Sunrise at Sunny Cross Farm

Chapter 1

‘Three piping-hot lattes for table three, thanks Seb, and what’s the latest on the gas heaters outside? Likely to scorch anyone’s brows off today?’

Clementine Crossley grinned at her young barista, who’d come to the rescue last week when she’d adjusted the temperature settings but nearly lost an eyebrow.

‘Sure hope not,’ Sebastian Dainty said, stepping aside as Clem breezed out of her cafe kitchen with a basket of warm scones hooked over one arm and two plates of slice in her hands.

The Limestone Coast was renowned for its mild climate, and while the late-April morning had a nip of winter in the air, that didn’t stop the cafe’s regulars settling in for brunch at their usual tables.

Clem admired the way the friends fiercely protected this tradition, scheduling an hour each week in between farms, kids and careers to talk books and life, health and heartache.

‘I was dreaming of scones when I woke up this morning,’ one of the ladies said with an exaggerated swoon. ‘Cracking open one of these beauties and watching the steam rise and the butter melt is better than therapy.’

Clem passed the plate of homemade jam and coconut bars to Janey, who cut them into quarters and shared them around.

Laura did the same with the apple slice, while Courtney broke the fluffy scones in half with a gentle twist. Sam rearranged the mugs to make room for the food and Brenna ribbed them about ordering the same sweet treats, week in, week out.

‘They’re too delicious to resist. Please tell me you’re not ditching the apple and sour cream slice when you switch to the winter menu?’ Janey asked Clem.

‘Only if I can think up something you’ll love just as much,’ Clem promised, going to fetch the rest of their order.

She’d lost count of the many customers and catering orders the Wednesday coffee crew had sent her way, and when they asked for a specialty milk she hadn’t previously stocked, or requested a few favourites to stay on the menu, she was more than happy to oblige.

‘You’re a gem,’ Courtney said, accepting the fresh pot of peppermint tea on Clem’s return. ‘Clem, before you head back to the kitchen, we need your professional opinion. We’re planning a girls’ weekend to celebrate Sam getting the all-clear from her oncologist.’

‘Oh, that’s brilliant news,’ Clem said, her relief mirroring that of the friendship group. ‘I’m so happy to hear that.’

Clem didn’t exactly eavesdrop on her customers, but the animated conversations she overheard and the confidences they shared with her as she took orders, delivered cakes and collected cups gave her a unique peek into the lives of her regulars.

Birthdays, pregnancies, promotions and health challenges; she’d been there for so many milestones, each one stitching her closer to the tight-knit community of Penwarra, and making the Sunny Cross Farm Gate Cafe the hub she’d always dreamed of.

‘You know how much we love our coffee, Clem. Where are the best cafes and restaurants in a two-hour radius?’ Janey asked eagerly.

‘I’m not much help, I haven’t left Penwarra in ages. Kev’s quite the daytripper though, I’ll send him your way.’

One day, when the cafe’s in the black more often than the red, and the kids are older, there’ll be time for daytrips and weekends away, Clem told herself, heading inside.

The doorbell jangled cheerfully. Clem called a warm welcome to the customers who’d just arrived as she collected fresh lattes from Sebastian.

‘I’ll be with you in a second,’ she called, smiling and weaving between the tables just as Arthur Crossley emerged from the kitchen, nearly sending the lattes flying.

‘Close call, Pop.’ Clem grinned, twirling gracefully to save the coffees.

She set the drinks down and waved to Sebastian, who knew to add Earl Grey tea to his orders, before taking the ‘reserved’ sign from her grandfather’s favourite table.

‘You really should come through the front door, I can’t have customers wandering through my kitchen. ’

‘I’m family. And I like my old parking spot,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.

‘That way I get to have a quiet natter to Kev in the kitchen on the way in, hear how his dad’s doing without the whole cafe listening.

I’m keen to try this new show-stopper you’ve created, Clemmy.

Kev wouldn’t even give me a clue about today’s tucker. ’

As if on cue, Kev Jenkins appeared with fresh cutlery, giving Clem a wink as he polished a spoon on his sunflower-printed apron. ‘Thought I’d let you do the honours, boss. You’re in for a treat, Art.’

‘Thanks, Kev, and if you’ve got a minute, your travel expertise is in demand outside.’

Kev strode off to answer the Wednesday coffee crew’s questions, topping up water glasses as he went and complimenting a lady on her pineapple-print rain jacket.

Clem tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and took a moment to admire her efficient staff and the humming cafe. If momentum kept building like this, the summer ahead would be the break-even point for the business.

Slipping back into the kitchen, Clem scattered a garnish of sugared rose-petals over the dish and carried it to her grandfather’s table.

‘My word, what do you call this glorious creation?’ Arthur turned the plate, admiring the delicate tower of honeyed pistachio nuts, rosewater-glazed donut and a toffee and filo pastry garnish. ‘It’s almost too pretty to eat.’ She laughed as he leaned in and sniffed it. ‘Smells sweet, too.’

‘It’s my new baklava donut, hopefully my next bestseller,’ she said.

Pistachio custard oozed from the centre when Arthur dug his spoon in.

‘Honey, nuts, cinnamon and sugar all wrapped up together.’ Art tasted it and gave a groan of approval.

He tried the toffee and filo shards next, gesturing to Sebastian as he set down the teapot and accoutrements.

‘She’s got a knack for it, hasn’t she, young man? These will sell out as soon as they make it onto the menu. A piece of edible art that tastes every bit as scrumptious as it looks—you don’t get that at every cafe.’

‘Exactly what I said,’ Seb replied.

Clem flashed her oldest and possibly fussiest customer a smile before turning her attention to the next table.

Janey was waiting at the counter when she’d finished serving them. ‘We’ve got new neighbours, and one of your picnic hampers would make the perfect welcome gift. Can you recommend something?’

‘Absolutely,’ Clem said, talking her through the most popular options and different prices. ‘I could slip in a note, so they know it’s all made with locally grown produce?’

‘Yes! And maybe some of our favourite apple slice?’

‘Not a problem,’ Clem said, jotting down the order. ‘Though if their tastes run more savoury or they’ve got dietary requirements, you might be safer with some fresh Royal Galas and pears, a selection of local cheeses, and prosciutto from the Berkshire farm out of Beachport.’

Janey tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘Tell you what, I’ll take a larger hamper with all of those things. Make sure you add a few business cards so they know where to come for the best coffee in town.’

It didn’t take Clem long to put the hamper together, and soon Janey was on her way, walking out with not only the picnic hamper, but a carton of eggs from Buster’s Happy Hen Farm and a kilo of windfall quinces for her family.

The cheerful chatter of Janey and her friends echoed back into the cafe as they walked through the car park.

Sebastian gave a low whistle. ‘Here’s hoping her new neighbours become regulars too,’ he said. ‘We could do with some more high rollers. What do you have planned for that carrot cake in the kitchen? I can write up a menu card for the display cabinet?’

‘Don’t touch that,’ Clem said quickly. ‘I’m going to a friend’s tonight and she loves carrot cake.’

‘No wonder you’re invited to parties all the time, showing up with double-decker cakes like that. I’m bracing myself for another night of two-minute noodles and scrubbing out animal cages for my folks. Not much of a social life.’

Clem laughed at his envious tone. She didn’t have the heart to tell her young employee that after a busy day at the cafe, she would have preferred an early night on the couch, her aching feet propped up on a pillow, watching Disney movies with her daughters Harriet and Indi.

But if life had taught her anything, it was that good fortune, great customers and fabulous friends didn’t happen by accident.

‘See you tomorrow, Mr Hawkins!’

‘Don’t forget the Caramello Koalas.’

Spencer Hawkins gave the pair of Year 11s a thumbs-up as they strode past the lockers, backpacks over their shoulders, tossing a football between them.

‘They’ll be ready and waiting, guys—and they’ll taste better than ever when you’ve finished your English exam. Don’t stay up too late studying.’ He grinned, knowing the pair were more likely to be out kicking the footy until dark than labouring over exam rubrics before the mid-term assessments.

As their laughter echoed around the empty hallways, Spencer looked at his watch. Half an hour until the staff meeting; not quite long enough to get stuck into marking, but time enough for an inbox review, or a dose of fresh air before the autumn storms kicked up a notch.

Choosing the latter, he grabbed the leash from his top drawer. The familiar sound woke the beagle curled up underneath his desk.

‘Just a quick stroll, Dolly,’ he said, slipping a jacket over her white-and-tan coat. Although she was officially a classroom wellbeing dog, his beagle was as well-loved among the teaching fraternity as she was by the students who attended Penwarra Area School.