Chapter 19
Lauren put her phone down on the counter, and before she realised what she was doing, she’d nipped through to the back of the house and called up the stairs to Myriam.
It was only when no response came that she remembered her mother wasn’t actually upstairs at all but sailing merrily on a Norwegian river.
Foolishly, a blush colouring her cheeks, she mooched back to the café.
‘Is everything all right?’ Cathy, who worked Wednesdays and Fridays, but often popped in for a coffee on other days, was sitting at the table near the counter and had seen Lauren go dashing out the back.
Lauren nodded. ‘Sorry. For a minute, I forgot that Mum wasn’t upstairs.’
‘Must take a bit of getting used to.’ Cathy sipped her latte.
‘What are you going to do with all that fabulous alone time? What I wouldn’t give for a day or two away from the kids!
’ Cathy was mother to an adorable six-year-old and a toddler.
Lauren was sometimes envious of her friend, who seemed to wrangle both children with such ease, but she’d seen her on a few occasions when the toddler hadn’t slept and realised that things weren’t quite as effortless as Cathy often made them look.
‘Not sure yet,’ Lauren replied. ‘This place keeps me fairly busy.’
‘Yeah, but even you have to shut up shop sometime.’ Cathy smiled encouragingly at her. ‘Myriam’s off doing something she’s always wanted to do – why not take the time to do the same?’
‘I can hardly lock up and leave this place for two weeks!’ Lauren laughed. ‘I’m not exactly rolling in money, you know.’
‘I know, but this might be a good opportunity to really think about broadening your own horizons. I’m always saying to you that you should get out more.
You barely even go down the pub, unless you go with Myriam, and that’s twenty yards from here!
’ Warming to her topic, Cathy glanced at the calendar on her phone.
‘Why don’t you and I go out for a drink on Christmas Eve?
Rob’s parents are coming down, and by the time I’ve wrapped all the presents, waited on my mother-in-law hand and foot and smiled politely at my father-in-law’s somewhat suspect political views, I’ll be gasping for a pint or two.
We could meet after you shut up shop here, and I can fortify myself before having to go back and play host for the festive season! ’
Lauren considered it. Why shouldn’t she meet Cathy for a drink? If Cathy could arrange her time and get away from home, with all her commitments, then Lauren definitely could.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘You’re on.’
‘Great! It’s a date. The pub’ll be buzzing on Christmas Eve, and who knows, perhaps you’ll encounter your own version of Patrick Dempsey under the mistletoe that Jen’s bound to put up on every beam!
’ Cathy knew enough about Lauren to know that Disney’s Enchanted had always been her favourite film, and the handsome lead quite rightly left her weak at the knees.
‘I think I’ll settle for a pint or two of Carter’s cider and a festive singalong,’ Lauren replied. ‘By the time I close, I won’t be good for much else.’
‘All work and no play…’ Cathy warned.
Lauren ignored this. Between her normal duties at the café and the commission for Marc Hathaway’s boys’ birthday cake, she had plenty to keep occupied over the next few days.
‘Speaking of work, what were you agreeing to on the phone?’ Cathy missed nothing.
‘Oh, a customer wants me to make a couple of cakes for their children’s birthday next week. I said I would.’
Cathy raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t think you did commissions.’
‘I don’t normally, but he sounded desperate.’ Lauren’s heart gave a little flutter when she remembered the slightly pleading tone in Marc’s voice. ‘He’s only recently moved to the village, so I thought I’d make an exception.’
‘Not that guy who lives out at the lake house?’ Cathy sat up straighter in her chair. ‘I’ve seen him around. His boys are the same age as my Emily, so I assume they’ll be joining Thea Saint’s Year One class.’
‘Yeah, that’s him,’ Lauren tried to sound noncommittal.
‘He lost his wife, didn’t he? God, I know plenty of people raise kids single-handedly, but twins?
And a house move into the bargain?’ Cathy shook her head.
‘Although, I must admit, if I wasn’t very happily married myself, I’d be queueing up to comfort the guy – he’s gorgeous!
He’s got a touch of Patrick Dempsey about him, at least from a distance. ’ She gave Lauren a knowing look.
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Lauren replied, a little too quickly. ‘He’s been in here a couple of times, but, you know, he’s just another customer.’
Cathy threw her a pull the other one look.
‘Whatever you say. He must’ve had some effect on you, for you to break your cardinal rule of not taking cake commissions.
Grace Holland told me you’d turned her down when she asked about a birthday cake for Jessica last week.
I mean, you’re such a creature of habit, Lauren, it’s like witnessing King Charles doing the cancan! ’
‘Oh, give over,’ Lauren shot back. ‘I’m not that predictable.’
‘If I didn’t know Rose was your middle name, I’d have taken a guess that “Routine” was,’ Cathy persisted. ‘So the question is, what’s Marc Hathaway got that Grace Hollander hasn’t?’
Lauren resisted the urge to throw a dish cloth in Cathy’s direction. ‘I just felt sorry for him, that’s all. And, as you say, it’ll be good to get out of my comfort zone.’
‘Baking one or two extra cakes is hardly out of your comfort zone. I mean, abseiling Cheddar Gorge would’ve really been something, but more of the same?’
‘It’s different,’ Lauren protested. ‘People come into the café, take a good look at what’s on the counter and then decide.
Being given a commission means that even if you think you know what the customer wants, you could have it all wrong.
What if they hate it, after you’ve spent all that time on it? ’
‘You’re more like Myriam than you realise,’ Cathy said gently.
‘She paints, and you create beautiful things for your customers to eat. But Myriam knows how good she is, and that, if she takes a commission, the customer will be happy with the result, because she’s talented.
You need to realise that, too. Hope’s Café is a success because you made it successful.
You can bake delicious cakes in your sleep, so why would you worry about making two extra ones? ’
‘It’s not the same,’ Lauren said, slightly mutinously.
‘Look, lovely, those twin boys are going to blow out their candles and demolish their cakes, probably throw a bit of it around, and love every mouthful. And you’ve got their rather gorgeous dad out of a spot by agreeing to bake them in the first place.
Stop overthinking it, and get googling Minecraft and, what was it, Octonauts? You’ll be fine.’
As Cathy paid up and left, Lauren ruminated on her words.
Perhaps her friend was right. Just because she’d never done a commission before, it didn’t mean it was going to be a disaster.
A little time later, she flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the café’s door and sat down at her laptop, searching for inspiration.