Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop

by Kellie Hailes

  Ritchie nodded his thanks. ‘I appreciate that, Roger. I promise I’ll do everything you ask, when you ask. I won’t be a problem.’

  Serena set the apple on the table, suspicion narrowing her eyes. ‘I still don’t know how you’re making this happen, Ritchie. I know you’re meant to be working on your album. And he who must be obeyed, Barry, isn’t one to let you off your leash quite that easily.’

  The uncomfortable squirming returned to Ritchie’s stomach. His manager, Barry, didn’t know where he was. No one did. It was the reason he’d asked for the cone of silence. If Barry found out there were no songs, that there was no album, he’d have him locked in a studio until Ritchie squeezed out something recordable. Barry didn’t understand that without Serena beside him, he was muse-less, and music-less. Coming here on the quiet had been his only option.

  ‘What can I say? Barry saw I was heartbroken so he gave me some time off.’ The lie came easily. It had to. If Serena knew Barry wasn’t in on it she’d call him, give away Ritchie’s location, and next thing you know he’d be on the first first-class flight back home. Sans Serena.

  Ritchie grabbed his phone, tapped and swiped, then held it up for Serena to see. ‘Look. My calendar is clear. I’m not taking anything else on until you agree to be mine again.’

  Serena slumped back into the chair and buried her face in her hands. ‘You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You’re not going to let it go?’

  ‘Nope. That’s the good thing about being an arrogant, rich, rock star – I don’t stop until I get what I want. Or who I want.’ Ritchie flashed a wink at Serena.

  ‘If you start stalking my daughter …’ Marjorie warned, shaking her forefinger in his direction. ‘I’ll leave you alone with Daisy. She’ll deal to you. Her farts are lethal. You wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  Ritchie thrust his hands up, warding off the threats. ‘No. No stalking here. I won’t have to.’ He angled his head towards Serena. ‘The thing is, sweet thing, you may have given up on us. But I haven’t. Out of all the things I have going on in my life, you are the one thing I am certain about. I just need to remind you why. So I’ll start by being of help to those you love dearest. Show you I want to be properly part of your life.’ Ritchie sniffed the air. ‘Something’s burning.’ He looked up to see smoke snaking from the oven. ‘Marjorie, I think your bacon’s about to be charcoal.’

  ‘Giddy aunt.’ Marjorie snatched up a tea towel and fanned the smoke away while reaching over and twisting the grill’s knob off. ‘Just what I need.’ She glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘And would you look at the time? All this talk’s got me behind. The girls need milking. Serena, you started this. You’re going to have to finish it. Which means you’ll have to show Ritchie the ropes up at the milking parlour. Go. Go.’ She flicked the tea towel in their direction. ‘Make yourselves useful.’

  ***

  Ritchie and Serena walked side by side in silence up the well-worn dirt road towards the parlour. Serena’s eyes scanned the ground before them, not once flitting towards Ritchie. Irritation radiated from her, punctuated by sharp hisses of breath as she picked up the pace; no doubt she wanted to get there quickly so she could get away from him as soon as possible.

  Ritchie used Serena’s distraction as a chance to check her out, to see if six months apart had changed her in some way.

  He saw the same wild long curly black hair. The same petite nose, perfect for kissing. Rose red lips in that little bow shape that drove him crazy. And the same brown eyes, the colour of espresso with a dash of milk. The kind of eyes a man could drown in. There were a few tiny new lines around those enchanting eyes, but essentially she looked the same. On the outside at least. For Ritchie sensed something within her had changed. The fierce and free Serena had taken a back seat to one who was calmer and more relaxed. Something he’d never known her to be.

  His spirited wife had been tamed… by a business of all things.

  Ritchie sucked in the soft flesh of his cheek and bit down on it, as uncharacteristic worry invaded the confidence he’d spent years cultivating. Just how badly would this business of hers impact his plan to win her back? Because he needed her back. It wasn’t just that he needed his muse in order to write… he missed her, utterly, totally and absolutely.

  Life without her was lonely.

  His ego had kept him ensconced in their Malibu mansion, whispering in his ear that she’d be back. And he’d believed it, because how could she not? They had a love unlike any other. At least so he’d thought.

  Days had turned to weeks. Weeks to months. And she’d not returned. It had taken every ounce of humility he had to ignore his ego, to book flights, to come for her. But would she return with him?

  Doubt gnawed at his stomach. Why would a person who was happy go back to a life that had made them unhappy? And what the hell was so damn great about running a chocolate shop? And how did Serena even know how to do that?

  Ritchie squared his shoulders. It was no good asking himself all these questions. He wasn’t the one with answers. ‘So, Serena, since when do you know anything about running a business?’

  Ritchie could see Serena was trying to keep neutral, but he didn’t miss the flare of pride brightening her face.

  ‘Since I started taking online classes. It was how I filled my nights once I returned home.’

  ‘Classes? As in plural?’ He sidestepped a cowpat and had to jog to reach Serena as she powered up the hill.

  ‘It’s wonderful to see your grip on the English language is as good as ever. All those late nights, booze, and Lord knows whatever else was offered to you on the road since I left, haven’t fried your brains.’

  Ritchie caught Serena’s hand in his, bringing her to a stop. ‘Not fair, Serena. You know I don’t go in for all the ‘whatever else’ being offered to me. Not for years anyway. I stopped as soon as you told me it was taking its toll on our relationship. Booze, yes. Late nights, yes. But I had to do something while I was out on the road, alone. Then at home, alone.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me you haven’t let one of those fawning groupies comfort you since I’ve been gone?’ Serena shook her head, her curls flying as a ‘pfft’ of disbelief escaped her lips.

  Hurt skittered through Ritchie’s stomach. Did she really think so little of him? ‘I can’t believe you’d even suggest I would. God, I’m known for my faithfulness. The boys don’t call me ‘whipped’ for nothing. It’s always been you, ever since our eyes met across the crowd at that gig. You were all I saw in that heaving mass of faces. All I wanted. Nothing has changed. It won’t ever change.’

  ‘Well, maybe I have.’ Serena stopped outside the milking parlour. ‘Actually, no “maybe” about it. I’ve changed. I needed more than what was on offer back in LA.’

  ‘And that meant coming back to the place you were desperate to leave to see if it held something for you?’ Ritchie shook his head as he took in the sight before him… a herd of cows bellowed as they waited impatiently outside the grey breezeblock building with its matching grey corrugated iron roof. What the hell was he doing here?

  ‘We’re here.’ Serena stopped short of the entrance, her eyes focussed on the fields ahead, refusing to meet his.

  Ritchie swallowed a sigh of irritation. Serena could ignore his questions and put up as many blockades as she wanted, but he wasn’t going to let it go that easily. At the very least he deserved a proper explanation. And if asking straight out wasn’t getting him the answers he needed then he’d turn on the flirtatious charm to get what he wanted.

  ‘So now that you have me here, Serena, what are you planning to do with me?’ Ritchie nudged his hip against hers and turned on his brightest ‘nothing you say or do is going to hurt me’ smile. One he’d had plenty of time to perfect when he was a young boy. When showing weakness meant a harsher punishment.

  ‘Don’t be cute with me, Ritchie. I’m going to show you how to milk the cows, like Mum ordered me to. Though Lord knows
why you’d want to. Or why you offered. It’s not like you’ve ever shown an interest in the family farm… or in my family, come to that.’

  Ritchie leaned in, his lips centimetres from Serena’s ear, always one of her ‘yes’ spots. ‘Maybe you don’t know as much about me as you think you do. Maybe I might be able to surprise you. If you’d give me a chance.’

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ sniffed Serena, her cheeks flaming from pink to crimson.

  Ritchie gave her a smug smile, happy to see his words had their desired effect, despite the mock shiver of disgust he’d witnessed. ‘So, what do I need to do?’ He swung his arm over her shoulder companionably, refusing to let hurt engulf his heart when her body tensed at his touch and she ducked away from him.

  Serena scanned the herd. ‘We’re going to have to get Daisy. She never comes when it’s time. She’s a difficult one.’

  Ritchie bit back a retort. There was no point comparing Serena to a cow. That wasn’t going to get him anywhere except shunted out of town.

  ‘There she is.’ Serena pointed to a lone cow a good one hundred metres away from the parlour, its black and white head bent almost nonchalantly as it munched on grass. ‘She knows we’re here too. Look at those ears, alert as anything. Cheeky little bugger. Right, you go and fetch her.’

  ‘Me?’ Ritchie took a step back. ‘What do I know about getting cows?’

  ‘Didn’t you just say you could still surprise me?’ Serena raised an eyebrow. ‘So, go. Surprise me. I’ll meet you in the collecting yard.’

  She turned on her heel and marched towards the parlour, leaving Ritchie to eyeball the errant cow. How did one get a cow to do something? Could he apply human logic? There was only one way to find out.

  He jogged over to Daisy, who looked up, as if sensing him, and started to mosey further away. Not ideal.

  ‘Daisy.’ He said the word low and slow, sing-song style. ‘Daaaaaaissssyyyyy.’ He bent down and ripped a hunk of grass from the field.

  The beast stopped moving away. Ritchie’s chest deflated in relief. Good, that was a start.

  He patted his denim-clad legs. ‘Come here, girl. Come. Come.’

  The cow didn’t budge. Okay, so it was his turn to give a little. He took cautious steps towards Daisy, not wanting to spook her.

  Her luminous brown eyes appeared to look him up and down. Was it his imagination or did she just bat her eyelashes at him. Ritchie shook his head. Surely not? He must’ve been imagining it. The fresh air must be getting to him.

  ‘Good girl. Goooood girl.’ He reached the beast and held his hand out. Daisy nibbled at the grass. Ritchie dared to stroke her side and was rewarded with a low moo.

  ‘Gotta go and get milked, girl. Come with me okay?’ He patted her side, then took a few steps towards the parlour. His heart filling with pride as Daisy followed suit. And they said she could be difficult? They just didn’t know how to handle her.

  ‘Got her.’ Ritchie called out to Serena as he and Daisy strolled up to the rest of the waiting herd. ‘Wasn’t hard.’

  ‘Strumpet.’ Serena muttered, giving the cow a friendly pat. ‘A good looking man comes along and you’re putty in his hands.’ She turned from the cow, a good-natured grin on her face and walked up to the entrance. ‘Alright girls, you know the drill.’

  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.’