Christmas Wedding At The Gingerbread Café

I nod dumbly, the wind knocked right out of me. Damon told me he moved here specifically because it was a small town and that was what he wanted. His parents had lived here eons ago, and it felt like a special place to him. When his daughter visits she can roam the meadows, safe in a small-town environment.

Outside the night has turned an inky black. Christmas lights from the shops across the road reflect back on the windows of the café, reds and greens melting together, casting a festive glow over the room.

Olivia leans forward. “I know you’ll keep this to yourself, but George and I worry a lot about Damon. Missing out on all those milestones with Charlie. There’s the school plays, and her swim meets…you know, he can never get that time back.”

I crane my neck to see if Damon’s within earshot but he’s still busy chatting away to CeeCee, throwing his hands in the air, and acting out some story, his face lit up with laughter.

“No…” I manage. “I suppose he can’t. But Charlie does seem well adjusted to life here.”

She shrugs. “Listen, it doesn’t matter anyway. Damon was going to return, until…” She bites her lip and stares directly at me.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. “He was going to move back to New Orleans?” My voice comes out almost like a whine. “When was that the plan? We’ve been together since he stepped into Ashford and he was adamant he was staying for good.” Olivia’s put me on the back foot and it’s been all of five minutes.

Olivia raises her eyebrows. “Really, what’s the point of him being here? His business makes next to no money, his daughter is elsewhere, the town isn’t exactly thriving…”

I resist the urge to cup my head in my hands. “I’m here, Olivia. And I love him with all my heart.”

“But so does his seven-year-old daughter. Anyway, food for thought,” she says as if she hasn’t just dropped a bombshell on me. “Now, tell me about your dress…”

I stare ahead, mute with shock. Why would Damon go to all the effort of setting up a shop, having it professionally decorated, if he weren’t planning on staying? It doesn’t make sense. And surely he would have told me? I wonder if it’s just wishful thinking on Olivia’s part. Charlie and Damon miss each other, but is he pining for New Orleans and his old life?

“Lookie here.” CeeCee finally walks back with a tray of eggnog and hands everyone a glass. She puts George’s on the round side table next to him. “This is my special recipe. I surely hope you ain’t driving afterwards.” She cackles high and loud. Damon sits beside me again, and I gladly roll back into his warmth, my stomach recoiling slightly at the conversation Olivia and I just had.

“Thanks, Cee.” I take a sip and even with the frothiness of the milk the amount of alcohol CeeCee’s added gives my system a jolt. She winks at me, and I smile weakly. Maybe she figured a slight inebriation might help when meeting the future in-laws.

Olivia crosses her ankles as if she’s a product from a deportment school. “Lil was just about to tell me all about her dress.”

“Well, she can’t now.” Damon grins at me, and it takes all my might to return a half-hearted smile.

“I’m sure Lil can tell me later. I did want to say one thing, while we’re all together: we have a big family, especially on the outskirts of Ashford, since we were all from here originally—”

CeeCee pipes up, “Since before there was electricity, don’t ya know.” She jerks a thumb towards Damon. “He told us that, already.” She giggles. “Remember that, last year, Lil?” I nod, and smile at the memory of Damon strutting into the café when we’d gone to war with each other trying to steal each other’s customers. I’d said he had no chance, folks round here were loyal, and he was just a newcomer, until he’d thrown into the conversation that he was a Guthrie.

In their heyday, the Guthries owned a bunch of transport, and shipping business in Ashford and its outskirts. They still own lots of property around here but with their businesses sold they had money to burn, and still do, by the looks. I was sure that his family would bail him out if we went head to head, business to business, but instead we fell in love, and worked together, propping each other’s shops up.

CeeCee waddles over to the coat rack, and wraps her scarf, and takes her handbag down. “On that note, I’m gonna leave you kids to it. Nice meeting you, Olivia. Give George my respects. Be seeing y’all.” It’s late and CeeCee must be bushed. I know I am. I stand to hug her, and must hold on a little tight. “Whoa, cherry blossom, you gonna strangle me.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “See you, Cee.” She searches my face; she knows me so well, and intuits there’s something off kilter.

“I’ll be here bright and early, sugar plum.” We exchange a knowing glance — she’ll be here before the sun rises behind grey skies to find out what’s stolen the smile from my face.

“Night, Cee.”

“Lovely to meet you, CeeCee. I can’t wait to find out more about the matron of honor.” Olivia flashes her a wide smile. It’s so charming I crumple a little inside; her tone’s markedly different with Cee than it was with me.

“You too, Olivia. Tell that sleepy husband o’ yours I said bye, now.” Cee ambles outside, the door blowing closed behind her.

With an internal sigh, I sit back down. Beside me, Damon’s grinning as if he’s just won the lottery, oblivious to my mood. He’s tapping his feet, and laughing, jittery with happiness like some kind of jumping bean. He stands again, moves to his father and shakes his shoulder. “Dad, you’re here to get to know Lil!” George starts, and opens his eyes.

Damon chuckles. “Come on, old man, let me show you Lil’s window display. It’s a work of art.” Don’t leave me, I silently scream, but watch dumbstruck as they put their coats on and head back outside to admire it from the street.

They walk out to the dark night before Olivia continues: “As I was saying, I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but somehow you’ve neglected to invite some of the Guthrie family… I know you probably don’t know us well enough, but it’s a little rude to leave them out.”

With a deep breath I counter, “Oh? We wanted a small, simple wedding. We’ve only invited close friends and family. Damon hasn’t seen the extended family in years, even decades, despite them living around here — we figured it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Olivia frowns and shakes her head. “Exactly — we haven’t seen some of them for a long time, so now’s the perfect opportunity to right that. No matter how simple you intend it to be.”

The Guthrie family tree is rich in history as well as funds. There are branches of Guthries on the outskirts of town but we rarely see them. Occasionally they’ll attend CeeCee’s church and she’ll bring news back of more Guthrie babies being baptized; other than that, they don’t drop into town.

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling lost and alone all at once; without being able to pinpoint why, I think Olivia is baiting me. “We’ve only got so much room and I’d rather, we’d rather,” I correct, “it more intimate with just close family and friends.”

Olivia does a little chortle again, as if I’m a child to be placated. “Damon won’t tell you this, Lily, because he knows you want a small wedding, but he would prefer his family there. All of them. I do hope it won’t be a problem… I can always help. It’s late notice but I’m sure we can find a bigger venue, even a better chef, for that matter.”

My breath catches. Would Damon seriously not have mentioned he wants the entire Guthrie clan at our wedding? And what’s the talk about a better venue? Another chef? Glancing over to the window, I watch him talk with his dad. He’s so animated, his face lit up with joy. They stand under the awning; Damon laughs, and his father pats him on the back. I can’t hear what they’re saying but happiness radiates from them both.

I mentally shake myself. I’m not going to sit here like a bamboozled fool. “Damon’s been involved every step of the way with the wedding planning, and he’s never once mentioned that he wanted to invite more people. And to be honest, Olivia, the venue is perfect and we’re very lucky to have the chef we do. He doesn’t usually cater weddings.”

Olivia gathers her coat tighter. “Perhaps Damon doesn’t know how to tell you. But I’m his mother and I know my son. Known him his whole life, in fact.” Again she gives me that huge smile as if it’ll take the sting out of her words.

An awkward silence hangs between us and I figure I’m going to have to try and compromise so we don’t so much as get off on the wrong foot, as outright stagger. “Of course, Olivia, if it’s important to you, and to Damon, we can try to accommodate more people.”

Guillaume will throw a fit, but somehow we’ll have to make it work. I’ll get CeeCee to ask him. Damon must be catching his death outside, and for once I wish the display window wasn’t such a talking point.

Perhaps Olivia just needs to be included more; then she’ll see for herself how happy Damon is here and that our wedding, though simple, is going to be lovely. “Olivia, I’d love some help in choosing the centerpieces. I wanted poinsettias, maybe in rectangle planters, sort of Christmassy, and in keeping with the color theme. We’ve been so busy in the café the last few days the wedding preparations have kind of been pushed to the side.”

“Your wedding has been pushed to the side? Your wedding?” she says, not managing to hide the incredulous edge to her voice.

“Not my wedding, our wedding. This is the busiest time of year for us — for all of us.” I indicate to Damon outside too. “And there’s no question work comes first, hence the need for a simple wedding.”

The Christmas carols playing overhead finish, and we’re suddenly sitting in silence.

Olivia says with a pained expression, “I don’t mean to sound rude, but why on earth would you have a wedding at this time of year if you don’t have time to plan it?”

Holding in an exasperated sigh, I say, “We decided to get married one year to the day we started out as a couple. And because it’s when all of my family would be home, and when Charlie would be holidaying here.” I’m sure she knows all of this. I’ve heard Damon on the phone to her a number of times, discussing the wedding, and the choices he’s made.

“I do wonder if you’ve thought this through. While a snowy wedding is a lovely thought, you’re taking people away from their warm homes at Christmas.”

I’m on the back foot every single time Olivia opens her mouth. If it were anyone else I would have told them straight up that they were pushing my buttons. But out of respect, I bite back on any remarks that aren’t friendly. I try once more to reassure her. “It’s Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day, and we’ve only invited those we’d normally spend time with over Christmas anyway. They’d be happy if our wedding was in the middle of a field with a lame horse for a witness because they care about us. There’s not much more to say about it. I’d love you to be involved in any planning that’s left, but if not that’s fine too.”

The doorbell jingles as Damon and his dad walk inside. “Mighty fine window you’ve got there,” George says.

“Thank you,” is all I manage.

George rubs his gloved hands together and says, “If you ladies are finished discussing the upcoming nuptials, we might call it a night. It’s been a long day of travel for us.”

Damon stands and says, “Dad’s right, you must be tired, Mother. How about I take you to our house and Lil can finish up here and meet us later?”

They’re staying at our house? It’ll be a squeeze when Charlie arrives. It’s only a small cottage up the road from the Gingerbread Café.