A Little Sugar, A Lot of Love: With cupcakes, coffee and karma Read online

  Copyright © 2016 Linn B. Halton

  Previously published as Sweet Occasions by the author.

  Revised and published 2016 by Choc Lit Limited

  Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15 2AB, UK

  www.choc-lit.com

  The right of Linn B. Halton to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1P 9HE

  EPUB ISBN 978-1-78189-255-8

  MOBI ISBN 978-1-78189-256-5

  To the man who keeps me writing

  – my rock – Lawrence.

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright information

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  The First Christmas

  Katie: The Storm Begins …

  Adam: Home Is Where The Heart Is …

  Katie: Sometimes The Truth Hurts

  June: Grandma Grace’s Birthday

  Adam: Cake Heaven

  Katie: Life Isn’t Always Fair

  Grace: Fun and Laughter

  Katie: Running From The Truth

  Adam: Some Days Are Better Than Others

  Katie: Business Blues

  Grace: Harsh Reality

  Katie: Caring Too Much Can Hurt

  Steve: Regrets

  Lily’s Birthday

  Katie: A Bright New Day

  Adam: Fun and Games

  Katie: The Point of No Return

  Adam: The Games People Play

  Katie: Autumn Chills

  Steve: Building a New Dream

  Katie: Facing Facts

  Grace: A Waiting Game

  Adam: You Can Run But You Can’t Hide

  Katie: Sometimes You Have To Let It All Out

  Adam: Starting Over Yet Again

  Katie: The Cold Light of Day

  The Second Christmas

  Katie: Is Unhappiness Catching?

  Adam: Maybe Things Are Moving Along

  Katie: Mr Wrong Is All Right

  Adam: What a Difference a Year Makes

  Katie: Life Is Full of Surprises

  Grace: I Refuse To Let Go

  Katie: This Can’t Be Happening

  Katie: It’s Over and I Can’t Believe It

  Summer

  Adam: A Battle of Wills

  Katie: Picking Up the Pieces

  Adam: It’s Time

  Katie: No One Really Wants To Be Alone

  Adam: I’m An Idiot, A Lovesick Idiot

  Katie: Putting Down Roots

  Adam: Making It Happen

  Katie’s Birthday

  Adam: Nothing To Lose

  Katie: Is It Bad Timing, Or Is It Fate?

  Lily: Dad, Pull Yourself Together

  Grace: Sometimes People’s Paths Cross for a Reason

  Katie: Until Death Do Us Part

  About the Author

  Introducing Choc Lit

  Acknowledgements

  To my wonderful editor, a team-working star – thank you so much! Mega thanks to the Tasting Panel readers (Jennifer S, Heidi S, Lizzy D, Alma H, Sammi S, Heather S, Caro P and Liz R) without whom I wouldn’t be a Choc Lit author and to the wonderful Choc Lit Team, for making my dream come true!

  Hugs to my lovely author-friend Mandy Baggot for being a listening ear.

  Last, but not least, a special acknowledgement for the lovely reviewers who have supported me every step of the way on my writing journey – feeling truly blessed!

  Sometimes a turning point centres around one single moment in time; sometimes it takes two Christmases and three birthdays …

  The First Christmas

  Katie

  The Storm Begins …

  I glance outside and see that the rain is still slanting across in front of the window, the wind driving it at a harsh forty-five degree angle. It’s almost five o’clock, time to close up, and I groan inwardly. I’m going to get soaking wet walking to the car and that means frizzy hair by the time I arrive home.

  I look up as the last person in the shop steps up to the counter and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud. Everyone else venturing out today has been wearing a thick coat, or waterproof, and has been juggling a soggy umbrella. The guy standing in front of me has no umbrella, no hat, and is wearing a totally inadequate lightweight jacket.

  ‘How can I help you?’ I ask, politely.

  No response is forthcoming as the seconds slowly tick by. He appears to have lost the power of speech and I struggle to mask the grin that keeps creeping across my face. I watch as a rivulet of water dribbles down from his sodden hair and he raises his sleeve to wipe it away. As I lean forward to wipe random drips off the counter top, I can’t stop my eyes from straying to the floor. He’s standing in a rather large puddle that is snaking outwards as water continues to drip from his clothes. He observes me checking it out, but says nothing. The seconds continue to pass. I wait patiently, wondering why anyone would venture out on a day like this so totally unprepared to battle the elements.

  He shifts from one foot to the other, and then runs his hand through his hair in an attempt to sweep the wet tendrils off his forehead.

  ‘S-s-sorry, I’m a l-l-l-little wet.’

  Well, that’s an understatement if ever I heard one. He’s embarrassed and I swallow a chuckle, disguising it with a cough.

  ‘Um … I just need something … small,’ he continues, sounding hesitant.

  He’s looking directly at me as if that should mean something.

  ‘Small?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I’m frowning, so I slide back into smiley-face mode and pick up one of our leaflets. I spread it out on the counter and he leans forward to look at the array of cakes. As he moves his head a few drops of rain flick up into the air, splatting across the front of my blouse and landing on the counter. He looks mortified.

  ‘Um,’ he mutters, weakly. He looks up at me, a blank expression on his face.

  My eyes stray to the clock on the wall and then I realise he’s watching me. This is beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘Were you looking for a cake you can take away today, or are you thinking of placing an order for a special event?’

  As our eyes meet it’s obvious that this poor guy is not only soaked to the skin, but his teeth are literally chattering. No wonder he’s finding it hard to speak!

  ‘Oh my goodness, you really are wet through, aren’t you?’ I feel guilty now and point to one of the chairs at our cake-tasting table. ‘Take a seat. I’ll make you a hot drink. Do you prefer tea, or coffee?’

  He looks at me with grateful eyes. ‘C-c-coffee would be nice.’

  ‘Why don’t you take off your coat and I’ll go and find a towel so you can dry off a little.’

  Without any further encouragement, he heads across the shop as I disappear into the cloakroom. When I return his coat is draped over a chair and he’s standing there, shaking uncontrollably. By now his face looks a worrying shade of grey. I press a button on the coffee
machine and then hand him the towel.

  ‘I think you should take off that shirt, too. The radiator is hot, so it will dry quickly. Coffee won’t be a moment. I’ll go and see if I can find you something to wear.’

  Searching around in the back room the only thing I can find is a sweatshirt, which happens to be pink, but at least it’s over-sized and warm.

  ‘Here you go. Sorry about the colour.’ A part of me was quietly thinking that good-looking guys don’t have to worry about what they wear. To be honest, he’d look good in anything. Aside from the haircut, which isn’t doing him any favours at the moment, as the top is flopping down over his forehead in wet clumps, he has that effortless quality about him – the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome in a rather understated way. The sort of guy who makes no fuss over his appearance, yet still manages to look good without even knowing it. Even when he’s soaking wet.

  A trembling hand accepts the item without any sign of hesitation and I’m rewarded with a weak grin. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, very slowly. His trembling hands struggle with each button. It’s all I can do to stop myself taking over, but he’s not a child and, what’s more, he’s a total stranger. I’m sure I would have remembered if I’d served him before.

  I notice with alarm that his body has a tinge of blue to it as he peels off the wet fabric, which clings to him like a second skin. Then I realise it’s probably die seeping from his shirt. I avert my gaze, but not before he reveals a very fit body. This guy doesn’t have an ounce of spare fat anywhere and clearly takes good care of himself. I guess the cake isn’t going to be for him, then.

  He stands awkwardly, not sure what to do with the ball of fabric in his hands. I step forward to take it from him and wonder what on earth I’m doing. A fleeting moment of panic courses through me and I quickly pull myself together. Spreading his shirt out over the radiator next to the door, I notice that the high street is already deserted. There’s no sign of any late shoppers today, as the rain continues to lash against the window. I flick the sign to closed and almost reluctantly turn the key in the lock. When I spin back around he’s sitting huddled on the chair and it reassures me he’s not a threat. The bright pink of the sweatshirt looks awful against the pallor of his skin.

  ‘Here, drink this and you’ll feel a lot better. I think you should put some sugar in there, boost the blood sugar levels …’

  He stares at the steaming mug I’ve put in front of him and it’s obvious this guy isn’t in a fit state to jump on anyone at the moment. In fact, I probably need to be more concerned about what I’m going to do if he suddenly keels over and drops to the floor. At least he’s upright, albeit hunched over and now with both hands glued to the coffee mug.

  ‘Oh, it’s rather hot. I’d hate you to burn your hands.’ Come on Katie, he’s a grown man. What are you doing?

  ‘I c-c-can’t feel a th-th-thing,’ he admits. Another fifteen seconds and he’s feeling it – he almost drops the mug back down onto the table as the life comes back into his frozen fingertips.

  ‘You’re right.’ He manages an oddly disjointed laugh. At least his voice sounds a little more even. ‘It is hot.’

  He takes a few sips of his coffee while I make myself a double espresso and then take the seat opposite him.

  Looking across at me, I receive a rather sheepish grin from this stranger as he shakes his head. ‘An umbrella or a hat might have been a good choice, given the rain,’ he admits. He inclines his head towards the front of the shop, as the window flexes from the battering of howling wind and rain.

  ‘Well, I think I can safely say that you are the only customer visiting today that didn’t have one … an umbrella, I mean.’

  I find myself blushing as he relaxes a little and his eyes sweep over me. The caffeine is starting to kick in. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. When he begins talking again he sounds more in control and he’s no longer shaking.

  ‘You’re very kind. That hit the spot, could I trouble you for another? I’ll pay, of course, and I do need a cake. I’m afraid it’s not going to be a huge sale though as I only need a very small one.’

  Now he’s talking normally he sounds like a regular guy. My moment of mistrust and panic is over.

  ‘No problem. Are you hungry? Do you prefer sweet or savoury?’

  ‘I’ll eat anything; it’s been a difficult day. Visibility was awful for most of the drive here and then I had a puncture. I had to change the tyre in the pouring rain. Then I realised I’d forgotten to bring the Christmas present, but it was too late to turn back. That’s why I need the cake. It’s for my grandmother. I was driving by and saw your sign. Everything seems to have shut already and I thought maybe I could buy a Christmas cake. I bought her a silk scarf, but I’ll have to post it now.’

  He seems content to chatter away as I make his second coffee. I pop into the kitchen and search through the shopping I bought at lunchtime. We don’t sell savoury products, but he looks in need of something filling. Pulling out a mushroom and red wine en croûte, I put it into the staff microwave and zap it for a couple of minutes. Placing the mug and plate in front of him, I walk over to the cupcake display to see what’s left.

  ‘Do you like chocolate?’

  ‘Mmm.’ He nods his head vigorously, his mouth full. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in ages and it’s gone in a few bites – he has no idea it was on my dinner menu for tomorrow. I put two chocolate cupcakes on another plate, realising that each one will be little more than a mouthful for him.

  ‘Adam, my name’s Adam.’ He wipes away the crumbs from around his mouth and gratefully accepts the plate I offer him. ‘Sorry, I haven’t eaten since breakfast and the cold got to me. I’m not usually such a wimp but it’s been the day from hell. I’m very grateful to you.’

  He grins and I smile back at him. He has the most fascinating deep-brown eyes that draw you in, and a face that reminds you of your best friend’s brother. A guy you quickly begin to feel comfortable around. As the colour returns to his face he’s becoming more animated.

  ‘My pleasure. I’m Katie. You’re the first case of hypothermia I’ve had to deal with this winter,’ I joke, feeling more relaxed and a little relieved.

  ‘You must think I’m mad. Who would go out on a day like this with no umbrella and wearing a thin jacket? That’s a car driver through and through for you. I’m used to dashing from car to door and that’s about it.’

  ‘You travel a lot?’

  ‘Yes, I’m an IT consultant. A troubleshooter – I go where the problems are. No two days are the same.’

  He finishes the last bite of the second cupcake and proceeds to stack the two plates neatly on top of each other. He gives his mouth one last wipe with the napkin and in one gulp, empties his coffee mug.

  ‘You are a lifesaver. I feel almost human again now.’ He flashes a smile that plays around the corners of his mouth. ‘Umm … that cake, as I was saying … since Pop died Grace is always complaining that the world doesn’t cater for people who live on their own. So I was thinking something small. I’ll never hear the end of it if I turn up with a family-sized cake. My grandmother is a lovely lady, but she hates waste.’

  ‘Well, I think I have just the thing.’

  We walk over to one of the display cabinets and I show him an assortment of small and medium-sized cakes.

  ‘Goodness, these look good. Hmm, I think the tiny one is too small – she’s bound to make me eat at least one slice before I head for home tomorrow. Can I take that one? She’ll love the decoration. Grace isn’t a snowman and plastic robin sort of lady, so that looks perfect. Is the winter scene edible?’

  I feel the colour creeping into my cheeks as he inspects the small boy on the toboggan and the miniature forest of trees gracing the top of the cake. I nod and it’s clear he’s impressed.

  ‘Yes, the decorations are made by hand. Everything is baked on site, too.’

  ‘You ice the cakes?’ He looks at me as if he was under the impressi
on I’m just the waitress.

  ‘I do. I bake sometimes too, although I have a full-time baker who is amazing.’

  ‘Oh.’ Now he feels awkward. ‘Look, I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time and it’s way past five on a Saturday evening. It’s probably been a long day for you, too, so if you let me know what I owe you, I’ll leave you in peace.’

  Suddenly I feel a little flustered as I remember that he has to take off my sweatshirt and put his own shirt back on. I retrieve it from the radiator and it’s creased, but relatively dry and warm. Holding it out to him, I immediately spin around and discreetly busy myself boxing up the Christmas cake while he dresses.

  Glancing up for a moment, I catch him pulling the sweatshirt up over his head. I can’t help noticing he has several tattoos on the side of his arm that I didn’t catch before, they look like Chinese symbols. He’s fit, I’ll give him that. I look away feeling cross with myself and very lucky he didn’t catch me looking at him.

  ‘Do you have far to go?’ I ask, unable to think of anything else to say to fill the silence. I tie the cake box with a dark green velvet ribbon and top it off with a pretty spray of winter berries, which helps me focus and at least prevents my eyes from wandering again.

  ‘Cheriton Court Mews, it’s probably about a ten minute drive, at most. What do I owe you?’ He turns back to face me, then pulls his wallet out from the inside pocket of a still-damp jacket. He makes a face and I laugh. He looks bedraggled still, but warmer.

  ‘Nine pounds and fifty pence, please.’

  ‘You haven’t charged for the refreshments. Well, it was almost a meal.’ He roars with laughter and I join in. He deposits a twenty pound note on the counter and puts his hand up, indicating he doesn’t want any change.

  ‘Thank you. I hope your grandmother enjoys the cake.’

  ‘She’ll be delighted when I tell her that the lady who made that amazing snow scene, also saved her beloved grandson from hypothermia.’

  We exchange brief smiles and then he walks towards the door.

  ‘You’d better lock up behind me,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘There are some funny people about these days. Fortunately for me, you didn’t think I was one of them.’