Page 62 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“I wasn’t busy,” said Kate.
A woman in a deerstalker hat picked up two jars of brandied fruit and a bag of Kate’s alcoholic truffles. She ordered two gingerbread lattes and while she paid, a man in a matching hat joined her and took possession of her purchases. The woman touched her head to his in an unspoken mark of togetherness, and Kate was caught by such a pang of longing in her rib cage that she almost doubled over.
“That’s the last of your truffles,” said Matt as he turned to make the coffees.
“Really?” said Kate absently.
“Really,” said Matt. “I’ve got more of everything else in the van, but I haven’t been able to get away long enough to get it.”
A young couple bought one of Evelyn’s fruitcakes and a bag of gingerbread men and ordered cinnamon hot chocolates with whipped cream.
“And I’m dying for the toilet,” he hissed in Kate’s direction.
Kate took a swig of her mulled wine.
“Right,” she said. “Finish these orders. Get yourself off to the loo and then replenish your stock. And grab yourself something to eat, while you’re at it.”
“But you can’t make coffee,” said Matt.
“I’ll tell them its gifts only until you get back,” said Kate. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch your precious machine.”
Matt grinned.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and, hurling his money belt at Kate, he dashed out of the hut and disappeared among the Christmas shoppers.
Kate tied the belt around her waist and began to serve customers. A gospel choir sang “Carol of the Bells” under the tearoom’s awning and as the afternoon light faded, Victorian-style streetlamps bloomed agolden glow between the snow-capped huts. Laura ran past the hut in her uniform; she ducked her head in as she went by and through a maniacal grin said:
“I haven’t stopped all day. I want to kill absolutely everybody.”
Then she ran off, waving and blowing kisses behind her at Kate as she went.
Kate had sold a good deal more of Matt’s stock and assured several people that coffee would be back on the menu soon by the time he returned. He tottered into the hut with a large wooden crate and a brown bag containing hot crumpets with melted cheese on top.
They unloaded the stock onto the shelves and Kate sat on one of the stools to eat her crumpets while Matt took over serving.
“I’ve been thinking about the business,” said Matt.
“You’re always thinking about the business,” said Kate.
“I wondered about getting the old coffee van up and running again,” he said. “Laura reckons it would go down a storm here at weddings, and the vineyard has offered me a pitch at their food fair next summer. Maybe I could get a spot down the coast road too. What do you think?”
“Sounds good,” said Kate.
“No, I mean, whatdo youthink about doing it with me?” said Matt. “On your days off, I mean. Petula and Carla can handle the café. I thought it might be fun.”
“Oughtn’t you to be asking Sarah to do it with you?” Kate asked.
“Nah,” said Matt. “It’s not really her thing, she’s not quite as outdoorsy as you. Not unless it involves a rooftop bar.” He laughed. “Standing around in a wet field for eight hours isn’t her idea of a good time.”
“Oh, but it’s mine, is it?” said Kate. “I happen to like rooftop bars too, you know.”
“I’ve seen you on your dawn raids of Potters Copse,” said Matt.“Welly deep in mud, camera in hand. Sketchbook out when you think no one’s watching. You love it.”
Kate frowned.
“Think of all the inspiration for your designs,” said Matt. “All that being out with nature but with coffee at your fingertips.”
“You said yourself, I can’t make coffee,” said Kate.
