The christmas catch, p.25
The Christmas Catch, page 25
“And anyway, who opens a business just before Christmas?”
“Oh, we’re still talking about the bakery?” Sam almost sounded bored from where she was sitting, and the thing was, Sari was aware that she was being boring. But she couldn’t help herself. She was just so…perturbed. Perturbed by a bakery next door.
“It’s bad business practice. I’m sure there’s a feng shui rule against it.”
“We’re not Chinese, and Christmas doesn’t count in feng shui.”
“And yet you insist that the foot of your bed shouldn’t point to your bedroom door.”
Sari turned to the percolating coffee maker—barako was traditionally made on a stove, but she wasn’t a traditionalist, and prioritized using a blend that had Liberica beans, instead of whatever alternatives other coffee brands were touting these days. Their grandmother, who had always been a scion of propriety and had banned the use of red lipstick among her granddaughters until they were married, had been known to drink heaping cups of the country’s strongest, punchiest coffee. A bit too strong for Sari, but Sam’s favorite. Sari held up the coffeepot, ready to pour, when it happened.
The bell to the shop rang, a bright, tinkling sound that cut through the music while Sari carefully poured Sam’s coffee and stirred in a spoonful of brown sugar. Sari heard her staff politely greet the customer as they came up to the counter, heard the opening of a box as they studied the menu. Sunday Bakery, the box announced in big, bold, black and gold letters. Ugh. Their packaging was nice. Pretty enough to be eye-catching, enough for anyone who happened to see it to guess that there was some luxurious, sinful treat inside.
The customer was telling her cashier about the baked good she’d just purchased next door, looking for suggestions as to what she could drink with it. And the world moved in slow motion as she tore the hot pink sticker with a flick of her thumb and opened the box. Sari inhaled. She smelled the usual culprits—butter, sugar, chocolate, all deep and rich and much stronger than any baked good she’d ever smelled. But then there was an unexpected scent that lingered in the air. Was that…banana?
Her head shot up from where she was standing behind the counter. The scent had been subtle, but it came to her nonetheless, like a disturbance in the Force. Unexpected. But then again, did anyone ever really expect bananas?
Barako would go perfectly with the customer’s cookies. A punch of strong coffee would cut through the sweetness, maybe a bit of milk to soften up the contrast between the cookie and the coffee. The combination reminded her of road trip snacks, ones they’d always had on hand when the drive from Manila to Lipa used to take four hours instead of two. Their mother had been on a health kick, so it was all banana chips for their girls, until their father gave up and got them Jollibee. Their mother had gotten angry and yelled, and their father yelled back, all the way to Lipa. It was the kind of yelling that made Sari press her hands to her ears and shut her eyes, wishing she could click her heels and just fly away somewhere else. Anywhere but where her parents were.
She shook her head, because she refused to feel anything about a baked good that wasn’t even hers to begin with.
The customer smiled and ordered an iced Americano, which wasn’t a bad choice either. Without prompting from her store manager, Sari got to work, using their finer, more floral Selene blend to match the scents in the air as the customer took her seat, smiling at Sam. Sari’s hands were moving in sync with an invisible beat as she pulled the espresso, poured it into a mug with ice before adding the water to make the Americano. She knew this fruity blend would work well with the customer’s pastry the same way she knew how to pull espresso from her beans.
She was about to put the coffees on the serving table when she heard the customer eat…whatever it was. Crunch.
Really, this was getting ridiculous. Sunday Bakery next door had been officially open for one day.
“Iced Americano for Leala,” she called a little too loudly, placing the ceramic mug with her logo on the serving counter. She wanted to fight baked goods with coffee, even if it was all in her head. “Barako for Sampaguita Corazon Tomas!”
The customer was a little dazed as she looked up, and Sari could see the crumbs she brushed off her skirt. Tiny, innocent little things that were now in her territory. Must remember to sweep the floor, even if it wasn’t her job, even if she didn’t have to.
“What is that?” Sari asked the customer when she came to retrieve her coffee, and it sounded more like an interrogation than it did friendly conversation. Sam, who was reaching for her own coffee, flattened her lips into a thin line to stop herself from laughing. “In the box?”
“Banana chip and cacao cookies,” the customer said hesitantly, clearly confused. “They’re from the bakery next door.”
“Of course they are,” Sari grumbled, and turned her head to the wall she shared with Sunday Bakery, glaring at it like it was going to crumble if she glared hard enough. She certainly endeavored to try.
To her customer, (or to anyone else, really), it may have looked like she was seething, and she was, just a tiny bit. Give her a backwards baseball cap and a flannel shirt, and she was Luke the diner guy from Gilmore Girls. She was already dispensing the coffee anyway.
“Uh, can I have my coffee to-go instead?” her customer asked, edging slowly away from the counter and looking desperate for someone else, anyone else to attend to her needs. Sari opened her mouth to acquiesce to the request when Sam crossed the counter, took the customer’s cup of iced Americano and deftly transferred the contents into one of the robin’s egg blue paper cups, popping a biodegradable lid on and handing the customer her coffee.
“Here you go, have a great day, and merry Christmas!” Sam chirped, giving the customer a polite but unnecessary bow. She smiled back, taking the cookie and its scent away with her.
Sari felt her shoulders drop, and she hated that they did. She briefly wondered if her great, great grandmother, Cecilia Tomas, had ever felt like this. She was the one who started the Tomas Coffee Co. right here in Lipa, seeing herself, her farm and her staff through wars and natural disasters to make sure it was passed on to her granddaughters. Cecilia had had her husband at her side to help her learn how to properly cultivate and care for the coffee, the side Sam had taken to like a fish to water. Sari’s grandmother Rosario had their grandfather to help her learn how to truly expand the business, selling to big chains and groceries in Manila and Batangas, the part of the business that Selene now looked after.
The specialty coffee blends and the café? They were all new, all Sari’s. Sure, they used to have the café across from the Cathedral, but that was mostly just because Lola Rosario’s friend had owned the building and needed a renter when they fell on tough times. The first version of Café Cecilia had been an afterthought, until Sari told her sisters definitively that it was the part of the business she wanted.
Selene still said that it was one of the few times she’d ever seen Sari so decisive.
She was supposed to be better than this. She’d owned this place for three years, with coffee that her family has been serving for generations, but with decor and blends that were all her own. Sari wasn’t going to fail just because a bakery opened next door.
“Do you…do you want to talk about it, Ate?” Sam asked, always the most sensitive among the three Tomas sisters.
Sari wanted nothing more than to curl into a little ball and tell her baby sister that she was a little worried about it, but quickly decided against it.
“No,” she said primly before she grabbed a tray and started to load it with mugs and a little jug of locally produced fresh milk, a rarity in the Philippines. It was one of the reasons why Sari had loved the idea of opening her café here, where she had access to fresh, local ingredients without having to think about the logistical nightmare it would have been if she were in Manila. “I’m all right.”
“You’re always all right,” Sam muttered under her breath, and Sari pretended not to hear.
“I have to go upstairs and prep for barista class.”
“Need help with that?”
“No.”
“Cool.” Sam shrugged as she and Kylo followed Sari up the stairs to the coffee lab/her office on the second floor. Juggling a tray of coffee mugs and milk, Sari nearly fell back when Kylo wriggled between them and reared up on his hind legs to scratch at the door.
“Oh my God, Sam, your beast—”
Sam pulled Kylo’s collar back and opened the door for Sari. The big black dog squeezed between the sisters and bounded into the room with zero regard for the expensive things inside and flopped on the daybed by the window, a throw pillow between his paws to drool on. Sari watched the dog resume his nap with a wistful sigh before she walked over to her work station and placed her precarious tray of things on the counter.
“Your dog is too big,” she told her sister.
“You love him.” Sam closed the door behind her.
“Don’t you have a farm to tend to?”
“The coffee beans literally grow on trees, Ate. There’s not much to do at the moment.” She shrugged, and Sari frowned, immediately going into big sister mode. Sure, Sam was in the café most days, but the way she said it made Sari wonder if her sister was trying to say something else. The thing with being an older sister was that over the years, Sari had learned to read her siblings as easily as she could a list of instructions, even when they tried to be inscrutable.
“Are you excited about the Christmas party?” Sam asked, getting up from the table to walk around Sari’s space, picking up the mister and misting the plants. “I mean, I know you and Ate Selene dominate the karaoke contest every year, but you really have to give me and Kira a chance, she’s super determined to win.”
“I make no promises.” Sari grinned, because her Christmases had fallen into a familiar and comforting pattern, and winning the Annual Christmas Party Karaoke Contest was just par for the course.
She briefly wondered how the Sunday Bakery’s attendance at the party would change up the dynamic. Not much, if she had anything to say about it. She was determined not to let her new neighbor mess up her Christmas joy, no matter how good their browned butter mamon had smelled.
Don’t miss Sweet on You by Carla de Guzman, available now wherever Carina Press ebooks are sold.
Copyright © 2021 by Carla Marie Angela K. de Guzman
www.CarinaPress.com
ISBN-13: 9780369736321
The Christmas Catch
First published as Christmas Catch in 2018. This edition published in 2022.
Copyright © 2022 by Mary Shotwell
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises ULC. 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor Toronto, ON M5H 4E3 Canada.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Mary Shotwell, The Christmas Catch
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“Oh, we’re still talking about the bakery?” Sam almost sounded bored from where she was sitting, and the thing was, Sari was aware that she was being boring. But she couldn’t help herself. She was just so…perturbed. Perturbed by a bakery next door.
“It’s bad business practice. I’m sure there’s a feng shui rule against it.”
“We’re not Chinese, and Christmas doesn’t count in feng shui.”
“And yet you insist that the foot of your bed shouldn’t point to your bedroom door.”
Sari turned to the percolating coffee maker—barako was traditionally made on a stove, but she wasn’t a traditionalist, and prioritized using a blend that had Liberica beans, instead of whatever alternatives other coffee brands were touting these days. Their grandmother, who had always been a scion of propriety and had banned the use of red lipstick among her granddaughters until they were married, had been known to drink heaping cups of the country’s strongest, punchiest coffee. A bit too strong for Sari, but Sam’s favorite. Sari held up the coffeepot, ready to pour, when it happened.
The bell to the shop rang, a bright, tinkling sound that cut through the music while Sari carefully poured Sam’s coffee and stirred in a spoonful of brown sugar. Sari heard her staff politely greet the customer as they came up to the counter, heard the opening of a box as they studied the menu. Sunday Bakery, the box announced in big, bold, black and gold letters. Ugh. Their packaging was nice. Pretty enough to be eye-catching, enough for anyone who happened to see it to guess that there was some luxurious, sinful treat inside.
The customer was telling her cashier about the baked good she’d just purchased next door, looking for suggestions as to what she could drink with it. And the world moved in slow motion as she tore the hot pink sticker with a flick of her thumb and opened the box. Sari inhaled. She smelled the usual culprits—butter, sugar, chocolate, all deep and rich and much stronger than any baked good she’d ever smelled. But then there was an unexpected scent that lingered in the air. Was that…banana?
Her head shot up from where she was standing behind the counter. The scent had been subtle, but it came to her nonetheless, like a disturbance in the Force. Unexpected. But then again, did anyone ever really expect bananas?
Barako would go perfectly with the customer’s cookies. A punch of strong coffee would cut through the sweetness, maybe a bit of milk to soften up the contrast between the cookie and the coffee. The combination reminded her of road trip snacks, ones they’d always had on hand when the drive from Manila to Lipa used to take four hours instead of two. Their mother had been on a health kick, so it was all banana chips for their girls, until their father gave up and got them Jollibee. Their mother had gotten angry and yelled, and their father yelled back, all the way to Lipa. It was the kind of yelling that made Sari press her hands to her ears and shut her eyes, wishing she could click her heels and just fly away somewhere else. Anywhere but where her parents were.
She shook her head, because she refused to feel anything about a baked good that wasn’t even hers to begin with.
The customer smiled and ordered an iced Americano, which wasn’t a bad choice either. Without prompting from her store manager, Sari got to work, using their finer, more floral Selene blend to match the scents in the air as the customer took her seat, smiling at Sam. Sari’s hands were moving in sync with an invisible beat as she pulled the espresso, poured it into a mug with ice before adding the water to make the Americano. She knew this fruity blend would work well with the customer’s pastry the same way she knew how to pull espresso from her beans.
She was about to put the coffees on the serving table when she heard the customer eat…whatever it was. Crunch.
Really, this was getting ridiculous. Sunday Bakery next door had been officially open for one day.
“Iced Americano for Leala,” she called a little too loudly, placing the ceramic mug with her logo on the serving counter. She wanted to fight baked goods with coffee, even if it was all in her head. “Barako for Sampaguita Corazon Tomas!”
The customer was a little dazed as she looked up, and Sari could see the crumbs she brushed off her skirt. Tiny, innocent little things that were now in her territory. Must remember to sweep the floor, even if it wasn’t her job, even if she didn’t have to.
“What is that?” Sari asked the customer when she came to retrieve her coffee, and it sounded more like an interrogation than it did friendly conversation. Sam, who was reaching for her own coffee, flattened her lips into a thin line to stop herself from laughing. “In the box?”
“Banana chip and cacao cookies,” the customer said hesitantly, clearly confused. “They’re from the bakery next door.”
“Of course they are,” Sari grumbled, and turned her head to the wall she shared with Sunday Bakery, glaring at it like it was going to crumble if she glared hard enough. She certainly endeavored to try.
To her customer, (or to anyone else, really), it may have looked like she was seething, and she was, just a tiny bit. Give her a backwards baseball cap and a flannel shirt, and she was Luke the diner guy from Gilmore Girls. She was already dispensing the coffee anyway.
“Uh, can I have my coffee to-go instead?” her customer asked, edging slowly away from the counter and looking desperate for someone else, anyone else to attend to her needs. Sari opened her mouth to acquiesce to the request when Sam crossed the counter, took the customer’s cup of iced Americano and deftly transferred the contents into one of the robin’s egg blue paper cups, popping a biodegradable lid on and handing the customer her coffee.
“Here you go, have a great day, and merry Christmas!” Sam chirped, giving the customer a polite but unnecessary bow. She smiled back, taking the cookie and its scent away with her.
Sari felt her shoulders drop, and she hated that they did. She briefly wondered if her great, great grandmother, Cecilia Tomas, had ever felt like this. She was the one who started the Tomas Coffee Co. right here in Lipa, seeing herself, her farm and her staff through wars and natural disasters to make sure it was passed on to her granddaughters. Cecilia had had her husband at her side to help her learn how to properly cultivate and care for the coffee, the side Sam had taken to like a fish to water. Sari’s grandmother Rosario had their grandfather to help her learn how to truly expand the business, selling to big chains and groceries in Manila and Batangas, the part of the business that Selene now looked after.
The specialty coffee blends and the café? They were all new, all Sari’s. Sure, they used to have the café across from the Cathedral, but that was mostly just because Lola Rosario’s friend had owned the building and needed a renter when they fell on tough times. The first version of Café Cecilia had been an afterthought, until Sari told her sisters definitively that it was the part of the business she wanted.
Selene still said that it was one of the few times she’d ever seen Sari so decisive.
She was supposed to be better than this. She’d owned this place for three years, with coffee that her family has been serving for generations, but with decor and blends that were all her own. Sari wasn’t going to fail just because a bakery opened next door.
“Do you…do you want to talk about it, Ate?” Sam asked, always the most sensitive among the three Tomas sisters.
Sari wanted nothing more than to curl into a little ball and tell her baby sister that she was a little worried about it, but quickly decided against it.
“No,” she said primly before she grabbed a tray and started to load it with mugs and a little jug of locally produced fresh milk, a rarity in the Philippines. It was one of the reasons why Sari had loved the idea of opening her café here, where she had access to fresh, local ingredients without having to think about the logistical nightmare it would have been if she were in Manila. “I’m all right.”
“You’re always all right,” Sam muttered under her breath, and Sari pretended not to hear.
“I have to go upstairs and prep for barista class.”
“Need help with that?”
“No.”
“Cool.” Sam shrugged as she and Kylo followed Sari up the stairs to the coffee lab/her office on the second floor. Juggling a tray of coffee mugs and milk, Sari nearly fell back when Kylo wriggled between them and reared up on his hind legs to scratch at the door.
“Oh my God, Sam, your beast—”
Sam pulled Kylo’s collar back and opened the door for Sari. The big black dog squeezed between the sisters and bounded into the room with zero regard for the expensive things inside and flopped on the daybed by the window, a throw pillow between his paws to drool on. Sari watched the dog resume his nap with a wistful sigh before she walked over to her work station and placed her precarious tray of things on the counter.
“Your dog is too big,” she told her sister.
“You love him.” Sam closed the door behind her.
“Don’t you have a farm to tend to?”
“The coffee beans literally grow on trees, Ate. There’s not much to do at the moment.” She shrugged, and Sari frowned, immediately going into big sister mode. Sure, Sam was in the café most days, but the way she said it made Sari wonder if her sister was trying to say something else. The thing with being an older sister was that over the years, Sari had learned to read her siblings as easily as she could a list of instructions, even when they tried to be inscrutable.
“Are you excited about the Christmas party?” Sam asked, getting up from the table to walk around Sari’s space, picking up the mister and misting the plants. “I mean, I know you and Ate Selene dominate the karaoke contest every year, but you really have to give me and Kira a chance, she’s super determined to win.”
“I make no promises.” Sari grinned, because her Christmases had fallen into a familiar and comforting pattern, and winning the Annual Christmas Party Karaoke Contest was just par for the course.
She briefly wondered how the Sunday Bakery’s attendance at the party would change up the dynamic. Not much, if she had anything to say about it. She was determined not to let her new neighbor mess up her Christmas joy, no matter how good their browned butter mamon had smelled.
Don’t miss Sweet on You by Carla de Guzman, available now wherever Carina Press ebooks are sold.
Copyright © 2021 by Carla Marie Angela K. de Guzman
www.CarinaPress.com
ISBN-13: 9780369736321
The Christmas Catch
First published as Christmas Catch in 2018. This edition published in 2022.
Copyright © 2022 by Mary Shotwell
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises ULC. 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor Toronto, ON M5H 4E3 Canada.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Mary Shotwell, The Christmas Catch
