Page 11 of The Best Little Christmas Shop
Chapter Three
‘So! A little birdie tells me you met Cal?’
I was sat at the lime-washed pine table in Xander and Giselle’s kitchen decorating gingerbread men whilst Giselle cooked something deliciously French for dinner on the hob of her pink Aga.
‘Is that all right?’ I asked, carefully tipping one of the biscuits towards her.
Giselle glanced over. ‘Perfect! You know you don’t need to checkwith me. We used to do these together for the shop all the time.’
I pulled a face as I squidged the icing down the bag a little more. ‘I know. But I’m out of practice.’
‘It’s like riding a bicycle. It’ll all come back.’
I gave my gingerbread man a neat side parting. ‘If you remember, the last time I rode a bicycle with you, I ended up headfirst in a nettle bush.’
Giselle laughed. ‘Oh my, I’dforgotten that. You were in such a state! I felt so sorry for you. It must have been agony.’
Gingerbread man got mittens. ‘It definitely isn’t in my list of top ten favourite days, that’s for sure.’
Giselle tasted the sauce and made a fluttering motion with her beautifully long, false lashes. ‘Parfait!’ It always amused me how, even though she’d been over here since she was seven years old,there were times when she still dropped back into French. It wasn’t forced or affected. I wasn’t even entirely sure she knew she was doing it. But I loved it.
‘Good?’
‘Very. Just needs to simmer a bit longer. Xander should be home any time so it should be just about right.’
‘Good, because it smells delicious and I’m starving. This gingerbread man is, frankly, quite lucky he’s still got allhis body parts.’
Giselle grinned and filled another icing bag before setting to work on the pile of biscuits that still needed dressing, ready for the shop.
‘So … like I said, I hear you met Cal Martin?’
‘I did. He came into the shop with his little boy. Although I didn’t realise it was him until he paid and I saw the name on his card.’
‘Bit gorgeous, isn’t he?’
I lifted my gaze and lookedat her through my slightly overlong fringe. She waved her piping bag at me.
‘What? Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to observe beautiful things. In fact, it’s good for the soul. I just read an article on it. So?’
‘So, what?’
Giselle squirted her piping bag at me so that a blob shot out and landed on my face.
‘Oi!’
‘Answer then!’ She giggled as I felt around my cheek forthe icing with my finger, found it, and ate it.
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘He said you had a nice chat and that you were quite the Santa’s Little Helper.’ She quirked a brow that was shaped, coloured, and tamed to within an inch of its life, yet still looked entirely natural. I made a mental note to drop into the local beauty salon and have a tidy-up.
‘I’d say a chat was overstating ita little, and I wasn’t being “Santa’s Helper”, little or otherwise.’ I flicked some icing back at her. ‘There was no way that teddy bear’s head was going to stay attached to its body for very much longer. I’ve repaired enough of my own – and my brothers’ kids’ toys – to know when immediate action is required. Plus, have you seen George? Can you imagine how heartbreaking that face would be as he watchedhis teddy’s head fall off and roll into the road, only to be flattened by a passing car!’
Giselle was looking at me aghast. ‘Well, for goodness’ sake, don’t say that in front of him! I’m upset just thinking about it.’
‘Sorry. Anyway, it’s not going to happen. It’s all secured now.’
‘He is a cutie, though. I agree.’
