‘It’s not your fault. It’s okay, we’ll manage somehow. But yes, we’ll probably have to postpone the coffee shop opening.’ Half her customers were expecting her to be closed this weekend so she’d already have lost a lot of trade, and she’d now have to close for yet another weekend too. She rallied and said goodbye to Maureen, trying to sound upbeat and polite. After turning off the call, she let out a long, slow sigh.
She looked around the shop. Most of the chocolates had been emptied from the shelves, some stacked in the fridge in the shop kitchen, the rest ready to go off to Bev and Pete’s. She had all the paint ready to make a start once the major joinery work was completed so maybe she should just get on with redecorating anyhow. It would do her good to keep busy.
Bev came back in from the car.
Emma’s face must have said it all.
‘What’s up?’ her friend asked straight away.
‘The carpenter’s ill. He can’t do the joinery work. So, no window seats, no counter moves, no extra shelving. No café, basically.’
‘Bugger.’ Bev pulled a face. She’d wanted this to work out as much as Emma, having seen how much heart and soul her friend had put into the shop over the years, and having found out the devastating reasons behind Emma moving to Warkton over wine and late-night chats. ‘I wish Pete was a bit handier, I’d get him on the case. But DIY was never his strong point.’
‘What’s that? What have I done wrong now?’ Pete marched in just as his name was mentioned.
‘Nothing, honey. Just that DIY is not your best aptitude, is it?’
‘Nope. We’ve agreed on that point ever since I came through the bedroom ceiling trying to fix a leaking pipe in the loft.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Emma smiled. ‘And I’d be sure to make a hash of it too. I know my limits. The bench seating area chairs would probably fall apart within the week. No, we need a professional. But I had a real job finding Ron at short notice, and I’ve tried everyone else locally.’
‘Mark Gilbert from Alnwick? He does some joinery work.’ Pete tried to help.
‘Tried him before I found Ron.’
‘Handyman Dave?
‘Yep. He’s busy in another job.’
‘Carpenter Carl?’
‘Away for the weekend. All phoned. All booked up.’
‘It’s not looking good,’ Pete commented.
She could maybe ring her brother, but he’d already given a lot of time and was primed to pick up the tables and chairs for her over this weekend. The window seats might need more of a craftsman too; James was more of a home DIYer. But maybe he’d know of another contact.
‘What a bloody shame,’ Bev chipped in. ‘Shall we take the chocolates back out of the boot? Shall I put the kettle on, hun? Or are you feeling a glass of wine coming on?’ she asked kindly.
‘You know, Bev, I think I’ll just get started with the painting anyhow. I feel like I need to do something. I can freshen up this place at the least. Maybe open up on Sunday again. Get a bit of trade at least.’
‘Well, I’ll make a cuppa before you start, okay?’
‘Okay, that sounds good. I’ve got a couple of brownies I made last night in a tin on the side too. I was testing out my chocolate-baking skills ready for the café.’ The café that was now not going to happen. She felt gutted.
‘Oh yes. Count me in.’
‘Me too,’ Pete chanted. ‘Always partial to a slice of brownie.’
Setbacks happened, it was just one of those things. She had her friends, thank goodness, and her family. She’d have to give James and Chloe a ring now, let them know she wouldn’t be needing the cushions just yet. And Adam’s gran about the seat pads – and Holly too; she was going to come in late Sunday afternoon with Adam and help set everything up. Oh well, it’d just be herself and her paintbrush for now, then. Emma had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
Her back was aching from perching up the ladder and leaning with a paintbrush in awkward positions. But one wall was finished and she was quite pleased with the colour – a warm honey-cream. She glanced at her now paint-spattered wristwatch. Ten to ten – where did those hours go?
She realised she hadn’t eaten anything since the brownie and cup of tea, which must have been over three hours ago. Time for some supper; crackers and cheese came to mind. There was bound to be a bit of Cheddar or some Stilton festering in the fridge upstairs. A blob of pickle, slices of apple, and she’d be sorted. She was just coming down from the ladder when her mobile buzzed to life on the side.
It was Max. What the hell was he ringing for? He had a nerve.
She didn’t need any more problems right now. She pressed the red button and stopped the call.
30
It was now Saturday afternoon and Emma was painting the final square of wall four, and her family and friends had rallied with her as best they could. She’d had visits from James to see how she was getting on and if there was anything he could do; Holly stayed for an hour or two to help make her energy-reviving tea and biscuits and to hold her ladder in the awkward, wobbly places. Even Maureen, Ron’s wife, appeared with a homemade chocolate cake to apologise for her husband’s absence. Emma was initially a little wary of taking food from a sick household, but it looked so damned delicious she and Holly couldn’t help but dive in on the next tea break. It was as good as it looked, moist, rich and chocolatey with that perfect melt-in-the-mouth texture. In fact, Emma mused, should the baking prove too much, or for extra busy times, Maureen might just be an excellent contact for cakes for the new café, whenever it finally happened.
It was nearly five o’clock and she was on her own now, humming away to Radio Two as she finished the last section of wall. Her lower back was aching, as well as her shoulders from reaching up.
Her mobile went again. Max. Ah, good lord, was he going to turn into some sort of stalker now? She ignored it.
There was a toot outside as some vehicle crunched to a halt beside the shop. She glanced up, but it was dark out there. She just needed to get this last square done, and then she couldn’t wait to get into a hot, bubbly bath. She’d be up early tomorrow and, with Bev and Pete’s help, get all the chocolates back in to the shop and on to the existing shelves again, ready to start business by ten thirty. She didn’t want to miss out on any more trade.
Bloody hell, there was someone banging on the shop door now! Didn’t they realise it was closed? It was pretty obvious, with her up a ladder painting the walls, bare shelves and nothing left in the shop for sale. She had a little wobble on her ladder, then she started dismounting, disgruntled.
She stood stock-still and stared. Max?
‘What the heck are you doing here?’
‘What a welcome! Hey, I’ve just driven for over an hour, after a day of plastering walls, no less, as one of my team is ill, to come and help you out.’
‘Oh, right … But I’m managing fine here by myself. In fact, I’ve just about finished the painting.’ She was a bit stunned that he was actually here.
‘It wasn’t the painting I’d come to do. Take a look at the roof rack.’
She peered out of the shop window at his jeep parked up outside. There were long sections of wood strapped on the top.
‘All my tools are in the back. These, my lovely, are your new window seats.’ He pointed to the planks of wood.
‘They are? What are you talking about?’
‘Well, they will be in about five or six hours’ time.’
‘Honestly? You can make them?’
He laughed. ‘I am a master of the building trade, having picked up lots of skills in my time. And Andy, my joiner, stayed an extra half hour to cut them to size for me. I took the initial measurements that day, remember. Kept the notes in my pocket by chance.’
‘But how did you even know …?’ She was struggling to get her head around how and why Max was even here.
‘Well, I couldn’t leave a damsel in distress, could I? And a launch party without a launch – that’s just not on.
’
‘But I hadn’t told you. How could you know Ron had had to let me down? Hang on, how did you even know he was meant to be here this weekend in the first place?’ None of this was making sense. And, she was still trying to be angry with him for being a slimy, possibly two-timing toerag.
‘Your friend Bev gave me a call.’
‘What?’ But Bev wouldn’t have known his number. She hadn’t even met him yet. What on earth was her so-called friend doing meddling in her life like this?
‘She was just looking out for you. Found my business number on Google, I think.’
‘Ah.’ She was going to kill her.
She dropped down her paintbrush and tray and sighed. What was she going to do now, send him away?
Before she had a chance to speak, Max said, ‘Right then, no point hanging about, we have work to do.’
Emma found herself silenced. She so wanted her shop to get its facelift, but this in no way meant he could just waltz back into her life. There were too many questions unanswered, too many emotions at stake. She’d made her mind up on that.
‘You’ll have to be my workmate, or this could take all night,’ he continued. ‘Come on, let’s get the stuff unloaded from the jeep first.’
Emma was already tired, but there was no way she was going to stop now. If Max could keep going after an all-day shift, then so could she. This was it! Her Cosy Chocolate Shop Café was really going to happen.
They carried in wooden beams, flat boards of wood, a tool kit, and saws. Max tucked a pencil behind his ear, gave her a wink and set to it. She was limited in what she could help with, but came in handy passing the right tools, nails and hammers as needed.
‘Have you eaten?’ They’d come to a natural pause when the frame for one of the window areas was complete.
‘No, not yet. I came straight on up from the other job. I’m starving.’
‘Me too. Hmm, wonder if The Fisherman's Arms will do us a carry out of fish and chips. I’ll give them a ring, shall I? Do you fancy that?’
‘That would be great. Yeah, go ahead.’
‘Got to feed the workers.’ She smiled, beginning to feel more relaxed with him. He really had come here to work, and so far there didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive.
‘Exactly.’
She took up her mobile, punched in the number and began chatting to Dave the landlord. Brilliant – they’d do it. She gave Max a thumbs-up sign as he continued cutting timber to size. She thanked Dave, saying she’d pop down in fifteen minutes to collect. Then she stood watching Max as he drew a level across to the back of the seat area, taking the pencil from his ear, concentrating. Her tummy began rumbling rather loudly at that point which made him look up and laugh.
‘Someone’s hungry.’
‘Yep. I’m not actually sure I had lunch, to be honest.’ She’d been too busy painting. Come to think of it, it had been a chocolate cake brunch with Holly.
She left Max sawing more sections of wood, and walked down the hill to the village pub. She had to wait a minute or two for the order to be ready, and chatted to Danny behind the bar.
‘Night in?’ he asked.
‘Yep, it’s all go getting The Chocolate Shop turned into a café this weekend.’
‘Ah, yes, heard about that. Sounds great. I saw the invite to the opening night on Friday – count me in. Is the work going well?’
‘Well, it wasn’t going at all until a couple of hours ago – the carpenter got ill. But I got some last-minute help in. Think it’s going to end up being a bit of an all-nighter, trying to get the window seats finished.’
‘Right. You handy like?’
‘Nope, got a builder friend to help, thank goodness. But it’s not his usual role, so we’re doing our best.’
‘Ah, I see. Well, best of luck with it.’
With that, the fish and chips turned up. ‘There you go, Emma. Enjoy.’ Rob, the chef, handed them over.
‘Thanks, I’m absolutely famished.’ They smelt delicious even through the foil carton and packaging. She might just have to sneak a chip on the way back up the hill. It had to be done! ‘Thanks, Rob. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.’
‘Cheers, Emma.’
She settled up at the bar, and back at the shop, she and Max sat side by side on the wooden floor eating crispy batter and flaky chunks of cod, with salt and vinegar. She’d found a couple of cans of Diet Coke in the fridge to go with it.
It was, in fact, one of the best meals she’d had in ages.
‘Delicious,’ Max stated, as he forked up the last of his chips.
‘Just right,’ Emma agreed.
‘Well, let’s get back to work again.’ Max was keen to crack on. ‘This window seat isn’t going to make itself. Here goes.’
It was twenty to twelve when they decided to call it a night. Max looked pretty stiff as he stood up and stretched. Emma was feeling achy too. She’d been keeping busy in the kitchen, popping through to see if Max needed help here and there. The physical work of the day was taking its toll, finding muscles she hadn’t used in an age. She yawned.
‘Right, I suppose I’d better get away.’ Max looked at her.
‘Oh.’ She hadn’t even considered where he would stay, but she hadn’t imagined him going all the way back home. Of course, coming up last minute he wouldn’t have booked a B&B for tonight and it was too late now to contact the pub, or anywhere else for that matter.
‘You can’t drive all that way back now. And – and won’t you need to come back up to finish the job?’ She sounded a bit cheeky, she knew, but she hoped he wasn’t going to leave the job half-finished. It would be hard to reopen the shop at all, if so.
‘Yes, that’s what I was going to do, head home. Then come back up early tomorrow morning, try and get this done before I need to be in Gateshead – got to check on a job there in the afternoon. It’s the only day the owners are about.’
‘Oh, you can’t do that. You’ll be shattered.’ The words came out before she had a chance to think, but she didn’t like the idea of him driving back tired after all that work. ‘You could stay.’ What was she saying? Alarm bells were going off in her head as she spoke. ‘On the sofa. That’d be fine,’ she clarified. There, he couldn’t misconstrue that. Yes, he’d helped and she really appreciated that. She’d count him as a friend, one that probably still had a girlfriend in tow, and she needed to keep things totally clear between them and above board.
‘Okay. Well, cheers. If you don’t mind, that would help and save me a couple of hours’ drive. I can start a bit earlier in the morning that way too, as there’s still a fair bit to do. I’m not quite as quick as Andy would have been. But needs must.’
‘You’ve been great, that’s all I know.’ She had to admit that much; his help tonight was just amazing.
‘Thanks … and the sofa is absolutely fine for me. Em,’ he started, just as she was going to clear some empty mugs to the kitchen, ‘about Siobhan. It really is over, you know. It has been since August, since before I came back to see you.’
‘Right … but why would she say it wasn’t?’
‘Wishful thinking, maybe. Hoping I’d come back. I went to see her the other night, though. The day after I’d seen you.’
Strangely, Emma felt her heart sink a little.
‘I went to make it absolutely clear. That there’s no going back this time. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that.’
‘Oh.’ Could she really believe him? It was such a messy situation. All those bloody emotions were going crazy inside her again. She hated feeling out of control, confused. Well, this changed nothing.
She went to let Alfie out into the back yard whilst Max tidied some of the tools and equipment ready for the next day. Alfie came back in, delighted to see Max again, sneaking through to the shop where he wasn’t normally allowed, curling around Max’s legs and thwacking his eager tail against him, having been kept upstairs all the while, out of hammer and harm’s way.
They were both pretty sh
attered, so Emma took Alfie back upstairs and set up a duvet and pillows ready for Max in the lounge. It was quite a big sofa, but ten minutes later she smiled as she passed the open door spotting his legs and feet poking out over the arm end. She noted he’d kept his socks on.
‘Goodnight, Max.’ She felt a little sad. A part of her would have loved to just walk across and give him a goodnight kiss and a hug. The room was smelling rather lovely of his aftershave with a hint of underlying manly work-sweat. Instead, she just waved from the door. ‘Thanks so much for coming up like this, for helping out.’ She still couldn’t quite believe he’d really turned up and done all this work. But best to stay as distant friends. And meddling Bev was going to get a stern call in the morning.
‘You’re welcome, Emma.’ He looked at her tenderly.
She headed for her own room, feeling confused and yet aware of a little glow she couldn’t help but feel inside. She lay down on her double bed, remembering kisses in car parks, Max’s smile, then memories with Luke, but despite the jumble of thoughts, she was soon out like a light.
Emma came to in the middle of the night in need of a wee. She got out of bed quietly, aware that Max was there just down the hallway in the front room. It was strange to think of someone else here in her little cottage. Even stranger to think it was a man – and, she still had to admit, a rather gorgeous one at that.
She had a quick pee, wondering whether to flush or not, not wanting to wake him, yet equally not wanting him to find it lingering embarrassingly in the morning. She went for the not waking him theory, hoping to be the first to hit the bathroom in the morning.
She stepped back into the hallway … and felt drawn to go and take a quick peek at the man lying there so near her in her front room, wondering what he would look like whilst he slept. As she approached she could see that the door was left ajar. She could hear his heavy, sleeping breaths. She crept along the hallway in her bare feet and held her breath as she gazed in through the doorway, opening the crack a little wider.
He hadn’t closed the curtains, so she could make out his features in the soft orange glow of the street light outside – his tousled hair, defined cheekbone, stubbled jawline, the thick lashes on his closed lids, his lips.
The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop Page 17
