‘Okay.’
She dashed upstairs, took a quick glance in the mirror, popped on some lip gloss, and flicked her fingers through her long hair. She grabbed her coat and scarf (the very same red tartan one that had started this whole thing off), then called for Alfie and took his lead off the coat peg. Alfie needed no encouragement and was leaping down the stairs ahead of her, tail wagging wildly as he reached the back door.
‘Max, come through,’ she called. ‘Alfie’s banned from the kitchen and shop, so if you can just hang on with him here, I’ll go and quickly lock up out front.’
‘Right.’ Max smiled as he came into the rear hallway. ‘Hey Alfie, good to see you, mate.’ He crouched down to pat the spaniel’s head whose tail wagged even more.
Emma joined them. ‘Ready.’
They set off down the village street, passing the quaint stone cottages that led towards the harbour. Fishing boats rocked on gentle waves within the harbour walls and one or two of the cobles had been pulled up on to the sandy shingle of the small beach. Nets, lobster pots, and colourful floats lay bundled up on the shore.
‘It’s a gorgeous morning,’ Max commented.
‘Beautiful. I love these crisp autumn days.’
‘Hope you didn’t mind me getting to you early?’
‘No, no, not at all. I’ve been up since seven anyway. I usually am. That’s when I make most of my chocolates, early morning. I can work away undisturbed. Whereas once the shop is open, I’m limited as to what I can do. I can’t really stop in the middle of making something or it’ll all be ruined.’
‘Wow – you work long hours then.’
‘Yep. All part of the job. But I couldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it. And I do, I love it.’
‘Don’t you ever get tempted to dive in and eat them all?’
‘Sometimes,’ she laughed. ‘But most of the time, just one or two is enough. Probably as well, or I’d be the size of a house. It’s nice testing out the new flavours, mind.’
‘So, you don’t ever get sick of chocolate?’
‘No, not yet. And the job’s not just the making of it. I love the creative side, designing the displays, making up all the bags and tags, deciding which colour ribbons and bows to use. It can be quite therapeutic.’
‘Hmm, each to their own.’
‘So, how do you find your job? What’s it really like in the building trade?’
‘Well, I enjoy it. It’s very physical, often quite hard manual work. I still like to keep my hand in, practically, with the tradesmen. And I’m always trying to keep the team motivated, getting in the right building supplies, coordinating contractors – it can be a bit of a juggling act at times, though.’
‘Yeah, that’s very different from my role.’
‘But I do get a real sense of satisfaction when a job’s done well and the clients are happy. Seeing my customers’ faces when their house or extension is finished is great.’
How would she feel seeing The Chocolate Shop Café all finished, with its window seats made and colourful cushions in place? The new coffee machine on – well, that might take some time, with finances the way they were, but still. Just imagining that, she knew she had to go ahead and make her coffee shop happen soon, and she’d need to act quickly to take advantage of the pre-Christmas run-up.
‘Max, I’ve had an idea for the chocolate shop. Can I run it by you? Get your professional opinion?’
‘Of course.’
So, as they passed the harbour and reached the dunes on their way to the beach, they chatted about Emma’s plans for The Cosy Chocolate Shop Café.
‘Well,’ Max responded, ‘the only real building-type issue would be creating the window seats, by the sounds of it, and that’s more of a joiner’s job, so it should be fairly easy to get done. Then, I suppose you’d want to give the shop a repaint and freshen it all up.’
‘Yes, a nice fresh shade on the walls to mark the changes. I’m not averse to a spot of decorating. I did my lounge and bathroom myself last year.’
‘You’re going to be busy, mind, if you’re planning to take that on yourself, especially if you’re already up at seven every day making the chocolates.’
‘I will, won’t I? But funds are a bit tight at the moment. Had a pretty challenging rent hike this year,’ she admitted, ‘so the more I can do myself the better.’ That thought was rather scary. She’d be hectic enough as it was with the Christmas run-up; she’d have to get the alterations done as soon as possible, before it got even busier, and she couldn’t afford to close the shop for long – a day or two at the most, to get the major work done. But to have a café … it would be such a lovely, cosy space for people to come to. And hopefully (after the initial, carefully budgeted expenditure) bring in some much-needed extra income to keep her and The Chocolate Shop afloat.
‘I do have a joiner that does some work for me,’ Max stated, ‘but he’s pretty much flat out at the moment. And someone more local to Warkton might be better, save on additional transport costs, as you will have to consider their labour charges and materials. It shouldn’t be a particularly long job, though, making the window seats – a day or so, I’d say. I could measure it up for you when we get back if you’d like, just to get an idea of the job.’
‘Great, thank you. That will give me a starting point and then I can get a couple of quotes.’
She wasn’t quite sure where the money might come from for this, but hopefully it would soon be recouped as extra revenue thereafter. She could possibly ask her mum and dad for a small loan to cover the initial costs, but she’d hate to let them down if it didn’t work out. She’d do some more research and then go and visit them to mention her plans. It’d be lovely to catch up with them soon, anyhow.
Max and Emma wound their way down to the sands, the beach opening out before them, metallic-grey and white waves frothing to the shore. Seaweed, shells, and the odd piece of driftwood were strewn in a staggered line, marking the high tide. She let Alfie off the lead and he bounded away joyously as they walked down to the flat, smooth sands nearer the sea.
They reached the shallow stream that made its way down the beach and out to the sea. Emma looked down, realising that, in her rush to get ready, she had left on her deck shoes. She usually put wellies on for her sandy dog walks, damn. The stream was an inch or two deep, and would certainly trash her footwear, as well as leaving her with soggy socks and cold, wet feet.
Max spotted her looking down at her footwear. He had heavy leather work-style boots on that would be fairly waterproof. ‘I’ll give you a piggy back. Come on.’ And with that, he started to crouch down, for her to clamber on his back.
‘You sure?’ At five foot nine she was fairly tall and wasn’t exactly the lightest of women. She’d probably break his back.
‘Of course. Hitch a ride.’
She started laughing. She hadn’t had a piggy back since mucking about with her brother years ago as a kid. ‘O-kay, here goes.’ She clambered on, expecting to hear a groan as he realised her weight, but he seemed fine. His back felt very firm and muscular as she clung on. Max reached his arms back around behind him to support her thighs.
‘And they’re off!’ he shouted, as he started hopping across the stream, half-leaping at times to balance a foot on the shallower parts.
Emma couldn’t stop giggling, having to grasp even tighter on the mini leaps.
Max gathered momentum as they reached the other side of the stream and kept going in a clumsy jog, veering towards the dunes.
‘I’m fine now – put me down! Aagh, we’re going to crash,’ she shouted.
A toddler stood staring with his parents as the pair of them dashed clumsily by, both laughing hysterically.
‘I’m looking for a suitable landing pad,’ Max shouted over his shoulder as he kept going, with Emma clinging on like a monkey, but all the while feeling herself sliding lower.
They reached the softer sands at the edge of the dunes, and Max tipped her gently over to place her in
to a sandy hollow at the start of the marram grass. Unfortunately, he somehow caught his foot on a root and toppled just about on top of her. He steadied himself with his arms at the last to stop a full-on crush. His upper body was then balanced just centimetres above hers, with his lower half in full, warm, and very manly contact.
‘Oh,’ was all she manged to say. The wind had been knocked out of her sails by the tumble, but more so by the fact that this gorgeous man was now up close and very personal. She was so aware of his body weight on hers, in just the right position, his hazel-green eyes fixing her own intensely, their lips mere centimetres apart. And it felt, scarily, just right. She could just go ahead and bury herself in his kiss, and they might just carry this on back at her cottage …
Some deep, sensual instinct was flaring within her, but she also had in mind her recent fears, and then she remembered the young family who were most likely watching their antics from halfway up the beach.
‘Max – the family.’ And she made a gesture back towards the shore.
‘Ah, yes. Of course.’ And he rolled off her, with a cheeky grin plastered on his face that left her smiling too.
Dammit, she wished she’d gone ahead and kissed him! Last night in the jeep had been almost too polite, had left her wanting so much more. They sat side by side at the base of the dunes. The family had wandered away and were walking with their backs to them, swinging the little boy between them; they wouldn’t have even seen.
Emma leaned across, brushed Max’s cheek with a gentle fingertip, and moved in slowly for the kiss that she didn’t want to miss. It was tender and passionate, and seemed so very heartfelt for them both. It left her with butterflies in her stomach, a feeling of happiness, yet also vulnerability. It also left her with the sense that life had so much more to give to her. A feeling that was both scary and beautiful.
26
She felt a bit odd watching Max head off back to his B&B after their walk. He’d called in and taken a few measurements for the window-seat dimensions, and then he’d had to get back. She needed to get to work and open up The Chocolate Shop like every other Sunday afternoon, but now she was back in her safe haven, she wasn’t sure about all this romance stuff – it left you feeling edgy, nervous about whether you’d ever get to see the guy again. And she was also still feeling a little guilty.
She focussed her excess energy into the shop. Luckily it was a busy afternoon, and in between serving customers she spent her time planning exactly how she might proceed with the café idea. She had a notepad next to her on the countertop, and was jotting things down like: ‘Carpenter for window seats’, ‘Coffee machine/expense?’, ‘Soft furnishings – seat pads, cushions’, ‘Colours? Paint the walls’. And her mind went off in a spin. What kind of food would she serve? Would it be chocolate-based only? Brownies, choc-chip shortbread, chocolate cake? How would she make it Christmassy?
The shop door would then go, a family or a couple might come in, and then she’d be serving again. Seeing her customers all wrapped up and coming in from the cold, she knew they would enjoy the chance to sit down with a cup of hot chocolate and slice of cake, as well as buying some goodies to take away. It would be lovely to give this shop, which already was her favourite place in the world, a bit more life and buzz. This café idea could really, really work.
She decided that she’d pop and see her parents tomorrow evening, chat about her plans, and see if they might consider helping with a small loan, which she’d repay as soon as she could, of course. She’d better find out tomorrow how much a carpenter might charge first, and what the likely costs might be to purchase the second-hand furniture. If the chairs and tables she sourced were a bit shabby, she could always give them a spruce up with some chalk paint in a gorgeous heritage-grey shade or something similar.
The afternoon was flying by, with several tourists and locals popping in. Maybe they were just dodging the showers that had set in after lunchtime, but it was all good for trade, and with thoughts of her new café in her mind, Emma was feeling buzzy and happy.
‘I’m looking for Max.’
A woman with a sweep of sculpted dark-brown hair, wearing a tailored beige woollen coat and black leather gloves, blasted in just after 4.00 p.m. She looked glamorous, yet her scowl and tone made her seem rather cold.
‘Oh? And you are?’ Emma started, trying to place her.
The woman gave her an extremely haughty look, apparently shocked to find Emma was daring enough to ask such an impertinent question.
‘Siobhan, his girlfriend.’
‘Oh.’ Emma was taken aback.
She remembered the piggy back, the kiss on the beach just this morning, the feeling that life might just have turned some new corner for her. Em began to feel a little sick. Had he lied to her? Was he playing them both?
‘Well, have you seen him? I heard mention of Warkton and some chocolate-shop woman.’ The words came out sounding as if she’d said ‘harlot’.
‘Well, yes, I saw him this morning.’ There was no point lying, but there was no way Emma was going to mention the cosy dinner for two last night. The woman was fired up enough as it was, angry energy pounding off her in waves. A couple had been browsing in the shop when Siobhan had come in and they looked extremely uncomfortable and had managed to back themselves into a corner.
‘Right, I see. I don’t know what the hell he’s playing at, or you come to that, but if you happen to see him again, you can tell him his girlfriend’s looking for him.’
‘Hang on a minute, I’ve done nothing wrong here at all.’ Emma was very aware that her reputation was at stake, and felt conscious of the poor customers still hovering in the shop having to hear all this. ‘But,’ she continued calmly, despite her heart going ten to the dozen, ‘it certainly sounds as though you and Max have things to sort out. Anyhow, I doubt if I’ll be seeing him – as far as I know he’s already headed back for work.’
In fact, she doubted she’d be seeing him again at all, after this incident.
‘Well, let me just make it clear: he’s taken. We go back a long way. So, I’ll be on my way.’ With that, Siobhan flounced out of the shop.
Em stood behind the counter, feeling shellshocked.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ she rallied, apologising to the couple.
‘Well, she was a bit of a whirlwind.’ The gentleman smiled awkwardly. With that, they picked up a small bag of fudge – the nearest thing to them – paid, and quickly left. It felt like the damned woman had sucked the air out of the place.
Once the shop was empty, Emma felt a tear crowd her eye, dammit.
Bloody hell! What a mess. She might have known something like this would happen. So, she’d gone and dipped her toe into the pool of romance, got swayed by a handsome face and a nice physique and here she was already feeling battered and bruised. See, she knew this romance lark wasn’t worth all the bloody bother. Just wait till she told Bev about this one. Maybe it was a lucky escape. Okay, so her heart had had its edges torn, but hey, the centre of it had been ripped out years ago.
The shop was quiet after that, thank heavens, and now it was nearly closing time. Emma still felt a little battered from the day’s incidents. She looked around her little shop and let her mind drift back to the start, when she’d first seen this place up for rent seven years ago.
It was a winter’s day in the week before Christmas. Of course, it wasn’t a chocolate shop then, just a rather rundown cottage that had had its front room converted into a shop.
She was walking her gorgeous new spaniel pup, a gift from her parents, back up from the beach to her car which she’d parked at the top of the village. She’d driven without an end destination that day, just the urge to head north for the coast, and she’d given Alfie his first-ever walk on the beach. She remembered his excitement and confusion at the feel of the sand beneath him, racing in laps then sinking his paws in to it, then dashing for the waves and darting back as the cold water rushed over his feet. Emma was watchful of him, however,
careful not to let him go too far into the surf. Being young he’d tired quickly and became a little shivery from the cold water, so she wrapped him in her scarf and carried him back up the beach and through the dunes, setting him down on his feet to walk the last fifty metres or so to the car.
As they were climbing the hill from the harbour, with its Christmas lights aglow and a gorgeously decorated fir tree, past the quaint stone cottages of the main street, she spotted the ‘For Rent’ sign. The cottage to let was at the end of a row, made of pretty cream-grey stone, but it looked rather sad, as if it needed someone to care for it again. The woodwork around its windows was the worse for wear, all chipped white paint and flakes of rotten wood. She couldn’t see into the main shop window, unfortunately, as it was covered from inside with ancient, yellowing newspapers, relating tales of births, deaths, and village fetes from over ten years ago, and any gaps were covered with whitewash. But something about the place made her stop in her tracks. Warkton village was popular with the tourists but still had a sleepy air; it also had the most beautiful harbour and beach. It felt small and welcoming, a place you could relax, start a business, somewhere to rebuild her life. A place for a fresh start.
As soon as she got home she rang the agent’s number and asked to arrange a viewing as soon as possible and came back the next day. The cottage was old, and worn, and needed plenty of TLC, but Emma could see its potential; it had a big kitchen downstairs with plenty of work surfaces, the shop space was already shelved out and would be fine with a good clean and a lick of paint. She could picture it there at Christmas, all tinsel and fairy-light festive with colourful bags and boxes of chocolates. She’d already dreamed of making her chocolate crafting a career not just a hobby.
Before she had even left that very first time she had fallen in love with the cottage and its shop. It had stolen a piece of her heart, her Chocolate Shop by the Sea.
So, her heart was a little sore but it was time to step back from her relationship woes and build that wall around it once more. What she needed to do right now was to turn her focus back to saving her beloved chocolate shop, and not only saving it, no: making it the best bloody place to come for chocolate, coffee and cake along the whole Northumberland coast.
The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop Page 15
