A Celebrity Christmas

I step back and survey the counters, pleased that everything looks perfect.

The bell rings to announce our first customer of the day, and I already know it’s Keith, our most faithful regular. He brings in the cold with him and I shudder before throwing him a warm smile. He’s got a newspaper under one arm, a flat cap on his head, and ruddy cheeks.

“Morning, Katie.”

“Morning, Keith. It’s a bit nippy today, isn’t it?”

I move around the back of the counter, smoothing my apron down. I already know he’s going to have tea with milk, but I always give him the option to try something different.

“It is,” Keith rubs his hands together before searching the many cakes and pastries. “Ooh, this looks lovely.”

I beam.

“You know I like a nice Christmas display.”

Keith nods and jabs a finger at the fruitcake I’ve made in the shape of baubles this year.

“I’ll have one of those and a cup of tea, please.”

I set about making the tea when the bell jangles again, alerting me to more customers. My Christmas bauble cakes fly off the shelf, and by the time Joanna arrives at midday, I’m exhausted.

Joanna gazes around the shop while tying her apron. Her chestnut brown hair falls around her face despite being in a hair bobble, and she looks as tired as I feel.

“Why is it so busy?” Joanna mumbles before taking the order of the woman in front of her.

I tidy up the cake display and frown, looking at the people waiting. Most of them I don’t recognise, so they’re from out of town.

Tourists, I assume.

“Well, we are a hidden Cornish gem,” I say, taking another order while Joanna prepares the previous one.

“But it’s December,” Joanna points out. “No one comes here in winter.”

I plate up the last of the fruitcake and smile.

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s an event on or something.”

But if there were, I’d know about it, wouldn’t I?

“Do you think he’s here already?” The woman in front of the counter whispers excitedly to her friend. “I heard he’s staying in a little cottage.”

That piques my interest, and I lean forward to join their conversation.

“Who?”

“I’ll have a Christmas latte and some toast please,” the woman says, her eyes shining. “And haven’t you heard? Klaus Stevens is here!”

Who?

I glance at Joanna who lifts her brows at me.

“Klaus Stevens?” I shrug.

Her jaw drops.

“Oh my god! He’s here?!”

Am I the only one who doesn’t know who he is?

“He’s the lead singer of Haze!” Joanna gushes as the women nod their approval. “He’s so gorgeous.”

“And single,” adds one of the women as she pays for her things. “We can only hope we see him this weekend!”

“I know, but I bet he’ll be hiding away after all that rubbish with Sienna Gilbert.”

I tune out from their conversation and turn to the next customer.

So we’ve a celebrity in our midst.

How exciting.

The cafe quietens down later that afternoon, and I manage to get a latte by the window.

I love living here.

Dayle is a little town not far from St Ives, and I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve always dreamed of owning a cafe, and when my parents died, they left me enough cash to start my business.

A pang screeches through my chest, and I clutch at it, trying to breathe through it. My parents died in a car accident five years ago, but it still hurts like it was yesterday.

I’d do anything to have them back.

Anything.

The bell jingles, and a tall man walks in, his collar lifted to protect him from the cold. His hat is pulled low over his face, and his beard hides the rest of his features. He stomps his feet on the mat, and glances at me.

His eyes are an electric blue, and I force myself to look away so he doesn’t think I’m checking him out. His gaze lingers on me a little while longer, but then he’s ordering a drink with Joanna.

His voice is gravely and quiet, and I can’t help but sneak another look at him.

He’s wearing jeans and big boots—they could be Doc Martens, but then I don’t know much about footwear. His long black coat reaches his knees, and his fingerless gloves match his hat.

He orders a latte with an extra shot, and then he’s back out of the cafe in an instant.

“The Christmas latte is sold out,” Joanna calls from behind the counter with a sigh. “We need more festive spice.”

“I’ll make some more tonight. We’re closed tomorrow, so I’ll make another load of cakes too.”

I can’t think of a better way to spend my Sunday than baking. I’ll have to walk my dog, Reggie, but that’s all. Maybe I’ll have a chance to curl up with a book too.

That reminds me; I need more logs for my fire.

“He was gorgeous,” Joanna says thoughtfully, resting her head on her hand. “Quiet, but gorgeous.”

I chuckle, gazing out of the frosted window and into the street beyond.

“I don’t know, you could barely see his face.”

“I know, but I saw his eyes.”

So did I.

“Another tourist. Maybe he likes the celebrity that everyone is here for,” I point out with amusement.

“Maybe he’s a journalist!” Joanna gasps with excitement. “It’s so exciting—imagine meeting Klaus Stevens!”

I finish my latte and make my way to the door, flipping the opening sign to closed.

We’d had a good day today, so I didn’t need to stay open much longer.

Besides, most of my cakes had sold out, and we only had tea and coffee left.

“Let’s call it a day, shall we?” I say with a smile.

Joanna grins and begins tidying up.

“I love having you as a boss.”

It’s good being your own boss too.

Thanks Mum and Dad.