Chocolate Dreams at the Gingerbread Cafe

by Rebecca Raisin

  “Well?” Joel says again, interrupting my train of thought.

  I exhale all the hurt and the worry in one long gust of breath. “I can give you three thousand, Joel. But that’s all I have. And it’s more than you deserve.” I don’t mention the festival proceeds just in case he agrees on my paltry savings. Paltry to him, certainly not to me. But there’s no way I’ll be handing over any cash until I hear back from Mr Jefferson.

  “You’re just going to have to sell, then, Lil. I’m not playing a game here. I’m serious. I’ll give you one more day to organize something or I’ll file with a lawyer,” he threatens.

  “One day? This isn’t a movie, Joel.”

  “Don’t be smart, Lil. In the meantime, I’d hate to see a fuse blow at your precious café. Imagine that — all your fridges off for the night…all those cakes for the festival, ruined. You’ve got one day.” He slams down the phone.

  I let out a barrel of expletives and only wish Joel were still on the phone to hear them.

  ***

  CeeCee’s at the café when I arrive, slamming her palms into pastry dough as if it’s a punching bag.

  “Why are you here so early?” I ask.

  “Thought I’d make a start on these pies.”

  “Sure, but you didn’t need to come in early. Let me help.”

  I take a ball of dough.

  “Damon left early this morning too. Hope it’s not my morning breath that’s scaring him away.”

  “Hmm, don’t think it’s that,” CeeCee says.

  “Do you think it’s weird, Cee? That he’s been leaving in the morning without me? We usually have coffee and mosey on down together. Now he’s up and gone before I’m even awake.”

  CeeCee looks at me sternly. “What you gettin’ at?”

  I shrug. “I just hope Joel hasn’t made him rethink things, that’s all.” I’m not used to the range of emotions that swim inside me, when it comes to Damon. I almost want to cling to him, because he’s so much more than I’ve ever had.

  She tuts and tosses down the dough. “So Damon’s left early a couple days this week? Days Charlie’s been here? Kids that age are up before sparrows, that’s what it is. I seen the way you two carry on — all that huggin’ and kissin’ you do when you think no one’s watchin’…”

  A blush rises up my cheeks. “Whoops.”

  “Yeah, whoops, all right.” She sighs, big and dramatic. “Young love, it’s a beautiful thing.”

  “Young? Why, thanks, Cee. Has Mr Jefferson called back yet?” I pummel the pastry.

  “Nope,” she says. “And I checked that fangled machine for messages, nothin’.”

  “Joel called this morning, said I have one day to sort something out. He’s really hamming up that whole bad-guy act.” I don’t mention his threat about the fuses — CeeCee would be at Old Lou’s before I could say boo.

  “One day? What you s’posed to do in one day?”

  I shrug. “Exactly.”

  CeeCee grunts, and shakes her head. “Put it out of your mind, sugar. Oh, before I forget, another delivery of chocolate buttons arrived. We can get started on the rest of the Easter eggs. I thought we could fill up the smaller ones with some zany flavors for kids, like sherbet, that kinda thing. What you think?”

  “Sherbet? Sounds amazing!”

  “Folks certainly won’t find that anywhere else. I wanted to leave early today on account of running some errands.”

  “Errands? You want me to do them?” I usually help CeeCee with her shopping because she doesn’t own a car.

  “No, no,” she says quickly. “Just some things I need to sort out. It won’t take long.”

  “OK. Take your time, Cee. I thought I’d organize those make-at-home choc-chip cookies in a jar, for the festival.”

  CeeCee wraps the balls of dough in cling film, and sets them in the fridge to rest. “You want me to pick up some pretty ribbons to tie around them while I’m out?”

  “Sure.”

  ***

  After the lunch rush, I walk out to the office to return Mr Jefferson’s call. He phoned earlier when we were knee-deep in customers, and I could tell by the tone of his voice the news wasn’t good.

  “Mr Jefferson, it’s Lil.”

  He sighs, a long drawn-out sound. “Lil, I got some bad news. He’s wrapped you up tight with this. By the looks you’re going to have to pay him. From what I can see, the loan has gone through his dad’s business, so technically you owe the twenty thousand, plus interest.”

  “Even though his dad’s passed on?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Seems Joel is the beneficiary of his dad’s estate, and is chasing everyone who still owes them. Not that there’s many with anything tangible left. They got some nerve, that family, sending people broke with the amount of interest they charged. No one could afford that kind of money. They preyed on desperate people.”

  I rest my head against the cool of the wall. “That they did. What should I do? See about getting a loan…”

  Mr Jefferson clears his throat. “We can see about getting a payment plan of some type. There’s a host of things we can legally do. You can fight it, it’s just the cost of that if you lose…”

  “No, I don’t have the energy to fight him. Let’s see about some kind of payment terms, then. You think you can hold him off for a little while?”

  “I do, Lil. Let me contact him, and see about negotiating.”

  Chapter Nine

  We’ve made over a hundred small eggs, filled with various flavored luscious ganaches to replenish our stock for the last time before the festival. We dust the tops of each egg with colored sugar crystals to differentiate the flavors.

  Our jam jars are filled with all the dry ingredients to make chocolate-chip cookies. We’ve tied star-shaped cookie cutters to the jars with gingerbread ribbon. A cute little gift idea we couldn’t resist trying.

  “I’m going to add a few of these to the window display,” CeeCee says.

  I nod distractedly as I tidy the bench.

  A moment later CeeCee rushes back in, her eyes wide, hand on her chest.

  “What, Cee? You OK?”

  She is breathless, and points to Damon’s shop. “He’s there, out front with Damon!”

  “Who?” As soon as the word leaves my mouth I realize. I rush to the window to gaze out. Joel. He’s pointing a crooked finger into Damon’s face.

  “Oh, my gosh, I better go over…”

  But CeeCee tugs my arm. “No. Leave it. That’s what he wants. He trying to scare you. Damon’s not a coward. He can stand up for himself.”

  My heartbeat speeds up. “Yeah, but he shouldn’t have to, Cee. This has nothing to do with him.”

  “Leave them be.”

  My hearts leaps as I see Joel poke and prod his finger into Damon’s checker shirt. Damon stands there looking a lot more dignified than Joel, who’s yabbering and yelling like a fool. Damon shakes his head at whatever venom Joel’s spewing out.

  “Cee, what if they fight?”

  “If he don’t leave soon, it’s gonna be me who marches over there.” Cee looks determined.

  Joel’s voice carries over on the wind. He’s so angry he’s spitting.

  “Cee,” I say urgently, “this is escalating. I have to go…” I trail off when Joel pushes Damon hard in the chest, making him stumble backwards.

  Damon regains his balance and steps forward, grabbing Joel by the collar of his shirt. A crowd has gathered to watch, including the local shopkeepers, who yell at Joel to leave. Joel’s face is red with anger as he snarls at the crowd, and angrily flips Damon’s hands off his shirt. He lunges forward at Damon, pushing him hard in the chest. Damon lifts a fist, ready to strike Joel just as Charlie wanders out to the stoop, her face pinched with fear. He shakes his head, as his anger is replaced with concern at seeing his little girl so scared.

  “Charlie…” I gulp.

  “Is that all you got?” Joel barks at him.

  “That’s it!” Cee beats me to the pu
nch; before I’ve even turned to look at her she’s powering across the street yelling all manner of things.

  “I don’t hold with cuss words, Joel, but you making me rethink that! You get your grubby paws offa Damon this minute…”

  Joel’s eyes are wide with surprise at CeeCee’s volley of abuse. I walk to the front and call for Charlie; she takes one look at her daddy, and races across the road. I pick her up, and murmur soothingly to her. She turns back to watch out of the window, her little heart beating quickly through the fabric of her dress.

  “It’s OK, Cee,” Damon says, holding a hand up. “Joel’s just leaving, right?”

  “Oh, no, he ain’t!” CeeCee steps between the two men. “Not till I’ve said what needs to be said. And don’t think I won’t smack you upside the head if you don’t listen!”

  Joel scowls at her. “Oh, yeah? I’d like to see that.”

  “Glory be, you nasty. You could start an argument in an empty house.” She turns to Damon. “You go on in now.”

  Damon shakes his head.

  “Go and see Charlie bear, make sure she’s OK.”

  He’s glued to the spot, not wanting to leave CeeCee by herself. I wave him in, wanting him as far away from Joel as possible. Seeing him literally fight my battles is not something I want on my conscience, no matter how much Joel deserves it. Plus I don’t want Charlie to witness anything so frightening.

  “You forget I’ve known this boy since he was knee high to a grasshopper, so get.” From the window I can see give Damon give her an imploring look. She waggles a hand at him to leave.

  He takes his time ambling across the street, looking back over his shoulder to make sure CeeCee is safe.

  “Hey,” he says, walking into the café. He takes Charlie from me, and kisses her nose. “You OK?” he asks her.

  She looks up at him, her blue eyes wide. “I’m good. Was that man going to hit you?”

  “No, honey, no.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. We clasp hands and watch CeeCee unleash a tirade at Joel. He takes a step back from her but listens to whatever it is she’s saying.

  “She’s certainly got his measure,” Damon says.

  “It’s not right. I should be the one out there, not either of you.”

  “That’s what he wants, Lil. So he’s not having it. Better he knows you have a whole town behind you, ready to back you up. Quicker he learns that, the better.”

  CeeCee lowers her voice, but her arms flail as she gesticulates wildly.

  “Think he’ll be scared off now?”

  “We can only hope,” Damon says.

  ***

  CeeCee marches back into the café puffing and panting as if she’s been to aerobics.

  “I’m glad I told that snake exactly what I think o’ him.” She takes a few deep breaths and stands at the window like a sentry. “It’s been a long time coming.”

  Damon scoops up Charlie from the stool, where I set her up with a piece of carrot cake. “I better get back, ladies. You keep an eye out. If he comes back make sure you holler over.”

  I hug them and watch Damon carry his daughter across the road.

  Turning back to Cee, I ask, “What’d you say to him?”

  “Plenty! Never mind, cherry blossom. I’m parched like some kinda camel.”

  Guilt surges through me as I hug her. It seems everyone is fighting my battles. It’s time I got rid of Joel for good. I decide I’ll call the bank, see if I can get a credit card or some kind of loan. While I’m there I’ll withdraw my savings and see if that amount tides him over for now. There’s no point drawing it out; I just want him out of all of our lives.

  Rushing to the kitchen, I mix up a big glass of iced tea and take it back to CeeCee. “At least sit down, Cee.” She’s staring out of the window. I can’t read her expression.

  “Cee?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

  “I need to go run those errands.” She takes a big gulp of iced tea. “You want anything done while I’m out?”

  “You sure you’re OK to be going barreling around town after that?”

  She laughs, her big-bellied haw. “Never been better. Righting a wrong sure is good for the soul.”

  “Well, OK. If you’re sure, Cee. Maybe take a few hours, see about visiting Janey?”

  “I won’t be long.” She straightens her dress, and pats down her hair before heading out.

  ***

  Uneasy. That’s how I feel when I hang up the call with the local bank manager. Worry sits in my belly as heavy as a brick. He can fix me up with a credit card, but only for a few thousand. And it’ll take a fortnight before I can draw on it. This is like a bad dream that never goes away.

  Chapter Ten

  The morning of the chocolate festival rolls around. I’m jittery with nerves. I hope everything goes as planned, and that there are no spectacular cooking mishaps. It’s one thing to muck up a recipe in the café but quite another to do it in front of almost the whole town. Most of our chocolate recipes are prepared; it’ll just be a matter of keeping up and replenishing, with only a few things made fresh, like chocolate soufflés, which we’ll bake in batches, and I pray they rise into a gooey, chocolaty cloud.

  I get to work early, and find an army of volunteers sitting on the chairs out front sipping mugs of something spicy. “Morning, everyone,” I say, leaning close to peer into their drinks.

  Sarah from the bookshop speaks up. “It’s a hot cup of gingerbread cocoa. You missed the little gingerbread men Cee perched on top. We ate them up first!”

  I laugh as CeeCee wanders out with a tray of more drinks, and offers me one.

  “Thanks, Cee.” I feel almost sad crunching into the cute little button-nose gingerbread man who floats amongst the whipped cream.

  “You got the tables, Lil?” CeeCee asks.

  “In the truck. I’ll bring it around and we can set them up when you’re ready.” I borrowed trestle tables from the town hall. We’re going to line them up under umbrellas, and each station will serve a selection of chocolate-themed deliciousness. The road will be closed for the entirety, so we can spread tables down the length of the street.

  Damon walks out from his small goods shop with Charlie in tow. She skips over to CeeCee and hugs her tight. “My little angel, you go on inside. There’s a special milkshake on the bench for you.” Charlie squeals and runs inside to investigate.

  I clap my hands. “Before we start, CeeCee and I wanted to thank you all for helping out today, and, remember, you can eat as much as you want! So feel free to take a break from your table and sample everything that’s on offer. We’ll be running things inside, and making sure you’re stocked up out here in the event everything sells.”

  Our volunteers let out a whoop, and gather together to help set up. I force myself to look cheerful, but I have a horrible feeling Joel might turn up and ruin things. He said I had one more day, so I expected another pre-dawn phone call from him threatening me. But so far, nothing. A tiny ray of hope runs through me — maybe Mr Jefferson’s involvement scared him off. Maybe he is gone for good. Or is that just wishful thinking?

  ***

  The Gingerbread Café explodes with noise as we cram in as many kids as we can to help paint the Paschal eggs. Laughter rings out as they crack almost as many as they manage to paint. CeeCee and I grin at each other. “At least they’re empty of goo this time,” she says, yelling above the din.

  The streets are crowded with people milling about, sampling all the chocolate desserts on offer. We cover a few of the tables with newspaper and wave to a bunch of kids, who eagerly run up and take a seat. I direct them all to the cotton wool, and paper plates, the pink cardboard and colored pipe cleaners.

  “Right, kiddiewinks.” I hold up a finished bunny-rabbit mask. “So you glue each piece in order as they are on the table, then, once you’re done, I’ll tie a length of elastic through these tiny holes here—” I indicate “—and then you can h
ang them on the pegs Cee’s left on the string line out back, to dry…” Before I’m finished talking, hands spring from every direction, eager to get their crafts started.

  The Mary-Jos arrive in a hail of glitter. They’re dressed in frou-frou pink gowns, and wear plastic tiaras. One of them, hard to tell which under all that make-up, swishes a wand around, and says, “You, you, you, follow me for face painting!”

  The children push their chairs back, and chase after her.

  ***

  It’s midday when I’m zigzagging through the throng of the festival, and notice Walt’s shop is closed. I stand still as people sidestep me, and watch the shop for movement. Maybe he’s taking a break and has closed the doors for some peace and quiet. I think back to the morning, searching my memory to whether I saw Walt’s shop open at all. I don’t think I did. And why hasn’t Janey stopped by the café? CeeCee’s been her best friend since they were girls, there’s just no way even a squabble would keep Janey away, and if they did bicker the furniture shop would still be open.

  I march back into the café and search for CeeCee.

  She’s leaning against the door jamb, watching Charlie paint a nest made out of shredded brown paper.

  “Where are they?” I ask more abruptly than I mean to.

  She pretends not to hear me, but I see her face fall slightly.

  “Have you ever seen a girl concentrate so hard?” she murmurs.

  “Cee.”

  She shakes her head, and I see her eyes glisten with tears.

  “We just gonna head out back for a minute, Charlie bear, OK?”

  I follow CeeCee outside to the car park.

  She leans her bulk against a rusty old car, and takes a deep breath. I wait patiently, my mind spinning possible scenarios.

  “I was goin’ to tell you after the egg hunt tomorrow. I wanted you to have a good weekend and be able to focus on the business and what with that conman Joel and everythin’…”

  “Tell me what?”