Page 6 of The Gingerbread Cafe
The solicitor gave a small sigh. ‘Apologies, Mr Knight. Your Aunt Nell. It was her wish that we give you both a few weeks’space after her passing and then gather you here to break the fortuitous news.’
Why would you need tobreaknews if it was fortuitous? Surely breaking was something you reserved for bad things. Gretel screwed up her nose.
‘Eleanor …’ The solicitor cleared his throat. ‘Nellwanted you to receive the message simultaneously.’ If he shuffled his papers any more, Gretel might be pushed to jump up and snatch them off him. It was doing nothing for her nerves. ‘You’re to inherit The Gingerbread Café together, with the flat above too, of course. As joint owners. Congratulations, Mr and Mrs … erm, Mr Knight and Miss …’
‘Rosenhart?’ Gretel added, unsurely. Did he really mean her?
‘Indeed.’ Mr Birdwhistle nodded, looking as pleased as if he were handing over the premises out of the goodness of his own heart. ‘Exemplary news, wouldn’t you agree?’ His head pecked the air in both of their directions.
Lukas swivelled his body around to look at her, his expression somewhere between confusion and mild annoyance. She guessed she couldn’t blame him. Lukas was Nell’s only close living relative. She’d been widowed young with no children, and her only sibling, Lukas’s mother, had moved away years ago and had barely kept in touch. He must have been expecting to inherit everything.
But Lukas merely shrugged and looked back to the solicitor. ‘Understood. Nell always had a strange soft spot for her, so I kept hearing. We’ll be selling up anyway, and neither of us will want to move into Nell’s old flat. Tell me when the legal transfer will take place.’
‘Ahh.’ Mr Birdwhistle rustled more papers. ‘That’s the thing.’
‘What thing?’
Gretel sensed Lukas’s tension to the side of her. She couldn’t wait to get away from the moody man.
‘It was …Nell’swish that after your designated period to get over things, you would jump to it and get the café up and running.Together.’
Lukas shot a furrowed-eyebrow look between Mr Birdwhistle and Gretel, as though this was all some elaborate joke.
The solicitor consulted his papers. ‘You’re a chef, no?’ He looked over his glasses at Lukas before sweeping his gaze to Gretel. ‘And Nell insisted you were her dearest and most loyal customer who worships Christmas just like she did. You’re part of the cloth.’ He waved an arm towards the red and white gingham curtains which framed the windows like puffball skirts.
Lukas’s face was an angry shade of red. ‘I’m a full-time head chef at La Carotte Rôtie. I don’t have time to be messing about with pathetic gingerbread people or serving up cute marshmallow drinks to the occasional passing teenager. As forFestive Cheer All Through the Year…’ He shuddered. ‘No thank you. I can’t even stand to be festive at Christmas. Surely we can just sell up?’ Lukas looked at Gretel, his smoky eyes fuming.
Gretel felt her heart hammer against her chest, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. If she’d disliked Lukas Knight before, she was beginning to hate him now. How could he slag off the sanctity of Christmas and Nell’s café – the one place that made her feel safe? And how on earth could Nell have thought it was a good idea to shove them together like this?
But she blinked back her emotion. She couldn’t bear for him to see it and it surely wouldn’t change a thing. He’d made it clear he was in charge here. The grown-up. And she was too scared to make a fuss. ‘I guess,’ she said, reluctantly.
They looked at Mr Birdwhistle.
He leaned back in his chair and shook his head, the voices of Wham! picking up in intensity around them. ‘Selling up? No, no, no. I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that.’
Chapter 5
‘So why can’t we just sell The Gingerbread Café and get on with our lives?’ Lukas was eyeballing the solicitor, and he didn’t look amused.
But Mr Birdwhistle was apparently just warming up. ‘It’s likely to take six months or so to get the grant of probate. And that’s just the beginning of the work I need to do. Then there’s taxes to be paid …’
Lukas winced. ‘OK, OK. But there’s no stipulation that we have to run the café in the meantime? We can just shove the dust sheets back on and wait?’ He pointed to the ghostly mound on the floor.
Mr Birdwhistle embraced his role and pursed his lips.
‘What?’ Lukas waved his hands impatiently, palms upwards.
‘It was your dying aunt’s wish that as the only two people she loved and trusted on this mortal coil, you take the helm. Although she did express concerns that at least one of you would want to sell it.’ If looks could be pointed, Lukas was on the receiving end of a dagger right then. ‘But she wanted you to at least try. Nostipulations. Just a deceased woman’s last hopeful wish.’
Lukas let out a frustrated huff.
Mr Birdwhistle gulped. ‘If you want to look at things with a practical head, the business will be far easier for you to sell at a healthy price if you keep it running and make it a success.’
‘A success?’ Lukas scoffed. ‘Auntie Nell, God rest her, could be a bit of a dreamer. She kept this café as a shrine to Christmas all year long. Even in bloody July! It was pretty weird, and the rest of the world seemed to agree. As evidenced by the distinct lack of customers. I mean, who wants to sit round a log fire drinking spiced latte and munching festive gingerbread snowmen during a sweaty heatwave?’
‘Me?’ Gretel heard herself say. Who didn’t love a crackling log fire? was the more sensible question. ‘Christmas is special tome.’ Gretel’s voice wobbled. ‘And this café was always a safe space for anyone who felt the same.’ She realised she’d jutted out her bottom lip and pulled it back in. She didn’t need sympathy, especially not from a man who made Scrooge look relatively jolly.
‘All one of you?’ Lukas seemed amused, although that didn’t make his words feel any less harsh.
