The Christmas Sisters

How was it her mother always understood?

“You had three little ones.” And we weren’t even yours. For some reason, her brain kept coming back to that. The conversation with Jason had made her think about the realities of having three children.

“And that was lucky for me.”

Was it? She’d never talked to her mother in depth about that time, about the decision she’d made. Had she ever considered saying no? Had she, like Beth, ever thought that’s too much?

Before she could decide whether or not to ask that question, Suzanne had pulled up outside the café.

“Have fun with your sister. I hope it’s not too busy.”

Beth hoped that, too. She wasn’t sure her head could stand too much noise.

She pushed open the door of the café, relishing the sudden rush of warmth.

Posy was behind the counter, serving generous slabs of chocolate cake onto plates. Her curls bounced around her face and her cheeks were flushed from the heat.

She smiled when she saw Beth. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I feel as if one of Santa’s reindeer kicked me in the head. And I keep wanting to cry.”

“If you must live a champagne lifestyle, then you have to pay the price.”

“Thanks for the sympathy. And for the water and painkillers.”

“You’re welcome. You can make it up to me by hanging your coat up and taking this to table 2.”

Beth suppressed a yawn. “Which is table 2?”

“The one by the fire. It’s the table everyone wants.” Posy loaded cups and a teapot onto a tray. “How’s Mom?”

“Fine, I think. She wanted to know when you’re going to fetch the tree.”

“I’m taking Luke to the forest tomorrow. We’ll get one for us and one for the barn.”

Luke?

Beth delivered the tea with a smile and a greeting and then walked behind the counter and studied the coffee machine. With its flashing lights and dials, it looked like the cockpit of a jumbo jet. “Who is Luke?”

“Our current lodger. He’s rented the barn for three months. Don’t touch that!” Posy nudged her to one side. “I can’t afford you to break the coffee machine right now.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.” Beth leaned against the counter and watched as Posy produced an espresso that would have impressed the most exacting New York barista. “I haven’t heard from Jason. I’m worried.”

“Worry is your middle name.” Posy put the coffee next to her and greeted a couple who walked through the door bringing with them a flurry of snow and freezing air. “Cold out there today. What can I get you?”

They ordered, and Beth sipped her coffee, remembering all the hours she’d spent here as a child.

Growing up, all three girls had come here after school and done their homework on one of the tables while waiting for their mother to finish work. There was always a treat. Sometimes it was a buttery, sugary square of crumbly shortbread warm from the oven, and sometimes their mother would make them hot chocolate with whipped cream and a chocolate flake.

Suzanne had recognized the nurturing properties of a cozy environment before it had become a global trend.

When they’d finished their homework, they’d snuggle down on the beanbags in front of the bookshelves and read until she was ready to close the café.

“Hey—” Posy pushed her gently to one side “—you’re in my way.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m having a personal crisis here.”

“I noticed. I’m the one who picked you up from the airport, sobered you up and lent you my favorite pajamas. I’m sympathetic, but your crisis is going to have to fit round my lunch orders. You said you wanted to go back to work—you can start now.” Posy handed her an apron and Beth sighed.