Rebecca Raisin - Christmas Wedding At The Gingerbread Café

He raises his eyebrows. The deep brown of his eyes is so easy to get lost in, I forget for a moment what we’re even discussing. “You were upset, and I didn’t want you to know I’d seen. I only wanted to make you smile. Little did I know that you’d take offence to my mere presence in town, and that it would become a bit harder than I’d first thought.”

Thinking back to that day, I’m caught up in a rush of mixed feelings. Back then, I was pining for my ex-husband Joel, too naïve to know he was no good, not realizing it was just the idea of love I missed — and not actually him. And that very day, I’d vowed to run Damon out of town because I’d seen him as a threat to my business, and without the café I would have been lost and broke. That version of me, sad and lonely, seems like a lifetime ago.

Shaking my head, I marvel — what a difference a year makes. It hadn’t taken long for me to fall in love with Damon; he truly was a Christmas miracle. And now, we’re about to get married! I resist the urge to pinch myself.

When a man turns every notion you had of love upside down, and shows you what a genuine heart he has, it’s almost impossible not to well up, and again it makes me wonder why I let my ex-husband treat me callously for so long. Silently, I thank the universe he’s out of my life for good, and instead focus on the wonderful man in front of me.

And next year, I vow, I’ll only listen to Amazing Grace when I’m alone, and can bawl for the full five minutes and afterwards will feel strangely refreshed, and altogether festive.

“Where’s CeeCee?” Damon asks, glancing around the café.

Frowning, I push a tendril of hair back. “She dashed out to get some Christmas presents for her grandbabies.” I glance at my watch and shrug. “But that was a while ago. She’s probably bumped into someone.”

You can never really dash anywhere in Ashford. Everyone knows everyone — you can’t get down the main street without stopping to chat to people. Even the inclement weather doesn’t deter the locals from stopping to shoot the breeze.

Outside snow drifts down like white confetti, pitching in the wind, and settling on the square window panes. The sight makes me want to curl up and watch the world go by. With that in mind, I push Damon towards one of the old sofas in front of the fireplace, and sit with my legs over his lap. He’s impossible to resist and the cakes can wait, for five minutes, at least. The fire is stoked up, and crackles and spits as if it’s saying hello. Damon groans. “I’m beat. You don’t realize till you stop for a minute.” He covers his mouth as he yawns, which immediately makes me yawn.

“How’d today go?” I ask. Damon owns a small goods shop across the road, and hosts cooking demonstrations as well as sorting out the finer details of our catering business. No matter what you do, money is tight for shopkeepers in Ashford purely because it’s such a small town. Though the lead-up to Christmas is frantic for us all.

“Busy. I must have made a hundred cups of coffee…”

I smirk. Damon’s fancy coffee tastes like tar to me, but women still flock there, and grimace their way through a cup. He’s totally clueless they’re ogling him as he dashes behind the counter, while they stare, mouths hanging open. I don’t blame them. I’d spend my morning at his coffee bar and stare too if I could.

“Any catering enquiries for January?”

He shakes his head. We decided not to take any bookings for the catering over Christmas because of the wedding but we’d hoped to get some parties booked for the new year. Our catering business is what keeps us afloat in the times the streets are quiet, especially over winter. “They’ll come, Lil. Don’t worry; let’s just focus on Christmas and the wedding and having our families all in one place.”

I bite a nail, before catching myself, hearing Missy in my mind berating me. “I hope we haven’t made a mistake turning clients away.”

He shrugs. “It’s our wedding, Lil. I’m sure everyone understands.”

We’ve chosen a Christmas Eve wedding for sentimental reasons; it will be a year exactly that we’ve been a couple, and it seems fitting to make the commitment on that date. Plus, it’s when Charlie visits, and my parents are finally back from an extended round-the-world-trip. And a winter wonderland wedding — well, you can’t get more romantic than that.

But…it’s also a busy time for the café until December twenty-fourth and then we’re suddenly deader than a doornail, as people hibernate for the remaining winter. By turning catering clients away after a steady year of building the business into almost-flourishing, I do step back and wonder if we’ve made the right choice. I don’t have anyone to fall back on financially if ends don’t meet, and that’s enough to keep me awake at night sometimes. Damon’s family are wealthy, but he stubbornly refuses to take handouts from them, which is one of the reasons I love him. He makes his own way. But a small part of me sometimes thinks that’s why he doesn’t seem overly concerned when his business doesn’t make enough to cover costs. He does have that back-up if he ever needs it, despite saying he’d never ask them for money.

Maybe it’s just one of our differences: he’s a little more relaxed about his future, whereas I tend to plan ahead. It’s a good thing, in some respects — he brings me back to earth, the times I’m fiddling with the calculator, my paperwork piled in front. He’ll massage my shoulders before gently taking away my pen, and telling me to leave it for a while. That my furious adding and subtracting won’t change anything at ten minutes to midnight.

Secretly, I’ve been trying to save. I want to pay CeeCee back for the Joel fiasco, but she won’t have any of it, so I’ve been squirrelling money into an account, which I’ll put aside for her grandbabies. I also have another account, reserved especially for future wages for another staff member for the café. We’ll need an extra pair of hands if, make that when , I fall pregnant. I want to be squared away financially when it does happen. I’ll still work in the café, but I’d like to spend some time at home too. A baby needs routine, and I’m determined to find a way I can make it work. Just the thought of nursing a baby makes me warm inside. We’ve been trying since Easter, with no luck, but I know it’ll happen. Just like Missy, it’ll happen when I least expect it.

Outside the young carolers cross the icy street their voices carrying over on the wind, pure and sweet like tiny angels.

“And anyway,” Damon says, his lazy smile in place, “unless we renew our vows every December, it’s the only time we’ll turn clients away.”

I flash him a grin. He’s right. I should be focusing on the wedding, not getting all angsty over the business side of things. He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine.

It won’t be long before friends and family arrive in Ashford for the week. There have been flurries of phone calls and emails about where they’ll stay and what they’ll do. I can’t wait for them to sit at the kitchen bench nursing steaming cups of gingerbread coffee, while I bake for them.

I wonder what they’ll make of my business. The café, with its dark-chocolate-colored walls and gingerbread-man bunting, looks enchanting at nightfall, when the fire throws shadows over the space, and the Christmas decorations shine under the fairy lights. It’s cozy and warm, the kind of place you can loll about and forget your troubles. And celebrate love, and friendship and everything in between.

Excitement dazzles me for a moment, as I think about baking beautiful cakes for people I love. Baking has always been more like a meditation for me. Life makes sense when I’m clasping a wooden spoon, and have a bowl of batter cupped under an arm. And it’s infinitely more magical when I make a sweet treat with a friend or family member in mind. When they exclaim about the presentation of a gateau, and, with fork poised mid bite, roll their eyes heavenward oohing over the flavors, it makes my heart sing. And that’s why I run a café that struggles as much as it flourishes. I need to. It’s what I’m meant to do. Seasons come and go, and so do customers. Summer is busy, and Christmas is hectic, but between that we falter, just like all the shops in Ashford.