Christmas Wishes Part 3. Diana Palmer
“No, not yet.”
I watch her retreating back, and wonder what the heck she’s not telling me. Seems like we’re both guilty of keeping secrets.
***
The phone rings, startling me awake. From my bed the alarm clock reads 5.49. Time to get up anyway. I shake the grogginess away, and answer. “Hello?”
“You got the money, yet?”
I flop back in the bed and close my eyes. Thankfully Damon’s side of the bed is empty so he doesn’t have to hear this. I reach out and feel the groove in the mattress where he sleeps; it’s cold to touch. It makes me anxious we’re not spending our mornings together all of a sudden.
“Well?” Joel says again, interrupting my train of thought.
I exhale all the hurt and the worry in one long gust of breath. “I can give you three thousand, Joel. But that’s all I have. And it’s more than you deserve.” I don’t mention the festival proceeds just in case he agrees on my paltry savings. Paltry to him, certainly not to me. But there’s no way I’ll be handing over any cash until I hear back from Mr Jefferson.
“You’re just going to have to sell, then, Lil. I’m not playing a game here. I’m serious. I’ll give you one more day to organize something or I’ll file with a lawyer,” he threatens.
“One day? This isn’t a movie, Joel.”
“Don’t be smart, Lil. In the meantime, I’d hate to see a fuse blow at your precious café. Imagine that — all your fridges off for the night…all those cakes for the festival, ruined. You’ve got one day.” He slams down the phone.
I let out a barrel of expletives and only wish Joel were still on the phone to hear them.
***
CeeCee’s at the café when I arrive, slamming her palms into pastry dough as if it’s a punching bag.
“Why are you here so early?” I ask.
“Thought I’d make a start on these pies.”
“Sure, but you didn’t need to come in early. Let me help.”
I take a ball of dough.
“Damon left early this morning too. Hope it’s not my morning breath that’s scaring him away.”
“Hmm, don’t think it’s that,” CeeCee says.
“Do you think it’s weird, Cee? That he’s been leaving in the morning without me? We usually have coffee and mosey on down together. Now he’s up and gone before I’m even awake.”
CeeCee looks at me sternly. “What you gettin’ at?”
I shrug. “I just hope Joel hasn’t made him rethink things, that’s all.” I’m not used to the range of emotions that swim inside me, when it comes to Damon. I almost want to cling to him, because he’s so much more than I’ve ever had.
She tuts and tosses down the dough. “So Damon’s left early a couple days this week? Days Charlie’s been here? Kids that age are up before sparrows, that’s what it is. I seen the way you two carry on — all that huggin’ and kissin’ you do when you think no one’s watchin’…”
A blush rises up my cheeks. “Whoops.”
“Yeah, whoops, all right.” She sighs, big and dramatic. “Young love, it’s a beautiful thing.”
“Young? Why, thanks, Cee. Has Mr Jefferson called back yet?” I pummel the pastry.
“Nope,” she says. “And I checked that fangled machine for messages, nothin’.”
“Joel called this morning, said I have one day to sort something out. He’s really hamming up that whole bad-guy act.” I don’t mention his threat about the fuses — CeeCee would be at Old Lou’s before I could say boo.
“One day? What you s’posed to do in one day?”
I shrug. “Exactly.”
CeeCee grunts, and shakes her head. “Put it out of your mind, sugar. Oh, before I forget, another delivery of chocolate buttons arrived. We can get started on the rest of the Easter eggs. I thought we could fill up the smaller ones with some zany flavors for kids, like sherbet, that kinda thing. What you think?”
“Sherbet? Sounds amazing!”
“Folks certainly won’t find that anywhere else. I wanted to leave early today on account of running some errands.”
“Errands? You want me to do them?” I usually help CeeCee with her shopping because she doesn’t own a car.
“No, no,” she says quickly. “Just some things I need to sort out. It won’t take long.”
“OK. Take your time, Cee. I thought I’d organize those make-at-home choc-chip cookies in a jar, for the festival.”
CeeCee wraps the balls of dough in cling film, and sets them in the fridge to rest. “You want me to pick up some pretty ribbons to tie around them while I’m out?”
“Sure.”
***
After the lunch rush, I walk out to the office to return Mr Jefferson’s call. He phoned earlier when we were knee-deep in customers, and I could tell by the tone of his voice the news wasn’t good.
“Mr Jefferson, it’s Lil.”
He sighs, a long drawn-out sound. “Lil, I got some bad news. He’s wrapped you up tight with this. By the looks you’re going to have to pay him. From what I can see, the loan has gone through his dad’s business, so technically you owe the twenty thousand, plus interest.”
“Even though his dad’s passed on?”
“Yes, ma’am. Seems Joel is the beneficiary of his dad’s estate, and is chasing everyone who still owes them. Not that there’s many with anything tangible left. They got some nerve, that family, sending people broke with the amount of interest they charged. No one could afford that kind of money. They preyed on desperate people.”
I rest my head against the cool of the wall. “That they did. What should I do? See about getting a loan…”
Mr Jefferson clears his throat. “We can see about getting a payment plan of some type. There’s a host of things we can legally do. You can fight it, it’s just the cost of that if you lose…”
“No, I don’t have the energy to fight him. Let’s see about some kind of payment terms, then. You think you can hold him off for a little while?”
“I do, Lil. Let me contact him, and see about negotiating.”
We’ve made over a hundred small eggs, filled with various flavored luscious ganaches to replenish our stock for the last time before the festival. We dust the tops of each egg with colored sugar crystals to differentiate the flavors.
Our jam jars are filled with all the dry ingredients to make chocolate-chip cookies. We’ve tied star-shaped cookie cutters to the jars with gingerbread ribbon. A cute little gift idea we couldn’t resist trying.
“I’m going to add a few of these to the window display,” CeeCee says.
I nod distractedly as I tidy the bench.
A moment later CeeCee rushes back in, her eyes wide, hand on her chest.
“What, Cee? You OK?”
She is breathless, and points to Damon’s shop. “He’s there, out front with Damon!”
“Who?” As soon as the word leaves my mouth I realize. I rush to the window to gaze out. Joel. He’s pointing a crooked