Christmas at The Heartbreak Cafe (Lakeview Christmas Novel) (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 7)

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ote
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This book was written, produced and edited in the UK, where some spelling, grammar and word usage will vary from US English.

E
lla Harris shuffled
down the empty Lakeview Main Street at breakneck speed.

At sixty-two, she was still the speed-walker she was when she was much younger, and as she shot through the early crisp winter air, the twinkling lights decorating the windows and roofs still lit from the night before flew past in a blur of reds, yellows, and greens.

But Ella had no time to enjoy this sparkling festive display on the first day of December. Instead, she had one thing on her mind: getting to her café on time. Nicknamed The Heartbreak Cafe by the locals for reasons that no-one could no longer quite remember, it was the perfect gathering place for all sorts of world-weary Lakeview residents and tourists looking for a warm drink and an even warmer welcome.

The popular tourist village, twenty minutes-drive from Dublin, was centred round a broad oxbow lake from which it took its name. The lake, surrounded by low-hanging beech and willow trees, wound its way around the centre, and a small humpback stone bridge joined all sides of the township together.

The cobbled streets and ornate lanterns on Main Street, as well as the beautiful one-hundred-year-old artisan cottages decorated with hanging floral baskets, had resulted in the village being designated heritage status by the Irish Tourist Board, and the chocolate-box look and feel was intentionally well preserved.

Ella’s café was situated in a small two-storey building with an enviable position right at the edge of the lake and on the corner where Main Street began. Early in their marriage, Ella and her husband took over the running the café from her father-in-law, and she spent nearly every waking moment since then ensuring that his legacy—and that of her dearly departed husband Gregory—lived on through good food, hot coffee, and warm conversation.

The interior hadn’t changed much over the years — it was still a warm cosy room with parquet oak flooring, shelves full of dried flowers and old country-style knick-knacks, along with haphazard seating and mismatched tables, one of which was an antique Singer sewing table.

In front of the kitchen and serving area was a long granite countertop, where various solo customers typically nursed their coffees and pastries atop a row of stools. Alongside this was a glass display case filled with a selection of freshly baked goods; muffins, doughnuts, carrot cake, brownies and cream puffs for the sweet-toothed, and pies, sausage rolls and Italian breads for the more savoury-orientated.

From early morning the place was flooded with families, friends, and neighbours, all there to grab a bite to eat—and to gossip. Ella thrived on the commotion and excitement, and the community had embraced her: she had become a figurehead in the town and a confidant to anyone who came in looking for a bit of conversation with their coffee.

But her job was never easy. The early morning start meant that Ella was up at 5am to make the mile-long trek from her home on the other side of town, across the humpback stone bridge to the café’s kitchen.

This morning, she was running atypically late. Late—it was such an unfamiliar word. She hadn’t slept late in nearly twenty years. She was gripped with an unsettling feeling of panic as she checked her watch.

6:15.
Damn,
she thought to herself.

This was going to be tight. She could certainly get the coffee started, and set her chef Colm’s baked breakfast favourites out on display, but would she have time to get the tables set and fried breakfasts prepped before her first customer arrived? Breakfast choices at the café typically ranged from yoghurt, muesli and bagels, to the Full Irish heart attack of fried sausages, mushrooms, eggs bacon and hash browns, complete with locally produced black pudding.

Ella turned her quick walk into a half-jog. It was tight, because many of her early-morning regulars were residents commuting to work in Dublin so she’d better pick up the pace.

She was speeding around the corner by the edge of the walkway to the lake when she felt her right shoe slip from underneath her. She grabbed for the silver tinsel hanging from the nearby lamppost when her left foot turned the other way and her back moved in reverse in an almost pained slow motion. She swirled in an almost elegant three-quarter turn and was suddenly staring skyward, her back on the ground.

Ouch.

She inched herself off the ground and quickly looked around her, stunned and a little embarrassed.

Thank goodness
, she thought, seeing no other early morning walkers around. Using her hands for support and leverage, she pushed herself upright and on to her feet. As soon as she was able to lean her body weight to her right side, she let out a horrible yelp. Her ankle had failed her. She briefly cursed her love of old-fashioned Mary Jane heels and her neglectful landlord who always “forgot” to salt the path in frosty weather.

With her pride a bit battered, she hopped on one foot the rest of the way to the café.

A
s she opened
the side entrance, she wondered what she should do now. Colm wasn’t due in until later this morning, so she had no other choice but to close for the morning—maybe even longer. She certainly couldn’t arrange breakfast and run the place all by herself.

As she sat in the back of the café’s darkened kitchen with her ankle elevated on a nearby chair, she teared up at the thought of having to call a taxi to bring herself to the hospital. Ella prided herself for being independent and for never asking for help. Now she had to, and the thought of it was both disheartening and frightening.

Just as she began to fall into a pit of despair, she heard a knock on the front door of the café. “We’re closed, sorry!” she cried loudly at the stranger. The knocking suddenly stopped and she heard heavy footsteps quickly moving away from the front door.

She let out a sigh of relief as she dropped her bad leg to the ground and used her arms and good leg to anchor her to stand again. She slowly made her way to where she left her handbag and as she rummaged through it for her mobile phone, the knocking started up again. This time, it was at the back door. The knock was forceful and urgent.

“Ella! Are you in there? Are you all right?” The voice was gruff, yet had a tinge of obvious concern, and she instantly recognised who was calling for her. That distinct, gravelly voice belonged to her most loyal customer, Joseph Evans. The owner of Lakeview riding school and stables, Joseph had been visiting the café every Monday since he was the new person in town almost thirty years before, about the same time as Ella and Gregory took over the café. Even though he lived a little way outside the village, he still stopped in faithfully every morning for a blueberry scone and a cup of coffee.

“Joseph? Is that you? Give me a second.” Ella dropped the handbag on the table, quickly smoothed her hands over her tightly braided hair, and realigned her dress. With all her might, she managed to use the tables and counter space to limp towards the back door.

As she opened the door, she caught a familiar earthy smell from the man towering over her—fresh pine trees and grass. His grey hair almost sparkled as gently falling snow touched the strands. Joseph had yet to lose the rugged good looks that had made him quite the catch in Lakeview for many years. Yet he’d never married.

“You sounded flustered,” he said gently as she opened the door. “You’re never flustered.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing slightly, “it’s—um—”

“What happened?” he asked. “Baking accident? Tell me it wasn’t the scones…” The lighthearted humour in his voice made her forget why he was here.

She shook her head bashfully. “It’s nothing,” she replied, shaking her head. “I just slid on the ice out front. You would think that Paul would have salted the paths, but you know how cheap he is,” she added, referring to her landlord, a wealthy banker married to a local girl, who owned the properties housing over half the local businesses on Main Street.

“Ella,” Joseph insisted, “it’s obviously
not
nothing. You’re hurt. Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

“An ambulance?” she asked, attempting to smile. “I don’t need an ambulance. I was just going to call a taxi to come pick me up and bring me to Jim Kelly to see if he’d put a bandage on it. It’s
not
that big a deal. I mean, I can still walk...”

“Not a big deal?” he said sardonically, looking down at her leg. “You can’t even put any weight on it. I’m sure Dr Kelly will agree and send you straight to A&E.”

“But I can,” she insisted.

“Prove it,” he challenged her.

Ella slowly lowered her foot, steadied her leg, and leaned to the side. The pain instantly shot through her body as she let out a loud squeal and stumbled forward. Joseph grabbed her arm as she nearly tumbled into his chest. Obviously, her pride had once again got the best of her.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, holding her up and shaking his head. “I’m taking you to the hospital myself. You can pay me back in scones and coffee when you’re back on your feet.”

Ella reluctantly nodded. Joseph helped her find a seat and quickly ran out the back door to retrieve his Land Rover. As she waited, she made a list of all the things she would need to do to get the café opened by this afternoon.

Maybe she could just serve drinks instead of food today. That would keep her off her feet. Or perhaps she should serve food, considering that Monday was always her most profitable day. And she knew that she had to alert the waiting staff one way or another, so she quickly jotted down a note to her chef Colm and a small crew that explained why she wouldn’t be in this morning.

She trusted Colm to handle the staff in her absence. He had, after all, worked for her since he was an awkward teenage boy nearly fifteen years ago.

The lights of Joseph’s truck suddenly flooded the kitchen’s back window and Joseph raced inside. “Okay,” he said, a braced look on his face, “I know it’s not the best plan, but I need to get you into the jeep, so I’m going to have to pick you up.”

“No,” she said, blushing again. “I’m like a sack of spuds.”

“You have a better idea?” he asked.

“Crane?” she joked.

Joseph smiled and shook his head. “I’m not taking ‘No’ for an answer,” he insisted. Without another word, he reached for Ella’s arms and gently stood her up out of the chair. Then with one quick and steady motion, he picked her up. He even grabbed her handbag as he carried her out the threshold of the cafe and into his humming vehicle.

T
he drive
to the hospital was beautiful and breathtaking. Rarely had Ella taken the moment to look around at the beauty of her home town. But as the snow fell sparingly on the windshield and the old fashioned street lamps glittered in the darkness, Ella felt a fondness for Lakeview that she had not felt in years.

Christmas here had always been a beautiful and special time growing up.

The ice skating on the frozen lake, the hot chocolate, and the town’s festive parades.

As a teenager, her future father-in-law’s café would transform into a gathering place as the then much smaller community came together and celebrated the festive season.

There was a jolly Santa Claus, plenty of mince pies, homemade mulled wine, and general joviality through the streets. At the end of the night, local musicians would play a combination of traditional Irish and Christmas music—the kind that made you fall in love all over again, and she remembered dancing cheek to cheek with Gregory, her soon-to-be husband.

“Your ankle must not be hurting you much,” Joseph proclaimed.

“Hmmm?” Ella broke out of her sentimental memories to acknowledge him.

“You’re smiling.” He winked at her as he took his eyes off the road momentarily.

“Oh, I was just remembering those old Christmas parties on Main Street and how special they were. Were you around for those?”

“I was for the last couple, I believe. They were great. Always loved that mulled wine—especially the stronger version that came out after the children left.” He laughed heartily at the thought. “Why don’t we throw them anymore? I’m sure the village would love to have something like that again.”

“Gregory used to drive them mostly. That all stopped after he died.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. She hadn’t said her husband’s name out loud in years.

“Oh, I’m sorr—”

“Don’t be. Once he passed away, his father and I didn’t have it in us to take on the organising of it. Those were the days though.” She looked off into the distance hoping to spot something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“So, why not now?” He asked, breaking a short silence.

“Why not now what?”

“Why not think about another Christmas party now?” He looked at her earnestly.

Excitement glimmered in his dark brown eyes. His wide, mischievous grin was unavoidable. “By my reckoning, the café is coming up to thirty years in business with you at the helm. Good enough reason to celebrate.”

“Ah, I’m way too old for that. I would need so much help, and I can’t—”

“Can’t imagine asking for help?” Joseph rolled his eyes. “When are you going to understand that Lakeview loves you, Ella? They love the café and they adore
you
. I’m pretty sure that everybody, including myself would love to get involved. Just think about it, okay?”

Ella sank back into the jeep’s heated seats. She had to admit the idea of throwing an old-fashioned party was very tempting, especially given the year that was in it.

Joseph was right; she had indeed been in business in Lakeview for thirty years and it would be a lovely way to show some gratitude to the community for their support over that time.

But if she were going to do this and do it right, she would have to ask for help. She could do that, surely. Just like Joseph said, there wasn’t a soul in Lakeview that Ella couldn’t turn to.

It was all about finding the right people.

A
s the two
pulled up to the hospital’s Emergency Room doors, Joseph idled the jeep in the entryway. He swung around to Ella’s passenger side door and offered his arm to her. As he lifted her effortlessly out of the seat, she sighed.

“You know what, Joseph. I’m going to do it. I am going to organise a thank you Christmas party for my customers this year. You’re right, it’s would be amazing. But I’m going to need your help with one particular task.”

“What’s that?” He asked as he carried her like a child into the ER waiting room.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough. First, I need to find the rest of my help.” Ella smiled brightly as the thought of all that she needed to do and prepare danced in her head.

She always did love a challenge.