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Now, Sophie worked as Lily’s sous chef and lived in the apartment above the café. The one downside was that the building’s renovations weren’t finished so the utilities in the historic building were wonky. At least the refrigerators, freezer, and pastry cabinets were on their own electrical circuit attached to an automatic generator.
She held up the light, found the flipped switches on the panel, and shifted them back into position. The refrigerators hadn’t turned off which meant the café hadn’t lost any food. A moment later, light filtered in from the café. She turned off her phone, hung up her coat and hat, and met Lily near the espresso machines in the main room. Christmas music came from hidden speakers, and the heat kicked on with a low hum. “I fixed it.”
“Thanks.” Lily had taken off her coat and was turning on the coffee machines. “When we closed up earlier, I thought we were done for the night. But considering Gage’s announcement, I suspect we’re in for an after-meeting crowd.”
Sophie moved into the space between the counter, which was behind her, and the pastry cabinets that faced the dining area. The cabinets held holiday cupcakes, sugar cookies, and the leftover cranberry pork turnovers she’d made earlier that day. “Lily, did you know about the missing money or the canceled parade?”
After Gage’s announcement, everyone had looked toward Damian. But his pale face and intense denial had rung true, even to Sophie who prided herself on being able to spot liars and thieves. That was a skill she’d honed after spending years as the girlfriend of a member of an outlaw motorcycle club–the Black Jacks– in Salem.
“No.” Lily said. “I knew Gage was stressed about something, but he didn’t tell me ahead of time.” She poured coffee beans into the top of an espresso machine, and the room filled with a wonderful aroma. “He probably wanted to watch everyone’s reaction. Even Damian seemed surprised.”
“I know Damian runs the local MC, but would he steal the town’s money?”
“I don’t think so.” Lily took out milk from the fridge beneath the counter. “Despite the club’s reputation, Damian grew up in this town and I believe, in his own way, he loves it.” She poured milk into a pitcher and steamed it with the wand attached to the espresso machine. “Damian acts like a scary, outlaw biker, but he comes to every town hall meeting. He even voted to resurrect the sunflower festival.”
Sophie began rearranging cupcakes in the pastry cabinets. “I’m sorry the Santa parade is canceled.”
“Me too.” Lily put on a black apron printed with the café’s logo and handed Sophie an apron as well. “I’m surprised I didn’t realize there was no coordinator for the parade. Since I wasn’t running the event, I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“Why do we have to cancel the parade?” Sophie put on her apron, took out the tray of sugar cookies, and placed them on top of the cabinet. “The haunted house tour brings in tons of people and that’s managed by volunteers. Can’t we do it on our own?”
The front door opened and a group of people, led by Nana Ruthie, hurried inside, followed by a rush of wind and snow.
“Clara runs the haunted house,” Lily said. “As a professional event planner, she brings in vendors who trade their services for free advertising.” Lily finished two lattes and handed them to Nana Ruthie who now stood near the coffee machines. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Nana Ruthie nodded at her friends who were taking off their coats and moving chairs around. “We’ll need four more lattes. Cookies. And Mr. Elmer wants black coffee, freshly made, of course.”
“Of course.” Lily returned to the coffee machines, giving Sophie a wink along the way. Although Nana Ruthie and Mr. Elmer argued incessantly, they were great friends.
Another thing Sophie loved about small towns.
More people came into the café, and she rang up customers, heated savory tarts, and handed out cookies and cupcakes. Once everyone was settled with their drinks and food, she ran into the kitchen to grab leftover petite beef turnovers from the refrigerator. When she returned, she found Nana Ruthie in front of a cabinet, staring at her.
“Nana Ruthie?” She began putting turnovers into the cabinets. “Do you need anything?”
Nana Ruthie smiled, and Sophie’s heart spun in her chest.
“Tell me.” Nana Ruthie’s smile turned into a thin line. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to that money?”
“Of course not!” Heat rose up her neck, leaving her face hot and itchy. “Why would you ask that?”
“You do have some unsavory friends.”
“Had unsavory friends.” She held onto Nana Ruthie’s gaze until the older woman turned away. “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of–”
“I’m sorry..” Nana Ruthie placed her empty mug on top of the pastry cabinet and sighed. “I’m just disappointed. I remember when my father–Lily’s grandfather– played Santa. Tons of people came to see that huge tree in front of Mosby House covered in Christmas lights. At least until Caleb Mosby–that old grouch–pulled the plug. We’d have gingerbread house contests, wassailing wagons, snowball fights.” She blinked a few times. “I’m just a woman reminiscing about the past.”
“It’s okay.” Sophie took Nana Ruthie’s mug and went over to the hot chocolate maker Lily had bought in Paris. It was a lovely-yet-complicated stainless steel machine that used melted chocolates.
Usually Lily worked the machine, but she was carrying a tray of hot coffees to Mr. Elmer and his friends from the VFW hall who sat at a table between the soda fridge and a Christmas tree. “I wish I could’ve seen this town when it was filled with tourists for all those events.”
“It was a wonderful time we thought would never end.” She turned toward the windows overlooking Main Street where most of the store fronts were shuttered. Street lamps broke up the night’s darkness, and snow drifted, as if it’d given up its main purpose. “I’d hoped to end this year with a Santa parade.”
Before Sophie could answer, Ben and Gage entered the café, along with a gust of wind. Once she handed Nana Ruthie the hot chocolate, she ran around the pastry cabinets and flung herself into Ben’s arms. He held her against his hard body and kissed her until her toes curled inside her wool socks. This time of year, he smelled of pine and cinnamon, and she rested her head against his chest despite the snow on his jacket. She held his waist while his arms settled around her shoulders.
“Would you like a hot chocolate?” Her words sounded muffled against his jacket.
“I’d love one. But it’s after nine and I’m afraid it will keep me awake.”
