make-up trial soon? Now Olivia’s here we can invite her too.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Let’s just keep it us girls for now.”
Missy raises an eyebrow. “OK. You just say when and we’ll make a night of it, just us. I’m about to get a lot more time on my hands.”
“With a baby comin’?” CeeCee says in mock consternation.
Missy hoots with laughter. “No, I mean, with the salon. My new girl, Becca, starts today, so I’m going to hand things over to her and go rest my swollen…everything.”
“I can’t believe it,” I say. “It’s going to be so weird not having you just a few steps away.”
Missy’s eyes shine with tears. “Oh, golly, here I go again.” She plucks a tissue from the box. “You know, I can’t wait until this urge to cry over every itty-bitty thing goes away.”
“Hush now,” CeeCee says. “Missy, you know where we are. It ain’t like we’re going anywhere. You still gonna visit us every day. I know I ain’t going to be able to function without some cuddles from that little bundle o’ joy you about to bring into the world.”
Missy gives us a warm smile. “Thanks, Cee. I’m really looking forward to the whole motherhood thing. I’m scared, and excited and nervous. But mostly just plain grateful. There’s times though when I worry about the salon. You know? That’s been my baby for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s going to be in good hands,” Sarah says and looks to me and CeeCee. “I met Becca yesterday. She’s going to fit right in here. With one look at grumpy ol’ Marjorie she had her figured out. They were firm friends by the time she left. She’s going to treat that salon like it’s her own.”
Marjorie is Ashford’s answer to the Grinch. She despises Christmas. Hates any form of celebration. Calls us all materialistic and brain-washed by consumerism. She sure is hard to fathom when you first meet her. “Geez, Missy, if she can handle Marjorie she can handle anyone!” I say. I go to the display fridge and take out some dark chocolate fruit mince truffles, and a handful of Missy’s favorite, gingerbread and white chocolate.
Sarah gives me a thumbs up while Missy takes a deep breath and continues: “I know. I should be thanking my lucky stars I even managed to find a hairdresser that’d come live in Ashford. For a while there I thought I might have to close up for the duration. And Becca is sweet as sugar. I don’t know why I feel as though I’m never gonna see anyone again. Anyway, listen to me! We’re supposed to be organizing your wedding!”
“Missy,” I say, “you’re bound to feel that way. Your life is about to change for the better. And like Cee says, we might even see more of you now that you’re a free woman. Have baby will travel.”
More composed, Missy nods. “You’re right. I’ll probably have my own sofa here at the café, with my own fluffy blanket. Cee can use that baby carrier thingy-majiggy and wander around with him tied to her chest, singing lullabies, while I catch up on my beauty sleep.”
“That sounds mighty fine to me,” CeeCee says. “Ain’t nothing like rocking a baby to sleep, especially at Christmas. I’m gonna teach him a bunch of carols before he’s even old enough to smile.”
CeeCee is always babysitting for locals. She’s affectionately known as a baby whisperer. Exhausted mothers often stop by the café and beg CeeCee to tell help get their infants to sleep. She laughs her southern haw, and takes the squawking bundle into her arms. We order the exhausted women to rest up, they’ll amble to the recliner with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand. Drink it quickly and doze, safe in the knowledge Cee’ll have their babies snoozing in no time.
I hope CeeCee will have the chance to hold a child of mine. And that she’ll be around when they are old enough to bake alongside her. I don’t think there’s anything nicer than picturing that day. Almost as if I can see a little blond-haired girl standing on a step so she can reach the bench, listening patiently to Cee as she shows her how to mold fondant, or roll out pastry.
“I saw your mamma the other day,” Sarah says, pulling me from my daydream. “That holiday definitely agreed with her. She’s looking as happy as I’ve ever seen her.”
She’s been flitting around town since she came home, showing anyone who’ll look her holiday photo album. “Did you see the pictures?”
“We all saw the pictures!” Missy says.
I shake my head, laughing, grateful she didn’t invite everyone to the family slide-show night. Mamma learned the art of taking a ‘selfie’, which was adorable for the first few hundred shots. “You know she’s gone and invited my cousin Jeremiah to the wedding?” The girls attended my first wedding, and know all about the disaster that is my cousin.
They dissolve into laughter again.
“You girls finished?” I arch my brow, and try to keep the smile from my voice.
Missy gushes, “Oh, he’s just misunderstood! His hair grew back grey, after all…”
I gasp. “Mamma told you too?”
She shakes her head no. “Rosaleen. And…it seems, well, I don’t know how to put it—”
“No! Please don’t tell me Mamma invited Rosaleen?”
Missy pulls a face and says, “She’s very excited. And so are her daughters…”
CeeCee clears her throat. “While we’re at it…the three Mary-Jos were asking about bringin’ their boyfriends.” She shakes her head, as she’s always ruffled by the outrageously flirty teenagers. “Seem too young for boyfriends if y’all ask me.”
I curse under my breath. Mamma’s gone and invited people left, right and center, without checking with me. With the extras that Olivia wants to invite, our intimate affair is going to be a circus. At this rate Guillaume is going to throw his tea towel down and cancel.
“Shoot. With that news, I better get to makin’ more gingerbread wedding favors,” CeeCee says, and lifts her bulk out of the chair. She turns back and says to Sarah, “Is that man-mountain o’ yours gonna be here for the wedding?”
Sarah and I look at each other and laugh. Seems CeeCee is all set with giving our significant others a nickname, and sticking with it.
“He sure is,” Sarah says. “Actually…he’s not planning on going anywhere after that.”
“What?” I ask. “He’s moving here for good?”
She nods, her smile lighting up her doll-like features. “Yep. We figured it was about time. I mean, Ridge’s practically living here anyway. But he’s selling his apartment in New York, and moving in with me.”
We screech our support and take turns hugging Sarah. She met Ridge a few months back after he came to do a story on a chocolate festival the town of Ashford hosted at Easter time. It didn’t take long for love to blossom with the pair of them, and before we knew it Ridge was here almost every weekend after quitting his job at The New York Herald newspaper and doing freelance work instead.
Sarah says, “It’s the weirdest feeling making room on my bookshelves for him. Is that odd? I mean, aren’t I
