Chapter Twenty-One
Bart sniffed appreciatively, inhaling the aromas of cinnamon and gingerbread, chocolate and coffee.
The Honey Pot Café was cosy and quaint, with mismatched old china and dressers filled with bee-related knickknacks.
Christmas tunes played in the background; red, gold, and green bunting hung from the ceiling; and a decorated fir tree sat to one side of the counter.
The place was busy, which was to be expected since the food was excellent.
Toby’s face was filled with wonder at all the cakes and pastries on display, and Bart’s chest blossomed with unexpected warmth and gratitude that fate had brought the child and his mother into his life.
Opening the guest house this Christmas had been the best decision he’d made since Penny died.
Second best, he amended. The best was inviting Sarah and Toby to stay. He was finally feeling useful again.
“I’m hungry,” Toby declared.
Eloise grinned. “You’re always hungry.”
“Bart!” Toby’s yell made him jump. “I’m hungry!” The little boy was exasperated at having to repeat himself.
“Okay, young man, message received loud and clear. What do you want?”
Toby frowned, pressing his lips together, then brightened. “Cake?”
“Don’t you think you’d better have a sandwich first?” It was lunchtime, and Bart had a feeling his mum might be cross if he fed Toby cake for lunch.
“No!” Toby was adamant.
Bart scanned the festive menu and saw there was a children’s section. “Reindeer pizza,” he read aloud. “Snowman sandwich, cheesy Christmas trees…” Seeking inspiration, he asked, “What do you normally have when you eat lunch out?”
“A picnic!”
“Ah, I see.” Bart turned to Eloise. “I don’t think they eat out much.”
“I could have told you that. I’ll also bet that when Sarah arrives, all she’ll order will be a tea or a coffee for herself.”
I should have realised, Bart chided himself silently.
He took out his phone and called her. “Hi, Sarah. Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I just wanted to let you know we’re in The Honey Pot now. Where are you?”
“On our way.” She sounded out of breath. “Is Toby behaving himself?”
“He’s been an angel. See you in a few minutes?”
“About five.”
“Great.” He ended the call. “I’m going to order for everyone,” he announced. “Then she can’t not eat anything.”
“Let me,” Eloise said, getting to her feet.
“Absolutely not. I can’t have you paying for everything.”
“The way you’ve bought the tree and all the groceries?” she countered.
“That’s different,” he objected. Anyone would think he was skint. To be fair, he didn’t have much money to throw around, but he could stretch to a snack in a café.
“Shall we go halves?” she suggested, but Bart didn’t answer.
Taking the menu with him, he strode to the counter (even though the café had table service) and handed his bank card to Maddy, who owned the place.
“You haven’t ordered anything yet,” she pointed out, confused.
“I know, but when we do, I want you to charge it to my card,” he told her. “Ooh, hang on! What’s that on the specials board?”
She half turned to look at the chalkboard behind her. “Do you mean the Christmas Afternoon Tea for Two?”
He nodded, thinking furiously. “What does it consist of?”
“A selection of savouries, such as turkey and cranberry relish sandwiches, brie and spiced pear on wholemeal, a chestnut and mushroom melt, a fig and prosciutto pinwheel, and a mini Christmas ham and Dijon quiche. Then we have cranberry and orange scones with Christmas-spiced strawberry jam, along with mini cakes such as Christmas pudding truffles and eggnog panna cotta, plus a choice of tea, coffee, or cordial. Milkshakes are extra.”
Bart’s mouth watered. “I’ll have two afternoon teas, please. Can I order the drinks later?”
“Certainly. Is that everything?”
“A snowman sandwich, a cheesy Christmas tree, and a shortbread star please, for the little one. I’ll get back to you with the drinks order when the others get here.”
Maddy stared over his shoulder. “I thought your grandson was older than that. Or have Ross and Amy had another?”
That was the problem (and the blessing) of living in a small place like Honeycombe Bay; everyone knew everyone else’s business, and he could sense Maddy’s curiosity as she looked at Eloise.
“He’s not Ross’s boy. He’s the son of the woman who lives next door to me. And before you ask, the lady I’m with is a guest.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I’d heard you’d opened the Sea View again.” She was studying him, sympathy lurking in her eyes, and he guessed that she, along with most of the residents of the village, was well aware that he’d become something of a hermit since Penny had passed away.
“Mammaaa!” Toby’s shriek alerted him to Sarah and Mitch’s arrival.
Bart noted how Mitch pulled out a chair for her and placed the bags he carried next to it, and he smiled to himself, his inner grin reflecting the smile on Sarah’s face.
Mitch looked happy, leaving Bart to assume the shopping trip had been a success.
He also couldn’t fail to notice how Mitch hardly took his eyes off Sarah—until a certain small boy demanded his attention.
“Mitch! Mama! Look! I’ve got a present from Santa. Can I open it?” Toby swung his legs in excitement, then sent his mother a pleading look, worried she might refuse, but all she did was smile indulgently as he tore open the paper to reveal a colouring book and crayons.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Bart said to Sarah and Mitch as he took his seat.
“I’ve ordered the Christmas Afternoon Tea for everyone.
” And when Mitch looked blankly at him, he explained, “Think of it as a traditional English afternoon tea, but with a festive twist.” He listed what it entailed—or as much as he could remember.
“Oh, yum, turkey and cranberry sandwiches!” Mitch exclaimed.
Bart warned, “Careful you don’t overdo the turkey. You don’t want to be sick of it by the time you sit down to eat your Christmas dinner.”
“Never! I love Christmas dinner.”
So why did he book into a place where Christmas dinner was definitely off the menu? Bart pondered.
“What would everyone like to drink?” he asked, brushing his curiosity aside. “Sarah?”
She was wearing a stunned expression. “I don’t want the afternoon tea. I’ll just have a coffee thanks, with a shot of spiced caramel. Toby, how about a snowflake milkshake?”
Bart checked the ingredients: milk, vanilla, and creamy yoghurt. It sounded divine, and he debated whether to have that or the grown-up version, which contained eggnog and spices as well.
He said, “I’ve ordered him a snowman sandwich, if that’s all right.”
She worried at her lip. “Thank you. I thought he might be hungry.”
As are you, Bart said to himself. “Each afternoon tea is for two people, and it’s too late to change it now. Eat what you want, and leave the rest,” he told her.
“All the more for me!” Mitch joked, patting his flat stomach. “I’m going to have a chocolate orange milkshake.”
“Ooh, good choice!” Eloise enthused. “I’ll have one of those, too.”
Hiding a triumphant grin, Bart got to his feet. “I’ll go let Maddy know.” And as he moved away from the table, he caught Eloise’s eye and winked. She wasn’t the only one who could be sneaky!
The look of admiration on her face sustained him for the rest of the afternoon!
“I’ve been thinking,” Eloise said to Bart, as she gave the countertop a swipe with the dishcloth later that evening.
“Uh-oh.”
She looked askance at him until he explained, “Whenever Penny said those words, I knew I would be expected to do something—DIY usually.”
Eloise laughed. “Not DIY. Although you will be expected to join in.” Then she laughed again at his perplexed expression. “The pantomime.”
“What about it?”
“Has Toby been to one, do you think?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“When Sarah’s finished putting him to bed, I’ll ask her.”
“She won’t go.”
“I doubt whether she will,” Eloise said. Sarah couldn’t afford it, and Eloise knew she’d flatly refuse if she offered to pay. “But I was going to suggest I take Toby. With you, of course.” She still wasn’t confident enough to take him on her own.
“She isn’t going to fall for that.” Bart pulled a face, and Eloise remembered the hot water he’d been in when Sarah had tried to pay for Toby’s food and her share of the afternoon tea, and the woman behind the counter had refused to take any money from her.
Sarah could be quite feisty when she was cross, Eloise had come to realise.
Bart might have been chastened, but he hadn’t backed down, and Eloise knew the game was up. Sarah wasn’t going to accept any more charity. That reindeer had bolted.
Actually, did reindeer bolt?
Eloise refocused. “I’m going to tell her we want to go see it, but we feel self-conscious going on our own without a child in tow, so please could we take Toby.”
Bart was shaking his head. “She won’t fall for it,” he repeated.
“She might.” Eloise sounded far more confident than she felt. But pantomimes were part and parcel of Christmas, weren’t they? And Bart had said he wanted to give Sarah and her son the best Christmas he possibly could.
She ignored the voice in her head asking her whether the real reason was that she wanted to spend time with him.
Mitch popped his head around the kitchen door, his expression hopeful, but his face quickly fell when he realised Sarah wasn’t there.
“I’m off to the pub for an hour,” he said. “I thought I’d ask Sarah if she wants to come. I take it she’s not finished putting Toby to bed. Would you mind babysitting?”
Eloise said to Bart, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea. The girl could do with a bit of fun.”
She peered at Mitch. “Is this a date?”
The blush crept across his cheeks. “Not at all. Asking her out on a date would be rather crass, considering.”
“But you do fancy her?”
Bart came to Mitch’s rescue. “Leave the man alone, Eloise.”
She’d seen enough. Mitch’s reaction told her she’d hit the nail on the head, and her hunch was correct.
Abruptly she realised how silly she was being.
Just because she would have wanted a hero to come to her rescue and sweep her off her feet when she’d been at her lowest didn’t mean Sarah felt the same.
Besides, nothing was likely to come of it.
Honeycombe Bay wasn’t Mitch’s home, and as soon as the festive season was over, he’d be leaving.
Mitch said, “Forget it. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that he was gone, leaving Eloise with a sour taste in her mouth.
“I know you meant well,” Bart said soothingly, “but I don’t think either of them are in a position to consider dating, even if he does like her as much as you think he does.”
“You’re right. What do I know of love and romance?” she retorted.
Bart watched her fold a tea towel and drape it over the handle of the oven, his expression inscrutable. What must he think of her?
“Fancy a brandy?” he asked.
After she’d embarrassed Mitch like that, a fortifying glass of brandy sounded good. She might need more than one though. “That would be nice, thank you.”
Eloise brushed past him and stalked into the lounge, coming to a halt in front of the tree, not really seeing it, but she turned at the sound of a bottle clinking against a glass, followed by the quiet glug as Bart poured a measure.
She took the drink from him with a smile of thanks and lifted it to her lips, the aroma bringing back a sharp memory of a long-ago Christmas and the wizened old lady who lived next door to them when she’d been small.
Her mum had accepted a drink from her, and Eloise had begged for a taste (which had been denied), but the scent of it had lodged in her nose.
It was the last Christmas she’d had with her mother.
She sipped the liquid, holding it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing.
Bart’s voice was soft. “I hope when she’s ready, Sarah finds someone as nice as Mitch. She deserves to be happy.”
“She can be perfectly happy without a man in her life,” Eloise snapped, the stab of his words hitting a nerve.
“I’m not saying she can’t…I mean, not everyone wants a partner, do they? All I’m saying is—” He broke off abruptly. “Never mind.”
Eloise wasn’t listening, too busy thinking about what he’d said. She had been happy. She’d had a good life, despite her dismal childhood.
Had? Anyone would think she was on her deathbed. She had years ahead of her yet. Years.
Lonely years, the irritating little voice in her head reminded her. Without her job to anchor her, she’d been feeling increasingly lost. She needed to find something else to fill her days.
Or someone.
But that someone would never be Bart.
Suddenly, abruptly, she’d had enough of today.
After draining her glass, she placed it on a side table. “I think I’ll go upstairs and read my book for a while,” she said, adding, “Sorry,” even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was apologising for.
She was almost out of the room when Bart said, “Eloise? Thanks again for staying. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Neither did you,” she replied slowly.
His lips curved into a rueful smile, and he gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I couldn’t not help,” he said.
And that, right there, was why she needed to be alone right now—because Bart’s kindness and his sexy smile were affecting her in a way she had never experienced before. And frankly, it scared her.