‘Stop right where you are. Don’t move an inch. Either of you.’
Josie grinned as the two customers looked at her like she had gone mad. Then looked at each other in a ‘what the heck’s going on’ way, then, so simultaneously she had to smother a giggle, looked up. Matching grimaces flourished on their faces as they sighted the mistletoe dangling above them.
‘Rules are rules.’ Josie held her hands up in an ‘I don’t make the rules, I just have to enforce them’ way.
It was the third time that day she’d gone through the routine. The tenth time in two days. And she still wasn’t tired of playing the helpless lass who had no choice but to enforce the rules of Sunnycombe’s Christmas traditions.
Not when in among the blushes and awkwardness, she’d seen sparks of interest. The beginnings of what could be true love.
The magic of Christmas was in full flight once again, and unlike last year when she’d been forced to take part, this year she was driving it. After everything Sunnycombe had given her, it was the least she could do. So she’d signed up to deliver the mistletoe to the local businesses and put herself in charge of organising the choral group’s practices, only stopping short at joining herself, because no one needed to hear a voice like nails on a blackboard among all the mostly perfectly in-tune notes. Lastly, she’d accepted an offer to be a judge at the Christmas Cake-off.
Entering had been an option, but the bakery’s business had grown more than she could have hoped for – especially once word had grown of her abilities, and cake commissions had started coming in not just from the locals but from all around the wider district. While the challenge of topping her last creation was intriguing, Josie knew with the way things were growing she had enough on her plate, so she was more than happy to sit back, eat some cake, and let another baker shine.
‘Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.’ The customers at the bakery’s tables began to chant. Whooping and hollering when the two trapped under the mistletoe finally puckered up, touched lips, then broke away in a blink of the eye.
They approached the counter, their cheeks as red as the berries on a holly bush.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Josie placed her hand on her chest and gave her most heartfelt apologetic look. ‘It’s tradition. Perhaps a little old-fashioned, but without it I probably wouldn’t have this on my finger.’
She held up her left hand, on which a dainty gold band circled her ring finger. Next to it a simple diamond solitaire engagement ring.
‘You got married after kissing someone under the mistletoe?’ The young man’s eyes widened. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. Right in that very spot.’
His face lost its colour, and the girl beside him flushed so deeply Josie began to wonder if she was in danger of becoming permanently purple.
‘It was a terrible kiss, to be honest. Took a bit of perfecting.’ She picked up her tongs and directed their gaze to the rows of Christmas-inspired cupcakes, loaves, biscuits and slices. ‘Now what can I get you?’
‘Er, nothing for me. I’ve lost my appetite.’ With a shudder, he turned and scuttled out, shutting the door with a bang that had the locals roaring with laughter.
Josie turned her eyes on the girl. ‘You wouldn’t want him anyway. Someone who runs at the hint of a relationship? He’d be no good for you.’
An arm curled around her waist, brought her close. ‘You’d know that better than anyone.’
Firm lips pressed against her temple and Josie breathed in the clean, musky pine scent, and thanked her lucky stars – as she did every day – that she’d ended up in Sunnycombe.
‘I guess I’m living proof that people can change.’ She addressed the girl. ‘So there’s hope yet. The mistletoe could work its magic.’
The girl shuddered. ‘Yuck, no. He dated a friend of mine. Ghosted her. Then breadcrumbed her. Then ghosted her again. Such a loser.’
‘Terrible. Horrifying.’ Josie arranged her features in a sympathetic smile. ‘You’re definitely better off without him.’
‘I know, right? I’d much rather one of your gingerbread men than that pitiful excuse of a man. So gross.’
‘A gingerbread man, it is.’ Josie picked up two and placed them in the bag. ‘One for you. One for your poor ghosted, breadcrumbed friend. On the house. Merry Christmas. Consider it a sorry for having to do the mistletoe kiss.’
‘Really? Wow! Thank you!’ The girl took the bag then all but skipped out of the shop.
Josie turned to Callan. ‘Maybe we need to rethink that kissing under the mistletoe tradition. Poor girl.’
‘Not as poor as her haunted and hungry friend. I mean, really. What’s the world coming to? And what was she going on about anyway with all that breadcrumbed and ghosted talk?’ Callan’s brows drew together as he shook his head. ‘Maybe we need to tell your dad about those terms, get him to research their meaning. Prepare him for the dating world now that he’s signed up to one of those apps. The man spends as much time swiping left, right or whichever way you swipe, as he does scouring the internet for toys to buy Mia. I’m not sure what to fear for more, his heart or his credit card.’
‘I think his heart will be fine. And, lucky for Dad, his son-in-law is a whizz of an accountant. So I’m sure if he gets himself into too much toy-buying financial trouble, you can sort him out. Did he say if he was going to pop into the store later on?’
‘He did, and he’s going to. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if your dad ends up moving here. He seems quite charmed by the place.’
‘And by his granddaughter. Mia’s got him wrapped around her little finger.’ Josie’s chest expanded with happiness.
She hadn’t been sure how to reconnect with her father. She hadn’t wanted to make him uncomfortable, or cause him to retreat further by putting pressure on him to be part of their little family. As it turned out, she’d spent hours worrying her lower lip while figuring out the best way to approach him for nothing.
While she’d been wondering how to revive their relationship, he’d been pondering the same, but years of guilt at holding her at such a distance had stopped him from making any advance, and when she’d invited him to their wedding – a sweet, small affair held on a late summer’s day on the hill where Josie and Callan had first admitted their love for each other – he’d accepted.
And returned regularly for visits ever since.
‘What are you two grinning about?’ Margo walked through the door, followed by Brendon who was holding two dripping umbrellas at arm’s length. ‘And will we see you up the hill later on? There’s a chance the clouds will break, you know.’
The teeming rain told Josie otherwise, but she wasn’t about to break Margo’s bubble, not when she and Callan were considered to be the most recent recipients of Sunnycombe’s magical Christmas sunset wishes.
As romantic as the notion was, Josie had her doubts. The legend said only three wishes could be granted, but every day that she woke up with Callan and Mia in her life, felt like a wish come true.
‘I think we’ll skip the hill this year.’ Callan’s arm circled Josie’s waist and pulled her close.
She snuggled in, loving how protective he was. How much he cared. How there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would ever up and leave or push her away. Knowing she wouldn’t either.
He was hers as much as she was his.
‘Josie can’t go up the hill because she’ll be sick on it.’ Mia’s bright, clear voice filled the bakery. ‘Because there’s a baby in her tummy and she goes …’ Mia mimed throwing up. ‘In the morning. And at night a lot of the time, too.’
‘So much for keeping that quiet.’ Callan’s gaze went to the ceiling as he shook his head. ‘And here I was saying she could keep a secret if we explained how big a secret it was.’
Josie beckoned Mia over and picked her up. ‘You kept that secret for eight weeks. Good work, you.’ She kissed Mia’s forehead and set her down again.
Margo’s mouth opened and closed. Her smile grew wider by the second. ‘Truly? Honestly?’ She clapped her hands together, squeezed them tight, then released them and ran around the counter, her arms open wide, and swept Callan and Josie into a hug.
‘This is marvellous news. Truly stunning. I’m so happy for you both. A new baby in the village. A new grandchild for me. My little adopted family is growing. Brendon, we’re skipping the hill tonight. This is all the good news I need.’
Brendon shifted from foot to foot, his face stricken. ‘Er, no. I mean. We really should go. Just in case, you know. Tradition. And wishes. Dreams come true. And all that.’
Margo shook her head. ‘No, let’s not bother. We’ve got all the people we need looking after the pub so we should use that time to put our feet up and relax. Spend some one-on-one time together.’
‘But Margo …’ Brendon’s face had gone strangely pale. His usual high colour had vanished.
‘I need to start knitting booties. And a cardigan.’ Margo’s steepled fingers tapped against each other as she spoke. Her gaze was not in the here and now, but in a baby-filled future. ‘Maybe even pull out my sewing machine and start fashioning some toddler clothes.’
Josie clapped her hand over her mouth as Brendon rifled through his coat pocket and pulled out a black, velvet box, sunk down on one knee and held it up to Margo. His hands shaking as sweat beaded at his temples.
‘I knew you were going to make this hard, woman. Lord knows you’ve never made us all that easy. But if I don’t get to do this on the hill, where you have no choice but to say yes in front of all those people, then I’m going to say it here. Margo, my love, my everything. You’ve been the woman for me for nearly a decade. My heart is yours, and will be for all eternity, if you want it that is. Will you marry me?’ Brendon paused, his chest rising in anticipation.
‘Say. Yes. Say. Yes. Say Yes.’
The demand from the customers started quietly, tentatively, then in seconds became loud enough that Mia clapped her hands over her ears, and Josie was tempted to do the same.
‘Oh, you silly bugger.’ Margo took Brendon by the hand and pulled him up to a standing position. ‘You didn’t need an audience for me to say yes. You didn’t even need a ring.’
Brendon opened the jewellery box to reveal a radiant-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds on a gold band.
‘Can I take that last bit back?’ Margo splayed her left hand out. ‘You definitely needed a ring. And this ring is perfect. I adore it.’
‘So that’s a yes?’ Brendon slipped the ring on, then brought Margo to him.
‘It’s more than a yes. It’s a promise.’ Margo pulled Brendon two steps backwards so they were under the mistletoe. ‘Now kiss me already.’
The hoots and hollers that followed were said to be heard up and down the lane, but Josie couldn’t speak to that as her heart was too full to hear the whoops of approval or the following words from those around her congratulating her and Callan on the impending arrival, and Margo and Brendon on their engagement.
She snuggled into Callan, her hand finding its way to the tiny mound on her stomach, and wondered for the millionth time how she’d got so lucky.
How in one year she’d made real friends, like Lauren, who she saw most days, even if only for ten minutes over a quick cup of tea.
How she’d created an extended family in Margo and Brendon, and repaired her relationship with her father.
How she’d found the love of a wonderful man and got to share in the joy of raising an amazing little girl who she loved with everything she had.
Josie didn’t know if it was luck, or village legend, or simply fate. But she did know one thing …
Two things, in fact.
Hopes and dreams could come true.
And Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.
If you enjoyed The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams by Kellie Hailes, then you’ll love The Little Bookshop at Herring Cove – available now!