Chapter 17
Determined to push melancholy thoughts to the back of her mind, Lauren concentrated on getting Hope’s Café ready to open.
Thankfully, the flow of customers was brisk in the first hour, and she didn’t have the chance to dwell on things.
Although it was Saturday, and there was no school run to boost her coffers, it was a beautifully sunny winter’s day, and lots of people popped in to get their reusable cups filled before a trek around the lake, or on the way back for a restorative cup of coffee and slice of cake.
Today, in honour of the closeness of Christmas, Lauren had baked an impressive red velvet sponge and decorated it with precisely cut-out fondant holly and ivy leaves.
So far, it had been going down a storm with the clientele.
‘Do you ever bake these whole cakes just to sell?’ One of her regulars, a pretty blonde woman called Grace asked as she tucked into a gargantuan slice along with her latte. ‘You’d make an absolute killing if you did.’
Lauren shook her head. ‘I’m busy enough selling them in slices! I’m not sure I’d have the time to make extras to order.’
‘Shame,’ Grace replied. ‘Jessica’s birthday is coming up at the end of January and I’m desperate for someone local to bake a cake. I wouldn’t know one end of a spatula from the other!’
‘Well, if I hear of anyone, I’ll let you know.’
‘And let me know if you do decide to take a commission,’ Grace said. ‘I can’t get enough of your baking.’
Lauren blushed. ‘Thank you.’ She busied herself behind the counter.
She never knew how to take a compliment.
All the same, she wondered if Grace might not have a point.
How hard could it be to bake a couple of extra cakes?
She was doing it on Wednesdays and Fridays anyway and was forever putting spare sponges in the freezer when she made too many.
Although not as artistic as her mother, she did enjoy putting the finishing touches on her own cake creations.
Perhaps that would be something she could do to keep herself occupied in the evenings, at least until Myriam got back.
Pondering this, it wasn’t until a rather sharp voice intruded on her reverie that she snapped back to reality.
‘Excuse me?’
Lauren jumped and turned back from wiping the milk froth off the coffee machine. ‘Sorry. I was miles away.’
‘I could see that.’ Standing the other side of the counter was a somewhat stressed and dishevelled-looking Marc Hathaway.
Lauren plastered on a smile. ‘What can I get you?’ She noticed the dark rings around Marc’s eyes, and, despite his rather sharp tone, she felt a stab of sympathy for him.
‘A double espresso, please.’
‘To drink in or take out?’
‘Take out, please.’
‘Coming right up.’
Turning back to the coffee machine, Lauren was soon brewing an aromatic, rocket-strength espresso. With the swiftness of someone who did this all the time, she poured it into a takeaway cup and popped the lid on top.
‘There you go.’
She waited as Marc reached inside his brown woollen jacket but pulled out nothing.
‘Shit.’ He tapped his back pocket but still came up empty. ‘I’ve left my wallet at home, and the card on my phone has expired. Never mind. I’ll have to leave it.’
If ever a man looked in need of a double shot of a highly caffeinated beverage, it was Marc. Lauren pushed the cup over to him on the counter. ‘Have this one on the house,’ she said softly.
Marc, who was still rather forlornly checking his pockets, glanced back up at her. His eyes, as well as looking tired, registered gratitude and a warmth of understanding. ‘Thanks,’ he said gruffly.
Lauren’s heart did a little thump thump. She did her best to ignore it, but, just like Myriam, she never could resist sad eyes on a man. Even if he did owe her money.
‘You’re welcome.’ She pushed the cup a little closer to him. ‘You look as though you really need that today.’
Marc gave a short laugh. ‘Both the boys had nightmares an hour apart last night. By the time I got Liam back to bed, Luca was awake, and, well, trying to convince a hysterical nearly six-year-old that there isn’t a monster in the wardrobe is a mammoth task at three o’clock in the morning.
In the end, it was easier to put him in my bed than leave him in his own. ’
‘I can believe it!’ Lauren smiled back at him. ‘And did you manage to chase away the monster?’
‘Let’s hope so – I think we’ll all need an early night tonight.’
‘Do you have a busy day?’
Marc nodded. ‘I’ve got to grab a couple of last-minute things for the boys for school – they start on Monday – and I forgot to put an online order in from the supermarket.
The boys are in the car, but I couldn’t resist dropping in to grab an espresso to go before I tackle it all.
And now I’ll have to go home, anyway, and pick up my wallet. ’
‘Are the boys excited about starting school?’
Marc raised a hand in a so-so gesture. ‘They flip-flop from being excited to not wanting to be cooped up in a classroom all day, but I’m sure they’ll get used to it.’
‘And hopefully, school will wear them out,’ Lauren replied.
‘I hope so, and that any wardrobe monsters will have disappeared by then!’
‘If they don’t, then my mum used to use her patented Monster Spray to help me forget about them,’ Lauren said.
‘It was just an old spray bottle with lavender water in, but she’d spray it in all the corners of my room, and inside the wardrobe, before I went to bed every night, and say that any monsters would be scared by the scent.
Worked a treat when I was little, apparently. ’
‘That’s not a bad idea.’ Marc quirked an eyebrow. ‘I might give it a go.’
‘Put in some camomile, too; they’re both great at sending you to sleep.’
‘Sounds like something we could all do with.’ At the mention of sleep, Marc yawned. ‘Sorry…’
‘Not at all. Enjoy your coffee.’ Lauren’s hand was still near the cup, and as Marc reached to take the espresso off the counter, their fingers brushed. Lauren felt the jolt.
‘Thanks again for the coffee,’ Marc said. If he’d felt anything, he did a good job hiding it.
‘You’re welcome,’ Lauren replied quickly. She tried not to watch his retreating back as he left the shop. She wished she could do something more to help than be his caffeine supplier, but she wasn’t sure how he’d react. And, she thought, shaking her head, what help could she offer, anyway?