Chocolate Dreams at the Gingerbread Cafe (7 page)

“Hey, pretty lady,” he says lazily. “Don't you just look adorable dressed like that?”

“Yeah, it's the latest look. You know the whole sloth vibe…”

“I don't know about that…you make sweats look good.”

I sigh inwardly. His flirty, sexy voice makes me want to ravish him again, but I know Charlie will be home soon. I can't remember ever feeling this intoxicated by love before. It's so powerful, like a drug, it makes it difficult to focus on anything other than him.

We sit quietly, listening to the sounds of the children's shrieks as they play chase outside. It's one of those very rare times when you suddenly realize nothing else could make this moment any more perfect. I'm flushed with love; it feels extraordinary, as if we're the only ones in the world who've loved like this.

“So.” He turns to me, and by the look in his eyes I know what the topic is going to be. “Did you hear anything back from Jefferson?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet. I have this horrible feeling I'm going to have to pay Joel back. But, you know, I have some money saved, and hopefully the revenue from the festival will be enough to keep him at bay until I can work something out.”

He folds his arms and goes to speak then stops. Guess he's weighing up what he ought to say and what he really wants to say. Truly, I am angry at Joel, and will be more so if I have to pay. But I don't want Damon to think he has to save me. I don't want to be that girl that needs to be rescued.

“Lil, I know you're proud, and you don't want to take the money from me. But can't you see…? To me, it's not about the money. It's about you.”

“I know. I do. But I can't have people fighting my battles. I should have known better when it comes to him and his family, so I'll take it on the chin, and work my way out of it. I've done it before, I can do it again.”

He frowns as he sips his wine. “But what if you don't make enough at the festival? Will you accept the shortfall from me?”

I try to look composed, confident. “No, there'll be enough. I'm sure of it.” There's no chance I'll make enough to cover the twenty thousand, and the exorbitant amount of interest he wants to slug me, but if Mr Jefferson says I have to pay, I'll get a loan or something before I even think of borrowing off Damon or selling the café. People might call me a fool not accepting his help, but there comes a time when you have to be in control of your own life. And nearing the big three oh, I can't expect to be bailed out.

“I won't keep hounding you, Lil, but what if he doesn't leave? What if you have to sell the café, all on account of something as stupid as that idiot?”

“It won't come to that. I promise,” I say hopefully. “And if all else fails, I'll open up a chocolate shop.” My joke falls flat as I see his frown deepen.

“Really?”

“Easter eggs all year round, I say. No, not really — the café is my life. I'd be lost without it.”

“I wish you'd reconsider taking the money. I'd happily pay it to get him out of town and away from you.” His voice has a slightly harder tone and I realize maybe Damon does feel slightly threatened by the scurrilous Joel.

“He'll go. I'll work out a way, and I'll fight to keep the Gingerbread Café. Either way I'm going to add chocolate to our repertoire. There's something hypnotic about tempering chocolate and molding it into something completely different. I think of all the flavors and textures I can add…”

“Sounds like your mind is made up. We could incorporate it into the catering too. Chocolate martinis with a side of truffles. Say, we could even do chocolate buffets, set it out all pretty on a table and let people help themselves.”

“See? Now we're thinking ahead. It's much better than mooning about things I can't change.”

He nuzzles into my neck; his warm breath on my skin gives me goose bumps. “Well, OK. I'm still learning that you can be stubborn as a mule.”

I let out a donkey-like haw, and we laugh together as the sun sinks completely, the orange hue replaced by soft sepia light. Shadows stretch on the floor beside us, and I get lost in the blackness of them, wondering how Joel managed to creep into my perfect moment, and break the spell.

Chapter Eight

The next morning at the Gingerbread Café, CeeCee is swamped with customers. I look on in awe as I jog past the window, and see a long queue inside. I'm late again on account of picking up some more supplies for the festival.

I rush in and don my apron.

“Sugar plum, glory be, it's been hectic!” CeeCee has a sheen of sweat on her brow, and is smiling as if she's won lotto. I grin back at her. From the looks of it everyone is here for chocolate and a rush of pleasure surges through me.

I serve customers, who are mostly local, and chat while I get their orders together.

CeeCee's guffaws ring out when she tells the story about me blowing out the Paschal eggs. Seems she just has to tell everyone, including people who don't ask.

“You shoulda seen her face, oh, it were priceless…”

I shake my head, and laugh at her hooting and hollering. CeeCee is always excitable when we're busy. Everyone laughs along with her. “You should've been a stand-up comedian, Cee.”

With each order we slip in a free gingerbread rabbit, sweet-smelling biscuits that look cute with their white icing whiskers, and ruby-red bow ties.

Once the last customer strolls out with a backwards wave, we plonk down on the sofa for a break.

“I'm beat!” CeeCee hoists her legs up and closes her eyes.

“I've never seen it so busy. Seems like the whole town wandered in this morning.”

“There's only a handful of chocolate eggs left. We're going to have to make more tonight.”

“More? Gosh, we're going to need a holiday after this festival.” I sigh, thinking of a summer holiday somewhere seaside with Damon. Cheesy love songs spring to mind. I envisage him chasing me along a white sandy beach. I grin when I realize I'm fantasizing about my life as if it's one of CeeCee's novels. They sure do give a girl inspiration.

“What you grinnin' at?”

“Nothing. Just thinking of a holiday one of these days.” There's no way I'm telling her I'm picturing a beach run while a song plays in my mind. She'll think I'm cuckoo.

“So you heard from that snake?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

And there it is again: Joel, the total mood killer. “Not a peep. I can't believe I wasted so much time with a man like him.” It's so hard to see what I found attractive in him, now that I have Damon to compare him to. “I must have been a dumb fool not to see him for what he really is.”

She glances at me, her face softening. “You ain't dumb
or
a fool, Lil. The heart sees what it needs to see. You ever think that maybe it happened the way it did was so when that fine-looking thing came into your life you could recognize real love? Plus, you still so young, not even thirty, you got the rest of your life to spend with a real man. One who adores you just the way you are. Gloop-less, baggy clothed, and ponytailed.”

I laugh. “Amen to that.” I just can't be that girl that gets excited about hair and make-up. And form-fitting clothes are just not me. Jeans and tees are about as fancy as I get most days. Cee's always at me: “Let down those gorgeous blond curl o' yours, show off that figure.” It feels wrong, though, as if I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. Plus I can't see straight when I've got that amount of gloop on my face. Feels like glue drying and I can't stand it.

“So what you think Joel gonna do?”

I try to keep the worry from my voice. “Don't rightly know. I just want him gone. Out of my life for good.”

“Me too, sugar plum, me too.”

People wave as they stroll past, some with an eyebrow raised seeing CeeCee and me lazing on the sofa as if we're on holiday.

“Did you hear from Janey, yet?” I ask idly.

CeeCee jumps up. “No, not yet.”

I watch her retreating back, and wonder what the heck she's not telling me. Seems like we're both guilty of keeping secrets.

***

The phone rings, startling me awake. From my bed the alarm clock reads 5.49. Time to get up anyway. I shake the grogginess away, and answer. “Hello?”

“You got the money, yet?”

I flop back in the bed and close my eyes. Thankfully Damon's side of the bed is empty so he doesn't have to hear this. I reach out and feel the groove in the mattress where he sleeps; it's cold to touch. It makes me anxious we're not spending our mornings together all of a sudden.

“Well?” Joel says again, interrupting my train of thought.

I exhale all the hurt and the worry in one long gust of breath. “I can give you three thousand, Joel. But that's all I have. And it's more than you deserve.” I don't mention the festival proceeds just in case he agrees on my paltry savings. Paltry to him, certainly not to me. But there's no way I'll be handing over any cash until I hear back from Mr Jefferson.

“You're just going to have to sell, then, Lil. I'm not playing a game here. I'm serious. I'll give you one more day to organize something or I'll file with a lawyer,” he threatens.

“One day? This isn't a movie, Joel.”

“Don't be smart, Lil. In the meantime, I'd hate to see a fuse blow at your precious café. Imagine that — all your fridges off for the night…all those cakes for the festival, ruined. You've got
one
day.” He slams down the phone.

I let out a barrel of expletives and only wish Joel were still on the phone to hear them.

***

CeeCee's at the café when I arrive, slamming her palms into pastry dough as if it's a punching bag.

“Why are you here so early?” I ask.

“Thought I'd make a start on these pies.”

“Sure, but you didn't need to come in early. Let me help.”

I take a ball of dough.

“Damon left early this morning too. Hope it's not my morning breath that's scaring him away.”

“Hmm, don't think it's that,” CeeCee says.

“Do you think it's weird, Cee? That he's been leaving in the morning without me? We usually have coffee and mosey on down together. Now he's up and gone before I'm even awake.”

CeeCee looks at me sternly. “What you gettin' at?”

I shrug. “I just hope Joel hasn't made him rethink things, that's all.” I'm not used to the range of emotions that swim inside me, when it comes to Damon. I almost want to cling to him, because he's so much more than I've ever had.

She tuts and tosses down the dough. “So Damon's left early a couple days this week? Days Charlie's been here? Kids that age are up before sparrows, that's what it is. I seen the way you two carry on — all that huggin' and kissin' you do when you think no one's watchin'…”

A blush rises up my cheeks. “Whoops.”

“Yeah, whoops, all right.” She sighs, big and dramatic. “Young love, it's a beautiful thing.”

“Young? Why, thanks, Cee. Has Mr Jefferson called back yet?” I pummel the pastry.

“Nope,” she says. “And I checked that fangled machine for messages, nothin'.”

“Joel called this morning, said I have one day to sort something out. He's really hamming up that whole bad-guy act.” I don't mention his threat about the fuses — CeeCee would be at Old Lou's before I could say boo.

“One day? What you s'posed to do in one day?”

I shrug. “Exactly.”

CeeCee grunts, and shakes her head. “Put it out of your mind, sugar. Oh, before I forget, another delivery of chocolate buttons arrived. We can get started on the rest of the Easter eggs. I thought we could fill up the smaller ones with some zany flavors for kids, like sherbet, that kinda thing. What you think?”

“Sherbet? Sounds amazing!”

“Folks certainly won't find that anywhere else. I wanted to leave early today on account of running some errands.”

“Errands? You want me to do them?” I usually help CeeCee with her shopping because she doesn't own a car.

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Just some things I need to sort out. It won't take long.”

“OK. Take your time, Cee. I thought I'd organize those make-at-home choc-chip cookies in a jar, for the festival.”

CeeCee wraps the balls of dough in cling film, and sets them in the fridge to rest. “You want me to pick up some pretty ribbons to tie around them while I'm out?”

“Sure.”

***

After the lunch rush, I walk out to the office to return Mr Jefferson's call. He phoned earlier when we were knee-deep in customers, and I could tell by the tone of his voice the news wasn't good.

“Mr Jefferson, it's Lil.”

He sighs, a long drawn-out sound. “Lil, I got some bad news. He's wrapped you up tight with this. By the looks you're going to have to pay him. From what I can see, the loan has gone through his dad's business, so technically you owe the twenty thousand, plus interest.”

“Even though his dad's passed on?”

“Yes, ma'am. Seems Joel is the beneficiary of his dad's estate, and is chasing everyone who still owes them. Not that there's many with anything tangible left. They got some nerve, that family, sending people broke with the amount of interest they charged. No one could afford that kind of money. They preyed on desperate people.”

I rest my head against the cool of the wall. “That they did. What should I do? See about getting a loan…”

Mr Jefferson clears his throat. “We can see about getting a payment plan of some type. There's a host of things we can legally do. You can fight it, it's just the cost of that if you lose…”

“No, I don't have the energy to fight him. Let's see about some kind of payment terms, then. You think you can hold him off for a little while?”