Page 67 of The Gingerbread Cafe
Gretel gave her a hug.
‘And I know you probably don’t need this, but I couldn’t not give you something.’ Phoebe pressed a small crystal into Gretel’s coat pocket. ‘It’s the tumbled stone I intuitively picked for you the first time you came into my shop. Red jasper – the stone warriors carried into battle. And it’s the colour of passion.’
Gretel could definitely feel her cheeks burning red. ‘Is it normal to feel this bloody terrified?’ She was painfully aware that even with all her wild efforts, Lukas may still tell her to get stuffed.
Eve grabbed Gretel’s hand. ‘Sometimes you’ve got to take a chance, even though it’s scary. We only regret the gooseberries we didn’t take, as a wise grocer once said.’
Angel Gabriel squeaked his approval from the front pocket of Amber’s dress as Gordon waved at them from across the street.
Phoebe checked her watch. ‘It’s nearly time. Are you ready?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’ Gretel balled her fists.
She knew her new friends would be back later to gather around with paintbrushes and gingerbread, if she could only pull this off. There was even promise of a newspaper reporter, ready to scoop a fresh story. She prayed it wouldn’t be another disastrous one.
But now, this moment was for her and Lukas, whatever the outcome may be. The others hugged her and rushed away as they saw him coming.
Gretel’s breath caught in her throat when she saw him. Just like it had on their first real encounter in The Gingerbread Café, when he’d barged into her life with a Norway spruce. She remembered the electricity she’d felt when their hands had touched as he’d passed back her glass creation. The one he’dsaved. In that moment, she’d been so cross with him she could have poked his eyes out. She only hoped he wasn’t feeling that way about her now. What a journey it had been.
Lukas looked up at her as he walked across the cobbles. Other than a dusting on the tops of the surrounding hills, the snow had melted now, and the winter sun bounced off his slate-grey hair. His chest wasn’t quite as puffed out as it often was, but still enough for his fitted cable-knit jumper to pull tight. No chef’s whites or funny rubber clogs today.
As he got closer, she could see his eyes held a questioning look. He stopped in front of her. Her mouth opened but she didn’t yet have the words, so they held each other’s gaze. Her heart was pounding at all the things she wanted to say and do. At the sheer joy of seeing him. At how good he looked, even though she could see tiredness under his eyes and his stubbly beard looked unkempt. She wanted to touch him. Was he feeling something too?
Teasingly, he stepped towards her – but she could sense it wasn’t yet an invite. His posture was open, yet they both knew there were things to be said.
‘I’m sorry.’ Though her voice was quiet, she hoped its weight would convey how deeply she felt it. God, she’d missed him. ‘After that night …’ She tried not to blush as the memories floated between them. ‘I overheard you talking on the phone and maybe I got the wrong impression. I thought you wanted to sell the café.’
He raked a hand through his hair. ‘We’d already talked about it, Gretel. I’d told you I was ready to keep it. To run it with you.’ There was a gruffness to his voice.
‘I know, I’m sorry. In my fear of trusting people, I guess I thought you’d lied. I said somehorriblethings. And I really didn’t mean them. I don’t even know where they came from – they just flowed from me like hot fury. At the thought of losingyou, I went into an uncontrollable panic. I’m working on that.’ She hoped her small smile would be enough.
He nodded. ‘You took me by surprise. I should have known how fragile things were, been quicker to explain myself. We both could have handled things better.’
She wasn’t sure he’d done much wrong, but she was touched at his offer to share the burden. Though there was still more she had to know.
‘Did you see what happened to the Christmas tree?’ she asked. ‘Just after that first argument?’
He glanced over to the street’s central tree, his face confused. He cocked his head, trying to work it out, then paced towards it. She followed. Despite everything, the tree would always be one of her favourite places, rooted and constant. The villagers had done their best to straighten and redecorate it when she hadn’t been able to face it.
‘It looks different, somehow. What happened?’ He looked to the top and saw Angel Brigitte was missing. ‘Oh God.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said quickly. ‘I accidently knocked one of the wooden shelters into the tree when I was fleeing from our argument. A few ornaments fell. In some ways, I think it helped me. I was still afraid to let go of things, as though memories would fade and I’d be left with nothing. But I hadn’t realised the importance of holding on to the present. I’ve created a new life, and I love every part of it. I don’t have to feel guilty.’ She knew Nell and her family would have wanted her to be happy. And in embracing different times of the year she’d been remembering new things about them too. Times they’d shared outside of Christmas, like the February Fair. She sensed there would be more.
She felt a squeeze of her hand. That electricity. It reminded her she was alive and that living felt good.
‘I’m sorry I made you run,’ he said. ‘And I’m so sorry about the tree. I didn’t realise. The thing I was talking about on the phone that morning … it’s a longer-term idea. It felt too early in our relationship to spring it on you, but let’s get it out in the open right now. No more fearing the future. And I swear it doesn’t go against my promises to you. I meant them.’ He exhaled a long breath. ‘Still do.’
Her heart bounced in her chest. Had he really just said that? Did it mean things would be OK?
As he explained his tentative idea for the café’s more distant future, Gretel’s pupils dilated as she tried to imagine it. As her mind created the vision as delicately as though it was made of glass, she couldn’t think of anything more perfect – for both of them. It would be dependent on so many other things, and there would be lots to plan. But she could see why he hadn’t told her so early on and why they should incubate the idea between the two of them, like a fragile egg. It wasn’t time for them to share this with the world just yet.
As she nodded in excitement he squeezed her hand and turned back to the café, his eyes landing on the winter-flowering cherry tree that he’d bought her, which she’d placed outside the café’s front door. Her friends had hung stained-glass gingerbread people from its blossoming branches. Did she sense a small smile?
This time she led the way back towards it. He was right behind her.
When he caught sight of the new sign she’d placed proudly in the window, he did a double-take. ‘Since when do we have a five-star food hygiene rating? And are we back in business?’
She liked thewe.‘Since I invited Mr Peabody from Environmental Health to come back and inspect. We’re officially allowed to reopen, with a clean bill of health. Not quite aMichelin star.’ She shrugged. ‘But nice to get top score. And we never did have rats.’
