The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams

by Kellie Hailes

  ‘Oh no. There’s no Mia here.’ Josie projected her voice so it would penetrate the thick material surrounding Mia’s ears. ‘I was so hoping she’d be here. I need help decorating some cupcakes and I really need her thoughts on the matter. Do I add sprinkles or silver balls? Top them with a sweet? But if so, what kind? Jelly babies or pear drops? Wine gums or chocolate buttons? And what colour should I make the icing? I was thinking blue might be good. Better than silly old pink …’

  A muffled giggle erupted from behind the pinnies.

  ‘Did I just hear a Mia? Surely not?’ Josie took a step towards the giggles. ‘I can’t see her …’ Another step. ‘Has she become invisible? Does she have a superpower?’ She crouched down so she was at Mia’s height. ‘Which leads to the very important question … Does a super-powered invisible girl feel tickles?’

  She reached around the aprons and, with wiggling fingers, tickled Mia’s waist, until she folded forward and emerged from her cotton-cave, her eyes glistening with unshed happy tears, her cheeks red from laughing so much.

  ‘Stop, Josie. Stop.’ Each word punctuated with another breathless, high-pitched giggle.

  Josie dropped her hands from Mia’s waist then opened her arms out for a hug. ‘I’m sorry you were scared before. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. And I love that you wanted to give me a cuddle. You made me feel very special.’

  Mia took a cautious step towards her, then another, then flew into her arms and snuggled close, burying her face in Josie’s shoulder.

  Josie stroked Mia’s hair and rocked her back and forth, soothing any remnants of upset. A silent promise that she meant what she said. And she did. She wasn’t angry. She did love that Mia wanted to cuddle her. And Mia had made her feel very, very special. For the first time in far too long.

  She closed her eyes as a memory rose from a time long ago. A time when laughter had rung through the house, where tinsel had been hung from every bough of a Christmas tree. Where carols were sung. Hands were held. Love was abundant.

  Her family of three might have been small, but to her, they’d been perfect.

  Until they weren’t.

  She held Mia a little tighter. The wee poppet had been through so much, and yet she was still so full of fun, delight, laughter and love. Josie hoped she’d stay that way, that nothing more would happen that could threaten to stamp out Mia’s light.

  And it wouldn’t. Not on Josie’s watch. Josie wouldn’t let Callan retreat into himself. Would encourage him to see the good things in life. To want to be part of his community once again. No backwards steps. No anger from being left behind that morphed into never-ending sadness. No becoming like her father.

  ‘No blue icing.’

  The words were hot and insistent against Josie’s ear.

  Josie released Mia, folded her arms and tapped her chin. ‘Not blue? Are you sure?’

  Mia shook her head, her eyes serious. ‘Pink.’

  ‘What about pink and white swirled, like a candy cane? Maybe with crushed candy canes sprinkled on top?’

  A furious bobbing of head followed, and Josie had her answer.

  ‘Sounds fancy. Are they for the shop?’

  Josie twisted around and looked up to see a no-longer-red-faced Callan leaning against the doorway, hands in pockets, one ankle hooked over the other.

  Definitely handsome. And she was most definitely not interested. The awkward mistletoe kiss had proven that, well and truly, once and for all. The fizzy feeling that bubbled up in her body on seeing him was just … appreciation of an excellent combination of genetics. That was it. At least, that was what she was going to tell herself. On repeat.

  ‘They are, although …’ The cogs in Josie’s brain turned as another way of infusing Callan and the bakery back into the community began to form. ‘Margo has insisted I go to the lighting of the Christmas tree, so maybe instead of selling them in the shop I could give them out to the villagers during the event? A bit of promotion for the shop, and a nice gesture of seasonal goodwill. But only if you think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. It’d be nice to give back to the community after the support they’ve given us. Given me. Thanks, Josie.’ Callan squatted down as Mia came towards him. ‘Sorry about before, my sweetness. Daddy got a fright.’

  Mia shoehorned herself between Callan’s thighs, threw one arm around his neck and held her other hand up index finger pointed straight at Callan. ‘I didn’t like it, Daddy. I was just being nice to Josie.’

  ‘You were.’ He kissed her forehead and looked up at Josie. ‘Will you need a hand with the cupcakes? We could help you give them out?’

  ‘Does that mean Josie’s going to come with us?’

  ‘Of course, if she wants to, that is.’

  Mia turned a pair of large, pleading eyes to Josie.

  How could she say no? The answer was simple. She couldn’t.

  ‘It sounds like an excellent plan. But first, we need to decorate the cupcakes. Mia? You in?’

  Mia abandoned her father like he was yesterday’s news and ran to Josie, her hand raised, palm facing forward.

  They high-fived, then Josie pulled a stool over to the bench for Mia, grabbed an apron, and tucked it up and tied it so Mia wouldn’t get in a tangle and trip over. She lifted Mia onto the stool and began measuring out the icing sugar for the vanilla buttercream icing.

  A warm arm wrapped around her neck, before a soft kiss pressed against her cheek.

  ‘You’re my best friend, Josie.’

  Could a heart simultaneously grow and break?

  Josie had a feeling she was in danger of finding out.

  Chapter 9

  Callan kept an eye on Mia as she stood at the edge of the crowd watching the choir sing, while a duo of fire artists twirling flaming batons performed on either side. He’d cautioned her against getting too close, but every time the flames went within ten metres of her his heart leaped into his throat.

  ‘She’s going to be fine.’ Josie nudged him as she rearranged the selection of Christmas cupcakes she’d created.

  The peppermint swirl cupcakes had ended up sparking a small selection of bite-sized Christmassy treats. The Grinch cupcakes, complete with Smarties eyes, liquorice eyebrows and a jaunty red and white icing Santa hat had been swooped up by the local children, while the adults had feasted on vanilla cupcakes topped with an eggnog buttercream, gingerbread cupcakes complete with a miniature gingerbread man on top, and chocolate Christmas tree cupcakes heavily laden with ‘Christmas lights’, also known as colourful sprinkles, thanks to Mia’s enthusiastic hand.

  ‘What makes you so sure?’ He turned to Josie, who was in the middle of handing a cupcake to a harried-looking mother. Her smile was genuine, her eyes luminous, in part due to the fairy lights that were strung around town, but mostly because she was radiating happiness. Joy, even.

  For someone who wasn’t huge on Christmas, she sure seemed to enjoy the Sunnycombe festive season. He’d even caught her humming along to ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’.

  Josie pointed towards the crowd. ‘Look who’s behind her.’

  Surely enough Margo was to the left of Mia, one hand hovering over Mia’s shoulder, ready to grab her should she bound forward.

  Callan shook his head, embarrassed at his overprotectiveness. ‘Will I ever stop worrying about her? Is that just what fathers do? Is that how your father is with you?’

  Josie glanced down, but not before he noticed a shadow darkening her expression. A fleeting sadness that haunted her eyes, then was gone in a blink.

  ‘I’m sorry, Josie. I didn’t mean to pry.’ He grabbed an eggnog cupcake and held it out to her. ‘Cupcake? I hear they’re delicious. Much better than I could make.’

  Josie took it from him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ‘People have been actually saying that? To your face?’

  ‘Actually. Truly. Honestly. My ego is not dealing well with the news.’

  ‘Poor ego.’
Josie bit into the cupcake, then set it down on the trestle table. ‘I’m sure it’ll survive.’

  ‘I’m sure it will.’ Callan grinned as he noted the blob of icing on the tip of her nose. ‘You’ve got …’ He thumbed his own nose.

  ‘Do I? Messy eater.’ She rolled her eyes.

  Before he knew what he was doing, before he could stop himself, Callan reached out and ran his finger over the blob, ridding it from her nose, then popped his finger in his mouth and licked off the icing.

  He closed his eyes and thanked the organisers of the event for insisting on lighting the village’s Christmas tree in the evening, because the dimness of the night hid the heat rushing to his cheeks. Here he was, glad that yesterday’s forced kiss hadn’t made things awkward between them. That they’d gotten on with things afterwards like it was no big deal. And now he’d just re-fanned the awkward flames by behaving in the most ridiculous manner.

  ‘Did you just lick my nose icing?’ A fine line appeared between Josie’s eyebrows as her head angled to the right. Amusement was written all over her face. ‘Cat got your tongue? Or has the icing stuck your tongue to the roof of your mouth?’

  Josie’s gentle teasing, combined with the cute way the tip of her tongue peeked between her soft pink lips, something he’d not been able to get out of his mind since their kiss-fail, saw any attempts to formulate a reply fail.

  How could he explain away doing something so extraordinarily stupid in a way that didn’t make you look even more daft than you already felt?

  He turned his attention to the last of the cupcakes on the stands before them, hoping they’d provide the answer his brain was refusing to give.

  A blurry, white blob entered his field of vision. Something cool, wet and sticky smushed into his nose. Before he could give a ‘hey’ of surprise, a finger swiped his nose and the blob was gone.

  ‘Delicious. No wonder you were tempted.’

  He gaped at Josie who was licking her finger clean, her eyes half-closed in appreciation.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that.’ Callan didn’t know where to look. What to do. He’d never met a person so fearless. Or kind. Because that was what Josie was. Who she was.

  Kind.

  She could have left Mia to hide behind the aprons. Instead, she’d not only helped her feel better, she’d included both of them in her plans to show customers their appreciation. And just now she could have let him wallow in his embarrassment, instead she’d swooped in and saved him.

  When Josie had walked into the shop she’d just been another person, someone to help him out while he dealt with the Christmas rush. Now? It was too soon to say it, but deep down he knew it … Josie was becoming special to him. Not yet a friend, but somehow more than a friend. He didn’t want to put a name on his feelings for her. Wasn’t ready to. But he was grateful she’d entered their lives.

  ‘What?’ Josie’s eyes widened. ‘You started it. What else was I meant to do?’

  Callan shrugged. ‘Call me a weirdo and send me marching?’

  Josie laughed. ‘Not likely. Besides my father taught me nothing good came from name-calling.’

  Her father. Not her mother? Surprising. The general rules of politeness had always been enforced by Abigail, with him as back-up if needed. Did that mean Josie’s mother hadn’t been around? Was that why she was so good to Mia? She felt for her because she knew what it was like to grow up without a mother?

  Callan handed out the last cupcake. ‘Teaching manners. It’s something I never really thought about doing until after Abigail. From what I’ve gathered from the online parenting forums, it’s usually the mum’s job. Whether they like it or not.’ He kept his tone neutral, not wanting to sound like he was prying.

  Josie shrugged as she set the cake stands to one side, pulled the tablecloth off and began to fold it into a neat square. ‘You’re doing a really good job. You can only do your best, and I like to think that’s what my dad did right after Mum left. His best.’ She mustered a smile that didn’t even begin to touch her eyes. ‘Right, so now that we’ve been cleaned out, shall we join Mia? It must be nearly time to light the tree?’

  Callan pulled out his mobile and checked the time. ‘Twenty more minutes. That means twenty more minutes of warbling from the carollers. Do you think you can handle it? If you want to escape you can use putting the trays and tablecloth back in the shop as an excuse to leave. I won’t hold it against you.’

  As if to prove his point, the carollers broke into a rousing, and slightly off-key, rendition of ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’.

  ‘I’m not leaving you out here to deal with this all alone. Moral support. That’s what we anti-Christmas types need to provide each other if we’re going to get through it.’ Josie offered her arm to Callan. ‘You with me?’

  Callan slipped his arm through hers, amused by her old-fashioned gesture. Touched that she took his rediscovered aversion to the season so seriously. Surprised at how glad he was that Josie didn’t take him up on his offer to bow out.

  ‘I’m with you.’

  ***

  Josie led Callan through the crowd, amazed at the sights before her. Santa hats topped heads, tinsel was used as scarves and she’d never seen so many ugly Christmas sweaters in her life.

  She didn’t hate it.

  And that confused her.

  Was her dislike of Christmas truly hers? Or was she holding on to it because her father had declared it a no-go zone. A harsh reminder of the woman who’d left them. Who’d made the day so very special. So unique. Creating traditions that no other family had. Weaving her effervescence through the season, which made the day and the weeks leading up to it so stark, so hollow when she left.

  ‘Ho ho ho!’ A gent wheeling by on a unicycle tapped his reindeer-eared hat at them. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ she called to his disappearing back before turning her attention back to Callan. ‘This place is mad. I think it’s getting to me. In a good way.’

  ‘It really is mad. And I absolutely understand how it gets under your skin.’ Callan slipped his arm out from hers as Mia and Margo came into view.

  Was he embarrassed to be seen being friendly with her? Josie ignored the thought. Refused to entertain the hint of hurt that had risen. Callan probably didn’t want to confuse Mia, or have to explain that you could link arms with a friend and that it didn’t mean you were about to get married.

  ‘Mia! Have you got a hot chocolate?’ Josie abandoned Callan’s side and ran the last few steps to Mia, kneeling down to check out her drink. ‘Wow, how many marshmallows are in there? One? Two? Three? Four? Four marshmallows! Aren’t you lucky?’

  ‘Very lucky.’ Mia took a long sip then looked up with a grin, a foamy moustache on her upper lip. ‘Yummy.’ She smacked her lips for emphasis.

  ‘You are.’ Josie reached out and tickled Mia.

  ‘Not too much.’ Margo admonished her. ‘She’s had so many treats, too much tickling’s likely to bring them all up.’

  ‘And who’s to blame for giving her all the treats?’ Callan dropped down beside Mia and wiped her milk-moustache away with his handkerchief.

  Margo made a show of checking her wristwatch. ‘Would you look at the time? Must dash. This tree isn’t going to light itself.’

  In a blink Margo was gone. Josie stood and followed her movements as she weaved her way towards the main stage in the small village square, beside which a massive tree towered above those who’d come to celebrate.

  ‘Margo’s the village’s Christmas Spirit.’ Callan hoisted Mia up so she could get a better view. ‘She’s in charge of the festivities, which means she has to ensure the village Christmas traditions are adhered to. She even takes it upon herself to deliver gifts and spend time with those who don’t have anyone else on Christmas Day.’

  Josie suspected Margo threw herself into the season as much as she did because she was lonely without her own family around her. She made a mental note to buy Margo a Christmas gift and
to invite her around on Christmas Day for dinner, once Margo had finished her visiting. It was the least she could do for the woman who hadn’t just accepted her arrival in Sunnycombe, but embraced it. Embraced her.

  An uneasy mix of happiness and discomfort battled for supremacy. What was she doing spending time with the locals? Allowing them into her life? And just now, when she’d revealed to Callan that her mother had left her and her father? That was a first. Just as buying a Christmas gift and inviting someone round to celebrate the day was.

  This was dangerous territory, and the sensible side of her was begging her to back off, to back away. But for the first time ever, she was tempted to navigate this new path. To see where it led.

  A light tapping of finger on microphone echoed over the crowd, silencing them.

  Margo stood on the stage wearing a Santa hat covered in red sequins that glinted and gleamed in the fairy lights. A tumble of tinsel was draped over her shoulders and round her neck, and she’d donned a pair of glittery silver wings that shimmered with every movement she made. She was every inch the Christmas Spirit, and Josie promised herself she wouldn’t run from her plans to invite Margo to Christmas dinner.

  Margo’s smile broadened as she looked over those who’d gathered. ‘Welcome all to the annual Sunnycombe Lighting of the Christmas Tree. Have you all had a good night?’

  The crowd whooped and hollered their approval.

  ‘Are you ready to get your cheer on?’

  The crowd roared again.

  ‘In that case … hit it!’ Margo pointed a finger at the band who struck up a jazzy performance of ‘O Christmas Tree’.

  To Josie’s left a couple began to dance, spinning and whirling, which set off other couples around her. Meanwhile those who chose not to dance began to sing, bellowing out the words to the song.

  ‘I’ll say it again … This is madness.’ Wonderful, beautiful madness.

  She turned to Callan to see him standing still and ignoring an excitable Mia, who was shaking his hand, encouraging him to dance.