Christmas Wedding At The Gingerbread Café

“It’s all true,” he says. “Being away for so long, you know, we worried about you. When we heard that Joel had slunk back into town, we almost flew back. But CeeCee called and said she’d sorted it. It’s a funny thing, parenthood — you’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you are.”

I stand and walk around to give him a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t cancel your trip for that. I’m lucky to have a friend like CeeCee.”

“That you are, darlin’. So…” he winks “…what’s the chance of a slice of one of CeeCee’s pies?”

“You’re going to get me in trouble…” I amble over to CeeCee, who’s packing a box of baked goods for the newcomer. I nod hello and he gives me a tentative smile. CeeCee pipes up, “This is Clay. He’s gone and moved to the Maple Syrup Farm. Gonna do it up real nice, like it used to be.”

“Nice to meet you, Clay. You’ll be busy by the sounds of it.” I picture the derelict farm. It needs a complete overhaul, that place.

Clay nods, and gives me a ghost of a smile.

“Dad wants a piece of pie, Cee. So just holler if you need a hand.”

She shoos me away. “Your daddy dumber ’n a bucket of coal if he thinks your mamma won’t find out. Ain’t no way I’m serving him pie, neither!”

I massage her shoulders and laugh. “How will she find out?”

“She’s a woman from a small town, cherry blossom. O’ course she’ll find out.”

We’re tidying the café after another long day. CeeCee’s whizzing around as if she’s on a sugar high; even though she’s got twenty plus years on my almost-thirty she’s as spritely as a teenager. I’m mopping the floors as she restacks the books on the shelves and tidies the tables near the fireplace. She’s humming, and bopping along as she works.

We’ve been so busy in the lead-up to Christmas I’m as worn out as a rag doll but CeeCee’s like a never-ending ball of energy. I clean slowly, and decide I’ll reward myself with a nice long soak in the tub when I get home. And if Damon happens to wander in while I’m in there, all the better.

Blowing my hair from my face, I rest awhile using the mop as a prop to hold me. The street is almost deserted as shops close for the evening. It’s almost seven, and snowing hard outside, when I see a couple of finely dressed people walk into Damon’s small goods shop. There’s something about them that catches my eye. They’re not from around here by the looks of it: the woman is wearing a fancy fur coat, with a matching beret, and the gentleman is wearing a suit and scarf.

CeeCee goes out front to bring in our chalkboard. She races back inside, and dumps the A-frame against the wall. “It’s cold enough out there to freeze the balls off a pool table!” She rubs her hands together to warm them. “Who’s that over yonder?”

“I don’t know.” I dunk the mop, and swish it around the bucket when CeeCee says, “Well, we about to find out. Here they come now.”

Damon holds onto the woman’s elbow and escorts them over the icy street.

They stand just outside the café and shake the snow from their shoulders. Damon pushes against the door and motions for the couple to step in before him. Up close, I see the resemblance, and my chest tightens. Oh, golly, I wish I’d had some warning. They weren’t supposed to arrive for another week! I run a hand through my hair, which is an unkempt mess, no doubt, after such a busy day. My apron is stained and I’m wearing the oldest pair of boots I own, which squeak as I walk. The woman is draped in pearls, and the silver bobbed hair under her beret is immaculate. The man is ruggedly good-looking, like an older Damon, with the same kind eyes.

“Lil, Cee,” Damon says, shivering from the short walk across the road. “This is my mother, Olivia, and my father, George.”

I’m too stunned to speak, ruing the fact their first impression of me is the way I look right now. I’m not a fancy dresser, nor do I care about hair and make-up, but these people are Guthries and no matter how much I pretend I don’t care, I do. The Guthrie family has enough money to buy out a small country, and I just wish the first time I met them I were wearing something other than my bright scarlet Christmas sweater that reads: Jingle all the way! Not to mention my candy-cane earrings that flash intermittently. They must think Damon’s gone mad to marry a girl who is so utterly disheveled.

CeeCee shoots me a look that says pull it together. With a surreptitious nod in return, I smile brightly and walk towards them to give them a welcome hug. Olivia immediately puts out a hand to shake. Fumbling, and unsure, I drop my outstretched arms, and hope my faux pas isn’t noticeable.

Though CeeCee hasn’t missed a trick and barrels past me, screeching, “That ain’t how we say hello ’round here. Come on and give us a great big cuddle!” She launch hugs Olivia and nearly knocks her off her knee-high boots. I hide a smile, thanking the Lord again for CeeCee’s ability to break the ice. God, I love this woman.

Olivia teeters for a moment and then says, “Thank you, CeeCee.” She regains her composure, and stands tall. “Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Lil. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“You too, Olivia.” I find my voice. “This is a wonderful surprise!”

Damon rubs his mother’s shoulders. “Come on, Mother, let’s sit down. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” He pushes his parents softly in the back and motions to the sofas before taking my hand and kissing me softly on the cheek. He whispers, “They were so excited they couldn’t wait another day. They cut their holiday short.”

They’d been holidaying somewhere sunny, so I’m chuffed they cut it short — their son’s wedding should take precedence in my book, and they obviously agree.

George and Olivia hover near the fire and CeeCee says, “Go on and sit down, you makin’ the place look crowded,” and laughs her southern haw. “I’ll fix us some drinks, while y’all get to talkin’.”

Buoyed by CeeCee’s confidence, and Olivia’s radiant smile, I sink into the sofa. I pat the cushion, and Damon sits next to me, leaning close enough I can smell his aftershave, sweet and spicy, making me woozy with thoughts of him.

CeeCee bustles around the kitchen, humming Jingle Bells. Damon shoots me a smile. “I’ll give CeeCee a hand with the drinks.” He jumps up, leaving a Damon-sized dent in the sofa, which I quickly roll into. George and Olivia gaze around the café, taking in the bookshelves by the fire, and the display fridge filled with chocolate truffles neatly ordered in rows.

“Beautiful place you have here, Lil,” George says, his voice so similar to Damon’s. “Damon told us how hard you’ve worked to build the café up over the last few years.”

“Thanks, George. Though it’s not just me. I’ve got CeeCee here — she’s the one with all the grand plans.” I tuck a tendril of hair back, hoping I don’t look as bedraggled as I feel.

He smiles. “I’m sure you’ve had a hand in it too.”

I return his smile, and say, “I’m so glad to meet you both.”

“Us too,” Olivia says, pulling down her beret and sweeping her hair back into place from CeeCee’s rambunctious hug. “We managed to swap a few things around, and get a flight. We were worried about being delayed by the weather flying in, so figured it was best to get here early.”

George rests his head on the back of the sofa, and folds his hands. “Though all that travel has surely caught up with me…” He closes his eyes.

Olivia lets out a small laugh. “Traveling through so many time zones, our body clocks don’t know where we are.” She pats George’s hand, and he mumbles incoherently.

I laugh. “Will he sleep?” I click my fingers. “Just like that.” George’s chest rises and falls slower as slumber overcomes him. Sitting so close to the fire after a long day in transit has obviously zapped George.

Olivia sighs. “He can sleep anywhere, that man, on a plane, on a train, but not today it seems. He was too keyed up about finally seeing Damon.”

“How long are you planning to stay in Ashford?” I ask as Olivia gazes at her slumbering husband, watching his lips flutter with each deep exhalation.

Finally she turns back to me. “Not long. We’ll leave the day after the wedding.”

I frown. “Oh, you’re not staying for Christmas Day?” I’d thought it was a given that they’d stay. Charlie will be here, and we’d planned a week off in honor of spending the time as a family, instead of taking a honeymoon. CeeCee drops something in the kitchen; the clattering makes George’s eyelids flutter momentarily. “Sorry!” Damon hollers out.

“No, Ashford’s not my kind of town, Lil.” She lets out a hollow laugh. “That’s why we moved from here as quickly as possible. Neither of us can work out why Damon felt the urge to move back. He was only a toddler when we left, so it’s not like he would have remembered the place.”

I try not to blanch at her statement. “Ashford’s changed a lot since then. You might like it a little more now.”

“It hasn’t changed a bit. The main street is still the same, and even the people are the same. Nothing changes here. We’ve come early to make sure Damon is…happy.”

Golly. I double blink. “Happy?”

She tilts her head to the side, and slaps on a smile. “His sudden departure from New Orleans worried us, and the few times we’ve seen him since haven’t allayed those concerns.”

My mind whirls. Damon didn’t leave New Orleans suddenly; he left after a long drawn-out divorce with his first wife, Dianne. In fact, he stayed in New Orleans a lot longer for his daughter’s sake. Leaving her there and only being able to see her on school holidays and the odd weekend has been tough on him, there’s no question, which is why he spent so long making the decision to move.

I clear my throat, suddenly not sure I’m on an even keel with Olivia any more. “You’ll see, then, how happy Damon is here. He loves this place.”

“Does he?” She lifts a brow. “Wonderful.”

I glance over my shoulder wondering what’s taking CeeCee and Damon so long. CeeCee is busy showing Damon our profiterole towers, and miming how we flicked the toffee on them.

Olivia shifts back on her chair. “Between us, Lil, he’s always despised small towns. He’s a vibrant, social person, so it makes us wonder if he’s made the right choice. He’s missing so much being away from his family.”