Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop

by Kellie Hailes

  Marjorie dropped her hand. ‘What do you mean? We’re getting on the best we have in years. Perhaps ever.’

  ‘Perhaps on your turf you are, but have you visited her shop? Have you shown interest? Did you congratulate her on her win tonight? All Serena has ever wanted is your approval. Your acceptance. And you’re holding out on doing the one thing that will show her you’re on her side, that you’ve got her back.’

  Marjorie’s jaw softened, as her mouth opened and shut. Opened again. No words came forth. Not that Ritchie cared what she had to say. Right now, his priority was Serena.

  He turned and raced out into the street. ‘Serena,’ he called spotting her ahead, picking up speed as she continued her retreat. ‘Wait, Serena. What’s wrong?’

  She stopped and swivelled around. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Ritchie wrapped his arms around himself as he registered the cold. Cold? It was freezing. The frigid air gripped his body as surely as Serena’s expression gripped his heart. She wasn’t annoyed. She was furious.

  He went to touch her arm but she took a step back. ‘No. Don’t touch me. If you lay a hand on me right now I’ll deck you. I can’t believe I let you back into my life. That I trusted you. That I thought we had some sort of future together. God, I’m an idiot.’ Her nostrils flared, her chest heaved. Her eyelashes, black against the paleness of her cheeks glittered with moisture. Dew from the cold night? Or tears?

  She looked up. He had his answer.

  ‘Don’t cry, Serena. Please. There’s no reason to. Things are good with us. We’re going to be okay. I don’t understand why you’re angry with me. What have I done to make you distrust me all of a sudden?’

  She thrust something in his direction. He peered at what she was holding, through the golden gloom of the fairy light lit street. His phone. ‘Here. Look for yourself. Though what you see shouldn’t come as a surprise.’ Her lips curled in a sneer.

  Ritchie took his phone and tapped at the screen. An email flashed up. His stomach churned as he read it. Shit. No wonder Serena was pissed with him. He would be too. He had to make her see he had nothing to do with it. Their happiness depended on it.

  ‘It looks bad. Real bad. But it’s not what you think it is.’ He pocketed the mobile. ‘It was Barry, not me.’

  ‘Sure, it was Barry. Like he’d book us flights back to LA without your implicit instruction. You must have said something. Done something. And of course you would, because that’s what you’ve always done. Taken the lead, expected me to follow. But I don’t follow you anymore, Ritchie. I don’t tag along. I won’t. I have created a life here. One that brings me more happiness than all our years combined. Here I can be me. Here I’m free. I won’t be pushed around. I won’t be forced into anything. And you can say it’s Barry’s doing, but at the end of the day you aren’t on the phone right now stopping it. This is all on you.’

  Ritchie clamped his hands to the back of his neck and tipped his head to the sky. Shit. He was between a rock and a hard place. He had made plans for Serena and himself. Plans that didn’t involve her moving back to Malibu, but the opposite, in fact. But if he told her about those know she’d be equally as angry. Because no matter which way he put it she’d see it as him going behind her back. She’d see it as an act of control.

  ‘And there you go.’ Serena took a step back. ‘Closing up on me again. All I ever wanted was for you to be open with me. Yet, here you are with nothing to say for yourself. Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Ritchie, I’m not getting on any plane with you. In fact, I’m stepping off this ride.’

  Ritchie’s mind raced. What had he said to Barry to make him think this was happening? To make Barry think he and Serena were heading home. Shit. He’d told him he was going to fix things with Serena.

  Ritchie shook his head. He couldn’t let her go. Not like this. ‘Serena.’ He ran to catch up and laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I told Barry I’d fix things with us. I didn’t tell him how, but I guess he just assumed I’d convince you to come home with me.’

  Serena shrugged his hand off. ‘Maybe that’s the truth. But I have to face the truth, Ritchie. This was never going to work out.’ The fight had gone out of her voice. The disappointment in her tone was a sucker punch, adding to the turmoil in his gut. ‘We’ve got to be honest with ourselves. We’re in two different places, figuratively and soon-to-be literally. I’m not leaving Rabbits Leap, and there’s no way I can imagine you staying here and being happy. And I refuse to be the person who causes you to not be true to yourself, to who you are, what you are. So please, leave, get on the next plane. Go back to LA. Make music. Live your life. Let me live mine. On my terms.’ She squared her shoulders and stalked towards the shop’s front door. Her show of strength only slightly gave way, when her chin dipped towards her chest.

  Ritchie ached to run after her, to pull her into a hug, tell her he would give everything up for her. But, for all his faults, he wasn’t a liar, and he wasn’t about to make promises he couldn’t keep.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Serena shut the shop door, turned and slumped against it. So that was that. She and Ritchie were done. He may not have booked flights for her intentionally, but seeing that email had only brought the truth to the surface. Their lives had gone down a forked road that wasn’t going to meet up again any time soon. And even though he’d managed to explain himself, there had been that moment when his face had closed up tight. His mouth along with it.

  She could see he was trying to be the man she needed him to be. Open, honest, free with his words. But had things worked out, how long would that have lasted? How long before he would have reverted to form? Leopards didn’t change their spots. And she suspected people who’d been treated like Ritchie had, who’d been hurt as badly as Ritchie had, didn’t either.

  She focussed on the Christmas lights blinking merrily on the little tree she’d put up the day before. So much for her first enjoyable Christmas in a decade. This one would be the worst of all… for it was the Christmas she’d remember as the time she’d given up on love.

  Three firm raps on the door startled her. ‘Go away, Ritchie. There’s nothing more to discuss.’ She slid down onto the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her head into them.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Serena Hunter.’ Her mother’s voice boomed through the glass windows. ‘Will you get up off the floor? It’s filthy. You’ll ruin that nice coat of yours.’

  Serena groaned. Great, so her mother was here to thrust her disapproval upon her. Perfect. Just what she needed. The only way to end this horrible night.

  ‘Open the door, Serena.’ Marjorie rapped against the glass again. ‘It’s freezing and I have no intention of turning into an icicle anytime soon.’

  Serena pushed herself up off the floor and opened the door. ‘Come in.’

  Her mother paused, and her chest lifted then settled, as if taking a step into the chocolate shop was a big deal.

  Which, Serena realised, it was. Her mother hadn’t set foot in the shop since it had opened. Refused to have anything to do with the business. Something must have changed. But what?

  ‘Come on, Mum. You’re letting the cold air in and I’ve no plans to be an icicle either.’ Even if my heart feels as cold as ice. She grabbed her mother’s gloved hand, pulled her over the threshold and shut the door. ‘Come through to the kitchen, I’ll make us a hot chocolate.’

  Serena crossed the room, then stopped when she realised a second pair of heeled feet weren’t click-clacking their way over the floorboards. ‘Mum?’ She looked back to see her mother’s eyes wide as she slowly turned, taking in the stained oak panelling. The chocolates laid out on trays. The decoration-laden tree.

  ‘You did this?’ It came out a whisper, one loaded with awe. ‘It looks so different to what it used to be.’

  ‘You mean run down?’ Serena ran her hand over the counter she’d lovingly sanded back and re-stained. ‘It was a mess when I took it over. Rub
bish everywhere. The timber was tired with age. The kitchen unusable…’

  ‘And you really did it all yourself?’ Her mother picked up a bag of chocolate almonds and turned it in her hands.

  ‘Well, I had to get tradesmen in to help with the kitchen, and to sand back the floorboards. But yeah, the rest was me. Ritchie helped a little, too. Put up the decorations. Helped make those chocolates you’re holding in your hands.’ Fresh sadness bloomed in Serena’s stomach. Whether she liked it or not Ritchie was now part of the shop. Even here, in the place she’d created to be her own, he’d touched it, infused himself into another part of her life.

  ‘Speaking of Ritchie. He’s why I’m here. He didn’t come back to finish his set. Thank God the Revolting Rabbits were on hand to pick up his slack. What happened to him? I saw something go on between the two of you back there in the hall.’

  Serena gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, not wanting her mother to see her pain. Not wanting to give her an opportunity to tell her why running off and marrying a rock star was a grand mistake. How her life would have been easier if she’d stayed home and farmed like the women before her.

  ‘Serena?’ Footsteps echoed as her mother came nearer. ‘Am I going to have to find Ritchie and throw him out of town?’

  ‘He’s probably gone already.’ Serena opened her eyes to see her mother looking at her with such tenderness, she swore she heard a crack in the glacial organ that was her heart. ‘Come on, I’ll make you that hot chocolate.’

  ‘Indeed. And we’ll talk.’ Marjorie hefted herself onto a stool, propped her elbows up on the marble island and settled her chin on top of her fisted hands. ‘So, what happened?’

  Serena poured milk into a pan and switched on the stove top, then added chocolate syrup, stirring the mixture together. ‘I saw an email come through from Ritchie’s manager’s personal assistant saying two spots had been booked on a plane back to the States.’

  ‘You’re leaving? Again?’ Marjorie’s back stiffened, as her shoulders rose towards her ears.

  ‘Calm down, Mum. I’m not. That’s the last thing I want to do. God, you of all people should get that.’ Serena lowered the heat as the milk began to bubble, then stirred in some syrup. ‘All I’ve wanted since I got back was to find my place here.’

  ‘And you have. Here.’

  Serena poured the hot chocolate into cups, added marshmallows and passed one to her mother.

  ‘Yes, here. Not on the farm. And I’m sorry about that, Mum. I tried. I really did. But I found myself in my chocolate making. It spoke to the creative side of me.’

  ‘The side that insists you wear bright colours and crazy patterns.’ Marjorie shook her head, her curls bobbing upon her shoulders. ‘You always were… so much… more.’

  ‘More?’ Serena angled her head, confused ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you were always too big for the life we live here. Your laughter louder. Your smile wider. Your spirit more free.’ Marjorie’s knuckles tightened as she gripped the mug. ‘I shouldn’t have been so surprised, so hurt, when you left. When you chose another path. I shouldn’t have thrust what I believed was your destiny upon you, just because it had been mine, my mother’s, my grandmother’s and hers before that. It was wrong of me. And I shouldn’t have promised you a fresh start if I didn’t one hundred percent mean it.’ She took a sip of hot chocolate, and her eyes closed as her lips widened in a smile. ‘This is good. Really good. I’ve glad you’ve chosen this as your destiny, Serena. It’s delicious. I think I can get on board with this fresh start of yours if you can keep me in supply of this syrup you make.’

  ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’ Serena leaned in and gave her mother a hug. One relationship may have ended that night, but one was mended. For that she was grateful.

  ‘Now what are you going to do about that husband of yours?’ Marjorie’s lips pursed in thought.

  Serena shrugged. ‘I think I’m just going to have to let him go. It was stupid of me to try again. To think he could live his life my way. That he could be someone he wasn’t. I may have been too big for Rabbits Leap back in the day, Mum, but it fits me perfectly now. Not Ritchie though. He… ‘She paused. It wasn’t her place to talk about Ritchie’s childhood. How it had shaped the man he became – a man who searched out adoration from others to make up for the cruelty and lack of love he endured in his family home. ‘Ritchie needs more than small town life. He needs the fame, the adoration. It’s like a battery charger for his soul.’

  ‘Far be it from me to argue, since I’ve only known him for less than a week, but from what I saw of you two, it was you he needed, more than anything else. I think you’re the battery charger for his soul, as you so poetically put it.’ Marjorie took another sip of her hot chocolate, set the cup down and reached for Serena’s hands.

  Serena took them and ran her thumbs over the top of her mother’s skin. They were wrinkled with time, soft as the finest leather, and strong. Capable of caring for cows, fixing fences, repairing all sorts of things… but not her daughter’s heart.

  ‘Is there any way you could give him another chance?’ Her mother tilted her head to the side, a sad smile on her lips, a deepening crease between her brows. ‘The same way you gave Rabbits Leap a second chance?’

  ‘The way we’re giving our relationship a second chance?’ Serena brought her mother in for a hug, breathing in the violet scent she wore on special occasions. ‘I don’t think so, Mum. It wouldn’t be fair on Ritchie to force this life on him. He’d only resent me. And I can handle a broken heart far better than I can handle the resentment of someone who loves me.’

  Marjorie broke away. ‘Okay, my love. If that’s what you think is for the best…’

  Serena forced a smile, though she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. She had no idea what was best any more. All she knew was that time, given enough of it, would make things easier. And she could only hope that it would one day heal the soul-deep ache in her heart.

  Her mother rubbed her stomach as it issued a demanding rumble. ‘I was too nervous to eat at the awards. Nervous for you. Nervous for me. I’m starved.’ She jerked her head towards the chocolates sitting on the counter. ‘I think it’s high time I tried some of those chocolates you’ve been attempting to force on me the last couple of weeks. What do you say?’

  A hint of a smile found its way to Serena’s lips. Maybe time wasn’t going to be the only thing to heal her heart, maybe the love of her family would too. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

  ***

  The rumble of a car’s engine met Ritchie’s ears. Great, here comes the cavalry. He considered hiding in the hedgerow to his left, but thought better of it. He’d only end up scratching himself and how would that look on the cover of some gossip mag? ‘Ritchie Dangerfield in Cat Fight’ along with an article detailing his descent into skirt-wearing and cow-milking.

  Besides, the warmth of a car had to be better than the bone-aching cold that had settled upon the land and had set his teeth chattering about ten minutes into his walk home.

  No. Not home.

  Home wasn’t Serena’s parents’ farm. Or Serena’s chocolate shop. It was his pad in Malibu. Even if he didn’t want it to be.

  He turned to face the bright headlights of the car. Except it wasn’t a car. It was a pick-up truck. He shielded his eyes to see who was behind the world. Not Christian. Or Mr Harper. It was… that guy who fancied Serena. Jack.

  Great, so Serena had sent her old boyfriend after him. He waited for the truck to stop, except it didn’t. Instead an impatient honk was issued.

  What the hell? The guy was just going to leave him to freeze to death while he went home and got all cosy in some little farmhouse? Over Ritchie’s not-quite-yet-dead body.

  He refused to budge and instead waved his arms, surrendering his ego in favour of surviving the night.

  Jack’s head appeared from the driver’s window. ‘What do you want?’ His voice was flat,
unimpressed.

  ‘I need a ride to the Hunters’ farmhouse. Can you help?’ He jogged up to the driver’s side. ‘I can give you petrol money if that’s a problem.’

  Jack regarded him suspiciously. He raised his eyes to the truck’s roof. ‘God, I’m too nice. Get in. And don’t worry about petrol money. I don’t want it.’

  ‘Thanks, mate.’ Ritchie jogged round to the passenger’s side, got in and blew on his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them.

  ‘What are you doing roaming about by yourself at this time of night?’ Jack put the truck in gear and ambled along the lane. ‘Had a fight with the missus?’

  Ritchie considered holding his tongue. There was no point. Jack had about as much time for Ritchie as Ritchie had for Jack. Being polite was pointless. ‘That’d make you happy, wouldn’t it? If Serena and I weren’t getting on?’

  Jack’s face remained impassive. ‘So you had a bust up? Is that why you stormed off the stage? Did she find out you were cheating on her with some groupie or something?’ Jack glanced over, his eyes darkening with disapproval.

  ‘No. Never cheated, never would. It’s not my style.’ Ritchie paused. He wasn’t sticking around in Rabbits Leap and his name was already mud thanks to that Tiffany chick, so what did he have to lose by just being upfront about things to a complete stranger? ‘Fact is, she saw an email saying she was booked to fly home with me and she took it to mean I wasn’t serious about her. About her life here.’

  ‘Can’t blame her. Sounds like you were trying to make her do something she didn’t want to do.’ Jack slowed as a fox trotted across the road.

  ‘I wasn’t though. It was my manager’s doing, and I told Serena that, but she’s got it in her head that I wouldn’t survive life outside of the spotlight.’

  ‘Well you sure seemed to enjoy it tonight.’ Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see Serena’s point of view.’

  ‘Well you would, wouldn’t you?’ Ritchie rubbed his hands together and tried to stem his rising irritation. He reminded himself that irritation led to anger, which led to him being like his father, his family. And he refused to lower himself to their level. ‘I mean you’re clearly still interested in her.’