Chapter17
Beth
Iheaded back to the café, the brisk late morning air nipping at my cheeks. My breath fogged in front of me as I unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. The cozy warmth of the café wrapped around me like an old friend.
I moved to the kitchen, tying my apron around my waist. Flour, sugar, and eggs greeted me like familiar companions. I started mixing ingredients for a batch of gingerbread cookies, my mind wandering back to Daryl's garage.
His gruff demeanor had been a wall I was determined to climb. I could still hear his voice, grumbling about the eggs while we cooked together. He had refused the wreath with a look that could have curdled milk, but there was something in his eyes that softened for just a moment when he thought I wasn’t looking.
As I rolled out the dough and cut out little gingerbread men, I hummed the tune I'd been singing. The song had been stuck in my head all night. The way he had looked up at me when he heard it, like he was seeing something entirely new, made me wonder if there was more to him than just his rough exterior.
The oven beeped, pulling me back to reality. I slid the cookies onto a tray and popped them into the oven. As they baked, their spicy-sweet aroma filled the café. I glanced around at the twinkling lights and holiday decorations, feeling a pang of sadness for Daryl’s lack of Christmas spirit.
Maybe inviting him to the dinner tonight hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. He needed a little joy in his life—everyone did. And if anyone could bring a smile to that broody mechanic’s face, it would be me.
Not that I was arrogant. But I was patient. And stubborn, quite frankly.
The timer chimed, and I carefully removed the cookies from the oven, placing them on a cooling rack. Each gingerbread man stared up at me with their tiny icing faces, and I couldn't help but smile.
"One step at a time," I murmured to myself.
I slid another tray of gingerbread cookies into the oven, adjusting the temperature and setting the timer. My mind drifted to the Christmas Eve dinner I was hosting tonight. The thought of friends gathered around, sharing laughter and stories, warmed me from the inside out.
The café would be filled with the smell of roasted turkey, honey-glazed ham, and my famous mashed potatoes. I imagined the tables covered in red and green cloths, each place setting adorned with a little candy cane. There'd be twinkling lights everywhere, reflecting off ornaments hanging from the ceiling.
I hoped Daryl would come. I wasn't planning on inviting him—I didn't want to rush things—but it just came out. Then again, I wasn’t holding my breath. Still, a part of me couldn't shake the image of him sitting at one of those tables, his gruff exterior softening in the glow of Christmas lights.
"Maybe he'll surprise me," I said aloud, trying to believe it.
Regardless, tonight would be fun. I had Ellie and a few other friends who never failed to bring joy and laughter wherever they went. We'd have music—maybe even some live performances if people felt brave enough. I'd have my guitar ready just in case I found some courage myself.
The timer beeped again, and I pulled out the cookies, placing them alongside the others on the cooling rack. The sight of so many gingerbread men lined up in rows made me smile. They were perfect little soldiers of holiday cheer.
I busied myself with preparing more treats—peppermint bark, fudge, and sugar cookies with colorful sprinkles. The more, the merrier. Tonight had to be perfect, not just for me but for everyone who walked through those doors.
The door chimed as Ellie walked in, bundled up against the cold. She stomped her boots on the mat and blew on her hands.
"Smells amazing in here," she said, taking a deep breath.
"Just getting ready for tonight," I replied, handing her a gingerbread cookie fresh from the rack.
She took a bite and her eyes lit up. "These are fantastic! Daryl won't know what hit him."
I laughed softly but shook my head. "I'm not sure he'll come."
"Don't worry about it," Ellie said with a wink. "Even if he doesn't show up, we'll still have a blast."
She was right. No matter what happened with Daryl, tonight was about celebrating with friends and spreading joy.
And I was determined to make it unforgettable for everyone who came.
The day slipped away from us as Ellie and I cooked together. Time seemed to blur as we measured, mixed, and tasted. The café was open but only for a few hours; most people were busy with their own holiday preparations. It gave us the perfect window to get everything ready without interruptions.
"Hand me the cinnamon," Ellie called out, her hands covered in flour. "Please."
I tossed the jar to her, smiling as she caught it mid-air. "Think we'll have enough cookies?"
"We'll have enough to feed an army," she replied with a grin.
