s friend. She’s mentioned her a few times.’ Ritchie nodded his thanks to the barman as he set his beer down in front of him. ‘Never wanted to own your own farm, then?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever had the money to buy one. That’s okay. I’m happy where I am.’

‘Nicest bloke you’ll ever meet is our Jack.’ Marjorie smiled fondly. ‘Was a time we’d hoped he’d be joining us on our farm.’

‘Did Jody nab you before Marjorie had a chance?’ Ritchie politely enquired, although he had a feeling he knew exactly what Marjorie was meaning.

Jack’s cheeks pinked up. He ducked his head and took a long slurp of his beer.