Christmas Wishes Part 3. Diana Palmer
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I wasn’t on your side, Lil.”
“It’s OK. I probably would’ve done the same if you said that about my mamma.”
CeeCee, as usual, was right.
“I’m glad you two lovebirds made up. I knew you would,” CeeCee says.
I smile in response before saying, “I can’t see how I’m ever supposed to work it out with Olivia, though. I can’t see her admitting it, somehow.”
“Wait and see, cherry blossom. You never can tell what’s gonna happen; life sure can be complicated sometimes.”
I blow my hair from my eyes. “It sure is.”
An hour later, Damon walks into the café with his mother on his tail. Here we go.
I’m serving a customer who is taking his sweet time choosing. He can’t decide between one of CeeCee’s southern lane cakes, or a chocolate hazelnut meringue. CeeCee walks from the office out back to the sound of the bell jingling. Her mouth becomes a tight line when she sees Olivia.
“I’ll serve, Lil,” she says to me. “You go on and talk to Damon and his mother.”
Olivia glares at me. I just shake my head, tired of the fight. “Let’s go sit by the fire,” I say.
Damon’s face is taut with worry. He still pecks me on the cheek, which makes Olivia narrow her eyes. “I hoped we could sort this out, together.”
I square my shoulders. “Great.”
“OK, so…” he says slowly.
“OK, so, Olivia—” I decide I’m not going to pussyfoot around “—I know it was you who did all those things. I know it. Though why you did beats me. I think we can all move past it, though, if you admit what you did.”
She surveys her fake nails before saying, “Really, Lil? It’s ridiculous. I’m not that kind of person, and Damon knows that. What you’re suggesting is pathetic. Something teenagers would do.”
Damon sighs. “Well, there’s no question someone did it. We have the email from Guillaume, and I talked to Bessie, and she said someone who looks remarkably like you came in and said Lil wanted her dress amended. I don’t know what else to do here.”
“To be perfectly honest, Damon, it’s all too much for me.” I turn to Olivia. “The centerpieces you found arrived. Did you want to explain those to Damon?”
She blushes. “What — you don’t like them?”
I laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Come on, Olivia! The fake lilies you bought are five foot tall, and are bright pink! I may as well put a flamingo on each table.”
Damon looks from me to his mother. “What’s this all about, Mother?” My stomach flips.
Olivia inhales sharply. “Well…I thought they were lovely.”
I shake my head no. “They’re comical, Olivia.”
She doesn’t even flinch when she says, “Damon, just because you’re marrying a girl who said herself she wouldn’t mind being wed in a field with a lame horse for a witness doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. Now, Katie, she would have made a nice wife.”
I suck in a breath, bewildered by her resentment. Damon narrows his eyes. “What kind of thing is that to say? Jesus, Mother.” His voice rises with every word.
“I’m sorry to say it, Damon, but I think you’re making a bad decision. This whole—” she waves her hands around “—place isn’t you. You’ve made a rash choice. Your father and I are worried, that’s all.”
Damon rubs his face, and groans. “God! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Dad definitely doesn’t feel that way. I know he doesn’t.”
Olivia’s face drops and she says quietly, “I’m looking out for you.”
“By not accepting Lil? How’s that looking out for me?” CeeCee serves customers, all the while darting glances my way. I nod almost imperceptibly, to tell her I’m OK.
Olivia’s eyes shine bright with tears at Damon’s outburst. Maybe she is just looking out for her son, but it sort of feels like being sucker punched when the reason she’s behaving like a monster is because she feels as though Damon ran away and picked the first girl he saw, who in her mind isn’t good enough.
“It’s your life, Damon,” she continues. “But I want you to know, I think your place is in New Orleans with your daughter.”
“My place is here, with, Lil. And it will always be. I see more of Charlie now than I did when I was working all hours. So that doesn’t wash with me.”
I do feel for Olivia. There’s obviously something lacking in her life to make her act such a way. And Damon finally believing me and standing up to her only makes me sad. Sad for her in a whole new way.
“I’ll just butt out, then,” Olivia says, her voice wobbling.
“Good idea,” Damon snaps.
That afternoon we close up early. Mamma, Sarah and Missy sit at the kitchen bench finishing off their gingerbread milkshakes, slurping them back like kids. CeeCee and I finish what we’re doing, and get ready to close early. We bundle on our coats and scarves and walk up to Bessie’s shop for the final dress fittings. I’m giddy with excitement, and hope my dress still fits after all the Christmas baking I’ve been sampling.
We’re chatting away about the last few days and all that’s happened when CeeCee stops dead in her tracks as her handbag vibrates. She pulls out her cell phone and plunges her hand into her bag for her reading glasses.
Her lips move as she silently reads the message to herself. “You go on ahead,” she says as the light goes from her eyes.
My throat tightens. Something’s wrong. “No, we’ll wait,” I say, my breath coming out with puffs of fog.
“It’s Janey. I have to go…” Her voice cracks.
We instantly gather close and hug her. None of us speaks as we stand outside, the snow drifting around us, as we think of Walt and Janey, and what this might mean. Eventually Missy says, “Is she OK?”
CeeCee glances down to the message on her phone. “It doesn’t say a lot. I better go. I’m sorry, Lil, sorry, girls.” She turns on her heel and walks back in the direction of the café.
The four of us watch her retreat. She strides past the town Christmas tree, which sits in an apex on the side of the road near the Gingerbread Café. Its shrieking fairy lights don’t catch her attention. Her head hangs low; she’s lost in thought. I fight the urge to run after her, and squeeze her tight. I send up a prayer that it’s good news about Janey that’s called her away.
“Maybe Janey’s better?” Mamma says almost in a whisper.
“Yes,” Missy says. “Wouldn’t that be something? She’s better and she’s home for Christmas.” Her voice lilts.
“Imagine that,” I say softly. “Let’s hope that’s what it is.”
CeeCee’s walked so fast she’s only a speck in the distance. She must be going on home by the looks. Janey lives at the other end of town. I hope Janey is coming home for Christmas. And not because of any other reason.
We lace arms and walk with quick steps to Bessie’s, eager to get out of the