Christmas Wedding At The Gingerbread Café. Rebecca Raisin

grin. “How did you end up in charge of the bachelor do?”

      He shrugs. “Damned if I know. Seems everyone’s working and Tommy thinks I need to step away from daytime TV…”

      Folding my arms and leaning my elbows on the table, I say, “Maybe that’s a good idea.” Dad retired just before he and Mamma went away; before that he worked with Tommy in the dairy. Almost forty years in the same place, and I think now he’s home he misses the routine, and his friends there. Not so much the back-breaking labor, but the lack of physical work has definitely added to his waistline, hence Mamma’s nagging. “But a few midday movie sessions aren’t such a bad idea either.”

      He gives me a half-smile. “It was a novelty at first, but now…well, I’m under your mamma’s feet all the time, and I’m kind of…bored. It was OK when we were traveling, but now, I need to find something to do.” He flicks his braces. “So, first step; bachelor party, second step, something to fill my days…”

      My dad’s one of those people who like to keep busy. He retired on Mamma’s say-so, but I don’t think he was really ready for it. And I hate to think of him sitting at home trying to keep out of Mamma’s way as she vacuums and dusts daily in her usual frenzy.

      “You could do some volunteer work?”

      He knots his bushy eyebrows. “That might be just the thing.”

      I rest my hand atop his. “Why don’t you try the community center? I’m sure they’d love your help.” We’re both silent as we glance out of the snow-mottled window to Walt’s empty furniture shop.

      Walt and Janey usually run all the local events out of the community center, but we haven’t seen them in an age. Janey was diagnosed with cancer back at Easter time. She and Walt moved to a small hotel in Springfield to be closer to the big hospital there while she receives treatment.

      “I’ll go in and see who’s running things now, see if they need a hand.” Dad clears his throat. “So, for the bachelor party, what’ll it be? I was thinking I’d set up our front room like a casino. I’d be the croupier, of course. Do you think Damon would like that?”

      “He’d love it.” And he would. A night in, gambling pennies on cards, would suit him to a T. “What night are you thinking?”

      “Maybe Monday night? Leaves two days before the wedding in case someone dyes his hair red, or whatever it is they do these days.”

      “Blue’s more his color.”

      Dad bellows so loud CeeCee glances over, and the newcomer does too. I mouth sorry, and exchange a smile with CeeCee.

      “Possum,” Dad says, reverting back to my childhood pet name. “Look at you.”

      I pat my hair down; my curls are probably a riot after dashing outside earlier.

      Dad waves a hand at me. “No, Lil, I mean look at you.” His face softens. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…radiant. Damon is a great guy. He’s smitten with you. It’s as obvious as the big nose on my face.” He laughs. “What I’m trying to say is, your mamma and I are so proud of you, from the way you run the café, to the way you cherish your friends, and because you’re marrying a man who is truly worthy of you. And I can’t wait to walk you down that aisle, knowing that the man standing at the other end is a good one.”

      I rub the top of his hand. Dad doesn’t often speak like this; usually he’s more of a prankster, a joker. And I guess like most people he had his doubts about my ex-husband Joel. He never said anything directly, but he’d asked me the night before my first wedding if I was really sure I was making the right decision. And I was sure; it wasn’t until much later that the marriage fell apart, and Joel changed into a different man from the one I married. But that part of my life taught me some valuable lessons about myself, and I wouldn’t change it.

      “That means a lot, Dad.” I give his hand a squeeze.

      “It’s all true,” he says. “Being away for so long, you know, we worried about you. When we heard that Joel had slunk back into town, we almost flew back. But CeeCee called and said she’d sorted it. It’s a funny thing, parenthood — you’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you are.”

      I stand and walk around to give him a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t cancel your trip for that. I’m lucky to have a friend like CeeCee.”

      “That you are, darlin’. So…” he winks “…what’s the chance of a slice of one of CeeCee’s pies?”

      “You’re going to get me in trouble…” I amble over to CeeCee, who’s packing a box of baked goods for the newcomer. I nod hello and he gives me a tentative smile. CeeCee pipes up, “This is Clay. He’s gone and moved to the Maple Syrup Farm. Gonna do it up real nice, like it used to be.”

      “Nice to meet you, Clay. You’ll be busy by the sounds of it.” I picture the derelict farm. It needs a complete overhaul, that place.

      Clay nods, and gives me a ghost of a smile.

      “Dad wants a piece of pie, Cee. So just holler if you need a hand.”

      She shoos me away. “Your daddy dumber ’n a bucket of coal if he thinks your mamma won’t find out. Ain’t no way I’m serving him pie, neither!”

      I massage her shoulders and laugh. “How will she find out?”

      “She’s a woman from a small town, cherry blossom. O’ course she’ll find out.”

      We’re tidying the café after another long day. CeeCee’s whizzing around as if she’s on a sugar high; even though she’s got twenty plus years on my almost-thirty she’s as spritely as a teenager. I’m mopping the floors as she restacks the books on the shelves and tidies the tables near the fireplace. She’s humming, and bopping along as she works.

      We’ve been so busy in the lead-up to Christmas I’m as worn out as a rag doll but CeeCee’s like a never-ending ball of energy. I clean slowly, and decide I’ll reward myself with a nice long soak in the tub when I get home. And if Damon happens to wander in while I’m in there, all the better.

      Blowing my hair from my face, I rest awhile using the mop as a prop to hold me. The street is almost deserted as shops close for the evening. It’s almost seven, and snowing hard outside, when I see a couple of finely dressed people walk into Damon’s small goods shop. There’s something about them that catches my eye. They’re not from around here by the looks of it: the woman is wearing a fancy fur coat, with a matching beret, and the gentleman is wearing a suit and scarf.

      CeeCee goes out front to bring in our chalkboard. She races back inside, and dumps the A-frame against the wall. “It’s cold enough out there to freeze the balls off a pool table!” She rubs her hands together to warm them. “Who’s that over yonder?”

      “I don’t know.” I dunk the mop, and swish it around the bucket when CeeCee says, “Well, we about to find out. Here they come now.”

      Damon holds onto the woman’s elbow and escorts them over the icy street.

      They stand just outside the café and shake the snow from their shoulders. Damon pushes against the door and motions for the couple to step in before him. Up close, I see the resemblance, and my chest tightens. Oh, golly, I wish I’d had some warning. They weren’t supposed to arrive for another week! I run a hand through my hair, which is an unkempt mess, no doubt, after such a busy day. My apron is stained and I’m wearing the oldest pair of boots I own, which squeak as I walk. The woman is draped in pearls, and the silver bobbed hair under her beret is immaculate. The man is ruggedly good-looking, like an older Damon, with the same kind eyes.

      “Lil, Cee,” Damon says, shivering from the short walk across the road. “This is my mother, Olivia, and my father, George.”

      I’m