Serena obeyed, spinning round and round, the coat flaring out to reveal her black sequined knee-length sheath, until she felt dizzy and had to grab hold of the kitchen bench for support.
‘You okay there?’ Her father’s hand reached out to support her.
‘Fine. Dizzy. Got a little carried away.’ Serena picked up her diamante-encrusted clutch. ‘So, we’re walking?’
‘Absolutely. The stroll won’t kill us. Although it’s freezing out there. Weather report says snow is on the way. I’ve got the day after Christmas in the pub’s draw. I’m feeling richer already.’
‘I’m hoping Santa will bring me snow. I had Mel put me down for the big day.’ Serena smiled up at her father and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. ‘Hold me tight, Dad. I haven’t worn heels in months, and these are high enough they may well be the death of me.’
Serena waited for her father to make a quip about people walking in heels like that asking for it, but none came. The usual light of good humour had been replaced by a sombre frown. ‘You okay, Dad? Not coming down with anything, are you?’
Roger dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Of course not. I just wanted to let you know that you’re a good girl, Serena. I’m proud of you. You did great work on the farm. But this?’ He looked round the kitchen. ‘This is something else. Congratulations.’
Serena wrapped her arms around her father in a tight cuddle. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she whispered into his ear. ‘You have no idea how much that means to me. And I’m going to keep making you proud. Just you watch.’
Roger broke the hug, and clasped Serena’s hands in his own. ‘You already have. Love you, my girl.’
‘Love you too, Dad.’
‘Now enough of this sentimental stuff.’ He offered his crooked arm to Serena once more. ‘I need a beer.’
‘Me too.’ Serena rested her head on her father’s shoulder as they walked companionably towards the awards ceremony. ‘Do you think Mum will be happy for me if I win Product of the Year?’
‘You’re her daughter, of course she’ll be happy for you.’ Roger stopped outside the hall’s doors. The dull throb of music and cacophony of exuberant conversations greeted them. ‘One thing’s for sure, win or lose, it won’t change how much she loves you. I know you two have had your ups and downs, but that love was always there. I don’t think you’d have fought half as much if you didn’t feel so fiercely about each other.’
‘Us Hunter women.’ Serena rolled her eyes.
‘Scary bunch, you lot.’ Roger nodded, the wrinkles surrounding his eyes crinkled deeply. ‘Takes a strong man to love you, let me tell you that now.’
Serena had a feeling her dad wasn’t just talking about himself.
Roger pulled the hall doors open and they stepped into the hubbub.
‘Serena, Roger, over here!’ Marjorie’s voice boomed over the crowd.
They threaded their way through the groups of people, all chatting merrily, noses red from the cold, cheeks red from alcohol.
Excitement squirmed in Serena’s belly. There was a good vibe going on. People were happy. The first music set, played by the local band the Revolting Rabbits, wasn’t as terrible as usual. It was going to be a good night.
‘Hey, Mum.’ Serena slid into the chair her mother had pulled out for her. ‘You got me a beer already? Thanks.’ She brought the foaming liquid to her lips and took a sip, hoping it’d calm the nerves that had sprung up when she noticed that her name on the place card had ‘finalist’ written underneath it in curling script.
‘If I didn’t get the beers when I did then I doubt we’d have had any at all. There’s been a record turnout.’ She jerked her head to the side of the room, where sure enough the bar had a queue five-deep. ‘Mel offered to help Tony on the bar, but I said no. I was afraid the running around would send her into early labour. Thankfully Valerie’s stepped up, otherwise there’d be a riot.’ Marjorie fanned herself with a serviette. ‘You’d never know snow was on the way, it’s that hot in here.’
‘Menopause, Mum?’ Serena stuck out her tongue with a teasing grin.
‘Cheeky girl. Probably. Although I haven’t stopped all day.’
‘You mean you didn’t get Christian to do all the work?’ Serena laughed.
‘What is this? Hassle your poor old Mum day?’ Marjorie wagged her finger at her daughter. ‘Cut that out. And no, I didn’t. We were both working. And I had some other stuff to do…’ Marjorie fingered the string of pearls around her neck. ‘Oh, would you look at the time. I’ve got to make sure Tom Brown’s all sorted. He’s due to start any minute.’
‘Don’t suppose that trouble-making daughter of his is about?’ Serena scanned the crowd for poker-straight blonde hair coupled with a glass-breaking laugh.
‘No. She’s gone. Tom’s devastated. Poor man. Two women in his life leaving, just like that. I had to feed him a few tumblers of whiskey just to get him to agree to get up on the stage tonight.’
‘Mum! If the man’s that upset then perhaps you should’ve found a stand in.’ Serena shook her head. ‘You could have done it. You’re not afraid of talking in front of people.’
Marjorie pushed her chair back and stood. ‘No. That’s not my thing. I give orders behind the scenes. I’m not the show pony. Speaking of show ponies, I’d better check on that husband of yours. Oh, he asked me to give you this. Didn’t want to leave it backstage in case it got in the wrong hands.’ Marjorie passed Ritchie’s phone to Serena, then bustled off in a shower of elbows and excuse me’s.
Serena dropped the phone into her clutch. Who’d have thought a few days would have changed her mother’s tune about her relationship with Ritchie, not to mention their own relationship? For the first time in a long time it didn’t feel like they were cautiously circling each other, trying to figure each other out, afraid that one wrong word would see an argument flare up. An ease had entered their conversations, an understanding. One Serena suspected she had Ritchie to thank for. It was strange to think he’d been the glue her family needed to come together.
A screech of feedback silenced the crowd, followed by an ‘ahem’ into the microphone.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I do ask that you take your seats. The Rabbits Leap Farmer of the Year Awards is set to commence.’
A tinny trumpet heralded the beginning of the night. Serena grinned to herself. It was so basic compared to the grand award shows she’d accompanied Ritchie too, but also so much better. She glanced around at the open smiling faces, the bursts of laughter from people who’d known each other since they were babies. This was what life was about. Community. Support. Family. Love.
Coming home to Rabbits Leap had been the right thing to do. She crossed her fingers under the table. Hopefully she could convince Ritchie to give life here a shot. Give them a shot.
A strum of guitar music filled the air. Serena followed the sound to the stage, where Ritchie stood under a spotlight, guitar strap slung over his neck. He was in his rock star uniform of tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, white t-shirt and blue plaid flannelette top, partially undone at the top, the sleeves rolled up. Something was different though.
She narrowed her eyes as she scanned his body. Everything was as it had been earlier in the day. His hair, just past chin-length, not quite shoulder-length, was partially hiding his face as he eyed the guitar strings. His clothes were no baggier, no tighter. His wedding band glinted under the spotlight, reminding her of how bare her own finger was. She rubbed the empty skin and promised herself she’d put on her own rings to show Ritchie she was as serious about giving their marriage a second shot as he was.
Ritchie looked up from playing and caught her eye. He winked, then broke into a stripped back version of his first hit ‘You Take Me There.’ The younger people in the crowd whooped and hollered as they left their assigned seating and hit the dance floor.
Serena laughed to herself as she saw Tom Brown shaking his head in disapproval, then spinning h
is finger in a circle, letting Ritchie know to wind it up.
Ritchie finished the song to wild applause, then backed off the stage, a wide smile on his face – so different from the usual sultry glare he adopted when he performed.
That was it. That was the change. Serena slumped back in her chair, her palms stinging from cheering him on. Ritchie looked happy – in fact, he couldn’t hide his happiness. He looked like a man who’d got what he wanted.
But what he wanted was her. And nothing had been decided. Unless there was something going on that she had no idea about?
‘Well, that was some start to the show.’ Mr Brown swayed a little. ‘Now back to your seats. It’s time to announce the winner of the first category ‘Finest Looking Cow’.’
Serena slumped further and further into her chair as award after award was announced. Lack of sleep was taking its toll. ‘Finest Looking Vegetable.’ ‘Biggest Vegetable.’ ‘Most Improved Farm’. Her eyes glazed over as monotonous speech flowed into monotonous speech, occasionally interspersed with half-arsed applause.
‘And now for the nominations for ‘Product of the Year’.’ Mr Brown peered down at his notes.
Serena straightened in her seat. This was it. This was the award that mattered most. Not only would it seal her standing within the community, showing others she was serious about being part of it, but it would prove to her mother she was on the right path. That being a chocolatier wasn’t some mad flight of fancy. It was her future.
Serena crossed her fingers as the envelope was opened. Her father grabbed hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘Whatever happens, you’re a winner in my eyes,’ he whispered in her ear.
Serena smiled her thanks, then focussed on the stage.
‘The winner is… Serena Hunter for The Sweetest Thing’s Chocolate Milk.’ Mr Brown held up a plastic statue of a gold spray-painted rabbit. ‘Come up and get your award, Serena.’
Serena hugged her dad and tried to ignore the way her mother kept her gaze fixed on her dinner plate, showing no indication of caring about Serena’s success.
Refusing to let her mother’s disinterest ruin her big moment, Serena stood and threaded her way around the tables, nodding to those who congratulated her before climbing the stairs to the podium. Taking the statue, she thrust it high and whooped. She deserved this success and she wasn’t letting anyone pull her down from her high.
She squealed as arms encircled her waist and lifted her up high to spin her round. ‘Congratulations, sweet thing.’ Ritchie kissed her cheek, then set her down. Holding her tightly as the room spun slowly back into view.
Serena straightened and took a deep breath. She had to say a speech, it was expected.
‘Wow. This is brilliant. I can see why Ritchie here—’ she jerked her head in her husband’s direction, ‘—never had any trouble getting up on stage to accept an award. Not only is it a buzz, but it’s confirmation that what you’re doing is good. Right. That passion, hard work, dedication and a whole lot of lack of sleep can result in creating something that not only brings you happiness, but also happiness to others. Of course, I wouldn’t be here without the love and support of some important people. Dad, Mum, you’ll never know how much you’ve given me. And I’m not just talking about allowing me to use the milk from the farm for my chocolate milk. Dad, your eternal kindness and, let’s be honest, your patience, blows me away every day. Thank you. And, Mum. I know I wouldn’t be here without you. You gave me strength, determination and a ‘to hell with what the world thinks’ attitude.’
A painful lump formed in her throat as she registered her mother’s lack of attention. She swallowed hard. She had only herself to blame. She’d caused her mother so much pain, she had to allow those wounds to heal. Her mother may not love the chocolate shop now, but she’d come around, one day. Hopefully. ‘I’m lucky to have you, Mum. I hope I make you proud.’ Her own tears threatened to blur the stairs she would soon have to climb down. She blinked fast and hard, clearing them away, then with one more thrust of the trophy into the air, she made her way down into the crowd and back to her table.
‘Nice work, love. Cheers.’ Her dad lifted his glass and they toasted the moment.
Mr Brown returned to the stage, another statue in hand. ‘And the Young Farmer of the Year award goes to…’ A fake drum roll played over the speakers. ‘Jack Wright.’
Serena rose to her feet and hollered and clapped as hard as she could. ‘Go Jack!’ She flashed him the thumbs up, ignoring the half-hearted clapping coming from her mother. ‘Wooo!’ She placed her fingers in her mouth and whistled long and hard before taking her seat and taking in Jack’s earnest thank you speech. He was a good man. He deserved a good woman. Serena hoped he’d find her.
‘And the final award of the night, the Grand Farmer of the Year, goes to…’ An elongated version of the usual drum roll filled the room as Mr Brown paused for a great length of time, letting the hushed anticipation in the room build. ‘Come up and take a bow … Marjorie Hunter.’
Serena whipped round to face her mother. ‘You entered?’
Her mother smiled down at her daughter as she stood. ‘Well, someone had to take credit for how well we’re doing.’
Serena clapped her hand to her mouth and watched as her mother made a short and sweet acceptance speech, then thrust the giant golden rabbit statue in the air, just as her daughter had done, before returning to the table.
‘And that wraps up the boring portion of the night.’ Tom Brown continued, his words a little more slurred, and honest than when he’d started. ‘Congratulations to all our winners, and of course to the finalists. Now it is with… pleasure… I guess… if you’re into that kind of thing… that I ask back Ritchie Dangerfield to the stage.’
Tables were left bare as the crowd raced to the dance floor, a buzz building as Ritchie strolled on stage, guitar in hand, and faced his audience.
‘Thanks for having me, Rabbits Leap. I’d like to start the night with a new song I’ve written. So new that no one, not even my band or my manager, has heard it. This one’s for you, Serena.’ He began to strum, soft notes filling the air. So unlike his usual rock ‘n’ roll style. More melodic. Romantic almost.
‘A big city boy.
Meets a small town girl.
The sparks they fly.
She rocks his world.
Years flew by. And just like that.
She left their home, his world went flat.’
Ritchie’s voice rose ever so slightly with the chorus.
‘Love may go, but it will come again.
It’s just a little matter of when.
When true love strikes, it cuts through the heart.
You can try to run, but hearts can’t part.
… You can try to run, but hearts can’t part.’
The crowd was mesmerised, swaying softly as he strummed. Only Serena was still, tears of happiness blurring her vision, her lips stretched so wide, her cheeks so high, they almost hurt. She reached into her clutch for a tissue and saw Ritchie’s phone flashing a new email icon.
She picked up the phone and keyed in his pin. An email flashed up from Barry’s PA.
The warmth that Ritchie’s song had brought disappeared as a chill raced through her veins.
Was she reading this right? Surely not. Because if she was, it meant Ritchie had gone behind her back and decided what her future was going to be, without consulting her, without giving her needs a second thought.
Her ears pricked up as she caught a few lines of the song.
‘She said they weren’t meant forever.
But like they say, never say never.
I’ll be yours, if you’ll be mine …
Because, together, we’re love divine.’
Love divine? Really? Is that what he thought they were? Blood pounded in Serena’s ears, dulling the roar of the crowd as he launched into the chorus. Serena stood and gripped the table as the world went l
opsided. Was it the beer or Ritchie’s betrayal? How could she have trusted him? How could she have thought they had a chance at a future together? That they could have had a relationship based around honesty, openness, respect.
She ignored her parents’ enquiring looks and barged her way up towards the stage. That stupid song meant nothing. It was a load of lies. And she was never ever letting Ritchie Dangerfield worm his way into her heart ever again.
Ritchie finished the last chords of the song and spotted Serena standing at the front of the stage. His heart sank as he registered the glare in her eyes, the tension radiating off her body with its crossed arms and wide-legged stance.
She crooked her finger, indicated for him to come closer. Torn between launching into his next song to keep the crowd happy and wanting to find out why Serena was so angry when he’d just sung her a love song, he paused.
Massive mistake.
Serena scowled, turned on her heel and pushed through the crowd towards the hall’s doors.
The crowd’s impatience met his ears as feet shuffled. They wanted to dance, and he could hear their huffs of displeasure. He set the guitar down and decided to do something he’d never once done in his entire career. The crowd were going to be left disappointed.
‘Sorry, folks. A technical issue’s come up.’ He cringed inwardly as he caught their frowns of disbelief. ‘I’ll be back as soon as it’s sorted.’ He passed his guitar to Mr Brown, leapt off the stage and raced through the crowd out to the street.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
‘What have you done?’ Marjorie hissed, her brown eyes dark with anger. ‘What have you done to my girl?’
‘Me? Nothing.’ Ritchie stepped out of her grasp. ‘At least nothing that I know of. I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘If you’ve hurt her in any way…’ Marjorie pointed at him, her jaw taut with warning.
A flame of irritation stirred in Ritchie’s gut. ‘I would never hurt your daughter intentionally. I love her. More than anything. You know that. But you? You need to think about who you are pointing that finger at.’
Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop Page 17
