Читать книгу Christmas Wishes Part 3 - Diana Palmer - Страница 43
ОглавлениеWhen I wake this next morning, I’m alone. I touch Damon’s half of the bed; the sheets are cold. Rolling out of bed, I find my robe and wrap it around me. The house is warm; he’s stoked up the fire before he left.
Walking through the small hallway to the kitchen the air is rich with the scent of roasted coffee beans. I must have slept through his fancy coffee machine as it gargled its way into life this morning. It usually vibrates, and churns so forcefully, it’s almost as if the ground is shifting.
There’s a note by the kettle, where Damon knows I go each morning to make my much easier instant coffee.
Lil,
I left to have breakfast with my parents, I didn’t want to wake you, you were completely zonked.
Damon. xxx
I laugh in spite of myself. Zonked is a nice way of saying my mouth was probably hanging open, my hair a tangled mess. But I wonder why he didn’t wake me regardless. Maybe he wanted time alone with his parents? Half relieved, I dress quickly and head out front.
The truck takes for ever to start. I sit there with my breath fogging up the windscreen; eventually it sputters to life, and I reverse slowly on the icy driveway.
The main street is dark as I chug along, and head around the back of the café to park. A strip of light peeps out under the back door of the café. CeeCee. I hurry inside.
“There you are, sugar plum.” She pours a cup of thick golden syrup into a bowl, and mixes it through the other ingredients.
“Gingerbread?” I ask.
“Gingerbread cakes,” she replies. “With lemon sugar icing, and candied fruit.”
“Let me help.” I wash my hands and don my apron. CeeCee’s laid the bench with the ingredients to make candied fruit, so I begin by chopping cherries in half and taking the pith out.
“I take it you didn’t sleep on it like I told you?” She sizes me up over the rim of her glasses.
I continue with the cherries, trying to be delicate so I don’t squash their flesh. “I slept fine.”
She harrumphs. “Glory be, those bags under your eyes are so big I could carry my shopping home in ’em!”
I give her a rueful smile. “That so? I guess Olivia gave me a lot to think about, that’s all.”
She clucks her tongue. “Like what?”
“Like what if Damon’s only staying here because of me?”
“Child! O’ course he is! That man loves you! But he was set on staying here from the moment he opened that shop door. Don’t you go obsessing over every little thing ’cause you getting the fever…” She purses her lips.
“What fever?”
“Mmm hmm, you getting the wedding fever. Don’t think I don’t know!” She waggles her finger at me.
Taking a pot from the hook above the stove, I mix sugar, honey and water and bring it to the boil. “What the heck is wedding fever supposed to mean?”
“You getting the jitters.” She puts her big brown palm up. “Don’t you start backchatting me neither. I know what you gonna say, so don’t. You need to take some deep breaths and trust in the love you have for each other. Weddings…they send everyone a little cuckoo.”
I laugh, picturing myself mopping my brow struck by some so-called wedding fever. “You’re right, Cee. It’s just…she made these off-the-cuff comments like Damon hates small towns, and stuff that’s the complete opposite to what he said to me, you know, so one of us is wrong about Damon…”
“Who’s been with Damon almost every day for the last year?”
“Me.”
“Then you ain’t the one who’s wrong.”
I shrug. “Maybe.” I take an orange from the bowl, and peel it; the citrus scent is almost like a tincture.
“Hurry along with that fruit now. I’m going to bake these gingerbread cakes, and you still need to boil that batch in sugar syrup before we can dry it out in the oven.”
I cut the orange peel into small slivers, and add it to the pot, along with some lemon rind, and some pineapple skin. Once the batch is boiled, absorbing the sweetness of the sugar syrup, we’ll dry the slivers in the oven. Then we’ll dust them with sugar crystals to sit atop the gingerbread cakes, a little shimmery goodness that’ll make them sparkle under the fridge lights.
The gingerbread cakes cool on the bench; the scent of spicy ginger makes my mouth water. We’ve moved on to making cake pops. They’ve proved to be popular among the locals, adults and children alike. CeeCee’s all set on decorating the chocolate pops with red sanding sugar and tiny snowflakes she’s made from white chocolate. There’s nothing sweeter than spending an age trying to get the cake pops to look uniform, and then customers pop the dainty mouthful in and, just like that, they’re gone. The perfect bite-sized treat.
“So have you got your Christmas shopping sorted, Lil?”
I pour batter into the cake-pop molds, slowly so it doesn’t spill over. “I have. I just need to find Charlie a few more things for her stocking, and that’s about it.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” says a velvety voice behind me.
“I didn’t hear you!” I say, turning, smack bang into Damon.
“I stopped the jingle from jangling, so I could surprise you.” He kisses the tip of my nose, and then dips a finger into the batter. “Hazelnut?”
I nod. “And orange liquor. Strictly for the adults.” Surveying him, I see he’s all loose limbed again, unable to stand still. Maybe he’s got the wedding fever.
“You’re looking like the cat who got the cream,” CeeCee says to Damon.
“Well, I surely did, didn’t I?” He loops his arms around my waist, and smiles. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you this morning…figured it was too cold to be anywhere but in bed.”
As I gaze into his bright eyes all the niggly worry I have evaporates. “You’re as excitable as a puppy.”
“That’s because there’s only eight more days until you become my wife! And…I wanted to know if I could sneak you out of the café early tonight?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Just you and me and a blazing fire.”
Before I can say boo CeeCee says, “O’ course you can! We got an early start this morning anyways…Lil can shoot through, and I’ll close up.”
“But, Cee…”
“No buts, you lovebirds need some time alone together.”
I smile, grateful. In the last few weeks we haven’t had time for much other than working. Often going home and falling into bed with a quick hug. “It’s a date, Mr. Guthrie.”
“That it is, Miss Lily.”
“Go on and shoo, then,” CeeCee says to Damon, who grins like a lovesick teenager. “She’s got some work to do before then.”
“OK, OK. Bye, ladies.” He jogs out and across the road, waving to people as he goes; as usual all we see is the way the denim of his jeans hugs his butt. Golly, I could stare at him crossing the road all day.
CeeCee raises her eyebrows so high she almost falls over backwards. “And you think he ain’t crazy in love with you? You ain’t got the good sense God gave a goose if that’s what you think!”
I giggle. She’s right. He’s as happy as ever, and it’s because we’re getting married. All doubt gets cast aside, and I keep on with my cake pops.
“Close your eyes.” Damon holds my upper arms as he leads me inside our cottage. “Keep going, I’ve got you.”
“What is it?” I listen out for any sounds that might clue me in on what his surprise is but all I hear is the crackle of the fire.
“You’re going to have to wait and see.”
I take small steps, suddenly unable to remember where our furniture is placed now that my eyes are squeezed shut. He pushes me forward; he’s so close his breath tickles my neck. The scent of roses hits me as I head closer to the sound of running water.
“Nearly there…and stop.” He pushes a door open, and by the squeak it makes I know it’s the bathroom. “Open your eyes.”
I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the light. “You ran me a bath? That’s the big surprise?” I can’t keep the laughter from my voice. Damon had been back over to the café to pick me up, and was gushing about all the things he was going to surprise me with.
He rolls his eyes. “If you’d care to look a bit closer you’ll see it.”
I scan the bathroom. My green terrycloth robe isn’t on the hook — instead there are two new bathrobes hanging up. Flummoxed why he’d buy bathrobes, I say sweetly, “Thank you! I’ve always wanted a new robe! How did you know?”
With a chuckle he says, “Lil, you’re the worst liar!” He pulls one of the robes down and hands it to me. On the right lapel in shiny gold embroidery it says, ‘Mrs. Guthrie’. “Oh! That’s so sweet! And what about yours?” I take his down; sure enough ‘Mr. Guthrie’.
“I figured you spend half your life soaking in the tub…this way you won’t forget me.”
“I could never forget you.” I lean in for a kiss.
“There’s a bunch of bubble bath, and stuff there from Mary-Rose’s shop. I thought you could relax, while I make us a fancy dinner…and then you’ll get your other surprise.”
“Another one?”
He grins wickedly. “This one is more for both of us.”
I make a show of wiggling my eyebrows. “Can we skip dinner?”
“This is why I love you…”
I pull my boots off, and take down my jeans. “There’s room for two, you know?”
His eyes are trained on my shirt as I unbutton it from the top down.
“Let me help you with that.” He rips my shirt open, and we laugh as buttons scatter to the floor. “This is why I bought the dressing gowns…”
