Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
CHRISTMAS EVE
I push open the door to Brew-tiful Days and grumble under my breath. When Sylvia called me last night begging me to help her this morning, I wanted to say no. I really, really did.
I won’t do that to her, though. She’s been great to me, and I don’t want to leave her without the help she needs on the last shopping day before Christmas.
Yesterday, Hazel took me shopping for Felix’s gift while he was on his date with Gabriel. I thought I’d be jealous of them, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop my mind from running away with the idea of the three of us together.
I don’t know why Felix was so difficult to shop for this year. I’ve never struggled like this before. Hazel said it’s because I want this gift to mean something, to send a message. Maybe she’s right, but if she is, it was a subconscious decision.
Getting to know Gabriel, though, has shown me that there is a hole in my life. Not that my friendship with Felix isn’t enough, but I need that romantic side of things. Things can’t stay platonic between us. I need to cross this chasm with him.
Or let him go if he doesn’t return my affections.
The pocket watch is heavy in my purse as I hang it on the hook in the break room. I can’t believe I let Hazel talk me into the ridiculous engraving. She’s so persuasive that it wasn’t until last night, while we were drinking hot toddies, that I realized how cheesy it is.
She had to talk me out of throwing it away.
I’m just putting on my apron when Sylvia comes bustling in, her hair having not yet been steamed out of place.
“Oh, Clara, I’m so sorry,” she says, giving me a stiff smile. “I meant to call you and let you know I don’t need you after all. I feel awful making you get up this early.”
It’s six thirty in the morning, still half an hour until sunrise. I try to hold back my groan, but I don’t manage. But I bounce back fast.
“That’s okay, Sylvia. Are you sure you don’t need me?”
She thinks for a moment and then declines. “No, I don’t. Let me make you a drink before you go, at least.”
I put the apron back and grab my purse before settling at a small corner table. Sylvia bustles about, the grinding of beans and the sound of the steamer so comforting that it’s close to lulling me back to sleep.
The sound of a mug hitting the table in front of me jolts me out of my half-awake haze. “It’s a new special,” Sylvia tells me, her eyes sparkling. “Orange mocha latte.”
“New specials right before Christmas? I thought you were going to phase out festive ones and bring in Valentine’s Day ones soon?”
She waves her hand and blows me off. “I felt inspired.”
I lean over, and the rich, citrusy scent washes over me. My eyes drift shut as I bring it to my mouth, comfort filling me with every sip.
“Wow, Sylvia, this is incredible,” I say, not setting my cup down between drinks. “This needs to be on the menu year-round. It reminds me of the chocolates my parents would put in the toe of my stockings. I loved cracking them on the table with my dad.”
With a contented hum, she brushes her hands together, as if brushing off her hard work. “Then I achieved my goal. You should take one to go and watch the sunrise over the lake. May as well see something beautiful since you’re already dressed, right?”
Watching the sunrise might be lovely, and I am warm enough to do so.
I’m wearing the least offensive of all the Christmas sweaters I own today.
Felix got it for me after hearing me bemoan the uniform requirements Sylvia set for me, and that alone was enough to make it my favorite.
The dark green sweater is oversized, featuring a white print that includes snowflakes, coffee beans, and a large mug in the center, surrounded by mistletoe.
When Sylvia places the to-go cup of the orange mocha latte in my hands, I thank her and head toward the lake.
Watching the sunrise seems like a perfect way to start the day.