Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop

by Kellie Hailes

  ‘It’s not very comfortable standing up here. And I suspect the longer you stand up here the more uncomfortable you’ll feel.’ She winked, and he understood what she was getting at. ‘Go, sit.’

  Ritchie nodded his thanks and beat a retreat to Serena’s table.

  ‘Finished interrogating my friend?’ Serena crossed her arms over her chest, and lifted her chin.

  ‘Well, I was interrupted by your other friend. So not quite.’ Ritchie angled his chin in direct a reflection of hers. If she could dare him to lie, he could certainly dare her to not back off from the conversation they needed to have. ‘Did you leave me because I wanted you to keep touring with me?’

  ‘You’re not going to let this go until you’ve squeezed every possible reason for my leaving out of me, are you?’ Serena’s arms tightened around herself. ‘Fine. I left you because, like I said, things had gotten stale. I didn’t know who I was anymore. Because you wouldn’t let me in, and because you wouldn’t let me take the lead, wouldn’t let me choose. It all led to our lives no longer being simpatico.’

  ‘Not “simpatico”?’ Ritchie slung an arm over the chair next to him and adopted a casual pose, at odds with the way his heart had begun to pound like hard rain on a tin roof. ‘Care to explain?’

  ‘You wanted what you wanted. You wanted to make music. To tour. And yes, you wanted me with you, and you refused to listen when I said I wasn’t interested in touring anymore. Hell, you had our housekeeper pack bags for me the day before you were due to leave. We were out of step, Ritchie. You wanted me to live life the way you wanted it lived. I just wanted to breathe.’ Serena lifted her coffee cup to her lips, but didn’t take a sip.

  ‘Well maybe if you’d not just run off, and if you’d explained to me this need to breathe, I would have backed off.’ Ritchie met Serena’s disbelieving gaze, locked on, refusing to break first. ‘You just left without saying a word. You didn’t give us a chance.’

  ‘Bollocks I didn’t give us a chance.’ Serena reached up and released her hair from its top knot, shook it out and left it loose. ‘I gave us chance after chance. I stuck around through thick and thin because I loved you. But it got too hard, Ritchie. If I tried to talk to you about something you didn’t want to talk about you’d block me out. I’d get more conversation out of a stone wall. In the end I just felt like your designer handbag dog. Great to show off in front of your friends, but not good for much else.’

  ‘What the hell? Designer handbag dog? For one, I would never have a designer handbag dog. For two, I never treated you like one. You were my everything, Serena. You are my everything. God, can’t you see that?’ Ritchie leaned over the table and lowered his voice. ‘Your being with me gave me the confidence to be Ritchie Dangerfield, rock star. Without you I’m Ritchie Dangerfield, good for nothing guy from the average side of the tracks. And if that’s not open enough for you then I don’t know what is.’

  ‘Oh whatever, Ritchie.’ Serena set the cup down with a bang, gripped the table’s edge and bent forward, meeting him at the table’s halfway mark. ‘You were already on your way to being a star when I met you. The confidence was there. All I did was feed your ego. And over a decade of playing that role was sucking the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe being married to you. God, I went from a controlling mother to a man whose demands were drowning me. No wonder it took me to nearly thirty years to figure out who I was. I just needed oxygen. And by the way, if you really wanted to be open with me you’d have answered my questions about your family, about your life before me, instead of glossing over them with that bollocks ‘average side of the tracks’ talk that you give to journalists.’ Serena stopped. Her gaze darted about the café, settled on a white-blonde haired woman, then cursed under her breath.

  ‘Who’s that?’ He whispered. ‘And why is she smiling like the cat who’s got the cream?’

  ‘That’s the local journalist, Tiffany Brown. And I think she just heard every word of our argument. Thank God for that cone of silence or we’d be front page news.’

  ‘You can trust her?’ Ritchie’s blood chilled at the thought of people knowing he and Serena were estranged. That she’d left him. That she didn’t want him. His image would be in tatters, and worse, it would make the situation they were in all too real.

  ‘She’s not my favourite person. A bit too high and mighty for my liking. Total princess. But she knows the rules. When the cone of silence is issued we obey it. If you don’t, well, you’re frozen out of this town. No one will smile at you. Talk to you. Hell, even serve you. Can you imagine a life without coffee or beer? It’s not worth it to blab.’

  Ritchie nodded as he glanced around at the rest of the café patrons. Half were casting disapproving looks in his direction, and the other half aiming sympathetic frowns at Serena.

  ‘Shall we move this conversation outside?’ He reached over the table to take her hand.

  She shook her head. ‘No. There’s nothing to talk about here. You stay. Finish your coffee and cake. I’ve got to get back to the shop. I can see a line already beginning to form down the street. Can’t disappoint my customers on day one.’ She scraped the chair back and scuttled past him, head down, the jangle of the doorbell telling him she’d left.

  He toyed with the leftover scone crumbs. So that was it. Serena wanted him to open up about his past. To not brush over the subjects that were sensitive to him, but important to her. Well she’d be waiting a long time. Long chats about his family and childhood weren’t on the cards. It was too hard. Even thinking about it flooded him with shame, twisted his tongue into knots.

  He was a mess. But then she wasn’t perfect either.

  Did Serena realise that whenever love got too tough, too demanding, too difficult, she ran? She could call it what she wanted, but leaving meant saying a proper goodbye. Something, from what he could gather, she’d never once done. Not to him. Not to her family. No, she just ran away.

  Maybe somehow, if Serena would stop running from love, if he could find the courage to talk about lack of love, they could rediscover what real love meant.

  Freedom, not suffocation. Support, not demands. Honesty, openness, without fear of retribution.

  Then maybe, just maybe, they could create the one thing he’d always wished for – something he’d never truly understood the idea of, and so he’d avoided the topic completely.

  A proper family.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Serena quickened her pace as she approached the crowd milling around the chocolate shop’s front doors. She shrugged off the disappointment that had encroached on her excitement as she and Ritchie had talked. All his helpfulness, all his getting on with life in Rabbits Leap couldn’t hide the fact that quintessentially he just didn’t understand what she needed from him. That it wasn’t what he did that mattered to her, that it was who he was. And despite outward appearances of trying to change, he was still a man who refused to speak his truth. Refused to tell her any kind of truth.

  ‘Serena, darling. I see you’re a bit down.’ Miss Millie, the town’s psychic was at the head of the line. Her customary bird-themed hat, today an Emperor penguin, bobbed in Serena’s direction. ‘You know what will fix that? Chocolate. So, open up. Let’s get things rolling.’

  Serena allowed herself to be embraced in a half-hug as Miss Millie swung her arm around Serena’s shoulder, and brought her close. ‘And if chocolate won’t fix things, Christmas is certain to,’ she whispered into her ear, before releasing her. ‘Unlock the door, dear. There’s a good girl.’

  Serena fished in her bag for her key, then slotted it into the lock. She tipped her head back and took a moment to watch the sign above lazily swing in the breeze. The Sweetest Thing was about to open. Nothing and no one could stop her now.

  She unlocked the door, pushed it open, stepped inside and welcomed her first customers with a sweep of her arm. ‘Come in. There are samples on the counter to try. If you’ve any questions feel free to ask. I can mix and
match chocolates if you’d like to try a mixture, and gift wrapping is available.’

  Pride warmed her body as people filed in. Their Oohs, Aahs and Mmm’s of appreciation built up her confidence, telling her she’d made the right decision. Coming home, creating a life here, was the best decision she could have made.

  ‘Serena?’ Miss Millie touched her elbow. ‘I’ll take two boxes of the dark chocolate-dipped Candied Orange Peel, please. Absolutely delicious. Wherever did you get the idea from?’

  ‘I’d have thought you’d know that, Miss Millie,’ Serena teased as she rang up the purchase.

  ‘Perhaps I do. Perhaps I just want to hear what you have to say?’ Miss Millie passed her the money.

  ‘It’s not one of my original recipes, others do it too, but I felt compelled to make them because it reminds me of…’ Serena bit her lip. She was about to say it reminded her of home. Of Malibu. Of the oranges, sweet and tart and juicy, that she and Ritchie had gorged on when they’d first arrived, while sitting on the sandy beach watching the surf roll in. The chocolate was representative of the decadence she’d experienced living there. But Malibu wasn’t home now, and never would be again.

  ‘It reminds you of happy times.’ Miss Millie picked up the boxes and tucked them in the crook of her arm. ‘And as long as you keep making them you’ll have that happy memory. Not that I think you’ll need it for much longer.’ A secretive smile played on her lips. ‘And even when you don’t need to make that particular memory for you anymore, keep making these for me. I shall buy a box or two every week.’

  ‘Thanks, Miss Millie.’ Serena waved her goodbye. Unease stirred in her stomach, threatening to settle. She shooed it away. There was no time for pondering the psychic’s mysterious words. She had people in the store. Lots of them. This was the moment she needed to commit to memory: the moment her dreams, her plans, her life fully came into fruition.

  She assumed a welcoming smile and greeted her next customer.

  ***

  Serena checked the time on her mobile. Just on three in the afternoon. Nearly time to close. The day had been manic which was something she’d been grateful for. With customer after customer coming in she hadn’t had time to think about Ritchie – not when she’d spent the day being greeted by the excited smiles and warm congratulations of the locals, followed by the heart-warming pride of watching their eyes widen as they discovered row after row of the confectioneries gleaming under the low lights. Almost everyone wanted to sample those on offer, before leaving with bags and boxes of white chocolate hearts filled with strawberry jelly, hazelnuts and almonds enrobed in milk chocolate, or caramel-filled dark chocolates, which would ooze once bitten into, coating the mouth in bittersweet richness.

  Serena looked at the half-empty trays. No doubt about it, the first day had been a success. If she kept the momentum up she would be able to pay Ritchie back and be free of him within a few months.

  So why wasn’t that idea filling her heart with happiness?

  ‘It looks good. You’ve done a brilliant job.’

  Selena startled, then relaxed as she realised the deep voice behind her didn’t belong to her erstwhile husband, but to someone a whole lot less complicated, and every bit as sweet as the treats before her.

  ‘Hey, Jack.’ She turned and smiled, then took a step back as she realised he was holding a bunch of flowers. Roses. Thankfully yellow, or rather – not red. Not that it mattered what colour they were. They were hardly going to be for her. Male friends didn’t give female friends flowers, did they? No. They were probably for his mum. Jack seemed like the kind of guy to give flowers to his mum.

  ‘For you.’ He presented the bouquet to her, as lines created through a life working outdoors radiated from his eyes. ‘Just a little something to say congratulations.’

  Heat prickled Serena’s chest as she took them. Shit. They were for her. What was she to do now? She bit her lip. Double shit. Jack was leaning forward, his lips puckered, waiting for her to lean forward so he could kiss her on the lips Oh God. Nope. His head was angled. Just a cheek kiss then. That she could live with. She went up on tiptoes and grazed his cheek with a kiss.

  ‘Thank you, Jack. That’s so kind of you. You didn’t have to, really. But… yeah…’ Serena stepped back, and inhaled the potent scent of the roses. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was the least I could do, Serena. Honestly.’ Jack clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his toes. ‘I mean, I’m proud of you. You’re doing something important to you. You’ve made things happen. I admire that. I do.’

  ‘Awww, isn’t that just lovely?’ Ritchie’s voice, as syrupy sweet as honey, filled the room.

  His boots clomped on the oak floor as he came to stand beside Jack, giving him a hefty slap on the back in greeting.

  Of all the times he could have chosen to come to the chocolate shop, it had to be right at that moment. Serena dipped her head into the bouquet to make it look as if she were enjoying the aroma of roses and used the moment of privacy to centre herself. It was her grand opening day, and she wasn’t letting anyone derail it.

  ‘Smell good, do they, Serena? Can I have a sniff?’ Ritchie leant forward, his forehead centimetres away from Serena’s, his musky masculine scent overpowering the delicate one of the flowers.

  ‘Sure. Here.’ She thrust the bunch into his hands. ‘And while you have them, make yourself useful and put them in a vase – there’s one in the cupboard to the right of the sink.’ She flashed Jack an apologetic smile. ‘They’re gorgeous, I don’t want them dying.’

  She ignored Ritchie’s smirk as he brushed past her on the way to the kitchen. The mere touch of his leather jacket on her silk blouse sent shivers of something she’d rather not be feeling up her arm, down her spine. Lower.

  Was there such a thing as man repellent? Because if there was she’d buy it by the boatload.

  ‘So…’ Jack shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly. ‘What are you up to after you’ve shut the shop tonight? Are you coming to the pub? You know, to celebrate the shop opening?’

  Serena’s heart slammed against her chest as panic set in. Was this Jack’s way of asking her out? Oh, hell no. Nope. He was too good. Too nice. Too… Jack. She’d hurt him once, all those years ago when she’d left town without a backward glance, and she wasn’t going to do it again.

  ‘Oh, I’m having a family dinner. You know, a celebratory thing…’

  ‘That’s right… the family dinner.’ Ritchie swaggered back into the room and placed the vase on the edge of the counter. ‘That’s why I’ve come by, your mum wanted to make sure you weren’t going to bail out on it.’

  ‘Bail? Not at all.’ She turned to Ritchie and widened her eyes, hoping he’d take the hint that she was politely backing away from a potentially very awkward moment, but the smirk on his face told her she was just being hustled out of one trap and straight into another. ‘I mean, it’s been a busy day here, so I might have to take off early tonight to get some work done. And besides, it’ll just be Mum, Dad and me, so if I do leave early it’s no big deal, they’ll understand. Or, at least, Dad will…’

  ‘Oh no, I’ll be there too. I’m still family. On paper at least.’

  Serena blew out a huff of air. ‘Whatever, Mum can’t stand you. Never could. It’s one thing for her to house you because I won’t, but it’s another for her to have you sit at the family table.’

  ‘Well, you’ll see for yourself at this family dinner, that’s apparently going on tonight, that we’re getting on like a house on fire.’ Ritchie’s eyes flicked to Jack, his grin growing bigger.

  Serena turned back to Jack to find his face as red as the freeze-dried raspberries she’d crushed and sprinkled into her raspberry cream chocolates that morning. So much for a polite rebuffing. Ritchie had made it all too obvious she was telling one giant porky. Still, she’d have to stick with the story – and she kind of wanted to. Ritchie and her mother getting along? That was a
sight she had to see to believe.

  ‘Right, well…’ Jack began to shuffle backwards. ‘I’d better be getting back to the farm. Got some hedges to trim now the weather’s cooled off. Couple of fences to mend. Shall I tell Jody you say hi?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.’ Serena’s heart went out to Jack. He was a good man. The kind of man who wouldn’t have made life difficult, who would have bent to her will, the way so many men had done with Hunter women over the years. But for that very reason, and more, he wasn’t the man for her. ‘And thanks again for the flowers, Jack. It really was very…’

  ‘Sweet of me. Yeah, I know. I’ll catch you later, Serena.’ Jack nodded as he backed out into the street.

  ‘Well, that was awkward.’ Ritchie slipped onto a stool and spun round slowly, reached the point where it stopped, then spun the other way.

  ‘Only because you made it so.’ Serena tweaked a flower.

  ‘No. I disagree. I could feel the “help me out” vibes from out in the street. So Jacky boy really does have the hots for you, hey? Can’t say I blame him.’

  ‘Well aren’t you just being oh so cool about this? I would’ve thought seeing me being hit on would’ve put the wind up you? That it might have made you realise there really was life after Ritchie Dangerfield.’ Serena grabbed her apron from the hook on the wall next to the cash register, pulled it over her head and went to knot together the strings behind her back. She didn’t have time to waste conversing with Ritchie. After today’s success she needed to get to work melting and mixing, cooking and creating.

  ‘Here. Let me.’

  She found herself being tugged backwards until her bum touched Ritchie’s knees, the ties slipping from her hands as he took control.

  ‘You could never tie anything from the back.’ Ritchie murmured. The heat from his breath warmed the back of her neck, setting the fine hairs on their ends, and sparking her nerves alight.

  Roughly, efficiently, he knotted the ties, then placed his hands on her waist. Strong. Masculine. He spun her round to face him, his hands leaving her briefly, only to land on her waist as quickly as they’d let go – as if afraid she’d take the moment to back off.