Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop

by Kellie Hailes

  Jack nodded. ‘I am. But she’s not. The only man she wants is the one sitting next to me, which means she must be hurting something terrible right now, having sent you away.’ He tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. ‘Or maybe she doesn’t have to hurt. But that’s up to you. Could you live life out of the spotlight? Do you care enough about her to prove her wrong?’

  ‘Well that was the plan. I’d talked to…’ Ritchie stopped himself. There was no point telling Jack his plan to prove to Serena he was serious about their future. He’d be better off forgetting about it altogether.

  ‘You mean you’re just going to give up? Really?’ Jack shot him a reproachful look. ‘I don’t want to tell you what to do or how to live your life. But I get the feeling you didn’t get to where you are by giving up at the first hurdle.’

  ‘Well I’d say when it comes to Serena that this isn’t exactly the first hurdle. She left, she didn’t want me when I first turned up here, now she’s told me to bugger off again. At what point does it go from jumping hurdles to running straight at them and allowing them to trip you up?’ Ritchie folded his arms and stared out into the inky blackness. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I should just go home and get stuck into my next album.’

  ‘Or you could pull your head out of your arse and give your marriage one last shot.’ Jack shook his head. ‘God, I don’t understand people. You found love, the real deal from what I can tell, and you’re willing to throw it all away. If I found love I would hold onto it so damn tightly I wouldn’t let it go.’

  Ritchie bristled at Jack’s words. It wasn’t his fault Serena was so adamant they were over. He’d done all he could. He’d put his career on the line for her by staying when the safe thing would have been to head back to LA. What more could he do? ‘So how come you’re still single, Jack. A romantic like you would’ve been snapped up I’d have thought.’

  ‘Never met the right girl. My own fault. Never really put myself out there.’

  ‘And you’re telling me that’s what I need to be doing? Really? You’re expecting me to take advice from a guy who won’t even follow his own?’ Ritchie unbuckled his seatbelt as Jack pulled up outside the Hunters’ homestead.

  ‘Well I’m starting to think I might have to. Follow my own advice, that is. Anyway, good luck with… whatever.’ Jack put the truck in reverse, signalling that it was time for Ritchie to take his leave.

  Ritchie saw a twitch of a curtain. Great, they were up. No doubt they were going to have a go at him, then chuck him out for messing with their daughter. Not to mention, yelling at the mistress of the house…

  The front door opened. Marjorie rushed out, opened the car door and swooped him up into a hug. ‘Thank God you’re home. We were worried you were freezing to death on some back road. And did you not pay attention when I told you about the marsh spirit? Never walk at night down these lanes alone. Ever. Again. Now get inside and let’s figure out what we’re going to do.’

  Hope soared in Ritchie’s heart. If he had the in-laws on side, more than in-laws, family, then there was still a chance he could sort things out with Serena.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Serena stomped her feet and hugged her arms around herself, wishing she’d put on another layer of clothing. ‘I can’t believe you pulled me out of bed to go to this stupid bloody Christmas parade.’ She stirred the hot chocolate that was warming on the portable burner her mother had brought with her, along with a trestle table, when she’d woken Serena earlier. ‘And worse, you’re making me work.’

  An innocent smile appeared on Marjorie’s face. ‘Work? I’d hardly call giving grateful members of the community a sweet treat to warm them as they watch the parade “work”. Just think, it will solidify your position as a responsible and contributing member of Rabbits Leap.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I’m in no mood to be catching my death of cold while I watch a bunch of crazy people dressed up like the shepherds and wise men and what not march along the main street. And why, why, are they holding the parade at this ungodly hour of the morning? Isn’t it normally at nine in the morning? This seven o’clock business is nuts.’ She tucked her hands under her armpits hoping for some extra warmth. ‘It’s not even light out.’

  ‘Well, the fairy lights are creating more than enough light, and besides, it was going to be the usual time but the weather report might be right for once, because it looks like there’s snow set to fall. So we thought we’d move the time up rather than break tradition and not hold the parade at all. And you’ll hardly catch your death, it’s above zero. Just.’

  Serena shook her head. ‘That means nothing to a person used to the warmth of a Malibu winter. Oh, well, at least for once I’m not having to dress up as a donkey.’

  Marjorie coughed into her fisted hand. A rosy flush bloomed on her cheeks that Serena suspected had nothing to do with the icy temperature.

  ‘You didn’t?’ She took a step back, only to meet a hard wall. She twisted round to see her father blocking her escape. ‘Seriously, Mum. I’m not being a donkey. I refuse. I’m a grown woman for God’s sake. I won’t fit in the costume!’

  ‘Actually, we changed the costume years ago. Made it adult-sized. There was some rumour that if you wore the donkey costume you came out smelling like bodily emissions and the village kids flat out refused to wear it. So, it was left to the adults to take on that role.’

  ‘But why me? There are plenty of people who could do it.’

  ‘We had volunteers, but they’re both worse for wear after last night, so I volunteered you. Besides, you know the route. You know the order the parade goes in. It’ll be just like the old days.’

  ‘Will it?’ Serena’s stomach churned at the possibility of sharing the costume with her old parade partner. ‘Ridge isn’t going to be the other half of the donkey, is he?’

  ‘No. He gave that up after you left. Said it wasn’t any fun without you.’

  Serena snorted. ‘Well at least one of us was having fun in that damn thing.’ She sighed in resignation. ‘Who’ll look after the hot chocolate stall?’

  Marjorie shot her a disparaging glance. ‘I’m sure I can follow a simple recipe and pour hot liquid into a paper cup, Serena.’

  Serena grinned. From not wanting to have a bar of the chocolate shop, to basically working for it – you could call her mother many things, but predictable was not one of them. ‘Fine. I’ll do it. Point me in the direction of the costume. And make sure you stir it regularly. Don’t burn it.’

  ‘I will. And I won’t.’ Marjorie shooed her away in a flurry of hands. ‘Head to the village hall, same place as always.’

  Serena’s heart sank. After last night the hall was the last place she wanted to go. And what if Ritchie had crashed there overnight? The pub was booked out with families coming to celebrate Christmas with their loved ones, and her mum and dad hadn’t mentioned him at all, so they obviously hadn’t seen him.

  ‘Bloody. Christmas. Bloody. Snow. Bloody. Donkey,’ muttered Serena under her breath, her annoyance abating when she saw a group of kids running by wearing Santa hats, their noses red from cold, their eyes bright with excitement.

  She stalked into the hall and looked round to find whoever was in charge.

  ‘Serena. Great. Good to see you.’ Christian tapped at his clipboard with his pen. ‘Thanks for doing this. Sorry so last minute, but your mum assured me you knew what the deal was.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I do.’ Serena searched the space for any hint of Ritchie. No guitar case. No leather jacket slung over a chair. No melodic humming coming from any corner of the room. Good.

  An invisible fist gripped her heart and squeezed. Not good? Whatever. She sucked in a breath of brisk air and forced herself to focus on Christian.

  ‘Your partner’s here, but they’ve just popped off to the loo. You just need to get into your half of the costume, then we’ll zip the two of you up.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me I’m the rear end.’ Serena followed
him through the group of villagers shrugging on robes and practicing their carolling.

  ‘It’s first in, first served. I’ll be back in a second to zip you together.’ Christian slapped her on the back, then turned and left, admonishing a couple of local kids for using the baby Jesus doll as a makeshift rugby ball.

  ‘Bloody, bloody, hell.’ Serena picked up one half of the costume and breathed a sigh of relief. The top half. Perhaps things were looking up.

  She stepped into the front legs, placed the donkey’s head over hers, relieved she could see out of it well enough that she wouldn’t crash into anything, then straightened her arms at her sides. ‘Christian. I’m ready. Where’s my other half?’

  ‘Oh good, you’re in.’ Christian backed her up. ‘And your other half’s just come back. If you could just put your hands on Serena’s waist, I’ll get you two together.’

  Firm hands gripped her waist. The air filled with the sound of metal clicking together as they were zipped into the costume, followed by a strange ‘snip’.

  ‘Well, that’s that. Perhaps go for a trot up and down the hall. Find your rhythm.’

  Was it Serena’s imagination or did Christian sound … smug?

  ‘God, what did they have to bribe you with to get you into this costume?’ she asked conversationally as she took a few cautious steps forward, happy to find her donkey partner walked perfectly in sync with her.

  ‘They didn’t. I volunteered.’

  Serena’s spine snapped straight as if struck by electricity. She knew that voice. That voice was meant to have left the village.

  ‘Ritchie, what the hell are you doing in there?’ She tried to turn to look at him, but only succeeded in turning the donkey’s head to look at ‘Mary’ patting ‘Joseph’ on the arse, then throwing him a flirtatious wink. ‘Bloody costume. Where’s Christian? I need to get out of it. I am not taking part in this parade. Or this charade. I’m out. I’m done.’

  ‘Well I’m not.’ Ritchie’s hands gripped her waist tighter as she attempted to bolt away from him. ‘And don’t try and do you usual running away trick. There’s no point because we’re padlocked together.’

  That explained the snip, Serena fumed and stomped her furry-hooved foot.

  ‘And they’re not letting us out, not letting you make an escape, until I’ve had a chance to say my piece.’

  ‘They? Who’s “they”?’ Serena snapped. ‘When I find out who “they” are, “they” are going to get a piece of my mind. And maybe even a chunk of trifle smashed into their faces.’

  ‘“They” are the people who love and care about you and want what’s best for you.’

  Serena squawked as Ritchie prodded her in the fleshy curve of her waist.

  ‘It’s time to get going. The parade’s about to start. And you can thank me for taking the arse end of the costume. I know how much you hated it. I can see why, being bent over like this is horrible for my old back.’

  ‘If I’d known it was going to be you back there I’d have eaten pickled onions and cabbage. Lots of them.’ Serena’s fury faltered as Ritchie laughed. Warm and soulful. ‘And don’t laugh. I’m being serious.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I’m amused. Also it makes me extra glad that no one leaked the plan to you in advance. I love you, Serena, but at this point in our relationship I don’t know if I’m willing to die for you, especially if it’s death by fart-asphyxiation.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a thing.’ Serena clucked her tongue, wishing he were facing her so he could witness her roll her eyes as hard as she could.

  ‘Well I’m glad we’re not about to find out.’

  Christian motioned to Serena to join the line-up. She stomped past him and let out a loud ‘hee-haw’ as she passed, smirking as he jumped in fright.

  The strains of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ reached her ears as she plodded her way down the street. People’s faces, bathed in the shops’ Christmas lights, shone with joy. Their singing combined with the carollers, creating a surround sound effect. She bit her lip as tears rose, blurring her vision. Damn all these happy people, full of Christmas cheer, when her heart felt as black and heavy as the lump of coal naughty children found in their Christmas stocking.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what’s important.’ Ritchie prattled on at her rear. ‘About what’s important to you, and what’s important to me. You see, Serena, I refuse to believe this is the end of us. I know you think it is, I know you think it has to be – for the good of my life, of all things – but I can’t believe that you, a woman who started up a business from scratch in just six months, would give up that easily. And I’m not going to let you. You see I’ve come to realise I’m an idiot. Totally stupid.’

  Serena nearly stumbled at Ritchie’s words. She’d never once heard him put himself down. At the beginning of their relationship he’d told her his two life rules: Don’t get angry. Don’t put yourself down. She realised now why those were his two life rules. They’d helped him survive his family. But here he was breaking one of them. For her.

  ‘The thing is…’ He continued. ‘I think part of me was so resistant to any change you wanted to make in your life, like stopping touring with me, because I was terrified if I let you do your own thing you’d realise you were better off without me. That I wasn’t good enough for you.’

  ‘That’s your childhood talking’ Serena grunted. ‘You shouldn’t listen to that voice.’

  ‘Well some voices refuse to be locked out completely. Like the voice that woke me up every night after I’d discovered you left, screaming at me to come get you. Only beaten by the voice that quietly whispered you’d realised I wasn’t worthy of you, that you were better off without me…’

  The choir launched into ‘We Three Kings of Orient Are’ as the Kings in all their old-drapes-turned-into-robes glory joined the parade, to the cheers of delight from those watching.

  ‘But I refused to let that voice win, Serena. Refused to give up. Because I knew in my heart we were meant to be together.’

  Ritchie’s hands tightened around her waist. His thumbs stroked the small of her back.

  ‘Ritchie, don’t. Just stop. You can want me all you want, but it’s never going to work. My life isn’t where yours is anymore. It’s here. With my family. And friends. And my chocolate shop, which fulfils me in a way sitting on the sidelines waiting for you to let me in, to let me explore our relationship to its full potential, never did. Because you wouldn’t let it.’

  ‘I get that, Serena. I do. Which is why I’ve made plans to fix that matter of where my home is, so we can start again, properly. No closed books. No shut doors. I want you to see me, to know me, warts and all.’

  Serena stopped. Ignoring the ‘get a move on’ by villagers dressed as sheep and an irate looking Mary, whose lips were as blue as her gown.

  ‘What are you saying, Ritchie?’ She attempted to twist round to see him, but only got through a quarter turn before the costume resisted her efforts. ‘Screw it. I never wanted to be the donkey anyway.’ She ducked down into the suit, allowing the head to collapse, spun to face Ritchie, and plopped down on the ground, grateful for the suit’s material shielding her from the ground’s dampness.

  Ritchie sank beside her and took hold of her hands. ‘I’m saying I’ve got an offer on some land. I’m going to build a home. For us.’

  Serena closed her eyes to the hope in Ritchie’s eyes. He just didn’t seem to get it. ‘You’re doing it again though, Ritchie. Can’t you see that? You’ve gone full steam ahead without asking me what I want to do. How I feel. You can’t just buy a bit of land, decide you’re building a house and that I’m going to be living with you in it. Not without at least asking me.’

  Thumb pads, hardened from playing the guitar, stroked her eyelids, feather soft. ‘Open your eyes. Serena.’

  Serena obeyed with a huff. Ritchie held out what looked like a contract.

  ‘Take it. Read it.’

  Serena re
luctantly took it off his hands and scanned it. Her heart lightened and warmed, despite the stinging air. It wasn’t just any land. It was Hunter land. A portion of her parents’ property. Family land.

  ‘I didn’t jump any guns. The deal is conditional on you saying yes.’ A smug smile lit up Ritchie’s face. ‘And they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.’

  ‘But your career. Your music.’ Serena shook her head. ‘That means everything to you. Easily as much as I do. Maybe more. I can’t let you give that up.’

  Ritchie took her face in his hands and inched closer. ‘I said I’m learning new tricks, Serena, not abandoning old ones. I could still work in the industry, maybe as a songwriter, or something. Pass my words onto some young buck to sing. I haven’t got that far in my head. Right now, I’m thinking about our family. And the house I plan to build for it.’

  ‘Our family?’ Serena jerked back. What was he on about? ‘I love my parents, and we’re finally getting on well, but there’s no way they’re moving in with us.’

  A laugh rumbled up from Ritchie’s chest, deep and affectionate. ‘No, I’m talking about you and me. We’re a family, Serena. And you’re right, it’s probably best that your parents don’t live with us. But I’m thinking family dinners once or twice a week would be great.’

  A future Serena had never believed was possible, hadn’t even dared to think about because of the way they’d lived their life, flashed before her eyes.

  ‘And if you’re okay with the idea…’ Ritchie took the contract out of her hands and wove his fingers between hers. ‘I was thinking we could get an extra big dinner table.’

  ‘Why? A four-seater would be fine for us. Maybe a six-seater for when we have friends over?’ Serena breathed in, and tried to clear the cloud of possibilities muddling up her mind. ‘No. I can’t let you do it.’ Serena shook her hands free of Ritchie’s and gave an affirmative nod.