Christmas at the Gingerbread Café Read online

  “Name’s Lily, and you don’t fool me, mister. Not for a minute.”

  “What are you talking about now? What have I done?” He grins; he actually grins.

  “You’ve been selling turkeys. And Christmas hams! God only knows what else. You’re using your looks to get the ladies in this town to spend their hard-earned money in your shop, and putting me out of business in the meantime.”

  “My looks?”

  It’s all I can do not to huff. “So, you’ve got nothing to say for yourself?”

  He kicks the slushy ice on the pavement, as if he’s trying to formulate some kind of lie.

  “I’m sorry if I caused you this…upset. But I own a shop, and I sell all kinds of things for Christmas. I never thought it would affect you. Surely, there’s enough room for both of us?”

  “No, there darn well isn’t! And I’m going to make sure you’re not open long enough to find out, anyway.” I spin on my heel and head back to the shop.

  He calls out behind me, “I’m starting up cooking classes, Miss Lily. You want to book in to one?”

  That stops me in my tracks. Shivering from the elements, I turn back, hovering in the middle of the road. “You what?”

  He smirks at me, and for a moment I see my future — an empty shop. There’s no way the ladies of this town will be able to resist him.

  “I said, I’m starting cooking classes. You want to come to one?”

  “Are you trying to bankrupt me?”

  He rubs his chin, and widens those big brown eyes of his. “No. I’m just trying to earn a living.”

  My eyes are blazing, but I try to smile and act more confident than I feel. “You go on and do that, then. We’ll see who is still in business by the new year.”

  Cars honk at me blocking their way. With their headlights trained on me I suddenly feel under the spotlight. I race back inside the shop, my hands shaking as if I’ve got the DTs.

  “You gonna catch your death going outside like that!” CeeCee says. “Go warm up by the fire. Look at you, so white I’m gonna call you Casper.”

  I’m so worked up, I haven’t realized I’m covered in snowflakes. My teeth chatter, as if they’re holding a one-way conversation. I rush towards the grate, my hands outstretched to the flames.

  “So? What’d he say?” CeeCee frowns, and massages her temples.

  I rub my hands together, and turn my back to the fire. “You’re not going to believe it. He’s going to start cooking classes!”

  CeeCee’s face relaxes and she laughs. “That boy know he good-lookin’.”

  “Do you think it’ll affect us?”

  “Not likely, but who knows? I think we need to have some kinda sale up in here.”

  We look towards the window and gaze across. His shop is filled with customers. “Would you look at that?” I point to a small itty-bitty woman. “Rosaleen’s over there, and in her church clothes.” I knew this would get to CeeCee.

  “I don’t believe it. Church clothes on a Wednesday.”

  Before I know it, CeeCee is out front. “Hey, Rosaleen, shouldn’t you be supporting members of your congregation?” she hollers over.

  Rosaleen looks at us, her face pinched. “He is a part of our congregation. I already asked him.”

  CeeCee shakes her head and tuts, before walking back inside. “Dressed up like that, trying to impress him, at her age, no less.” She harrumphs. “Right, sugar plum. What we gonna discount? Most o’ those folk so tight they squeak. If we offer cut-price goods, they’ll be back over here with their tail between their legs.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get the blackboard, and we can write it up and face it directly towards his shop.”

  We giggle like schoolgirls, and I smile. We’ll win, I know it. We have to. There aren’t enough customers in this town for both of us.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, I get to the shop earlier than usual. I’m planning on baking some gingersnap-pear cheesecakes, after a friend of CeeCee’s dropped us in a pile of fresh pears. The scent of the ripe fruit hits me as soon as I open the back door, aromatic and sweeter than any perfume.

  Thinking I may as well open the shop since I’m here anyway, I catch sight of Damon. His door is open and there’s a flood of customers on his stoop. I peer over, and, lo and behold, he’s got a chalkboard facing my way.

  It reads: Why did the turkey cross the road? Because the other side is better!

  Of all the dirty tricks. I edge away from the window, and try to calm myself. We sold nearly half our turkeys yesterday, but at half price, so there’ll be almost no profit, but at least I won’t be stuck with them. I thought surely that’d be the end of it, and he’d learn his lesson. I guess not.

  I set to work peeling pears and try to think up a new strategy. It’s finicky work, but cooking always calms me. That’s probably why I run a business that makes next to no money.

  An hour later, the fruit’s peeled and sliced. I finely grate fresh ginger and mix it through the sliced pears, setting it aside so the flavors combine. I smirk when I realize I have the perfect payback for Mr Smarty Pants across the way.

  “Where you at?” CeeCee waddles in from out back.

  “Where am I? Cee, it isn’t exactly big in here, you know.”

  “Now don’t you be backchatting me. You won’t believe what I just heard.” She plonks her bag on a table, and unwinds her scarf, getting tangled on account of the fact she’s wearing her mittens. She’s out of breath and in a tizzy.

  “What?”

  “He’s starting those cooking classes, and tonight he’s making gingersnap-pear cheesecake!”

  I gasp.

  “That ain’t all. They get to take whatever they bake home with them.”

  “How did he know we’re baking that today?”

  “He must have seen Billy come in with all those pears, or else someone told him.”

  “Who did we tell we planned on gingersnap-pear cheesecake?”

  “We only told Reverend Joe, and Billy’s mamma.”

  Yesterday we had a multitude of customers that came in to shoot the breeze. Anyone could have heard. We’re going to have to watch everything we say in future.

  CeeCee narrows her eyes. “I bet it was Billy’s mamma. And she’ll probably start taking their pears over to him.”

  “Is there any point even making it now?” Eyeing the amount of fruit I’ve spent so much time preparing, I sigh. “Be a shame to waste it.”

  CeeCee surveys the work I’ve done. “I have a hankering for it after all that talk yesterday. We make it, and then if they don’t sell we halve the price by lunchtime. Maybe no one’s booked in to his classes—you ever think of that?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not like most of them don’t know how to make cheesecake, anyway. Did you see his sign?”

  CeeCee shuffles over to the window, muttering and cursing, though she doesn’t hold with cursing, usually. “I don’t believe it. He’s trying to start a war with us! What we gonna do?”

  I turn on the CD player and the gospel choir begin with Silent Night. The lights in the window flash green, red, and a luminescent white. The angel atop the tree seems to smile benevolently down on me. Steeling myself, I say, “We’re going to appeal to their Christmas spirit.”

  CeeCee looks at me as if I’ve lost my marbles. “Here you go.” I reach under the counter and produce a Santa hat and a bell I found in our box of old decorations.

  “And what you expect me to do with this?” She widens her eyes, and jingles the bell.

  “You, Mrs Claus, are going to drum up business by walking the length of the street, handing out candy canes, and some kind of coupon. Buy one, get one free. Or Buy one, pay it forward, and they can donate a free item to the church. What do you think?”

  A grin replaces her consternation. “I didn’t think you had it in you. How’s about I walk on his side of the street?”

  I know we should be feeling worried on account of giving so much away, but we’re
like schoolkids, and I’m having more fun than I care to admit. “Sounds like you know what you’re doing, Mrs Claus.”

  CeeCee laughs, her big-bellied southern haw, and goes to our Santa display. “I’m just gonna borrow the fat man’s jacket here for a minute—lucky we the same size.” She wraps the dusty red jacket around herself and giggles, and tries to fit the hat over her thick black curls. “You gonna owe me a hair set, sugar plum. This hat sure gonna flatten my wave.”

  “Sure, I’ll organize Missy to fix your hair up pretty for Christmas.” I laugh.

  “I look a sight!” she says, grinning at her reflection in the window. “Right, go print me some coupons, and I’ll set to work.”

  Leaving Mrs Claus out front, I rush back to my shoebox-size office and hastily type some coupons. Everyone in town loves a bargain, and if they are seen doing something for the church, even better.

  Let’s see him try and outmaneuver me on this. I have the added bonus of being a local born and bred, and our town is more reserved with new folk.

  With a sly grin on my face, I jog back out to the front, yelling, “That fool won’t know what hit him,” only to run straight into the damn fool.

  “Who are you talking about?” Damon asks, rubbing his chin where my head has just connected.

  “Ouch! Who creeps up like that? If you want me to feel the earth move, that isn’t the way to go about it,” I say, sure I’m going to be sporting a big lump on my head any minute now.

  “Which fool are you talking about?”

  I make a show of wincing, while I try and think of an answer. CeeCee’s no help, standing there as a half-dressed Santa, her lips quivering as she tries to hold in laughter. I know she’s going to lose it, and then the whole sorry story will come tumbling out of her mouth.

  “Excuse me, mister, who said you could come in here and spy on us?”

  His forehead creases, and that same sexy smile creeps back on his face. “Who said I was spying?”

  “That smile might work on other girls, but it sure doesn’t work on me. I said you’re spying. Now get on out of here. Shoo.” I wave my hand towards the door.

  “Shoo? Not until you tell me who the fool is.”

  “You’re as dumb as a bucket of rocks if you think I’m telling you anything.”

  “I see.” He scratches his chin, which has a red mark from our collision. “I think you’re cooking up another plan to steal my customers.”

  “Of all the…I think you’re forgetting who was here first. You’re stealing my customers—let’s be clear on that.” I try hard not to poke my tongue out at him. He brings out the worst in me, this newcomer. He’s wearing those same tight jeans, and under his open jacket he’s wearing another of those checker shirts, but has yet another button undone. I can see right down to his belly button and I happen to notice he’s got quite the six-pack going on. The girls round here are going to swoon over him.

  He edges backwards, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “Well, my family has lived here since before there was electricity, don’t you know? And wouldn’t the town folk love to know you’re not giving me the same warm welcome that they are?”

  CeeCee bustles over. “Oh, yeah? And who’s your family, then? Ain’t no one mentioned your people to me.”

  “My people, as you say, are the Guthries, born and bred right here in Ashford for as long as anyone can remember.”

  CeeCee and I inhale sharply. The Guthries are the oldest and richest family in our town. So rich, they don’t live here any more. They follow the sun and never struggle through a winter unless they’re skiing. They owned a fleet of cargo ships, and train lines, and had their fingers in all sorts of pies when it came to transport. A few years back they sold their businesses, raking in a fortune. They still own by and large a heap of properties around town, and are well-respected, church-going folk. Not that we ever see them in Ashford, any more.

  It’s all I can do not to cry. There’s no way I can beat him if he’s backed by that kind of money.

  “Why you even bothering to work, then?” CeeCee asks. “We know most o’ the Guthries don’t do much ‘cept sit on their porches and get fat off good ‘ol American food, since they got no need for employment. They’ve got people to do their bidding.”

  “They’re my family, but I make my own way.” He crosses his arms and puffs out his chest like a prize cock. His jaw juts out, making me think there’s more to the story than he’s letting on.

  “You the rotten apple?” CeeCee asks, tilting her head. I hope to God he is, then my shop might just have a chance.

  “I don’t like handouts, that’s all.”

  CeeCee makes a show of clearing her throat. “Good to hear. Now we got cakes to make, but I guess you know all about that.”

  He ducks his head. “Well, all right. I was just coming to invite you over to my cooking class tonight. Free of charge.”

  My fighting spirit returns, and I paste on a smile. “Thanks all the same, but we’ve got so many orders to assemble. Yesterday was one of our busiest days ever, you see.”

  “I see. Not much money in half-price poultry, is there?”

  “Well, you know how it is,” I say. “We’re full of Christmas cheer this time of year.” CeeCee rings the bell maniacally. I nod to her, grinning. “And we like to look after folk around here.”

  “I’ll say.” He uncrosses his arms and leans over to me and whispers, “Bet my cheesecake is better than yours.”

  I reel, as if poked. “We’ll see about that.”

  He walks away, cool as a cucumber, and tips a finger to his head as though he’s wearing a hat. We watch him cross the street; he jogs, and jumps when he reaches the pavement. I can honestly say I’ve never seen a man’s butt look so good in jeans before. They’re so tight, every muscle is evident as his body pushes against the faded denim. It’s like watching magic happen. I take a deep appreciative breath in.

  “He sure ain’t ugly, is he?” CeeCee says wistfully.

  “No, ma’am.”

  He turns abruptly and catches us staring, jaws agape. I promptly close my mouth and busy myself at the counter.

  “Well, I’ll be,” CeeCee says, shaking herself back to the present. “How did we not know he’s a Guthrie?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think? That they’ll bail him out as long as it takes to close us down?”

  CeeCee drags her gaze from the window. “Sugar plum, I don’t rightly know. He doesn’t seem like that, though. He seems sweet as cherry pie.”

  “Here we go. You’re getting all misty-eyed.”

  CeeCee glances at me, and I can tell she’s debating whether to say what’s on her mind.

  “Just say it, Cee. What are you cooking in that mind of yours?”

  “Hmm. I just got a feeling.”

  I groan. CeeCee thinks she’s got second sight, sometimes. Second sight, only when it comes to me and whichever man she’s trying to set me up with.

  She shakes her head, and says, “I know, I know, but this time it’s different. There’s somethin’ special about him. I saw the way he looked at you. Like electricity or somethin’. I could see sparks flying between you. It was like lightning. Like—”

  “Like a thunderstorm,” I interrupt. “Like a great big brooding cloud of despair. That’s what you saw.”

  “Mark my words. He’s different. He gonna pull you outta this funk.”

  Ignoring CeeCee, I walk to the bench. The pears have infused with the ginger. I toy with the ingredients for the cheesecake, fidgety all of a sudden.

  “You think so too?” she asks hopefully.

  “I think you’re crazy, Cee. And Joel, what about Joel?” I’m hoping if I say it like a prayer, he’ll come back. Joel would see straight through Damon’s ploys. Yeah, so Damon may be flirting with me, but that’s so I loosen up and let him ruin my business. Joel would know what to do about this situation. My heart lurches at the thought of spending Christmas Day alone. No Joel to open presents with. No Joel full stop. I
n fact, no family here at all this year.

  My folks discovered cruising when they retired and are sailing around New Zealand, of all places. Damned if I know where they heard about it. My siblings got out of our small town as quick as they could after school was done. My brother lives in New York City, and leads some glamorous life, full of socialites, and parties. He’s so far gone in that world, he doesn’t make time for family any more. My parents pretend that they’re happy for him, but it breaks my heart their own son doesn’t visit. And my sister, Betty, has gone on to Michigan with her husband and had about a hundred babies.

  “You thinking of Joel, again?” CeeCee demands. “Girl, when you gonna stop mooning over him? He just don’t deserve that kinda attention. He up and divorced you, Lil…” Her voice softens. “I think it’s time you realized that’s about as finished as a marriage gets.”

  I didn’t even see it coming. Thought it was a phase — maybe some married men get itchy feet. As devastating as it was, I’d give him another chance, once he knew the grass wasn’t greener elsewhere. But instead, he served me divorce papers. Something I never wanted to see. My heart broke into about a million pieces that day.

  I think back to our marriage, and the promises we made. When he stared into my eyes, and recited wedding vows, I believed him. When I said, ‘Till death do us part’ I truly meant it. How can one person have that kind of hold of your heart, and not feel the same any more? Marriage should be for ever — at least, that’s what I was raised to believe. When you stumble, you work through it, together. But Joel, he’s not on the same page as me, not yet.

  CeeCee breaks my train of thought. “You OK, Lil? You look like you seen a ghost.”

  Pensive, I try and shake the memories away. “You’re right, Cee. No time for mooning over what I can’t change.” I force a bright look on my face, and remember the challenge at hand. “So, you still going to be Mrs Claus, or what?”

  CeeCee picks up a basket and stuffs it full of candy canes. “Surely am. Gimme those coupons, and let me go drum up some sales.”