‘All right? Still here then?’
Veronica sounded almost pleased to see Emily, even though the briefest hint of a smile was a blink-and-miss-it event. As Emily came inside, Veronica lifted a mug.
‘Brew?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘What you been up to?’
Emily smiled. ‘I went to see Nathaniel Trower. I took him round a Christmas cake, but he … didn’t want it.’
‘No?’
Emily put the box down on the counter and lifted the lid. ‘Am I missing something? Is there something scary about this?’
Veronica looked over. ‘Pretty. Ha, the Father Christmas is a bit wonky. Could be drunk, eh.’
‘I just ran up the street. I almost dropped it.’
‘You want to be more careful.’
‘I’ll try.’
Veronica made the tea while Emily cut out two thick slices of the cake and put them onto plates.
‘Trower threw me out of his house,’ Emily said. ‘I showed him the cake and he went off on one.’
Veronica shrugged. ‘Well, he is a bit mental. Lives up in that big house on his own, hates Christmas.’
‘Any idea why?’
‘Nope.’
‘I thought maybe he was just mean, but he looked terrified. Like I’d shoved a bug in his face.’
‘Caterpillars.’
‘What?’
‘Caterpillars. Hate them. That would do it for me. You shove a caterpillar in my face and I’ll stab you with one of these sticks.’
‘Is that what they’re there for?’
‘Nope. Saw it in a magazine. Looked cool. Feels a bit weird but you get used to it.’
Emily smiled. ‘Anyway, feel free to sell the rest of this cake. Have you had any customers in yet today?’
‘Yeah, one.’
‘That’s great. Who?’
‘You.’
Emily laughed. Veronica even offered a smile. ‘Well, it’s a start.’
‘I made up some new menus like you said.’ Veronica lifted up a sheet of laminated paper. ‘Looks better, doesn’t it?’
Emily nodded as she took the paper and looked over its contents. ‘Much better,’ she said. ‘It’s clearer, only sells what you’ve actually got in stock, and looks pretty as well.’
‘Thanks. Did it myself on the computer.’
‘You did a good job. Have you thought about anything else I said?’
Veronica nodded. ‘Yeah. Customers now get a free glass of water with whatever they order.’
Emily cocked her head. ‘Is that right? Where’s mine?’
‘You have to ask for it, don’t you?’
‘Just put it on their table when they sit down. If they say they didn’t order it, tell them it’s free and to ask if they want a refill.’
‘Right. But what if they don’t order anything? Can’t have people sitting there all day drinking tap water.’
‘With a menu like this and a rack of cakes sitting over there, how could they not?’
Veronica frowned as though processing this, then nodded. ‘Right.’
‘If you’ve not got anything going on tomorrow, why don’t I come over and show you a few recipes?’
‘Yeah? Thanks.’
‘And you might want to think about getting some Christmas decorations up in the window.’
‘But what about Trower? He might slag me off online or something. Won’t get any customers then.’
‘I’ll deal with Trower.’
‘How?’
Emily thought for a moment. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do, only that she couldn’t let the stagnation she had found in Cottonwood carry on any longer.
‘I’m going to figure him out,’ she said.
Half an hour later, after briefly popping back home, she walked through the door of the Inn on the Green and found Skip sitting on a stool behind the counter, watching a wildlife documentary on the TV hung over the bar.
‘Hi there. Didn’t you come in the other day?’
Emily smiled. ‘That’s right. Emily.’
Skip clicked his fingers. ‘That’s it. I heard from her in the shop that you were staying for a couple of weeks. Over in one of Trower’s lets, aren’t you?’
‘Much to his dismay,’ Emily said. ‘I think he might try to kick me out pretty soon.’
‘Why’s that? He’s all right as long as you leave him alone.’
‘And don’t mention Christmas,’ Emily said. ‘I took him round a cake, you know, just to be nice. He threw me out of his house.’
Skip grunted with surprise. ‘Well, next time you’re handing out cakes, don’t bother with him, just bring them over here.’
Emily pulled a box out of her bag and put it down on the bar. ‘Da-da,’ she said, lifting off the lid. ‘Mince pies. Homemade.’
Skip looked like a kid waking up on his first Christmas morning. He stared at the box with such undisguised excitement that Emily couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Save some for your customers.’
‘Really? Can’t I just close up?’
‘Christmas is a time for sharing, Skip.’
The old man rolled his eyes. ‘Only if anyone comes in. If not, they’re mine.’
‘Sounds like a good deal. If you want more, anytime. I’ve not got much else to do for the next couple of weeks other than wander around the village and cook stuff.’
Skip narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you, some kind of Christmas fairy?’
‘Not quite. Actually, I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Sure.’
‘Cottonwood used to have a Christmas carnival. I know it used to be over on the green, but it seems that your resident wet blanket has put a dampener on that. I was wondering where else you could organise one.’
Skip looked uncertain. ‘Are you sure you want to get involved in something like that? You’d be risking Trower’s wrath.’
‘I’ve already seen him at his worst.’
‘You think? He’s a powerful man. I wouldn’t want to get his back up.’
‘I was brought up by a woman who would take any bully to the cleaners, give them a good dunking, then bring them back and give them coffee and a cake. I’m not scared of Trower or anyone else.’
‘Well, let me know how it goes.’
‘Thanks, I will. Just for argument’s sake, if I could get enough people together interested in setting up an event, is there somewhere here where we could meet?’
Skip smiled. ‘The Smuggler’s Room.’
‘The what?’
‘It’s the private bar, round the back. It used to be used for weddings and other functions, but there aren’t enough people round here anymore for those kind of things to happen. If you get a group together, let me know, and I’ll stock the bar.’
‘That would be great. At the moment it’s you and me.’
‘I never said I’d be involved—’
‘You’d be guilty by association.’
Skip looked pained. ‘Look, if you can find the interest, count me in. Getting one over on Trower would be the best Christmas present ever. You’ve got to get a good group, though, otherwise there won’t be enough people to split his wrath.’
Emily nodded. ‘Deal,’ she said, reaching out to shake Skip’s hand. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more deliveries to make.’