Two days later, Rachel still had no idea what to get Emily. She’d gone through all her hobbies and interests—and there were many—but none of them gave her any ideas for what Emily would really like. She knew that Ryan had organized this Secret Santa as a chance for her to impress Emily—to really pull out all the stops—and while she didn’t appreciate his methods, she didn’t want to waste this chance.
So, she hatched a plan—first, she’d ask Ryan if he wanted to go shopping with her in front of Emily, and then extend the invitation. There was a Christmas fair on that Saturday, so it was the perfect opportunity. Next, she’d have to clue Ryan in on the plan, so he could help her steer the conversation in a direction that would let her know what Emily might like. And then, hopefully, she’d get to spend a little time getting over her crush. Exposure therapy, she called it—if she spent enough time with Emily, maybe she’d get used to her and would be able to squash her feelings down better.
With her plan all plotted out, Rachel was left with only the problem of what to wear that day. Usually, the question of what to wear to work was an easy one—the uniform. For the last week before Christmas, however, they were told to come in ‘dressed for the season’. Phil, their boss, had been quite specific about it.
Rachel opened her wardrobe, trying to remember what she’d worn the year before. She wasn’t the kind of person who liked to express herself with clothes—she much preferred just to blend into the background—so it was probably something small. A jumper, maybe, or a colorful scarf.
She bit her lip as she sorted through the clothes. There was a red jumper somewhere, she knew, and a black one with gold shot through the hem, both of which could work with the festive theme. Eventually she settled on the black jumper and a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband that she found at the back of the closet—probably something her niece left behind the year before—as well as a pair of burgundy jeans. Phil had given them permission to keep it casual, after all.
Her room was small, as was most of her living space; the flat was cramped but still cozy, and she liked her neighbors, at least. Rachel grabbed her coat and snow boots, throwing the pair of trainers she’d use in the cafe into her bag, and headed outside.
The walk wasn’t too long—twenty minutes, give or take, and faster in the summer when she cycled—but there was a bitter, aching cold about. Snow lined the uneven streets of the little town, and, while there’d been a brief respite in the actual fall of it, there was still a thick powder coating the actual tarmac. It was a good thing she didn’t need to drive, or the ice no doubt hidden beneath could have been the end of her.
As she walked through the town, enjoying the quaint old buildings and cheerful snowmen that sprung out of people’s front gardens, Rachel’s mind strayed, once again, back to Emily. She was a lover of art, she knew, and music—she’d mentioned that she played a few instruments once, so maybe a present to do with that? If only Rachel could remember which instruments it was that she played…
She rounded a corner, passing by a snow-capped post box—truly, this town was the ultimate ideal of a postcard-Christmas—and smiled when she passed Ms. Baker, walking her dog. She didn’t stop to talk, since she knew that, without doubt, Ms. Baker would be in the cafe that afternoon.
In the center of town was the green, a little patch of land where farmer’s markets and fairs were usually held, as well as a popular spot for picnics and meetups when the weather was nice. At this time of year, though, instead of an area of grass with a running fountain, acting as a point around which the roads all wound, there was simply a wide, unbroken layer of white. The fountain had no water and the benches surrounding it looked as though someone had shaken icing sugar all along the wrought- iron edges.
What Rachel didn’t know (but would soon realize) was that, despite the lack of water in the fountain, there was still some frozen on the ground, beneath all the snow. Perhaps an old puddle, or a leakage from before the fountain was turned off, but, regardless of where the water came from, it had frozen in a long stretch right over Rachel’s path.
As she stepped across it, the corner of her boot caught on the slick and went flying forwards, throwing her head back and sending Rachel into the air. She slipped along, gravity taking hold and forcing her onto the ground, neck thumping against the snow as she landed heavily, her bag only slightly breaking her fall.
Rachel groaned. Her ankle had twisted beneath her as she fell and now rested beneath the knee of her other leg, throbbing nearly as badly as her head. There was a dull ache at the base of her neck from where she’d clipped it against something on her way down.
She blinked at the heavy white sky above her. The buildings that surrounded the green were obscured from her new position, so the only thing to break the endless bank of clouds were the birds flying sluggishly across the sky, their dark feathers striking against the monochrome white.
“Rachel? Rachel are you alright?” A voice broke her away from her thoughts, back into the real world, the world made of ice and cold, where she was lying, hurt, by an unused fountain.
“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” she said. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, wincing at the slush seeping into her clothes. Her jacket was meant to be waterproof.
“Are you sure? That looked like it hurt.” The voice was Emily, of course—why couldn’t the universe just let her look normal in front of her?
“I think my ankle’s a bit sore.” Rachel brushed the sludge from her hair, glad that the headache was at least clearing.
“Can you move it? You might have broken it.” Emily crouched down beside her, gently taking each of Rachel’s limbs in hand and moving them around to check for injury. “Seems fine, but you probably want to go easy on it today. Maybe call Phil and take a sickie?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, I asked him specifically for this shift. Besides, it’s not that bad.”
Emily hummed in disbelief. “Well, at least stay on till duty. That way you don’t have to walk around so much.”
Rachel went to argue, but the twinge she felt in her ankle when she tried to move made her stop. It wasn’t serious, just a bit sore, but she knew she’d be glad of her bed that night after a day spent more or less on her feet.
When she was happy that Rachel wasn’t, in fact, terribly injured, Emily gave her a hand up and offered to take her bag.
“My, my,” said Rachel, the shock apparently making her braver than usual, “aren’t you chivalrous?”
“Someone has to be.”
Rachel looked up at her, taking in the freckles that covered her nose and the way her mouth curved as she joked about. “You make it sound like a burden,” she said.
Emily grinned. “Not when it’s you.”
“Flatterer.”
“What?” Emily was staring forwards, toward the Hideout, her gaze unwavering. “Am I not allowed to help my friends?”
Friends. Ugh. Rachel hated that word. She hated the way it crushed any hope she had that Emily was flirting—because it felt like flirting a lot of the time, it really did, but, unfortunately, she knew that this was just how Emily was with her friends. She was very outgoing, after all.
“Thanks for looking after me,” she said, when they’d lapsed into silence for a moment too long.
“Don’t mention it. I’ve taken, like, five first aid courses in the past few years.”
“Really?”
Emily nodded. “One as part of lifeguard training—I was a lifeguard one summer—and then again when I was volunteering a couple of years back, and then I was a camp counselor when I was nineteen—”
Rachel looked up as Emily caught herself, her eyebrow raised.
“Sorry, you don’t want to hear about this, I must be boring you half to death—if the ice didn’t get to you first.”
Rachel smiled. “No, no, I don’t mind. The ice only did part of the job. Honestly, you’d think I’d be better equipped given how much time I spend skating.”
A single flake of snow landed on top of Emily’s nose and Rachel sighed. However pretty it might look on Emily, it wasn’t doing either of them any favors.
“Skating? I didn’t know you skated.”
“Yeah, competitively as a kid, before I decided that I like it better when I’m just having fun. Now I go whenever I can.”
For the first time since she’d helped her up, Emily looked back at Rachel. “That’s…that’s amazing. I’d love to see you skate sometime—I’ve only been once or twice myself, but maybe with the right teacher…?”
They’d arrived at the back door of the cafe, the door slightly ajar from whoever had gotten their last and forgotten to close it properly. They hesitated for a moment while Rachel took her bag back from Emily.
“I’m sure you’d pick it up quickly,” she said, “and I could probably recommend some good teachers. I think my instructor is still in the area, you know.”
Emily’s smile became strained and her shoulders slackened, as though disappointed. “Yeah, that would be great,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Rachel frowned. She’d thought the conversation had been going well, but now she wasn’t sure what she’d done to ruin it. Cursing herself, she thanked Emily for her help and they headed indoors.
It was a surprisingly quiet day at the cafe, which, as one of the only non-pub social places of the town, was usually very popular. A few people were seated near the windows, however, and the Christmas decorations had really been kicked up a notch by Ryan, who’d been one of the first in.
The cafe itself was small but airy, with large windows that stretched nearly all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Around each window was a selection of red and green tinsel, sparkling in the muted winter light, and clasps of holly and mistletoe. Red napkins replaced the usual white while golden baubles were strung up from every available lamp and corner. Two potted Christmas trees—the small kind, no taller than knee height—were placed near the old stone fireplace, and above the flickered blaze was a string of empty stockings.
Rachel took it all in, wondering how Ryan had managed all this nearly entirely by himself.
“Rachel, darling, you are not nearly festive enough!” Ryan called.
“I’m pretty festive,” she said. Sure, she had nothing on him or Emily—Ryan was wearing a snowman onesie, complete with white face paint, while Emily had an embarrassingly bright Christmas jumper on, paired with a similarly obnoxious gold scarf. She could pull it off, mind you, but Rachel didn’t think she’d ever be brave enough to wear it herself.
“Rachel, the only remotely festive bit about you are those adorable little reindeer horns you have on.” Ryan reached up to bop one, which sent the little bell on top of it ringing. “We have to do something about it. First order of the day!”
“Don’t worry, Ryan,” Emily laughed, “I’ve got it sorted.”
She reached behind the counter, where Ryan had apparently stashed the box of Christmas decorations—the fact that there were any left after he’d decorated was a surprise, honestly—and pulled something out. Eyes glittering dangerously, she looped something shiny around Rachel’s neck and used it to pull her in close.
“There you go, Rach,” she whispered, a cocky grin on her face as she stared directly at her, breath tickling Rachel’s cheek. “A tinsel scarf.”
Rachel froze. Emily was so close—less than an inch, less than a centimeter—her nose barely missing her own, so close the little hairs at the side of her forehead were visible, if she just leaned forwards a little bit then…
Emily wound the tinsel once more around her neck and let go, trying to hide a laugh at Rachel’s flustered expression.
“Oh, lighten up, Rach. I never took you for such a Grinch!”
“I’m not a Grinch—I just—I just—” Rachel stammered. “Never mind.”
“You’re definitely festive enough now,” Ryan said as he admired her shiny tinsel scarf. “Just be careful it doesn’t catch on anything.”
Rachel got back to work, mindful both of her slightly flammable new scarf and her sore ankle as she went about her day. Luckily for her, Emily filled Johnny in on her fall while they were waiting tables together, so she was left to work the till while everyone else was busy running orders. It helped, of course, that it was a quiet morning, even though it picked up as the day went on. There was only a bit more than a week before Christmas, so plenty of people were in town—either because they were on holiday or because they needed to quickly shop.
As the amount of people inside the shop increased, so did the workers. Generally, most of the staff worked either a four- or eight-hour shift, and, with the shop being open from six in the morning to ten o’clock at night, there was a rotating wheel of people inside depending on when it was all scheduled. As it was nearly the end of the week, the schedule for the next fortnight was due to be pinned to the notice board at the back of the shop that day.
Once Amy and Brandon were working, too, Rachel felt okay to take a break. By that point she was already halfway through her shift and her ankle was killing her. Seeing her clock out, Emily decided to join her, and they both made their way to the back of the cafe with a latte.
“You would not believe how much I needed this,” Emily said as she warmed her hand against the coffee cup.
“Oh, I can believe it. You’ll drive the place out of business with your use of the employee discount, you will.”
The back room was really two rooms, with a slight separation in the way the beams of the ceiling came together. One half was the kitchen area, mostly used for their weekend breakfast menu and baking, so it didn’t need to be too big, and another half which was used for storing all the spare utensils, as well as the noticeboard and other miscellaneous things.
Rachel leaned back against the radiator at the far end of the room, enjoying the way it warmed the back of her legs. The tinsel scarf was beginning to itch the skin of her neck, but she didn’t want to take it off with Emily watching.
“Is the schedule up yet?” she asked as she closed her eyes, allowing her head to roll back against the wall.
Emily hummed. “I think so. Johnny must have put it up on his break.” She strode over to the message board to get a better look.
“Are we on any shifts together?” Rachel asked.
“Ugh. I’ve got three days in a row right before Christmas,” said Emily, “and only one full day off. you wouldn’t think this was a part time job at all, would you?”
“Yikes, that’s rough.”
Emily shrugged. “Hey, at least we’ve got one together on Wednesday.” She shrugged. “And I’m with Ryan for the others.”
She tried to change the subject, commenting on Amy’s lack of shifts as she prepared for her upcoming wedding, but Rachel could see the tightness around her mouth when she smiled. There was something wrong.
“If you’ve got too many shifts, maybe you can talk to Phil and rearrange them? I’m sure he’d understand.”
Emily shook her head. “Nah, don’t you worry your little head about it, Rach. It doesn’t matter.”
Nonetheless, Rachel got the sense that it did, actually, matter. She didn’t want to push it, though, so instead she slumped back into the wall, allowing Emily to change the conversation while she teased her hand over the sugar packet that had remained in her pocket ever since the Secret Santa game had been announced.
The break didn’t last long and, once it was over, they went back into the shop, only a little more rested than they were before. The slurry of people in the shop thickened into a sludge until, eventually, it was the end of their shift. Ryan, who’d decided to wait for them to finish even after he was meant to go home, walked them out.
“You know, there’s a Christmas fair on the town green this weekend,” said Rachel. She kept her voice light even as she was giving Ryan a meaningful look.
“Oh?” said Emily,
“Yeah. I was wondering if either of you wanted to go with me, actually. Might be a bit of fun, and we can shop for our Secret Santas there.”
Ryan nodded enthusiastically. “Great idea! I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it, though…?”
Rachel glared at him.
“You know what, actually, I think I can come!”
“Brilliant.”
Emily glanced between the two, though if she’d caught onto the silent communication then she didn’t say anything. “Do you know what time it starts?” she asked.
“Ten, I think.”
“Then I can come. I’m meant to call my mom in the morning, but I’ll be done by then.”
“Even better—we’ll meet outside the post office, and then we can go from there,” said Rachel.