doesn’t know how to tell you. But I’m his mother and I know my son. Known him his whole life, in fact.” Again she gives me that huge smile as if it’ll take the sting out of her words.
An awkward silence hangs between us and I figure I’m going to have to try and compromise so we don’t so much as get off on the wrong foot, as outright stagger. “Of course, Olivia, if it’s important to you, and to Damon, we can try to accommodate more people.”
Guillaume will throw a fit, but somehow we’ll have to make it work. I’ll get CeeCee to ask him. Damon must be catching his death outside, and for once I wish the display window wasn’t such a talking point.
Perhaps Olivia just needs to be included more; then she’ll see for herself how happy Damon is here and that our wedding, though simple, is going to be lovely. “Olivia, I’d love some help in choosing the centerpieces. I wanted poinsettias, maybe in rectangle planters, sort of Christmassy, and in keeping with the color theme. We’ve been so busy in the café the last few days the wedding preparations have kind of been pushed to the side.”
“Your wedding has been pushed to the side? Your wedding?” she says, not managing to hide the incredulous edge to her voice.
“Not my wedding, our wedding. This is the busiest time of year for us — for all of us.” I indicate to Damon outside too. “And there’s no question work comes first, hence the need for a simple wedding.”
The Christmas carols playing overhead finish, and we’re suddenly sitting in silence.
Olivia says with a pained expression, “I don’t mean to sound rude, but why on earth would you have a wedding at this time of year if you don’t have time to plan it?”
Holding in an exasperated sigh, I say, “We decided to get married one year to the day we started out as a couple. And because it’s when all of my family would be home, and when Charlie would be holidaying here.” I’m sure she knows all of this. I’ve heard Damon on the phone to her a number of times, discussing the wedding, and the choices he’s made.
“I do wonder if you’ve thought this through. While a snowy wedding is a lovely thought, you’re taking people away from their warm homes at Christmas.”
I’m on the back foot every single time Olivia opens her mouth. If it were anyone else I would have told them straight up that they were pushing my buttons. But out of respect, I bite back on any remarks that aren’t friendly. I try once more to reassure her. “It’s Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day, and we’ve only invited those we’d normally spend time with over Christmas anyway. They’d be happy if our wedding was in the middle of a field with a lame horse for a witness because they care about us. There’s not much more to say about it. I’d love you to be involved in any planning that’s left, but if not that’s fine too.”
The doorbell jingles as Damon and his dad walk inside. “Mighty fine window you’ve got there,” George says.
“Thank you,” is all I manage.
George rubs his gloved hands together and says, “If you ladies are finished discussing the upcoming nuptials, we might call it a night. It’s been a long day of travel for us.”
Damon stands and says, “Dad’s right, you must be tired, Mother. How about I take you to our house and Lil can finish up here and meet us later?”
They’re staying at our house? It’ll be a squeeze when Charlie arrives. It’s only a small cottage up the road from the Gingerbread Café.
“Damon,” Olivia says, her voice saccharine, “we wouldn’t like to impose. We’d planned on staying with Abe Guthrie — he’s not too far from Ashford. We have decades of catching up to do.” She glances squarely at me and I manage to ignore the jibe.
“Right, Mother.” He grins. “How about I drive you there now, and we can meet for dinner tomorrow night?”
George pipes up, “We’re busy tomorrow night. We went ahead and promised Abe that we’d spend the night with his family, but how about the following evening?”
Olivia nods. “I don’t suppose there are any restaurants here yet?” She does a half-gasp, and laughs, as if she can’t believe she said that out loud.
George and Damon join in the laughter. I don’t see the funny side, but maybe that’s because it sounded like an affront to Ashford. Damon’s more relaxed and carefree than I’ve ever seen him, so I press on, hoping I’ve imagined this strange undercurrent from Olivia. “Why don’t we have dinner here at the café? I’ll knock something up.” It’s easier to cook at the café, and bigger than the kitchen at home.
“Perfect,” Damon says. “I’ll prepare the food, Lil. I’m doing a cooking demonstration so I’ll make extra.”
Olivia rubs Damon’s back as moms do. “Lovely, darling. We’ve certainly missed your cooking. Haven’t we, George?”
“That we have.” George steps forward and shakes my hand. “We’d love to meet your parents, Lil. Maybe you could extend them an invitation too?”
“Of course,” I say. “Looking forward to it.” Mamma and Dad have been itching to meet Damon’s parents. Mamma never stops with the queries about what Olivia’s like, and if George really collects vintage cars. Things I have no clue about. Mamma visits Damon’s shop regularly to sit at the coffee bar, and chat with him and her friends, so it feels almost as if she knows more about Olivia and George than I do. She’s probably grilled poor Damon daily for information. Small-town folk, we’re kind of nosey like that.
George says, “Maybe you should invite CeeCee too, Lil? From what we hear she’s part of the family.”
His sentiment stuns me for a moment. While Olivia is formal, George is relaxed and warm, so much like Damon. “She is. She’s like a mother and best friend all rolled into one. I’ll ask her along.”
Olivia fusses with her hair again. “It was lovely to meet you, Lil. We’re blessed to have you in our family. You just let me know what else I can do to help.” She beams at me before hugging me tight. In front of Damon she’s all sweetness and light. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe she is just worried about Damon, and getting to know me will allay some of her concerns.
I pull at the bottom of my sweater. “It was great to meet you. At dinner perhaps we can go over some of the wedding preparations.”
George yawns, and makes a show of stretching. His face is haggard from lack of sleep.
“I better get the old man home.” Damon indicates to George. “You’ll be OK?”
“I have the truck out back. I’ll be fine.” The thought of going home makes me smile in spite of it all. A steaming-hot bath always makes everything better.
Damon gives my jean-clad rear a cheeky tap before lacing his arm through Olivia’s.
George says, “See you the day after tomorrow, Lil. Damon’s given me a talking-to about falling asleep, my apologies.” He nods goodbye.
Once the door blows shut, I blow out a breath.
Finding the cordless phone, I punch in CeeCee’s number and fill her in to see what she makes of it. Once I get the whole sorry story out, I say, “So what
