“Cee, what if they fight?”
“If he don’t leave soon, it’s gonna be me who marches over there.” Cee looks determined.
Joel’s voice carries over on the wind. He’s so angry he’s spitting.
“Cee,” I say urgently, “this is escalating. I have to go…” I trail off when Joel pushes Damon hard in the chest, making him stumble backwards.
Damon regains his balance and steps forward, grabbing Joel by the collar of his shirt. A crowd has gathered to watch, including the local shopkeepers, who yell at Joel to leave. Joel’s face is red with anger as he snarls at the crowd, and angrily flips Damon’s hands off his shirt. He lunges forward at Damon, pushing him hard in the chest. Damon lifts a fist, ready to strike Joel just as Charlie wanders out to the stoop, her face pinched with fear. He shakes his head, as his anger is replaced with concern at seeing his little girl so scared.
“Charlie…” I gulp.
“Is that all you got?” Joel barks at him.
“That’s it!” Cee beats me to the punch; before I’ve even turned to look at her she’s powering across the street yelling all manner of things.
“I don’t hold with cuss words, Joel, but you making me rethink that! You get your grubby paws offa Damon this minute…”
Joel’s eyes are wide with surprise at CeeCee’s volley of abuse. I walk to the front and call for Charlie; she takes one look at her daddy, and races across the road. I pick her up, and murmur soothingly to her. She turns back to watch out of the window, her little heart beating quickly through the fabric of her dress.
“It’s OK, Cee,” Damon says, holding a hand up. “Joel’s just leaving, right?”
“Oh, no, he ain’t!” CeeCee steps between the two men. “Not till I’ve said what needs to be said. And don’t think I won’t smack you upside the head if you don’t listen!”
Joel scowls at her. “Oh, yeah? I’d like to see that.”
“Glory be, you nasty. You could start an argument in an empty house.” She turns to Damon. “You go on in now.”
Damon shakes his head.
“Go and see Charlie bear, make sure she’s OK.”
He’s glued to the spot, not wanting to leave CeeCee by herself. I wave him in, wanting him as far away from Joel as possible. Seeing him literally fight my battles is not something I want on my conscience, no matter how much Joel deserves it. Plus I don’t want Charlie to witness anything so frightening.
“You forget I’ve known this boy since he was knee high to a grasshopper, so get.” From the window I can see give Damon give her an imploring look. She waggles a hand at him to leave.
He takes his time ambling across the street, looking back over his shoulder to make sure CeeCee is safe.
“Hey,” he says, walking into the café. He takes Charlie from me, and kisses her nose. “You OK?” he asks her.
She looks up at him, her blue eyes wide. “I’m good. Was that man going to hit you?”
“No, honey, no.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. We clasp hands and watch CeeCee unleash a tirade at Joel. He takes a step back from her but listens to whatever it is she’s saying.
“She’s certainly got his measure,” Damon says.
“It’s not right. I should be the one out there, not either of you.”
“That’s what he wants, Lil. So he’s not having it. Better he knows you have a whole town behind you, ready to back you up. Quicker he learns that, the better.”
CeeCee lowers her voice, but her arms flail as she gesticulates wildly.
“Think he’ll be scared off now?”
“We can only hope,” Damon says.
***
CeeCee marches back into the café puffing and panting as if she’s been to aerobics.
“I’m glad I told that snake exactly what I think o’ him.” She takes a few deep breaths and stands at the window like a sentry. “It’s been a long time coming.”
Damon scoops up Charlie from the stool, where I set her up with a piece of carrot cake. “I better get back, ladies. You keep an eye out. If he comes back make sure you holler over.”
I hug them and watch Damon carry his daughter across the road.
Turning back to Cee, I ask, “What’d you say to him?”
“Plenty! Never mind, cherry blossom. I’m parched like some kinda camel.”
Guilt surges through me as I hug her. It seems everyone is fighting my battles. It’s time I got rid of Joel for good. I decide I’ll call the bank, see if I can get a credit card or some kind of loan. While I’m there I’ll withdraw my savings and see if that amount tides him over for now. There’s no point drawing it out; I just want him out of all of our lives.
Rushing to the kitchen, I mix up a big glass of iced tea and take it back to CeeCee. “At least sit down, Cee.” She’s staring out of the window. I can’t read her expression.
“Cee?”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”
“I need to go run those errands.” She takes a big gulp of iced tea. “You want anything done while I’m out?”
“You sure you’re OK to be going barreling around town after that?”
She laughs, her big-bellied haw. “Never been better. Righting a wrong sure is good for the soul.”
“Well, OK. If you’re sure, Cee. Maybe take a few hours, see about visiting Janey?”
“I won’t be long.” She straightens her dress, and pats down her hair before heading out.
***
Uneasy. That’s how I feel when I hang up the call with the local bank manager. Worry sits in my belly as heavy as a brick. He can fix me up with a credit card, but only for a few thousand. And it’ll take a fortnight before I can draw on it. This is like a bad dream that never goes away.
The morning of the chocolate festival rolls around. I’m jittery with nerves. I hope everything goes as planned, and that there are no spectacular cooking mishaps. It’s one thing to muck up a recipe in the café but quite another to do it in front of almost the whole town. Most of our chocolate recipes are prepared; it’ll just be a matter of keeping up and replenishing, with only a few things made fresh, like chocolate soufflés, which we’ll bake in batches, and I pray they rise into a gooey, chocolaty cloud.
I get to work early, and find an army of volunteers sitting on the chairs out front sipping mugs of something spicy. “Morning, everyone,” I say, leaning close to peer into their drinks.
Sarah from the bookshop speaks up. “It’s a hot cup of gingerbread cocoa. You missed the little gingerbread men Cee perched on top. We ate them up first!”
I laugh as CeeCee wanders out with a tray of more drinks, and offers me one.
“Thanks, Cee.” I feel almost sad crunching into the cute little button-nose gingerbread man who floats amongst the whipped cream.
“You got the tables, Lil?” CeeCee asks.