Christmas Romance Collection

by Melissa Hill

  The thought of Christmas without gifts or maybe even a home rattled her to the core. Being bankrupt was not how she had envisioned it. Luckily, Amelia would still be young enough to forget this Christmas. Years from now she wouldn’t remember the lack of a tree or the missing presents. She would forget about the un-RSVP’d parties.

  Ella’s party came again to Heidi’s mind. Amidst all this new stress, she had forgotten about her lies to the other mothers about her hosting it and her meetings with Ella where she had discussed decorative choices and how everything would be staged. All of that seemed like a million years ago now.

  But suddenly, it dawned on her: Paul had been talking about the rental properties being repossessed. One of those properties was the very building in which the café was leased. The thought racing through her mind, Heidi hurtled down the stairs and into her husband’s study. He sat at his imposing, wooden desk looking over his stacks of paperwork. As she entered, he barely looked up at her or acknowledged her presence. “Paul!" she cried breathlessly. "Are you closing down the café?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” He studied her quizzically. She had never asked about his business in the past and rarely showed interest in the properties he picked up or the stocks he chose, other than to boast about them of course.

  “The properties the bank want to take. Is one of them The Heartbreak Café?"

  "The what?" he asked, still wildly confused.

  “You know, Ella’s place,” she clarified. “Is it part of the repossession order?"

  Paul looked down at his paperwork and shuffled through a pile. At the bottom of the stack, he pulled out a cream coloured, official looking envelope and handed it to her.

  “Yes, Heidi. The café building is being repossessed. I’m sorry.”

  11

  The days after receiving the eviction notice were the hardest ever for Ella.

  In the midst of attempting to plan the party with little help from a now absent Heidi, she also had to mourn the loss of her business privately. She could not bare to break the bad news to her staff, all of whom were depending on her to get them through the expensive Christmas period. She would have to keep the news to herself until she could find an appropriate moment to tell the others.

  So Ella made a plan. While her staff discussed prepared the menus for the Christmas party and served their regular customers, Ella continued to plant the idea that she was nearing retirement. That way, she would feel less of a failure and more like this time was coming anyway. She had hoped the idea of retirement would be a softer blow than forceful closure. At least it was then in her power and not at the hands of some banker.

  It started with an innocent lie to Colm as they started the baking of hundreds of snowman shaped shortbread cookies that would be offered at the party.

  “I'll tell you one thing: I will not miss this,” she commented.

  “Miss what?” Colm didn’t even look up from his work.

  “Ah, you know," she said, pointing towards the ovens. "The hassle of baking the same thing over and over again, day after day. When I retire, I plan on having others bake me goodies.” She attempted to make herself sound exasperated at the thought.

  In truth, she loved the process. She relished in combining ingredients, preheating the oven, the scent of slowly baking food, and the occasional taste of fresh batter. It reminded her of her first days in the old kitchen with her father-in-law in charge of teaching her the ins and outs of bakery goods. It reminded her of her husband and his insistence that he try the first of everything she baked.

  As hard as it was for her to lie to her staff, it was even harder to talk to some of her favourite customers. One by one, she would casually mention it. It started with her friend Ita who was a notorious gossip. She knew that if Ita caught on to her retirement, the rest of the town would be in talks of it for the rest of the week.

  “Ita,” she’d casually interjected as she poured her another cup of coffee, “Do you know of anyone around here who works with people in finding post-retirement activities?”

  “Here in Lakeview?” Ita’s wheels were slowly churning, Ella could tell by the gleam in her eye and the annoying urgency in her voice. “Other than golfing, I doubt it. The way we treat our senior citizens these da—”

  “No I’m not interested in golf. Maybe volunteering or something like that. In any case I need to do something to entertain myself once I finish up here.”

  “I suppose so…” Ita was looking at her, the wheels in her head slowly turning and her voice now had a shake as if she was given a secret key. No doubt she was making a mental note of who in the town to break the news first.

  As Ita left in her haste, Ella realised that this was the beginning of the end. This was how her “retirement” started. That word stung the more and more she thought of it. Her father-in-law would have never retired. Her husband would have put his foot down at the thought. She attempted to cough back the disappointment and anger at herself. But this was her only option, wasn’t it?

  Come noon, the café had emptied. The place was uncharacteristically quiet for lunchtime. The only customers so far this morning had been Ruth, a few passing tourists, and a couple of the local teenagers sneaking out of school for a lunch run. She went in back to help Colm to prepare afternoon pastries, yet she had a feeling that the rest of the day would also be atypically quiet.

  Her ruse must have done the trick. Of course the word had spread like wildfire. Ita wouldn’t be able to resist telling everyone she ran into. No doubt she had stopped into Rich Rags, the boutique up the road, the hair salon, and several houses of her friends and neighbours.

  By now, she estimated that at least half of the village had received some word that Ella was retiring.

  In the quiet and the calm, she went out back to her office beside the kitchen as Colm quietly chatted and went about their day none the wiser. She should start packing things up, she told herself, but she instead decided to sort through the stacks of invoices and bills, time sheets and staff notes, and the couple of random menu mockups she had begun to compose for January. She began to tear through the pile like a madwoman on a mission. Her rubbish fin filled up quickly with the bits of pieces she found disposable. Within minutes, her tiny workstation had become completely clear of the familiar and comforting clutter.

  All that was left to do was to make a moving to-do list. There would be equipment to sell, things to move and staff to let go. It all felt so overwhelming and daunting, yet she knew she couldn’t ignore it for long. Christmas was less than two weeks away and then she would have only another few days throughout the holiday period to get the place clear and empty for the café’s end.

  As her list began to add up, a knock came at the door. It was urgent, forceful, and familiar. Colm typically let himself in, but this person insisted on knocking. Whipping her eyes and clearing her mascara from her face, she replied “Come in.” She kept her back facing the door. She would hate for anyone to see the mess she looked.

  “Ella, when were you going to tell me?” The voice was firm, yet soothing. Ella swivelled in her desk chair, meeting Joseph's eyes.

  Without speaking a word, she stared at him for a few seconds, maybe even minutes.

  He looked tired and worn. She couldn’t imagine how she appeared in that moment to him.

  As time passed, she attempted to speak but was wordless in her response. She couldn’t do more than to stare in his icy pools of blue irises and to study the way his greying hair shone in the desk light. Goodness he was a handsome man.

  He waited though. He kept his hands firm on the doorknob as if he would need to make a retreat at any second. He too couldn’t help but survey Ella and the way that she looked small and wounded. Her cast still on, her body bent over the desk, her pile of paperwork carelessly tossed in the black bin next to her. He wanted nothing more than to kneel down next to her and to hold her hand.

  “Joseph. I’m so sorry.” She began to sob. Her voice quaked and rattled.
She had forgotten to tell him. She had forgotten that her old friend and most loyal customer should know first. Not that he needed to, but she had wanted to tell him. She had wanted to tell Joseph everything.

  With her cries, he moved next to her, gently placing his one arm on the top of her heaving back as the other grabbed the chair next to her. He sat down quickly, facing her directly. His hand casually rubbed her shoulders and her neck.

  “Ella, Ella. Please, please stop crying. Let’s just talk. Just tell me what you are thinking, what you are doing?”

  “What I am doing? I am not doing anything!” Her outburst took him aback. He had never seen her act this way. He felt as if he should spring into action, yet she was giving him no direction.

  “But, I heard you were retiring and closing down the café. Is that true? If it is, it’s okay…. it’s exciting. A big step but you would probably lo—”

  “No, Joseph, I’m not retiring. I’m being evicted.” Ella hadn’t planned on telling anyone the truth, yet here she was confessing all to Joseph. Maybe it was the way he touched her tenderly or how he faced her head on. She couldn’t help herself as she went on to explain how she received the estate agent’s letter, and had no other option but clear out. How she had lied to Ita and Colm to soften the blow on everyone.

  “Why couldn’t you tell everyone the truth? Maybe it would help you keep the café?”

  “I just couldn’t. Look at me. I don’t ask for help. I give help. For thirty years I have helped people in this town find jobs, mind their children, sort through their marriage problems, take in their abandoned animals. Yet I wouldn’t dream of asking a thing of anyone. Gregory would have never let me ask for help. He always said ‘Our problems are our problems.’” Until she had said it, she had forgotten that her husband had always lived by the unwritten rules that those who stepped into the café were allowed to share their problems while those working in it would keep theirs private. It kept up a mystique and the charm.

  “You cannot live your life like that. I know that you want to keep this café. I know that you would never, ever retire—much less to go take up golfing.”

  He was right of course—but that didn't change her resolve. “This is how it is, Joseph. This is how it has to be. It breaks my heart to have to close but I have no choice. The Heartbreak Café is finally living up to its nickname.” Just as he was so certain that he knew her well enough to keep her from retiring, Ella was certain of what she had to do.

  “Come on. Let’s just talk this through. You could talk to the estate agent, find out if the bank might let you stay on as a sitting tenant or something. We can come up with a plan.” His genuine want to help was admirable, but Ella knew better.

  She shook her head. "There is no ‘we’ in this Joseph. This is my café, and I will decide how I want this to end." She looked away from him, not daring to meet his gaze, which she knew would be wounded by her stalwart rejections. "I'm sorry, but I need to be leaving now. The afternoon crowd should be coming through and I am a bit short-staffed.” She slowly stood, her weight leaning onto her stick. He stood too, towering over her.

  “I’m sorry Ella. I didn’t mean to imply anything. I just want to help you. I want to make sure that you are okay and that this is what you really want.”

  “What I really want is to get out there and serve my customers while I still have any. Are you staying?” She couldn’t help but to offer some hospitality for his troubles, but by the way he looked at her, she could sense that Joseph was hurt by her refusal to allow him interject himself in her affairs.

  “No. I’d better get back to work myself. I will see you tomorrow though. And the next day. And the next. I will be here till the very end or until you ask me to leave.”

  He stared down at her as he placed his hand on her cheek. He rubbed his rough thumb over where her face had turned a glowing pink. Using the tip of his finger, he brushed a tear from the tip of her eye. And without a word more, Joseph opened the door, and walked back out to the café floor.

  Ella stood in the dark corner of her office touching the place where his hand had been. She hadn’t been touched there by anyone else in years. It was so personal and intimate that it took her several moments to recover. But in those passing seconds, she realised something else deep and real.

  For the first time in decades, she thought she might be falling in love.

  12

  That afternoon things did pick up substantially at the café. A busload of tourists arrived, and a steady stream of locals came through to give their personal opinions to Ella regarding her retirement.

  “We will so miss you and your amazing quiches!”

  “Will you stay in town?"

  “Will Colm be taking over the café? He’d be great, but I don’t know if he has your business sense.”

  “Who is going to take care of the catering for our parties?"

  The last comment came from the village queen bee herself, Cynthia Roland. Since she was a young child, Cynthia had basically taken over the place with her know-it-all smirks and her insistence that she know everything about everyone. In comparison, Cynthia made Ita’s gossipy and judgemental tendencies look like child’s play.

  Today, she was joined by the group of women who called themselves the Lakeview Mum’s Club, but whom Ella had more often heard referred to as ‘The Mummy Martyrs’. Flanked at both sides of Cynthia, they travelled in packs with their strollers and baby carriers. Each carried a designer nappy bag in their designated colour, a fresh bottle or dummy and a nasty attitude.

  Time had not changed much from when these women were in school and their accessories were backpacks, makeup cases, and an unsuspecting boyfriend from the football team. Now all married to successful men working in Dublin, the girls had no other purpose than to rule Lakeview with an iron fist. They dictated everything from what hairstyle was de rigeur at the beauty salon, which drink was in vogue, and which boutique was a must to visit for the latest fashions.

  Dare to contradict them or refuse to play nice to their demands, and there would be consequences. Their refusal to shop in certain places in the village had closed several new business down. Ella knew it was a delicate balance, so she either played along or avoided them altogether. The drama, in her opinion, was way beneath her.

  But today, there was no other staff to take their order or to set up high chairs for their crying, snotty children. It was all on Ella to make sure their needs were met to their impeccable standards.

  She seated the group in the front section of tables closest to the window but more importantly far enough away from the other customers. The women preferred it this way. They could chat loudly while watching and judging the townspeople pass by the windows. Their children, on the other hand, could be supervised by Ella as she worked the counter and checked out customers from the front.

  “It’s such as shame about this place. It was always so … what is the word, um … charming.” Deirdre piped up first, ignoring the fussy baby to her right as he attempted to grab at the ketchup bottle next to him.

  “I agree, but what can you do to stop progress?" Emer was practically salivating at the thought of a coffee giant moving in. "I’m hopeful that we'll finally get that Starbucks this place desperately needs.”

  “Well I for one, will be glad to get an upgrade," Cynthia agreed. “This town needs to get with the times. No more run-down takeaways or discount grocers.” She wrinkled her nose. “With the closing of this place, I can see the whole Main Street changing for the better.” Of course, Cynthia had to own the idea that what the place needed was big businesses putting out what had been in place for years before her time as queen bee.

  “Hear, hear!” Emer laughed loudly as she agreed with Cynthia’s proclamation. The whole group cackled together as they discussed popular chains that should replace some of the older shops on the street.

  Not a single stone was left unturned, or any business left unscathed as Deirdre even took notes on the girl’s opinions as if she w
as the acting secretary of a select town meeting.

  After several minutes, Ella headed over to take their orders. As she passed by the door, a hooded figure entered quietly with eyes focused straight ahead. The two collided, with Ella stumbling a bit. The other person caught her, giving Ella a chance to realise who she had run into.

  “Oh I’m sorry Heidi! I didn’t see you coming in.” Ella hadn’t recognised her either with her face concealed in an oversized sweatshirt that almost certainly belonged to her husband. From what she could tell, she was makeup free and her hair had been hastily gathered in a messy bun at the top of her head.

  “Are you OK?” Heidi whispered towards Ella with her head deliberately turned away from the window, but Ella wasn't quite sure if she was referring to their brief collision or the fact that her husband’s financial carelessness was putting her out of business.

  “I’m fine. Just getting used to this cane. Why don’t you take a seat wherever you can find one, and I’ll bring you a fresh cup of coffee.”

  “Thanks Ella.” Heidi quickly shuffled herself to the back of the room, finally settling on a place near the end of the counter. Her back was turned from the window as she studied a menu.

  Ella made her way to the girls’ table with pen and paper ready for their orders, but the girls were too distracted by the new entry to pay her any heed.

  “Is that who I think it is? Gemma, is that her?” Emer ducked in towards the table’s centre with her finger pointed directly at Heidi’s back.

  “I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell without the nanny following her every move.” Gemma whispered.

  “Who does she think she is? That girl has no class.” Cynthia refused to keep her voice down like the rest of them. She said it loud enough for everyone in the surrounding area to hear. “You think that her husband going bankrupt would make her a humbler person. Yet it seems as if her money was the only thing forcing her to play nice.” All but one of the women nodded solemnly at Cynthia’s seemingly deft observation.