Christmas Wishes Part 3
“Hey.” Damon sidles up behind me and kisses the back of my neck, sending goose bumps down my body.
“Hey…” I say, turning to his soft smile.
“It’s freezing in here.” In my trip down memory lane, I hadn’t noticed the fire is down to embers. I set the acorn leaves aside.
“Take a break. Put your feet up.” He leads me to the sofa, and starts fussing with the fire to spark it up before joining me.
He surveys me. “Lil, you look a little…peaked. Are you OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I must look a fright. I push a tendril of hair back, as usual wearier once I’ve sat down for a moment.
“OK. It’s just I don’t want to be standing at the altar alone, while you’re tucked up in bed sick or something.”
I giggle at the thought of Damon all dressed up in his tux, checking his watch. “I’m no runaway bride. If I was sick I’d be there anyway. Happy to spread my germs with you. In sickness and in health, remember?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I remember. Let’s test the waters.” He leans closer and cups my face, and kisses me slowly. A tingle of desire races through me, and I’m giddy with the fact I get to marry this man.
“Get a room!” We jump as if scalded to the sound of my dad’s jocular voice and rise to greet him. He wraps me in a warm hug, and musses my hair. “Where’s Mamma?” I ask.
Dad scratches the back of his neck. “She’s running late on account of a wardrobe malfunction. I don’t know what that means, but there you have it.”
“A wardrobe malfunction?”
Dad shrugs and Damon takes it as a cue for drinks. “I’ll uncork the wine. You guys catch up a while.”
“Good man,” Dad says and sits heavily. There’s something utterly teddy-bearish about my father. He’s got a pot belly from too many sweets, and wears red braces that make him look like some kind of professor. His bushy eyebrows stick straight up as if he’s been zapped with lightning; they’re longer than the hair on his almost-bald head.
I lower my voice and say, “She’s dilly-dallying over what to wear, isn’t she?”
He touches a finger to his nose implying it’s a secret. “She said she’d just be a minute.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with what she usually wears.” I have the grace to blush a little as I remember myself fretting about the exact same thing this morning.
Damon returns with a bottle of red wine, and glasses. “Now you’re talking,” Dad says, accepting a glass eagerly. I think his pot belly might also be a product of his penchant for red wine, which he claims is purely medicinal.
A second later Mamma arrives, her hair covered in snowflakes, which melt quickly as she rushes towards the fire. She unwraps her winter coat and throws it towards Dad. “Evening all!” she trills happily.
“Mamma!” My eyes go wide with surprise. “What are you wearing?”
Golly, I can see where I inherited my fashion sense from. Mamma is decked out in a silky pantsuit, with every color imaginable splashed across it making my eyes cross in confusion.
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” she says. “I borrowed it from Rosaleen. She said shoulder pads are coming back in. And that the vibrant colors make me look a decade younger.” She gives her newly styled hair a dramatic flick. Obviously she snuck in to see Missy at the salon this afternoon too.
“Where’s Cee?” she asks.
“Gone on home. Says tonight is just about family.”
Mamma’s lips pucker. “But she is family.”
I shrug. “She wouldn’t hear a word of it.”
CeeCee is more than an employee; she’s my best friend and more like a mother figure, especially when my own was traveling the globe for nearly a year.
Mamma says, “Maybe she’s beat, Lil. You’ve both been burning the candle from both ends.”
“Yeah…I guess.” I survey the café, making sure I haven’t left any empty mugs or plates around. On the bench is the gum paste and the few acorn leaves I managed to mold so I wander over and pack them away. With one last look around I’m satisfied the café is as ordered as it’s ever likely to be. I wonder what strangers make of it when they walk in. The sofas are so well loved they’re worn. The dark chocolate walls have tiny chips where kids scuff up against them when they’re hooting and hollering around the place. Christmas decorations hang down from silver hooks in the ceiling, and golden tinsel laces around every available surface. To me, it seems cozy and festive, and almost like a home away from home. Woolen throw rugs are bundled in a wicker basket by the recliners, and secondhand books are an arm stretch away. I want people to visit, and loll about as if they’re at a friend’s house. To stumble in on a cold day, take a deep breath, savoring the scent of what we’re baking, and take their time while they’re here.
Dad and Damon wander to the window display, wine glasses in hand, chatting away as if they’re old friends. They’ve only known each other a few weeks, and already they get on so well, it makes my heart sing to watch them. Dad’s one of those people that really listens when you talk. Looks you right in the eye and asks questions as if you’ve gone and solved the meaning of life or something.
Mamma pours herself a glass of wine and I take the opportunity to strike. “I hear we need a few more place settings at the wedding?” I purse my lips.
She fumbles with the stem of her wine glass. “Honey, it’s only a few—”
“An entire bookclub, Mamma?”
“They’re my friends…”
“And Rosaleen?”
She lifts a hand. “You ever think she’s just lonely? I think she could use some friends, Lil.”
“How’re we all supposed to fit at L’art de l’amour? Mamma, I know you’re excited but how can I make that work?”
“Well, I asked—”
A flurry of wind whips in as the front door opens and in walks Olivia with George in tow.
“Good evening.” Olivia saunters over. She’s wrapped a fine fur stole. She makes a huge show of kissing Damon on both cheeks before striding over to me.
Mamma starts to fidget with her shoulder pads. “Olivia, I’m Lil’s mamma, Sue. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I hear the nervousness in Mamma’s voice and I just want to hug her.
Olivia smiles that sugary smile of hers and says, “Wonderful to meet you, Sue. We’ve been looking forward to this for an age.”
“Us too.” Mamma smiles at Olivia.
Olivia takes off her stole, and begins taking her gloves off, finger by finger. “Lil, as we discussed I went ahead and found you the centerpieces. They’re being delivered tomorrow.”
I clear my throat. “About that, Olivia, we didn’t actually—”
She grins at Mamma. “She’s so busy, what with the café, and Christmas, it was the least I could do. I practically drove the entire length of Connecticut until I found them.”
“That was really kind of you,” Mamma says. In the background Damon makes a joke that has both dads sputtering into their hands.
I glance back to his mother. “But, Olivia—”
“They’re gorgeous, stunning in fact. Big fake sweeping white lilies.” She puts so much emphasis on the words fake and lilies that I almost reel. Is she calling me fake? “They sit in a crystal vase, quite tall, actually. I did worry about people being able to see over the top of them, but figured that isn’t important in the scheme of things.”
“They sound darling,” Mamma says, and nudges my arm. “Don’t they, Lily?”
Damon sits on the arm of the sofa, swishing his red wine before taking a mouthful. I try to catch his eye, but he’s too caught up with a story my dad is telling. “Well,” I say, “I’d hoped on getting poinsettias as part of the Christmas theme.”
Olivia lets out a high-pitched laugh. “Oh, Lil. No! They’re so old-fashioned.”
Mamma nods. “I’ve been trying to tell her that.” I stare at Mamma, trying to explain by the sheer look in my eyes that she’s not helping.
Mamma touches Olivia’s arm. “Let me get you a drink. Red wine OK?”
“Lovely.” Olivia throws her gloves on the nearest table, and fusses with her jacket. “I hope you’re not upset, Lil? I didn’t do the wrong thing, did I?” For a brief second she looks contrite, and again I wonder if I’m making too much out of nothing.
“I’m sure they’re lovely, Olivia. I guess we’ll make them work. Although we had planned on a more festive—”
“Great.” She cuts me off as she twirls her wedding ring on her finger, a dazzling diamond that probably cost more than my house.
Damon wanders over, smiling like a loon. He loops an arm around my waist. “Your dad says he’s got the bachelor party all sorted. I intend to win big, and show the old men how it’s done.”
“Is that so?” I ask, arching a brow. Thankful he’s finally beside me.
“Darling, I was just about to tell Lil all about Katie. All those tête-à-têtes you two have when you come to New Orleans… I thought maybe it’s not too late to fly Katie here. She could definitely help with the menu.”
Mamma returns with an over-full glass of red wine, and manages to slosh half out before handing it to Olivia.
Olivia grabs a napkin from the table and wipes the side of her glass. Poor Mamma looks mortified. I shake my head, trying to signal to her it’s OK.
“Katie’s a lovely girl, quite famous in her own right as a chef these days, works alongside a Michelin-starred someone-a-rather. Damon adores her! Always rushes straight over there when he arrives in New Orleans. Don’t you, darling?”
I give Damon a closed-lip smile as my pulse speeds up. Damon has never once mentioned anyone other than Charlie when he visits New Orleans. I take a step back from him; his hand falls from my waist. “You rush over where exactly?” I keep my voice neutral but I’m sure everyone can tell from the clench of my jaw it’s the first I’ve heard of…Katie.
Damon has the grace to blush. “Katie’s an old friend of mine from high school—”
“They were childhood sweethearts.” Olivia puts a hand to her chest. “Such a sweet girl, lovely family too.”
Damon says, “We were just friends in high school.” He clutches my hand, and gives it a squeeze, but right now I have the most immense urge to ask Olivia what she’s playing at here. And Damon, too. Lunches with his childhood sweetheart?
“So you catch up with Katie a lot, then?” I ask Damon, finding it almost impossible to keep the hurt from my voice.
He swallows hard. “Charlie and I go to her restaurant when I visit New Orleans. We talk shop, that’s all. There’s really nothing more to say.”
We stand silently. Anger courses through me and in equal measure I feel like a fool. Olivia smiles benevolently, and I make my mind up about her. She’s intent on creating a wedge between us for some inexplicable reason. My dad must sense the awkward vibe radiating from us. He scoops up a platter of oysters Damon prepared and waves it under my nose. Immediately I cup my mouth and run to the bathroom.
Chapter Five
Six days
Damon lifts the quilt up to my chin, and kisses my forehead. “I’ve left a pitcher of water here, and there’s soup in the fridge when you’re up to it.”
I nod, truly miserable. Being sick this close to Christmas, especially with so much work needing to be done, and Cee having to take up the slack at the café is the worst possible timing. “Sure.”
He sits on the edge of the bed; the slight movement makes me close my eyes against waves of nausea.
“You were angry last night,” he says, stroking my hair back. “About Katie.”
I bury myself further under the blankets. The night comes rushing back. “Yes, Katie. An old flame…one you catch up with when you go back to New Orleans. Which is fine, except you neglected to mention it to me.”
He laughs, he actually laughs.
I scowl. “Which part of this is funny, Damon?”
“The Katie part. She’s not an old flame, not even a teeny tiny flicker of a flame.”
I let out a drawn-out sigh. “Right, well, your mother didn’t seem to think that was the case.”
He leans over me, his face close to mine, his wavy hair falling forward. I resist the urge to tuck it back for him.
“Lil, Katie was one of my best friends throughout school. We both loved cooking, still do, and now she’s on her way to being one of the best chefs in America.”
“She sounds like the whole package, Damon.” I try to keep the jealousy at bay but it ekes out anyway.
He grins.
“Don’t grin at me!”
He strokes my hair back. “You’re beautiful when you’re jealous, you know that?”
I scoff. “I don’t know why you’re not taking this seriously, Damon. Your mother blurting it out like that last night made me feel about this big.” I hold my thumb and finger together. “I had no idea you spend your weekends in New Orleans gallivanting and doing who the hell knows what.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “She’s gay, Lil.”
“So?” I pull the quilt over my head. She’s gay? “But your mother said…” I muffle through the quilt.
He pulls it down and kisses the tip of my nose. “She’s a great girl, and my mother has always assumed we’d be perfect for each other. Her family knows my family very well. But Katie hasn’t told them she’s gay, so when we were younger we let them think what they wanted. It was easier for her and everyone assumed we were a couple.”
“I thought…”
“I know what you thought.” He stands and grabs a sweater from the drawer, with one quick movement pulls it over his head. “I’d never hurt you, Lil. Ever.”
My stomach is a queasy lump, and I blush. “I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. In future I’ll tell you when I plan on gallivanting around New Orleans. Or better yet, you come for a weekend with me.”
He crouches by the bed. “I have to go. Will you be OK?”
I nod, closing my eyes against the roiling in my gut.
“The doctor should be here around lunchtime, but call if you need anything.”
Exhaling slowly, I say, “Can you check CeeCee is OK? Mamma’s going in to help her, but that could actually hinder her.” My mamma is the clumsiest cook there is. She’s liable to set the café on fire if you don’t watch her.
“They’ll be fine, but I’ll pop over and check. Let me know what the doctor says.” He kisses my forehead. “Sleep tight. I’ll call at lunch to check on you.”
I sink into the softness of the pillow. It’s only a moment before I drift off into a restless dream-filled sleep.
An hour or two later I startle awake, suddenly sure I know what’s wrong. I throw back the quilt, and race to the bathroom cupboard. In the very back are boxes of tests. I take one and rip the packaging open, hastily reading the instructions as I go, even though I’ve done so many before I’ve committed them to memory.
Two minutes. I’ll know in two minutes. My somber mood is instantly replaced with hope. Maybe I’m pregnant?
One hundred and twenty seconds have never moved so slowly, as I wait with the stick sitting on the window ledge, as if it’s not something life-changing, as it so clearly is.
I think of how I’ll tell Damon. Sweet things, I’ve heard, like putting a bun in the oven, and asking him to open it. Will he understand? Or buying booties, and wrapping them up. Or…
Two minutes are up. With a deep breath I peer at the test. One line shrieks out in neon pink. Negative. Devastatingly, positively, negative.
I ditch the test in the bin, and head back to bed, not bothering to wipe at the tears as they fall.
A knock at the door wakes me. Glancing at the time, I see it’s only eleven. Too early for the doctor. I amble out of bed, not bothering to check my reflection in the mirror.
I press my face up to the peephole. It’s Sarah. I smile, in spite of myself. I have the best friends.
“Hey,” she says as I motion for her to come in.
“Hey.”
“CeeCee told us you were sick. She made you a basket of goodies, and I brought you some magazines.”
I take the proffered bag, and say thanks.
“Get back into bed, Lil. You look positively green.”
I give her a rueful smile. “I thought I was pregnant, but I’m not.”
“Aw, Lil. I’m sorry.” She follows me to my room and sits on the end of the bed. “Maybe, you know, once all the wedding stuff is organized, and after all your Christmas orders are sorted, your body will slow down, and it’ll just happen.” Her black bangs hang over her eyebrows, highlighting the genuine look in her eyes.
“It’s stupid worrying over it, already, isn’t it?”
“It’s not stupid, Lil. You’ve wanted to be a mom your whole life. It will happen, but right now you’ve got so much on. It’s just a matter of time.”
I’ve been taking pregnancy tests almost weekly since Easter. But Sarah is probably right: once things settle down my body will just know, and it’ll happen. The yearning for a child is almost indescribable sometimes, is all.
“You’re right,” I agree. “There’s still so many little things that need to be organized and I feel awful leaving CeeCee at work. Is she OK?”
Sarah scrunches up her nose. “She’s…” Her voice trails off.
“Mamma?” I know by Sarah’s expression there’s been some kind of drama at the café.
She nods. “I don’t know how to tell you, Lil. So I’ll just say it. She somehow tripped and knocked your display fridge over. The wedding cake…” Sarah pales. “I’m sorry, Lil. It’s completely ruined.”
I gasp, picturing the three tiers of perfection toppling over and smashing to the floor. “Please tell me you’re joking,” I whisper through my hands.
“I’m so sorry, Lil. Your mamma is beside herself with worry. But I’m sure we can fix it. We can all help…”
“But…how?” I’m beginning to feel as though my wedding is cursed.
She shrugs. “CeeCee said don’t worry, you can make another one when you’re back.”
I’m too stunned to speak. That cake took us the better part of a whole day. Will we even have enough time to make another one? I want to weep with the worry I feel. “I can’t believe it. How could she knock over a huge fridge?”
“She feels terrible, Lil.”
I sigh, thinking of Mamma, I know she’ll be upset, and I fight hard to let the anger subside. “I guess we can always make another one…”
Sarah presses on. “Good news. Missy said Bessie’s finished our bridesmaid dresses and yours isn’t far away.”
I smile, Sarah’s managed to change the subject to something more positive. At least that’s one thing Mamma can’t ruin. “I can’t wait to see them.” The girls have mink satin gowns, similar to my dress, but with a high back. They’re cut on the bias and swirl out at the bottom like a creamy wave. When we hunted for material, and held up the color next to each of their faces, it suited them so perfectly they instantly agreed on that fabric. I’d expected the usual bridesmaid disagreements, especially as all of us can be vocal when we dig our heels in, but, so far, everyone seems happy with my choices. Bessie from the haberdashery shop designed them, and they’re truly magnificent.
“When you’re feeling better we’ll all go and you can see what you think.” Her forehead furrows.
“What?”
“There was one other thing, though, being relayed like Chinese whispers, we might have misunderstood, because it doesn’t seem right…”
“What doesn’t?”
Sarah takes a deep breath and says, “Well, Bessie told Missy that Damon’s mother called in to see your dress.”
“Really? I haven’t even seen it!”
Sarah swallows hard. “She told Bessie to make it short, to cut it above knee length…”
I gasp. “What? Why would she do that?”
“So you didn’t ask her? That is so odd! Don’t worry. Bessie thought the whole idea was ridiculous so she said to Olivia that unless you come and tell her yourself, she’s designing the dress the way you asked.”
My mouth hangs open. Why would she do such a thing? I tell Sarah about the centerpieces, and about alluding to the fact Damon was visiting his so-called high-school sweetheart, and how they were perfect for each other.
“So when you add all those little things up, Lil, it does sound like she’s plotting something.”
“But why?” To have someone level-headed like Sarah agree makes me crumble inside. What’s Olivia’s motivation?
Sarah shrugs. “God knows. You’ll have to ask her, Lil. Be upfront, and demand to know why she’d do that. Otherwise, what else has she got planned?”
My eyes go wide as I think of all the things she could undo without my knowing.
“This is like something out of a book,” Sarah says, biting down on her lip.
“You’d know,” I say, laughing. “It’s so ridiculous it’s almost funny.” I sober when I imagine myself walking down the aisle in a short gown, and then being surprised by a venue change. “I’ll have a talk with Bessie, and then see what Olivia has to say.”
Later that evening I’m as sick as I was the night before. If the ground opened up and swallowed me I’d be OK with that. It’s like being seasick, as I roll slowly over in bed lest I start retching again.
Damon arrives home as the snow falls hard outside. I’ve hardly moved all day, and I know the house will be arctic without the fire lit. He enters the bedroom, his complexion rosy from cold. “Lil,” he says, and kneels beside the bed, surveying me. “Have you eaten?”
I shake my head no.
“How about I fix you some soup?”
“No, I’m OK.” I’m still too queasy to think of food. I pat the bed. Damon shuffles around to the other side, takes his boots off and gently hops in beside me. He pushes tendrils of curls softly from my face.
“What did the doctor say?”
“He took some blood tests, just in case, but thinks it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing. I should be OK tomorrow.”
“I hope so,” Damon says. “It was the strangest feeling, glancing across the road today and you weren’t there.”
“I missed you.”
He groans, and pulls me in for a kiss. “I missed you more. Next time you’re sick, I’ll stay home. Everything else can wait.”
I smile. “You’d close your shop, just like that?”
“I would.”
I drop my gaze, collecting my thoughts so I can tell Damon without making it a blubber-fest. I feel silly crying over the fact I thought I was pregnant. “I took a pregnancy test.”
His eyes go wide, and he pulls back and searches my face.
“Oh,” he says, reading my expression.
“Not this time,” I try to keep the disappointment from my voice.
He presses his lips together. I know he wants this as much as me. “It’s OK. Maybe we just need to try harder.” He gives me a silly smile, trying to lighten up the mood.
I laugh. “Well, OK.”
We lay silently staring into each other’s eyes. I commit every nuance of his face to memory. The tiny thin scar he has above one eyebrow, a relic from a childhood bike tumble. The starburst pattern in his deep brown eyes, like miniature fireworks. The love I feel threatens to swallow me up whole sometimes. Real love, it makes life come alive and when we’re like this together, in the quiet, any doubts about Olivia float away. I’m determined to get to the bottom of her antics without Damon getting tangled up in it. But right now, I’m going to enjoy snuggling in Damon’s arms while the snow falls heavily outside.
Chapter Six
Five days
The next morning, still fragile, I head to the café.
“Well, lookie here,” CeeCee says as I untangle my scarf and walk through the front door. “Oh, Lil, you pale as a ghost. This ain’t good right before your wedding. How you feelin’?”
“I’m good, Cee. How are you? I felt so guilty leaving you here.” The café looks the same as it always does; one day off and I half expect things to have changed. Well, aside from the gap where one of our display fridges used to be.