Cupcakes for Christmas: The most uplifting and unmissable feel good love story of Christmas 2018! (Return to Willoughby Close)

by Kate Hewitt

  Quickly Olivia scooted out from under the tree. No, she didn’t want it to happen under a tree, but it would happen. Of that she was becoming more and more sure.

  Once they’d managed to saw through the trunk, they lugged the tree back to the main barn, where attendants wrapped it up and helped to tie it on top of Simon’s car. Then they repaired to the adjoining café for a much-needed hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and marshmallows.

  “This has been so fun,” Olivia said impulsively as she plucked a pink marshmallow from the top of her hot chocolate and popped it into her mouth. “I’m so glad I closed the shop for the week. I haven’t a holiday in ages.”

  “You weren’t tempted to skip town and have a week in the sun somewhere?”

  “By myself?” She made a face. “No, I’m glad to be in Wychwood, celebrating with my mum…and you.”

  She was really glad, more pleased perhaps than she wanted Simon to know. She’d tried to downplay the fact that they were spending Christmas together—her friends would make far too much of it—but it still filled her with both excitement and hope.

  “So am I,” Simon said, his smile and eyes both warm. Olivia smiled rather foolishly back. Really, everything felt just about perfect.

  On the way back to Wychwood, Simon asked if she minded stopping by Willoughby Manor so he could pick up the keys for number four.

  “No, of course not,” Olivia said. “Who are you picking them up from?”

  “The caretaker of the manor…Jace, I think his name is?”

  “Yes, Jace. He’s a good friend of mine. Well, his wife Ava is, especially. She used to live in number three.”

  It felt strange to pull up to the familiar courtyard of Willoughby Close with Simon; Harriet and Ellie had both already left for Christmas, and so the courtyard looked a little forlorn, the curtains drawn on all the windows except for number four. Olivia peeked inside and saw the empty sitting room where Alice’s second-hand sofa had once resided.

  “Do you know where Jace’s cottage is?” Simon asked. “He said he lived nearby but I’m not sure he gave specific directions…”

  “That sounds like Jace. It’s through a little path on the other side of the drive—I’ll show you.”

  They walked through the wood bordering the drive, the branches bare above them, the well-worn path of packed dirt, now frozen hard. After a few minutes they emerged in a little clearing where Jace’s caretaker cottage—a small, castle-like edifice—stood, complete with frilly gingerbread and a tiny turret.

  “Wow,” Simon said as he eyed the elf-like abode. “Not what I expected.”

  “No, it’s a bit OTT, especially for a man like Jace.”

  They knocked on the door and a few seconds later Ava opened it, jiggling a fussy-looking William.

  “Oh!” She stared at them both in surprise. “Hello, Olivia. And…Simon, isn’t it?” They would never guess from Ava’s innocent expression that she had asked Olivia for every last detail about the man in front of her.

  “Yes, it is. I’m here for the key to number four…?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Olivia, would you mind…?” Before she could protest, Ava had thrust a fussing William into Olivia’s arms.

  “Oh…” Her arms closed around the warm, chubby baby as William gave her a direct and suspicious look. “Hello there.” Inadvertently, perhaps instinctively, her gaze met Simon’s and she smiled wryly, suddenly conscious of how…intimate this seemed, how suggestive. Simon smiled back, eyes glinting, and Olivia felt a happy, warm glow spread through her.

  Then William started to howl.

  “Oh…oh…come on now…” She jiggled an increasingly furious William, knowing nothing she did would do a bit of good. His face was screwed up and bright red, a trail of decidedly green snot snaking from his nose to his mouth. Ew.

  “Sorry,” Ava said, not sounding sorry at all. “He’s getting his two front teeth and he’s absolutely miserable.”

  “Right…” Olivia made to hand him back but Ava wasn’t having it.

  “So Simon, you’re moving into number four? How wonderful. Jace will be here in a second with the key.”

  “Great.”

  “It will be nice to have someone in here, now that Ellie and Harriet are moving out,” Ava continued, all innocence. “I’ve told Olivia she should rent one of these places. Get a little distance from the shop.”

  “Oh…?” Simon looked uncertain, and Olivia didn’t know whether to feel outraged or amused. Ava had told her no such thing. What was she playing at?

  “I’m happy where I am,” she said firmly. “I couldn’t afford the rent and of course it wouldn’t be nearly as convenient.”

  “True, but studies have shown living at your place of work can have detrimental effects to—”

  “I’m hardly living in the shop, am I?” Olivia cut across her. If Ava was trying to ferret out Simon’s intentions, she wanted to stop her friend right now. She and Simon were managing just fine without kindly meant interference.

  “Here’s the key,” Jace said cheerfully as he emerged from the back of the house. “Sorry for the wait, Simon.”

  “No worries, mate.”

  Olivia thrust a drooling William—he’d wiped his snotty face on her shoulder—at Ava, giving her as quelling a look as she could. Ava smiled back with unabashed innocence, cuddling William to her.

  “Come on, little man. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Do you want me to walk over with you?” Jace asked. “I know you’ve seen the place before, but I can take you through it again if you like…”

  “I think I’ll be fine. I’ll come back if I run into any problems.”

  “Cheers, then.”

  “We’ll have to have you both over for supper when you’ve settled in, Simon,” Ava called as she headed to the back of the house, William peering over her shoulder. “Do let us know when you’ve moved in.”

  “Sorry about that,” Olivia said as they walked back to Willoughby Close.

  “Sorry about what?”

  “Ava…she means well, but…” Olivia trailed off, uncertain how to put it.

  “Ava’s fine,” Simon said easily. “Cute baby, too.”

  “Yes.” Olivia decided to drop the subject. If Simon was fine with Ava’s good-natured nosiness, then she could be, as well.

  They came into Willoughby Close, and Olivia waited while Simon unlocked the door to number four. It opened with a creak, and he stepped aside so Olivia could go in first.

  “So I gather you’ve been in here before?” he said as they both walked around the cosy living area, the galley kitchen in one corner, and a pair of French windows overlooking the tiny rectangle of frost-covered garden.

  “It’s an open-plan bedroom upstairs, with an en suite bathroom,” Olivia said, and then, for no apparent reason, blushed. “Of course you’ve already seen it, sorry…”

  “No, it’s good. It’s all good.” Simon strolled towards the French windows and gazed out at the tiny garden. “It’ll be good to have my own place again,” he said, his tone reflective and a little bit sad.

  “How long have you been living with your sister?”

  “Four months.” He paused, as if he was going to say more, but then he stayed silent and Olivia wasn’t sure whether to prompt, press, or simply leave it be.

  “This feels like a new beginning, doesn’t it?” she said as she joined him at the window. The sun was starting to sink below the trees, sending its slanting rays across the garden, and gilding everything with a nimbus of gold.

  Simon turned to her, and Olivia realised with a jolt how close he was. Close enough to see the glint of silver in his grey-green eyes, the faint stubble on his chin. Close enough to kiss.

  “It really does,” he said softly and Olivia held her breath, the moment spinning on, exquisite, endless, expectant.

  His head dipped lower. She bit her lip, one hand clenching by her side as Simon’s gaze turned hooded.

  “Olivia…” he beg
an, but she didn’t have to answer because he was kissing her, his lips brushing softly against hers, the barest whisper, before settling more firmly. Olivia’s eyes fluttered closed as sparks spread out from the touch of his mouth right down to her fingers and toes. She stood on her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with everything she had.

  Everything about the moment was perfect, and like she’d just said, this was a new beginning—for both of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was Christmas Eve, and Olivia’s flat was full of cosy, festive cheer. Olivia gazed around the little sitting room with the tree perched at an admittedly rakish angle on top of a table, decorated within an inch of its life by both her and Simon the day they’d brought it home from the Christmas tree farm. They’d both come down with a serious fit of the giggles as they’d draped the tree with every possible ornament, bauble, and garland that Olivia possessed, plus a few more fashioned by Simon from spare bits of ribbon and foil. It was OTT and garish and frankly wonderful.

  That had been only four days ago, and yet in some ways it felt like a lifetime—a happy lifetime. Since she’d closed the shop and the primary school had broken up for the holiday, Olivia and Simon had been free to spend every moment together, and they just about had, revelling in each other’s company in an entirely new and wonderful way.

  After decorating the tree, Simon had stayed for dinner. Olivia had cooked this time: chicken marsala and angel hair pasta that they washed down with a bottle of red wine.

  Then they’d watched a film on the telly, snuggled up on the sofa, and he’d finally left for home after a lingering good-night kiss in the darkened shop.

  The next day they’d gone Christmas shopping in Oxford, strolling hand in hand down Cornmarket Street, rating the ornate window displays from one to ten, and then finishing with a leisurely, intimate dinner at the romantic No. 1 Ship Street, sharing a plate of plump oysters over candlelight.

  Yesterday, on the twenty-third, Olivia had gone to see her mum, and Simon had half-jokingly invited himself along. He’d seemed surprised and pleased when Olivia had taken him at his word, though was concerned that he’d be infringing on her time with Tina; but her mum had been delighted and when Simon revealed that he knew how to play bridge, they’d spent several happy hours playing, taking turns with the fourth person’s hand.

  Olivia hadn’t seen her mother looking so animated and lively in a long time, and although she had a few small memory blips, she still managed to come out ahead, finishing the afternoon with a magnificent three no trump bid.

  “Your mum still seems sharp as a tack,” Simon remarked as they headed back to Wychwood, after sharing a takeaway curry with Tina. Simon liked mushroom dopiaza, just as she did, which felt like another small but important sign of their serendipitous synchronicity.

  “Sometimes she really does,” Olivia agreed. “Other times…” She sighed, looking out at the darkened blur of sheep pasture as Simon drove down the A40 towards home. “She has another, more involved cognitive test on the twenty-eighth, at a memory clinic in Witney. I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it, strangely.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Is it?” Olivia shook her head. “If I could make this all go away, I would, in a heartbeat, but since I can’t, I’m starting to feel a diagnosis might be a good thing. Mum certainly thinks so, although she’s already made up her own mind about it, anyway.”

  “Diagnoses are good things,” Simon said seriously. “Knowing what’s wrong with you, being able to get the proper help and medication…” He hesitated. “That’s really valuable.” Olivia turned to gaze at him uncertainly; it seemed as if they weren’t talking about her mum anymore.

  “That’s what Mum believes, anyway,” she said after a moment. “It’s the first, necessary step.”

  “Will you be okay…taking her to the appointment? I know it’s not easy…”

  “Yes, I think so.” Olivia gave him a quick smile. “But I’d love to see you afterwards, if you don’t mind me downloading everything onto you.”

  “Of course I don’t.” He reached over and squeezed her hand, and Olivia’s heart expanded so it was hard to breathe, but in an entirely good way. How had they got here so quickly, so wonderfully? Her natural caution and innate fear kept creeping up but more and more she was pushing them firmly back and simply enjoying this time of getting to know each other. Liking each other.

  She was tired of living life on the sidelines, the supporting role to everyone else’s star. This was her story, her life. Her love.

  Not, of course, that either of them had said those important words, but Olivia could envision saying them one day…perhaps even one day soon.

  Now, alone in her cheerful and decorated flat, she checked the fish pie bubbling away in the oven—she and her mum had always had fish pie, as a tradition, on Christmas Eve. Olivia was going to pick Tina up from Witney, and then they’d head over to the Christmas Eve church service where Simon was playing, before all having dinner together. Tina would spend the night and Simon would return in the morning to spend Christmas with them. Really, it was all perfect.

  A text pinged on her phone from Harriet. How’s it all going?

  That was quite restrained for Harriet, but Olivia had been sparing with the details. She’d told her friends Simon was spending Christmas with her and Tina, but that was all. She hadn’t gone into all the other time they’d spent together, or how hard and fast she was falling for him. She wasn’t ready to share those things, didn’t want them exclaimed over and inevitably assessed and dissected.

  She was relieved, in a way, that her friends were all away or busy with their own lives because for once she just wanted to enjoy her own.

  With a smile, she turned off the lights and headed downstairs. An hour later she was heading into Wychwood’s parish church with Tina, the familiar smell of dust and candle wax, mixed with fresh holly and evergreen, bringing a rush of childhood memories.

  “How lovely,” Tina murmured as they took their seats in a pew near the front. “They decorate the church so beautifully.”

  Olivia glanced around the church as the rest of the pews began to fill up, and several people whom she’d met through the tea shop events smiled or waved at her. She did the same back, heartened that after two years she was finally feeling more part of the village. Perhaps some things just took time.

  Then the service started, and the orchestra music to accompany the carol singing soared to the rafters, breath-taking and beautiful. Olivia let the music flow over her as a deep peace settled in her soul. She was thankful for so much—not just Simon coming into her life, but for her friends, her shop, her lovely, loving mum. Yes, life could be hard, and she knew there were some definite challenges ahead. But it was also good, and she savoured each moment like the gift she knew it was.

  Later in the service the lights were dimmed and candles passed around as Simon performed a solo on the cello for “Silent Night,” everyone singing along softly. Olivia watched as a hundred different candle flames flickered throughout the church, and she closed her eyes to offer a silent prayer of gratitude.

  The challenges, she discovered, came sooner than she might have wished. After enjoying yet more mulled wine—it seemed no one offered anything else for the entire month of December—and a shop-bought mince pie, they all walked back to the flat. Olivia served up the fish pie while Simon and Tina chatted, and then they played a few hands of bridge afterwards while sipping thimbleful-sized glasses of sherry.

  And then her mum got confused. It happened so suddenly, Olivia didn’t feel prepared. Foolishly she expected some warning, a buzzer to go off, some signal. Instead they were chatting one minute and the next her mum was looking up from her hand of cards and blinking at them both in confusion.

  “Mum…?” Olivia asked, not twigging what was going on. “How many do you want to bid?”

  “Bid?” Her mother looked completely blank, sounding as if she’d
never heard the word before. Then she turned to Simon. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “Mum—” Olivia’s voice, sharp and loud, cut through the silence before she could stop herself.

  But then Simon answered easily, “I’m Simon, Olivia’s friend. We’re playing bridge.”

  “Bridge…?” Still her mother looked uncomprehending, and worse, fearful.

  “Yes, you love bridge, Mum. You’ve been playing it for ages.” Even though she tried not to, Olivia couldn’t keep an odd, wheedling note from entering her voice. She felt panicky, which she knew wouldn’t help, but it was as if her mother had forgotten everything in the space of a few seconds—as if her brain had been wiped clean, like a slate.

  “I’m sorry…” Tina put her cards down, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  Olivia tried to suppress the panic rising in her like a tide, blotting out rational thought. She knew arguing with her mum wouldn’t help, and neither would insisting on the facts as she knew them. The trouble was, she didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t done enough research yet, about how to handle moments like these. She hadn’t expected them to come so soon.

  “It’s all right, Tina,” Simon said, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re in the flat above the tea shop with your daughter, Olivia.” She blinked at him uncertainly while Olivia tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. “Would you like to go outside, get some air and clear your head? Or if you’re tired, perhaps you could go to bed? It is getting late.”

  Tina shook her head slowly. “I don’t know…everything feels grey…like there’s nothing there.” Her hands knotted in her lap, her face creased with both concentration and fear.

  “It’s okay, Mum,” Olivia said as steadily as she could. “It will come back. Maybe getting some rest is a good idea. It’s been a long day.”

  “All right.” She rose from the table a bit unsteadily, and Simon hurried to help her. Olivia took her arm and guided her towards the spare bedroom, fetching her nightclothes and wash bag. “Can you manage? Or would you like some help…?”