Chapter 24 Christmas Day
Lachlan, Eliza, and Puffcake followed the breadcrumb trail back up to the Gingerbread Hollow Square. And, as before, Puffcake would stop every few paces or so to eat the timeless treats.
Lachlan laughed at the sight. “You know, I wondered this last time. Is this considered cannibalism for Puffcake to eat bread?”
“Only when there’s cinnamon involved,” Eliza answered.
“Which is like, fifty percent of all baking dishes,” Lachlan pointed out.
“So? You drink black coffee,” Eliza shot back. “You wouldn’t know sweetness if it hit you in the face with a whisk.”
Puffcake gave a dignified huff in agreement. Once they were at the market, Eliza insisted that they separate in order for her to find him a present.
Lachlan decided to take Puffcake, the two of them smiling together like they were in on some sort of elaborate plan, but Eliza didn’t push for details. She only agreed to meet them both back at the cottage in an hour.
In the market, she found a new mug and a pair of Christmas socks for Lachlan.
For Puffcake, she bought a tiny, doll-sized scarf and a pair of matching mittens for his paws.
(She had to ask the clerk for an extra pair of mittens, since he has four paws.) She even found something for Hansel, Gretel, and Piper while she was there.
While she was heading home, the nostalgic smell of chocolate wafted her way, and she realized it was Frank’s chocolate shoppe, Mendel’s Confections.
She hurried into the shoppe, the bell above giving a jingle.
Frank looked up from behind the counter, his grin warm and friendly.
The display case before her sparkled with colorful éclairs, fondant fancies dusted in gold, and—Eliza’s heart leaped.
There were gingerbread snap dragons. She recognized the swirl of pink and blue icing wings, the sprinkle of coarse sugar of the dainty nose, complete with lavender gumdrop eyes. She knew these creations. These were Isadora’s.
Of course. Frank was practically ancient. Perhaps he knew Isadora personally.
“Mr. Mendel?” Eliza called his name a little louder than necessary. She felt silly, but Frank inclined his good ear to her, furrowing his bushy, white brows.
“Is there something I can help you with, young lady?”
“Yes,” she said. She wasn’t sure how to ask. “Do you know where these recipes came from?”
Frank’s eyes lit up, the blue sparkling with excitement. He didn’t say anything else, but pointed out of the window and to the lamppost directly outside the chocolate shop. She headed outside of the gingerbread-trimmed door and found a plaque on the lamppost.
In Loving Memory of Isadora and Henri Mendel
Founders of Mendel’s Confectioner’s Shoppe, Est. 1966, whose love story began in chocolate and lives on in every sweet creation. Their son, Frank Mendel, carries on their legacy with the same passion for artistry and heart that built this haven.
Eliza took a step back. Frank hadn’t just known Isadora—he was her son.
A slow grin crept across her face. Isadora had not only found love, but she’d built a life with someone who shared her passion for baking. She’d fallen for a chocolatier, and together, they’d had a son.
She wondered why Isadora never lifted the curse from the cottage on Drury Lane. Perhaps the memories of her first marriage were too heavy to face, and so she never returned to it. Perhaps she even tried to undo it, but didn’t know how.
Either way, Eliza couldn’t help but feel overjoyed. Finally, there was closure.
Getting a spark of resolve, Eliza stepped back inside and approached the counter.
She pulled Isadora’s Memory Baking Cookbook out of her satchel and placed it on the counter in front of Frank.
“I believe this belongs to you,” Eliza said.
“Your mother would want you to have it. She loved you more than you could ever imagine.”
Frank looked at the worn cover and then up to Eliza. Tears shimmered in his deep blue eyes, and for a split second, Eliza swore she was staring into Isadora’s. Suddenly, everything fit.
That’s when she saw the black and white photograph on the wall: the two shop founders, so happy and full of life. Isadora stood next to her husband, with one hand cradling her round belly and gleaming with a very large ring on her finger.
Guess Mendel’s Confectioner’s Shoppe paid well, Eliza thought, smiling.
Beside her, Henri gazed down at Isadora. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair and a strong jawline. He looked like a much younger version of Frank. He paid no mind to the camera, but only stared at Isadora, like she hung the stars and moon themselves.
“Thank you,” Frank said. “Please, take whatever you’d like from the shoppe.”
Eliza just smiled. “Actually, now that you mention it, I’d like to ask a favor. Would you mind if I used your recipe for Gingerbread Snap Dragons in my own bakery back home in London?”
After all, she knew the recipe by heart.
Lachlan and Puffcake were already outside by the time she arrived, her arms full of all the wrapped presents.
Opening the door, Lachlan took them from her, and placed them inside. When she tried to help, he was adamant that she remain outside. He moved away from the door, and Eliza caught a glimpse of a wreath hanging there.
That was odd.
That wasn’t there before.
Lachlan came back outside, shutting the door behind him. “Before we go inside, I wanted to give you your present first. You ready?” he asked, brows lifted.
Eliza nodded.
He came over to her, grabbed her shoulders, and spun her around three times. The snow crunched beneath her boots and threatened to make her slip, but with the help of Lachlan steadying her, she stayed upright.
At last, he stopped her in the very same spot she’d been standing in before. The cottage was as it was before, sugar-laced piping on the roof, candy cane lights leading up to the front door, smoke billowing from the chimney.
The only thing different was the wreath. She looked at Lachlan, confused. He was holding a set of keys. “Well?” he jingled the keys. “What do you think?”
She blinked, looking between Lachlan and the set of spare keys. Surely, they were the spares. They couldn’t be …
“I bought it,” Lachlan filled her in.
Her hands flew to her mouth as she let out a screech. “What? How?” That was all she could get out.
Lachlan smiled. “For you. I was surprised when I saw the Sugar Plum Suites owner was in yesterday, but then again, it is holiday week, and it’s their busiest month out of the year.
I went in and ended up making him the offer.
It’s completely in your name, Snow. You can Airbnb it out and make a profit for your bakery, or you could move in here and grace Gingerbread Hollow with your baking all year-round.
The only thing I ask is that every Christmas, this is where we’ll be. Together.”
Together. He’d said. Every Christmas.
And he was nowhere on the lease. He had no intention of screwing her over by ever trying to take this beloved place from her. She looked at the cottage. Hers.
She fell into his arms, tears streaming down her face as she kissed him. He hit a patch of ice, and the two of them went tumbling. The fluffy snow broke their landing, and she fell onto his chest in a flurry of giggles.
She kissed him again with every ounce of love and joy she could possibly convey to him. She felt like the Grinch; her heart only expanded more and more every time Lachlan was around.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her lip quivered, and Lachlan kissed her back delicately. The way he held her face was like he was holding a glass ornament, precious and worthy of being cherished.
“That isn’t all,” Lachlan mutters.
“What isn’t?” Eliza asked.
“Puffcake and I wanted to do something else for you, but thought for this next gift, you might want to be more involved.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, in the new year, I’ll come up and help you search for places in London for your bakery.”
“But I—” Eliza stuttered. “—I only have five thousand pounds. That isn’t enough to—”
Lachlan cut her off. “Your five thousand pounds has been matched.”
“What? You can’t just do that! I got you a bloody mug for Christmas, and you buy me a house and a bakery?”
Lachlan laughed. “One, you just spoiled my Christmas present. How dare you? And two, I’m not the one who helped match your bakery funds.”
“What?” Eliza blinked. “Then … who was it?”
Puffcake came fluttering over, then, eyes aglow with the joy of Christmas morning. He wagged his tail feverishly, snuggling into Eliza.
“Puffcake?” Eliza gaped in disbelief.
“Turns out, the exchange rate on chocolate chip cryptocurrency is through the roof right now. Guess that’s what living for seventy-five years will get you with nothing to blow your money on but candy cane lattes and frosting facials.”
“Guess you could say our gingerbread pal is rolling in dough,” Eliza giggled, scratching in between his ears.
Puffcake barked out a laugh, too, and smoke dissipated in the winter air.
“How could I ever repay you?” she asked them both.
“Just repay us in pastries. Word on the street is that the exchange rate for your delicious treats is pretty high, so you’ll have paid me back in no time.”
She kissed him again, and Puffcake flew out from her scarf and bounced wildly on her head. “Puffcake!” she giggled. “Lay off!”
“Jealous, much?” Lachlan said.
Puffcake still pounded away, pointing behind them. It was too late.
A snowball came barreling through the air, smashing both Eliza and Lachlan in the face. A triumphant “whoop!” came from the street, and they both turned to see Hansel and Gretel slapping in a high five.
“Nice work, bro!” Gretel’s voice glittered through the air.
Eliza shot to her feet, and lent a hand to Lachlan. The two of them smiled mischievously, thinking the exact same thing. Together, they began packing as much snow as they could, hiding behind Lachlan’s car.
“You guys are burnt toast!”