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He swatted at her hand, and she laughed but still took a bite. ‘Oh my, these are divine. Where’s Yvette?’ The mayor spun on her feet and locating Yvette sang out that she simply had to try them.
‘They are for everyone, hold your horses. It’s a taste test. If everyone approves,’ he emphasised the word, ‘I’ll make them next week.’
‘Okay, good distraction. But what’s up?’ she persisted.
Caleb shrugged. But that was for show, it didn’t sum up the situation at all. ‘My parents are in town.’ He let that hang.
‘Your parents?’ Jacqueline sounded as incredulous as he felt.
‘Uh, huh.’ Bridie had poured her tea and stood next to them, listening.
‘What do they want?’
Caleb told her.
‘No,’ Jacqueline tugged Bridie in closer almost sloshing her hot tea. ‘They can’t.’
Caleb wasn’t sure what they knew of Abagail’s history but gauging by the reaction, his sister must have shared.
He fingered the plate of macarons. ‘They are staying at the house and getting to know Sybella. Hopefully, after a short period of time they’ll return to their work in the Philippines. I can’t image they’ll want to be absent for long.’
Jacqueline grasped his upper arm and stared at him straight, their faces only inches apart. ‘Caleb, we’re here for you. Anything you need, please sing out. We don’t want to lose you or Sybella, you’re part of our community now.’
Caleb couldn’t bear the intensity of her gaze, or her words and he turned away. He couldn’t look at Bridie either.
Maggie called the meeting to order, and they sat in a tight circle tonight. Jacqueline insisted they start with the macarons which were devoured in silence. Bridie chewed hers slowly.
‘Would you like me to make them for the festival? I think we should have a special macaron stall.’
There was a unanimous vote in favour. ‘Can you make a variety of colours?’ they asked.
‘Yeah, I can,’ he replied but he wouldn’t let on at this stage he was only making one flavour - strawberry. He’d make up an excuse on the day for the lack of chocolate and coffee biscuits.
‘I have drafted what I’d like to be the menu,’ he held up a piece of paper. ‘Shall we go through that now?’
Caleb addressed the gathered group, but his gaze landed on Bridie. As she watched him, he saw a contemplative flicker in the shadow of her eyes. They hadn’t spoken in days. Was she feeling the absence as keenly as he was? He missed her, and dare he say, her help. What he’d always considered interference, he now realised was significant, but subtle events that made each and every day brighter. But, mostly, he’d missed her company. While she hadn’t spoken to him tonight, he’d felt her scrutiny. Each time he looked up, she’d be peering in his direction, and quickly glance away with a flush of heat colouring her cheeks. Did she miss him too? He hadn’t realised what a large part of his life she had become. Or perhaps when something is readily available you take it for granted?
He’d make amends tonight after the meeting.
Gosh, he was either surrounded by simple folk in this town or these people were the nicest he’d ever met. Each item he read out was greeted with oohs and aahs and compliments. It was one sure way to feed his ego—that badly needed feeding. Finally, Bridie spoke. ‘I think that is the best menu suggestion the festival has ever had.’ She smiled, warm and genuine and his entire body fizzled in the glow.
‘The decision of the committee is unanimous. It sounds wonderful, Caleb, and we cannot thank you enough for contributing this year. You may become our annual French chef.’
The words were kind but cut through him. Would he be here next year? If his parents took Sybella he’d have to head back to the city and that thought made him sick. It had only been a few short weeks, but it didn’t feel like his life was there anymore; and certainly, with his career in tatters there was nothing left for him.
‘I know we are the festival committee,’ said a fellow seated at the back. Caleb judged him immediately as a farmer with his faded and torn jeans, check shirt and hard-wearing boots covered in dust. But he didn’t like to stereotype people. ‘But,’ the man continued, ‘can we please pass a motion that Caleb be reinstated to the school canteen. The kids loved his food, they ate it, it was healthy and delicious, and no offence intended, but so much better than anything the wonderful Polly makes, even though I acknowledge she’s been single-handedly holding the reigns for years with little assistance. My little Sam is now refusing to eat tuckshop since Caleb stopped cooking.’
There was a cluster of clapping from the group and Bridie wore a grin that spanned her entire beautiful face. Caleb held up his hands for silence and was glad when it took a few minutes for quiet to descend. The swelling in his chest prevented him from speaking immediately. He was chuffed but that wasn’t where he belonged. ‘I am very happy to set a menu and take people through its preparation. But the tuckshop is not for me long-term.’ The problem was, he didn’t actually know what was, nonetheless he continued. ‘I can advise Polly if she’s open to it, if not, someone else with a passion for healthy food should take over. But I’m happy to be like a consultant, I guess.’
‘I’ll talk to Polly and raise the issue at the next P&C meeting,’ Jacqueline agreed. ‘Any other issues for resolution regarding the festival?’ she asked. ‘It’s next Saturday!’ she reminded everyone.
Bridie ran through the last of the arrangements – stages, entertainment, animals, rides. Caleb sat back and listened, glad not to be involved. Thankfully under Bridie’s guidance, everything was well under control.
The door creaked open, and all heads turned in that direction. Caleb watched his mother enter. His heart accelerated and nerves gripped his middle like a vice. ‘Heather?’ he refused to address her as ‘Mum’.
‘Hello, everybody. I’m sorry to interrupt. Sybella is going to sleep and wants Caleb to say goodnight.’
He slumped back, relieved. Is this what parenting was? A gambit of emotions that sped through your body so fast you couldn’t catch them. At the sight of his mother, he’d feared the worst. Now his insides turned to mush. Instinctively, he tilted his head and turned towards Bridie. Her smile was uncertain and small, but it was there, and it was for him. Sybella had to come first, and he’d go to her now, but he thought he and Bridie might just be all right.
