Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop

Ritchie watched, amazed, as the first batch of cows filed into the parlour in an orderly manner, each stopping beside a set of cups.

‘Don’t just stand there, gawping. Pop the gate across so the girls can’t back out and then come down here into the pit, and I’ll show you what to do.’

Serena beckoned Ritchie down into an area set lower than where the cows were standing and passed him a pair of latex gloves, before twisting round to turn on an old stereo sitting atop a small table.

Ritchie cocked his head to the side as soaring string music filled the room with a familiar tune that sent an unwelcome shiver down his spine. ‘Christmas carols?’

Serena pulled a pair of gloves onto her hands. ‘Classical Christmas carols. The girls enjoy classical music. I guess Mum switched the CD I had in there for a more seasonally appropriate one.’ She brought the palms of her gloved hands together and rubbed them back and forth. ‘Right, first things first. Your first job is to grab a dry wipe, a fresh one for each cow, and clean their teats, starting at the head of the line.’

‘Um, what?’ Ritchie took a step back, his heart skipping a beat. ‘You want me to touch those? Nope. Not going to happen.’

Serena gave an exasperated huff. ‘Fine. Don’t. It’s no skin off my nose. But don’t expect a comfortable stay here. You told Mum you’d help, going back on that promise won’t end well.’

Damn it. Did she have to act so casual? Like she didn’t care one way or the other. Oh, that’s right. She didn’t. Ritchie stared at the teats dangling before him. He could do this. He had to. ‘Fine. I wipe the teats clean. Then what?’

‘Then you check to make sure they’re healthy. If the udder seems swollen, hot or tender, or if the cow has recently recovered from mastitis, then you forestrip and check the milk.’

‘Forestrip? You want me to get naked and check the milk?’ Ritchie’s stomach curdled in suspicion. Was Serena having him on?

‘Bloody hell, Ritchie. That’s gross. Unhygienic too. No, it means you milk the cow a little. This girl’s fine, but I’ll show you how just in case you need to do it.’ She took a teat between her hands and manipulated it so milk shot forth into the bowl she was holding underneath.

Acidic liquid burned its way up his gullet. What the hell was he doing here? Offering to do this? He didn’t know how to milk a cow. He wasn’t interested in touching teats.

‘Now you do it.’ Serena stepped aside. ‘It’s not hard. Just wrap your thumb and forefinger up round the base, then gently squeeze it, but don’t dick around, make it quick.’

‘You don’t expect me to do that.’ Ritchie eyed the bowl Serena was holding out to him. ‘I mean, isn’t it a bit… intrusive.’

Serena paused and closed her eyes with a small shake of her head. ‘This isn’t going to work. You don’t want to do it. And even if you did, Mum can’t leave you up here alone. If there is something wrong with one of the girls you’re not going to know. What the hell was she thinking taking you up on your offer?’

‘Probably hoping it’ll send me home. Get me out of her hair. Out of your lives for good.’ Ritchie eyed the teats. ‘Shows she doesn’t know how determined I am. Move over, I’m going to have a go.’

Serena stepped to the side with a flourish of hand. ‘She’s all yours. Just remember, grip and squeeze. Gentle and quick. That’s the key to it.’

Ritchie took a deep breath, closed his hand around the teat and did as he was told, jumping as the cow bellowed.

‘She senses your nervousness. Pretend she’s your guitar. Pretend you’re an expert. Pretend…’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. Fake it ‘til I make it.’ Taking a big, calming breath in, he gripped and squeezed. And just like that a squirt streamed into the cup, and another, and another. Ritchie laughed. ‘It’s working! I’m a natural! That’ll show your mother.’

‘She’ll be furious.’ Serena grinned as she indicated for him to stop. ‘More so when I tell her she’ll have to supervise you to ensure the herd’s health is up to scratch. I won’t have time. Hell, I don’t have time. I shouldn’t even be here.’

‘Maybe that’s part of why she so readily agreed to let me help out.’ Ritchie mused. ‘Maybe she thought you’d feel obliged to help me out, make sure things didn’t go wrong. Maybe she hoped it would make you see sense. See that this is the place you’re meant to be. If that makes sense.’

Serena acted as if he hadn’t spoken as she unhooked the cups set next to the cow. ‘Now after you’ve wiped and checked the cow over, you attach the cluster.’ She demonstrated how then nodded at the line. ‘You do it for the rest of the girls.’

Ritchie took a fresh dry wipe from the dispenser, moved to the next cow, cleaned off the teats, then attached the cups. ‘Was our life together really that bad, Serena? Did you really hate it that much?’

Serena forced herself to meet Ritchie’s eyes. It would be so easy to lie, to say yes, it really was that bad. And while she didn’t want Ritchie here, she also didn’t want to hurt him further. ‘No. Not at all. So much of what we shared was great. Amazing, actually. How many girls from a small village in the middle of nowhere get to lounge about in five-star hotels, walk down red carpets wearing dresses that haven’t even hit the stores, travel the world, visit places they’ve only ever read about…’

‘Remember that time we holidayed in Bora Bora?’ Ritchie’s eyes twinkled as he prepared another cow for milking. ‘Days spent bathing on the deck of our overwater bungalow. Nights spent making love…’

Serena knew what was coming next. The funniest, craziest and possibly most embarrassing moment of her life. One they’d laughed about for years after, usually while snuggled up on the outdoor loveseat at their Malibu home, the waves beyond crashing onto the golden sand.

‘I can see by those rosy cheeks of yours, Serena, that you haven’t forgotten. You dared me to go skinny dipping in the ocean, so we did.’

Serena met Ritchie’s gaze. Held it. She could go down memory lane one last time if it meant proving her point. ‘And then you challenged me to a swimming race. First to stop would have to give the other a full body massage each night for the rest of the holiday’

‘And we swam and swam to what felt like the end of the horizon, then realised we were too tired to swim back.’ Ritchie inched closer to her. ‘Thank God that fishing charter passed by, or we would have been fish food.’

Serena forced herself to turn away, to not engage. To keep the moment light, to stop it turning intimate. ‘Which I still think would have been preferable to being hauled out of the water naked as the day I was born in front of a boat load of tourists.’

‘We gave them the ultimate holiday story. A goggle at our goodies felt like a fair trade for them saving our lives.’ Ritchie turned back towards the cows and began cleaning and cupping the last in line for milking.

‘It was a good time, Ritchie. There’s no denying that.’ And it had been good. One of many amazing moments they’d shared. But moments didn’t change a person’s personality.

‘It was a great time. But a decade of great times wasn’t enough to keep us together…’

‘That’s because my leaving had nothing to do with the lack of good times.’ Serena gritted her teeth. It was time to be as straight up as she could. Her decision to leave Ritchie had been of the snap variety, but the events that had led her there had been a long time coming. ‘My leaving had to do with me finding my way, finding myself. When we first met I was a girl looking for adventure, excitement, passion. All the things I believed I’d never find in Rabbits Leap. Despite Mum’s belief that I was born to be a farmer I knew that wasn’t the case. I like cows, but I’m not passionate about them. Anyway, I’d promised my parents I’d return home after my education was over, but in my heart I knew I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to be happy. Yet with every passing month at university I could see that fate closing in around me.’

Ritchie’s head jerked back. ‘Are you saying you used me to ensure you didn’t have to return home? Is that all our relationship was to you? A way out?’ His face stilled. Became devoid of emotion. As it always did when they were on rocky ground.

‘I know you’re only saying that because you’re hurt.’ Serena kept her calm. There was no point aggravating the situation further. She walked back to the front of the line, Ritchie in her wake. ‘Once the milk flow has stopped the cluster will automatically drop off. Then you’ll need to dip each of the teats with this.’ She held up a tube filled with liquid and demonstrated dipping. ‘It helps keep bacteria at bay.’ She stepped back and motioned to Ritchie to go through the rest of the herd, copying what she’d done, after the udders had emptied. ‘Our relationship was never a way out, Ritchie. I thought it was a way forward. I thought we were building this incredible life together, but I don’t know, over time it felt that all we were building was a wall that separated us.

Ritchie’s jaw tightened. His chest stilled. Did he know what she was talking about? Had he felt the wall too? That excitement she’d mistaken for emotional connection had devolved over time. Morphed into her being at Ritchie’s beck and call, doing as he wanted, when he wanted. And when she brought up anything she thought would be good for them – or her – seeing family, the possibility of children, her not touring… he’d shut down. Turned off. And away. Each episode lasting longer than before. The silence stretching from hours into days.

And she was the one who broke first. Always. Melting the ice by ordering in his favourite foods. Inviting his band mates over for a party. Buying lingerie with the aim of certain seduction. Always hoping the latest icy episode would be the last. That he’d chill out. Open up. Until one day, one phone call, their last, had made her realise how futile it was to expect someone to change when they didn’t want to. That the only person who could create change was herself. And so she had.

‘What I don’t get, Serena…’ The words rasped from his lips. Low. Controlled. Tight. ‘What I don’t understand… is how you could have loved me only months ago and now all you want to do is push me away? You talk about a wall, but from my perspective you’re the one building it. Hell, you won’t even let me stay under the same roof as you. You’ve got me staying at your parents and you know how I feel about family.’

‘No, that’s the thing. I don’t.’ Serena ignored the thump of her heart against her ribcage, didn’t allow her pitch to heighten, her frustration to show. She wasn’t that person anymore. The one to break. The one to get upset in the face of rigid composure. ‘I know you don’t do families. You said yours don’t get on. But you won’t say why. I don’t know how I managed to spend a decade with you and yet in so many ways you’re still a stranger.’ Serena took a step back, her hands curled into fists, nails piercing flesh, keeping her in control. ‘Anyway, what kind of reception were you hoping for, Ritchie? I asked to be left alone and you came for me. I don’t want to work on the farm but because you’re here, inserting your will, I’ve lost a good chunk of time showing you the ropes, hours that would be better spent putting the finishing touches on my shop. And what really gets me, irritates me, is that even when I don’t want my whole life to revolve around you, you make it so it does.’ Serena dropped her gaze to the ground. ‘God, and you have no idea how much it hurts to have you here.’ The words she’d meant to stay on the inside came out a whisper.

She tried to sidestep around Ritchie, but he moved with her, blocking her.

‘You’re the one who’s hurt? Really?’ His voice was eerily calm, almost peaceful. At odds with the emotions radiating from him. Hurt. Anger. Sadness. ‘One minute you think you’re happy, content. Hell, you’d go so far as to say your life is perfect. Everything you could have hoped for and more. The next, poof, your world is in turmoil. Your nights are spent alone, awake, tossing and turning and wishing the person you love most was there to draw towards you, to become one with you. Then your days… Your days are hollow, so you try to fill them with anything you think might bring you a measure of the happiness that the person who’s left brought you, but you can’t. Because without that person you lose your will to be anything, anyone.’ He paused. His brow furrowed, his gaze penetrating, as if he was willing her to see his side of things.

Serena exhaled. What a mess. ‘Well then, I guess you do have an inkling of what it was like to be me.’

The impatient bellow of a milk-full cow broke through the nerve-crackling tension.

‘Look, Ritchie, let’s just finish milking the girls and, I don’t know… you can stay. You can go. It’s up to you. It’s your life. The only thing I know is that it’s time I lived mine.’ Serena strode to the end of the parlour, opened the gate so the cows could leave, and pretended to check them over one more time, keeping her face out of view, not wanting Ritchie to see the solitary tear that trickled down her cheek.

CHAPTER THREE

Ritchie stared at his notebook. The page stark white. Empty of his usual ideas for songs, lyrics, album themes or title ideas. The page was as desolate as his heart. He’d hoped seeing Serena would be enough to get his creative juices again, but it appeared he was juiced out. Being around Serena wasn’t enough, he had to get her back. But how did you get a woman who didn’t want to be got?

It was about as easy as writing a song that refused to be written.

‘Oh. You’re here.’

Ritchie glanced up to see Marjorie hovering at the kitchen door.

‘Sorry. Do you want me to go? I can go for a walk. Go to my room…’ Ritchie knew Marjorie wasn’t his biggest fan. Not that he blamed her. There was no reason why she should welcome with open arms the son-in-law who’d not once made the effort to meet her with. But he was here now, and if she was willing to let him stay, even under duress, then it was time to make the effort.

‘No. You’re fine there. I was just wondering where Serena had got to.’

Ritchie dropped his gaze to the table. ‘Dunno. I heard the truck take off earlier. I’m guessing she’s gone back to the shop.’

‘That bloomin’ chocolate shop.’ Marjorie strode to the dining table, pulled a chair out, made to sit down, then changed her mind, pushed it back and began to pace up and down. ‘I don’t know what’s got into that girl’s head. Since when has she cared about chocolate? Or owning a business? How does she even know how to run a business? It’s not like she’s been doing the farm accounts. Roger’s the one who deals with those. Was it you? Did you put the idea in her head? Did you fund it with all your money?’ She marched up to Ritchie and shoved an accusatory finger in his face. ‘Are you the reason she’s left home, again?’

‘Woah.’ Ritchie threw his hands up. ‘Don’t shoot. I haven’t got a thing to do with this. I didn’t even know she could make chocolate. And where she got the money from is beyond me. She hasn’t touched any of our joint bank accounts. Unless she…’ An image of Serena’s five-carat canary-yellow diamond engagement ring and matching yellow and white diamond encrusted wedding ring flashed through his mind. Had Serena been wearing them? Could she have hocked them to start her business? Surely not. Ritchie shut his notebook with a firm slap. He peered down to see if his heart had plummeted to the floor. No. The floor was clear. Of course it was – the pain crushing his chest was proof of that.

‘What? What’s wrong?’ Marjorie took a step back and folded her arms. ‘Have you figured something out? Tell me. I’m her mother. I need to know what’s going on with her. Something’s not been right since she got back, and she won’t talk to me about it. Changes the subject if I even touch on her being out of sorts…’ The hardness in her eyes softened into what looked like helplessness. ‘And I’ve been so worried.’

Ritchie understood the feeling well. Too well. It was time he took charge of the situation and sorted things out. ‘Where is she likely to be right now, Marjorie, back at the shop?’

Marjorie glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s after five. Probably at the pub.’

‘Then that’s where I’m going.’ Ritchie stood and stalked to the door before turning around. ‘Where’s the pub again?’

‘I’ll show you – I’m coming too.’ There was a rattle of keys as Marjorie grabbed the set from the hook by the back door.

Ritchie nodded, his heart going out to the woman. Apparently he wasn’t the only person Serena was holding out on.

The Bullion’s oak door slammed behind Ritchie and Marjorie with a crash. People looked up from their conversations, their mouths dropping into wide ovals whey they saw who’d come to join them in their revelry.

Ritchie adopted an easy-going smile. One he hoped said, ‘it’s no big deal. Let’s not make a fuss. I’m just here with my mother-in-law for a quiet beer’. At the same time, he took a moment to enjoy their awe and bask in their admiration. All the while, he was glancing over the crowd, looking for Serena, hoping she too would see the effect he had on people. He wanted to remind her what she was missing out on.

He scanned the bar for a sight of her customary topknot above the heads of the rest of the punters, but no bouncing curls were to be found.

Apprehension stopped his swagger in its tracks. Her mother had thought Serena would be at the pub, but – what if she wasn’t here?

‘Oh, look, it’s Jack.’ Marjorie stepped around him, strode towards the bar and touched the elbow of a bloke sitting on one of the stools, a half-empty pint glass sitting in front of him.

‘Jack, have you seen Serena? I thought she’d be here, having her usual with you.’

Uneasiness settled in Ritchie’s stomach as he took in this Jack. Sandy blond hair that was short at the sides and backs, but with a little more length on top. His face was round, but chiselled. Broad shoulders gave way to a waist that didn’t look to have an ounce of beer-gut on it.

Serena had been having drinks with this movie-star handsome guy?

‘Hi, I’m Ritchie.’ He thrust his hand out. ‘I take it you’re Jack? Nice to meet you. How do you know Serena?’ Ritchie sat down on the stool next to Jack and indicated to the barman he would have whatever Jack was having.

‘Jack and Serena go way back.’ Marjorie settled onto the spare stool.

‘Is Roger here, Marjorie?’ Jack craned his neck, giving Ritchie the opportunity to get a better look at him. Solid, straight nose. Eyes that were emerald green. Easily as good looking as he was, but in a clean-cut style as opposed to his edgy rock way.

‘No.’ Marjorie nodded at the barman as he offered to pour her a glass of red. ‘He’s prepping the sheds. It took its time getting here but winter’s finally on the way. They’re saying there’ll be snow for Christmas, but I doubt it. Only snows this early once a century. If that.’

Jack nodded. ‘Yeah, don’t see it snowing. But the weather’s been a bit off. Driest autumn I can remember in quite some time. Still, I’m not taking any chances. We’ll be housing our stock tomorrow.’

‘We?’ Ritchie leaned in. ‘Do you and your wife have a farm as well?’

Jack’s eyes flicked over to Ritchie. ‘No. I’m not exactly lucky in love. I manage the day-to-day running of Jody McArthur’s farm.’

‘Oh. I see. Serena’s friend. She’s mentioned her a few times.’ Ritchie nodded his thanks to the barman as he set his beer down in front of him. ‘Never wanted to own your own farm, then?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever had the money to buy one. That’s okay. I’m happy where I am.’

‘Nicest bloke you’ll ever meet is our Jack.’ Marjorie smiled fondly. ‘Was a time we’d hoped he’d be joining us on our farm.’

‘Did Jody nab you before Marjorie had a chance?’ Ritchie politely enquired, although he had a feeling he knew exactly what Marjorie was meaning.

Jack’s cheeks pinked up. He ducked his head and took a long slurp of his beer.

‘Oh, I see.’ Ritchie nodded amiably, despite his stomach knotting up. Jack wasn’t just a family friend, he was the guy Serena’s family had hoped she’d settle down with.

‘So, no Serena then?’ Marjorie mused. ‘Where else would she be?’

‘To be honest she’s not been around much this past month. Been busy in her shop, getting it ready.’

Marjorie’s head jerked back, a frown replacing the smile on her face. ‘Really? That’s not the Serena I know. When she was on the farm she was down here as soon as milking had finished for the day.’

‘Well I guess she’s moved on with that part of her life.’ Jack took another sip of beer.

Was Ritchie imagining it, or was there a secondary message in Jack’s words? Had Serena moved on from the farm, and from him? With Jack?

Irritation mixed with frustration pulsed hot in his veins, spreading through him, filling him.

No. Stop. You don’t do anger. You’re not like him. Breathe.

But he couldn’t. The idea of Serena being with another man. With this man. It was too much. Too hard. He had to get out of the pub before he became the one person he never wanted to be.

‘Look, I’ve got to go.’ Ritchie slid off the stool and backed away from the situation before he did anything rash. ‘I’ll find my own way home, Marjorie.’

Spinning on his heel he marched towards the front door, shoved it open and stumbled into the street. He leant against the building, closed his eyes and breathed out. Long. Deep. But that wasn’t calming enough.

If Serena had moved on completely then being here was a waste of time. He’d just have to find another way to be inspired. Find another way to be happy.

He opened his eyes, blinked once and then blinked again.

What the hell was he seeing? And how had he not noticed it before?

Ritchie stepped into the street and did a slow three-sixty turn.

The street was illuminated in a golden glow, as hundreds of thousands of fairy lights dripped off eaves, twinkling their way merrily down the main street. Elaborate wreaths hung off shop doors. Circles of ivy interspersed with holly, silver-sprayed pinecones mixed with spruce, branches of fir through which red, gold and green baubles were artfully placed. Shop windows were lit from within, each decorated with …

He moved to the closest shop, the stationers, where little wooden soldiers marched along the window, heading towards a miniature Christmas tree, under which little painted presents in an array of festive colours were placed. He shuffled over to the next window, the butcher’s. A wooden toy train, its carriages filled with tiny boxes wrapped in paper and ribbon, took pride of place.

Ritchie scanned the rest of the stores. Sure enough, each and every one of them had embraced Christmas in a massive way.

He waited for the soul-shaking shudder to roll through him, as it usually did when faced with festivity. Yet it didn’t. Instead a tinge of amusement had replaced the dark fury that had curled mere minutes ago in his gut.

What the hell was going on here? Going on with him? Christmas repulsed him, yet here he was not completely sickened. And he’d caught himself singing along to the carols in the parlour. The first time he’d done so since he was seventeen. And why was Serena’s the only shop to be bare of decorations? She’d never seemed the type to be massive on Christmas but surely she’d think it would be important to follow on with village traditions?

A light shining from the direction of her kitchen told him she was in. He stalked over and, not bothering to knock, he opened the door. ‘Serena? You in?’

A soft sigh, tinged with exasperation, greeted him. ‘Yeah, I’m in. Come on through. Though I’m sure you’d do it even if I didn’t extend the invitation.’

Ritchie grinned. They may have been apart, but she still knew him so well.

He strolled to the kitchen, stepped inside and leaned back against the wall, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. ‘So, what’s up with the light show out there? It’s like someone ate too much sherry-laced trifle and vomited up Christmas.’