Christmas Cookies

I posted this vignette a few years ago, and as I start backing up cookies for this year’s Christmas celebrations, I thought I’d share it again. ☃️

Christmas Eve

Will Darcy approached the village of Meryton. He was hesitant to go directly to 13 Netherfield Park, which was still about fifteen minutes away, he estimated. It was the new non-city home of his friend Charles Bingley. Charles still maintained an apartment in Toronto, but he had wanted a place he could easily retreat to and work from part of the time.

“I want to get away from the constant crowds and distractions. Somewhere peaceful, where I can hear myself think,” Charles had said.

Will doubted he would find much time to contemplate the silence with Charles’s sister, Caroline, joining them. She talked nonstop and would no doubt complain about spending the holidays in this sleepy little town instead of, in her opinion, the more elegant, sophisticated atmosphere of the city.

Will murmured, “I hope she has finally gotten the message that I am not interested in her.”

The thought that she might misconstrue his reasons for accepting Charles’s invitation had almost made him refuse, but he could not bear to spend Christmas alone in his condo.

Although, by tomorrow morning, I might not regret staying there, ordering a pizza and binge watching Star Trek while eating a whole apple pie.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten enough at lunch.

I should be at home, Will silently whined. But his sister, Georgiana, had decided to stay in New Zealand, where she was studying for a year, rather than make the long trip back to Toronto. Will could have spent the holidays with his aunts and uncles and cousins, but that would have meant taking time off work to return to England where they all lived. He had decided to work through the holidays instead and take a longer trip to Georgiana later in the winter.

He drove cautiously down Main Street with some wonder. It looked like a genuine small town, almost like something from a novel, and absolutely not what he expected to find just an hour outside Toronto. Both sides of street were lined with low rise buildings—commercial topped with offices or apartments, none more than three storys high. The lampposts, themselves old-fashioned in style,  were decorated with greenery and shiny gold and silver ribbons; banners, similarly decorated, hung across the road. As he drove past what he took for a municipal building—an historic-looking limestone edifice—he saw a large evergreen tree decorated for Christmas and a menorah that had to be ten feet tall. People walked along the sidewalks doing last minute shopping. Some of them stood in small groups, talking or waved a hand and called out a greeting when they saw someone they knew.

The scene gave Will a sense of holiday cheer, something he had not felt all month, even when he opened the Christmas cards his family and friends had sent him, or when watching his favourite holiday movies. Without realising his intentions, Will pulled into an empty parking spot and turned off his Prius. After climbing out, he looked up and down the street before deciding which direction to take. He walked up up one side of the street, looking at the holiday displays in several shop windows—selling books, toys, stationery, flowers, and more. Then he spotted a bakery. Many of the other stores were starting to close up now that it was four o’clock, but the lights at the bakery were still on, and he headed towards it.

I could use a cup of coffee to warm me up. It would allow him to delay his arrival at Charles’s, too. Charles and Caroline weren’t expecting him at any specific time; he had just said he’d arrive before six, so sitting down for ten or twenty minutes wasn’t a problem.

It started to snow just as he reached the bakery. A bell jingled when he opened the door; it reminded him of the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, and he smiled as he remembered the little girl saying, ‘Teacher says, every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.’ Will’s eyes did a quick tour of the shop. He was tempted to say it was sweet, but that sounded too much like a pun. It was decorated in cherry pink and snowy white with four wood café tables with matching chairs. A counter and display cases were near the back. Holiday decorations added cheer to the space. Will went to inspect a Christmas tree which stood in one corner; the ornaments were treat-themed—cupcakes, cookies, candy canes, and the like—and he chuckled at the playfulness.

A noise alerted him to the presence of someone else, and he turned to see a woman about his age standing behind the counter; she had evidently come from the back. She wore an apron that matched the deep pink shade of the walls. Her expression was friendly, and Will thought she was one of the most attractive women he had seen in a long time. There was something natural and genuine looking about her dark hair, which was in a ponytail, and clear skin. Perhaps she’s an angel, come to show me how to find joy this Christmas. He laughed at himself for having such a fanciful thought.

“Hi,” she said and smiled. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Will cleared his throat. “Hi. You, too. Err, you are still open?”

The woman glanced at her watch. “Yup. Not technically, I suppose, but I’m waiting for a couple of people to pick ups order. I’m afraid I don’t have much left.” She sent a regretful look at the display cases and glass domed stands that were, indeed, mostly empty.

“I was hoping for a coffee, but—”

She brightened. “That I can do. Have a seat. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Once she had disappeared into the back, he took off his jacket, hung it on a wrought iron stand, and sat at a table near the window. The snow was falling in gentle waves as the daylight faded and the streetlights turned on; so, too, did strands of colourful lights, which were twirled around the lampposts. Will felt more rested than he had in a long, long while.

In just a few minutes, the woman was back bearing a small tray, which she slid onto the table. She had removed her apron and was now wearing a thick green cardigan. The mug had a penguin Santa on it; the coffee within it gave off a pleasant aroma.

“I didn’t think to ask what you took in your coffee,” she said, as she placed a small sugar bowl on the table. “I have cream, regular milk, oat milk, and almond milk. I can—”

Will shook his head, and she stopped talking. “Black is good.”

She smiled and took the final item off her tray; a plate of cookies. “I had just a few in the back. Just in case you wanted something to nibble on.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thanks. If-if you’re not busy…” Will held out a hand to indicate the chair across from him. He did not know what had possessed him to ask her to join him, but it felt right somehow—like something he had to do.

She smiled again. “You don’t mind? I really am just waiting for a couple of people before I can close up. I’m Elizabeth.”

Will introduced himself, as Elizabeth sat down.

***

It wasn’t everyday Elizabeth had a handsome stranger pop into her bakery. For some reason, she felt compelled to offer him even more hospitality than he had asked for. When he asked her to join him, she couldn’t resist, even though she hardly ever sat with customers (not that she intended to charge him for the coffee, let alone the cookies).

She pointed at the plate and explained, “Almond snowballs, lemon shortbread, and coffee sugar cookies.”

As he took a bite of the almond cookie, she watched his expression. She could imagine what he was thinking based on the expression on his face and what she knew about her baking. It was a perfect tenderness and would melt in his mouth. There was a delightful nuttiness she achieved by using only real nuts—no artificial almond extract—and she had a light had with the sugar to allow the other flavours in her cookies to shine.

“Wow,” he said, “that was good. Are you the baker?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Baker and owner.”

He complimented her on the cookie and said he really liked the shop’s décor. So did she; it was cheerful and comfortable, and, in the eighteen months since she opened, had been even more successful than she had hoped.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat. “Oh, thanks.”

“Are you from Meryton?”

She nodded. “My father’s family has lived here since it was settled by Europeans. Our family’s home is still on the original farmland, although I think my great-grandparents were the last actual farmers in the family. Are you just visiting?”

It was his turn to nod. His eyes drifted to the window, and hers followed. She hadn’t noticed that it was snowing, and was glad it was light so that the roads wouldn’t be too bad. As soon as Mrs Long and Tom Goulding pick up their orders, I can close up and head home. Hot cider, the traditional Christmas Eve feast, and silly movies with my family. It made her smile to think of it and the fun to come over the next few days, too.

“It looks like a Christmas card,” Will said. “It reminds me of back home.”

“Oh? Where is that?”

He sipped his coffee and picked up a coffee sugar cookie, which was shaped like a snowperson. She had decorated it with white vanilla icing and used coffee-flavoured icing for the accents. He ate half of it, making an appreciative noise, before answering.

“England. My father was from Derbyshire, near a town called Lambton, and, although we mostly lived in London, we spent every Christmas there at our country house. My cousins use it for now. I suppose they are already there. We moved to Canada about fifteen year ago, when my mother was offered an amazing job at one of the hospitals.”

That explained the trace of an accent she heard in his voice. She was curious why he was sitting in her bakery on Christmas Eve instead of with his family, but could not come right out and ask. Instead, she said, “Is this your first time in Meryton?”

He nodded and, having finished the coffee cookie, picked up a lemon shortbread. “I’m spending the holidays with a friend who recently bought a place here.” He explained that his sister was in New Zealand and that his only other family was in England, his parents having died in a car crash a few years earlier.

The shortbread quickly disappeared, and he said, “Your cookies are amazing.”

Elizabeth always liked to hear that people enjoyed her baked goods. “I do my best. What’s your friend’s name? I meet a lot of locals—especially those around our age—between the bakery and various social activities.”

“Charles Bingley. He’s out in—”

“Netherfield Park,” she said as she nodded and grinned. “I know Charles. He told us you were coming. Well, not you, of course—I didn’t know the name of his friend, but he did say his best friend was spending Christmas with him and Caroline.” When his only response was an inquisitive arching of his brow—he was drinking the coffee—she explained, “Has he told you about Jane?”

“Oh, yes. At length. You know her?”

Elizabeth laughed. “She’s my sister. If Charles has talked to you about Jane half as much as Jane has talked about Charles—”

“Then you’re ready to pull your hair out or take to wearing earplugs twenty-four hours a day?”

They both laughed.

“Well, you’ll get to try more than just my cookies,” said Elizabeth. “Charles was here just a couple of hours ago picking up all sorts of things. I hope you have a big appetite.”

With a sheepish grin, he admitted, “I have a bit of a sweet tooth. These were perfect.” He pointed at the plate, which had a few more cookies on it. “Can I ask what…?”

She chuckled. Searching her memory, she said, “Cinnamon rolls, cranberry scones, and a vegetable quiche he said were for tomorrow morning, a couple of loaves of bread, an assortment of tarts and mini-pies because he couldn’t decide on one flavour and just get a large one, a Bûche de Noël, and more cookies. I think that in addition to what I just gave you, there were also peanut butter, Linzer, and ginger.”

After staring at her for a moment, he said, “My mouth is watering, and I am dreading how much extra exercise I’ll have to do after I gain ten pounds over the next few days.”

Again, they shared a laugh.

Elizabeth said, “You’ll get plenty of exercise while you’re here. Did Charles tell you what to expect?”

Will shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I figured it would be pretty quiet—just the two of us and his sister.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Nope. Today is for families, but starting tomorrow morning, it’s full on visiting and group activities. We like to take full advantage of the holiday and the winter weather. Every weekend in December is full of festivals, community parties, walks. Some of the local chefs, including me, did a series of holiday baking demonstrations. Between Christmas and New Year, there are multiple things to do every day. Did you bring skates?” She didn’t say it aloud, and perhaps he already knew, but she and Jane had promised Charles they would spend New Year’s Eve and New Year’s in Toronto with him. And perhaps his very good friend, who just happens to be sitting across from me, will be there, too?. She would like to get to know him better.

He nodded and nibbled on a second sugar cookie.

“Good. You’ll need them. A hockey stick?”

He shook his head.

“No worries. One of guys will have one for someone your height. If Charles didn’t go out and buy half a dozen already.”

Will laughed. “That sounds like him. So, tell me, Elizabeth—”

She interjected, “Liz. My friends all call me Liz.”

Their eyes met for a long moment, and she knew, and knew that he knew, that they were going to be good friends before Christmas was over. And, since I’m on Santa’s nice list, a whole lot more by New Year’s.

He grinned, displaying matching dimples, and said, “Liz. So, tell me, when will I see you again?”

She returned his grin, and for the next half an hour, they ate cookies and talked about parties and community events. She introduced him to her customers, and he stayed with her while she made sure everything in her bakery was properly shut off and secure. Together, they walked along the picturesque street to his car. Standing there, the snow gently falling, green, red, and white lights behind him, Elizabeth looked into his handsome face and felt like she was living in a Hallmark holiday movie. She didn’t mind in the least.

“Welcome to Meryton, Will. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Liz.”

All the very best to you and yours this holiday season.

Lucy