Blame It on the Mistletoe (6 page)

Unfuckingbelievable. Ted better be right about this being worth it. One thing was certain, good-bye Presidential Suite.

**

Brooke woke to the tickling of a wet nose on her earlobe and purring so loud it had to break some kind of record. Her eyes shot open, and she was met with a pounding in her skull so intense she grabbed her head with both hands, effectively rolling her cat, Diva, off the bed.

“Sorry, baby,” Brooke whispered, but even speaking made her want to groan. Diva just let out an indignant
meow
before leaving the room. As her name suggested, Diva did not appreciate rejection, and she would definitely hold a grudge for this. Brooke knew exactly how she felt.

She covered her eyes against the morning light and considered just staying in bed for the rest of her life. Even the thought of sitting up was almost too much to handle, but though business would probably be slow, today was Black Friday, which suited her dire mood just fine.

With superhuman effort, she turned her head just enough to glance at the retro 1960s-style alarm clock on her antique bedside table. Shit. It was nearly nine, and she needed to get up and get the store open by ten. The hardwood floor was cold under her feet on her way to the bathroom, but by the time she showered and made herself presentable, Brooke was starting to feel less fuzzy around the edges as she made her way downstairs and into the shop.

She still desperately needed a jolt of caffeine but wasn’t quite the walking zombie she’d been when she woke up. The big antique grandfather clock in the corner of the shop indicated there was just enough time to grab a cup of coffee down the street if she hurried.

“Never underestimate the lengths humans will go for caffeine,” Brooke told Diva, who was now sitting happily on the store’s counter, before grabbing her coat and unlocking the door. The crisp November air cut through her favorite blue peacoat, making her wish she’d thought to add a scarf or maybe a thicker sweater to her outfit. She quickly ran down Main Street to Callie’s Confections. It looked adorable with its pink awning and a few tables visible through the window.

This morning she was met with a line of customers perusing the display of goodies. Shit. She really just wanted some caffeine. Right before she decided she couldn’t wait any longer a cute young woman with a blonde ponytail of curls, dressed in jeans and a pink Callie’s Confections T-shirt, came from the back with a fresh coffee urn. An old refinished buffet painted a cheery teal was set up along the wall as a coffee bar. Brooke pulled three bucks from her purse and stepped out of line to where the woman was now restocking sugar packets.

“Hi … um, I’m sorry to ask this, but can I just grab a cup of coffee real quick? I have to hurry and get my shop open.”

The woman gave her a warm smile and grabbed a to-go coffee cup from behind the register. “Here ya go, and it’s on me,” she said as she waved Brooke’s money away.

“Oh, thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

“You own the cute little shop down the road right? Opal something? I love those giant gumdrops, so original.”

Brooke smiled, pride filling her chest as she filled her cup. The brew smelled amazing. “Thank you so much, and yes, Sweet Opal Studio.”

“That’s so cool, I’m Callie by the way.” She put a hand out, and Brooke took it after setting her coffee down. “I’m ashamed that I haven’t been down to welcome you, but you know how it is when you own your own business.” Callie laughed and nodded toward the crowd that filled her shop.

Brooke laughed in agreement, but the truth was she had no idea what it felt like to be this successful. She proceeded to add way too much sugar and half-and-half to her cup when it occurred to her that Callie might have some new-business advice she could benefit from. Before she could think twice, the words were tumbling out. “Actually, it’s been kind of rough with the roadwork outside my building. I’m the only store past it, and people don’t seem to realize I’m there or they don’t want to mess with crossing the muddy ditch. I’m really hoping this weekend can get—and keep—me out of the red for a while.” That didn’t sound too pathetic, did it?

Callie cocked her head to the side and put her hands on her hips. “Well, that sucks. They’ve been at that road for a while now. I really should take more of an interest in the city board meetings, but I just really find them all terribly boring.”

“Huh.” Brooke took a quick sip of her coffee. “Maybe I should look into going to one. I just know that it’s killing my business.”

“Well, this weekend should be great, and I’ll be sure to tell everyone about your shop … oh, and hold on.” Callie ran behind the counter, laughing with one of her customers and a super-cute employee Brooke thought looked vaguely familiar from high school. He was very handsome, filling out his pink Callie’s T-shirt very nicely. Maybe
he
was the secret to the bakery’s success, as his winks and the women’s giggles might suggest.

Callie came back holding a little white bag out for Brooke. “Also on me. We Main Street shop owners have to take care of each other, and you can’t run a business on an empty stomach.”

“Gosh, thank you. I’m famished actually, and this coffee is delicious.” Brooke smiled. She’d been so focused on running her shop and simultaneously failing at it that she hadn’t realized how lonely she was. Most of her friends lived in Kansas City, just far enough away to be inconvenient. She really needed to get out more.

“Oh, yay, I’m glad you like it. We worked really hard with a local roasterie on that particular blend.” Callie beamed.

“Wow, that’s cool. And thanks for being willing to try and send some business my way.”

“Of course, that’s how it works. You can pay me back by telling everyone how delicious my coffee and treats are.” Callie gave her a quick wink and went back behind the counter.

**

Thirteen hours later, Brooke trudged up the stairs to the apartment, her legs aching and her back on fire. But in spite of her list of ailments, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“Diva baby,” she sang as she pulled off her T-shirt to get to her evil bra. A haughty
meow
answered from the living room, and she glanced over to find her cat arching and stretching on the back of the sofa. “We’re celebrating today. You’re getting a whole can of tuna.”

As if she understood—and approved—Diva gracefully leapt from the furniture and sashayed into the kitchen. After treating Diva, and washing down a couple of ibuprofen with a drink of water, Brooke slipped into some flannel pajamas and flopped onto her bed grinning. She’d sold nearly two thousand dollars of product. More than the previous two weeks total. It felt amazing, and Silver Saturday should be even better. She owed Callie, owed her big. Several customers had mentioned that Callie sent them over. Brooke didn’t care how they got there, just that they did, and the feeling of pride and relief welling within her was so immense she burst into tears.

It was the first time since her grand opening that she felt like her dreams might actually be possible. It was the best feeling, and she realized she should share it with her consignment clients who’d continued to have complete faith in her. Picking up her laptop, she drafted up a quick e-mail telling them all what a good day the shop had had and asking them all to drop a few more products by when they got the chance. She hit Send and smiled. Those were the kind of e- mails she hoped to send every week. Before closing her laptop, the e-mail dinged and she grinned as she read her first response.

It was only a matter of time, Brooke! This shop was meant to be and I’ll be by Saturday with a few more cases. :) -Amy

Amy made the most amazing all-natural soy candles, and at least ten of her holiday scents had sold today. Evergreen and Sugar Cookie had been the most popular, no surprise. There was something about crafters and the whole lifestyle that spoke to Brooke. She’d always enjoyed making things as a young girl, and after moving back from Phoenix she’d need something to make her feel good again.

A friend had invited her to a jewelry-making class in Kansas City, and she’d fallen in love with it. She’d told her therapist how much she enjoyed it, and she had encouraged Brooke to keep it up, buy the supplies so she could do it whenever she wished. Brooke did, making piece after piece, giving them as gifts, and even selling some to friends. Everyone genuinely loved her art, even asking her to teach them. The idea to open her own studio had been so exciting, she’d jumped in with both feet and not a lot of knowledge, desperate to write a new chapter in her life.

She was still learning as she went, which she probably wouldn’t recommend, but she loved teaching and she loved retail. It was a lot harder than she had anticipated, but she after today she was finally starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Diva jumped onto the bed with a harsh
meow
that turned into a loud purr as she stroked her furry cheek along Brooke’s neck.

“We did it, baby.” Brooke smiled through her tears. “I got so many compliments on my jewelry today, and I even booked my next ornament class full. Aren’t you happy for Mommy?” Diva answered with a scratchy lick to Brooke’s jaw. She laughed and stroked her fur until she fell asleep curled up to Brooke’s side.

Today was a good day, good enough to make her forgot about the previous day and that sexy Alex Coleman. She hadn’t thought about him at all, she’d been so busy being successful. Okay, she’d almost barely thought about him.

Tuesday morning Alex flipped through the radio stations in his rental car as he drove through Preston. He stopped on a rock station but quickly turned it off when he realized the beat of the drums matched the quick pounding of his heart. The silence was almost worse but would have to do. This morning’s meeting was taking place at his grandmother’s house, which he hadn’t stepped foot in for over fourteen years, not since right before he moved away for good.

He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. Coming back to Preston had been hard, but he was looking forward to seeing his grandmother. It’d been five years since he’d last seen her. They’d met for lunch in Preston the last time he’d been in town. He was a little ashamed that he hadn’t made more of an effort, but it had been hard to keep in touch with his own busy schedule and the fact that he’d never been welcome to just drop in to the house. At least he had never felt welcome.

He’d called her a few times over the years, and his grandmother had always acted like they’d seen each other just the week before. She never made him feel guilty, or below her. No matter how cold and contentious Alex’s relationship with his grandfather had gotten, Beverly Coleman never treated Alex as anything less than her grandson, and he loved her for that. If there was anyone he’d truly missed while avoiding Preston, it was his grandmother.

Once on the other side of town and out in the country, he turned down Eby Road. The white Victorian house came into view, blanketed in snow and morning light. His hands instantly went clammy on the steering wheel. As a child he’d been in awe of this house. It represented everything he wasn’t and would never be. And yet, he’d always known these people were his family, and when his grandmother had started seeking him out secretly, the wealth and status of the Colemans had been something so close yet so far away.

Today there was a Cadillac at the end of the long drive. Alex parked next to it, grabbed his cell phone, and got out of the car. He rang the doorbell and took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. Movement came from deep in the house, and despite the cold in the air and the snow on the ground he felt a sweat break out on his temple. The old highly polished door creaked open, and his petite grandmother smiled brightly at him.

“Alex, look at you. You’re as handsome as a movie star.” She pulled him into a hug, her petite body so fragile in his arms. She pulled back after a moment and looked up at him, a tiny hand on his bicep. “My goodness, look at all these muscles. What in the world do you use these for? And the beard, my goodness.”

“The beard has gotten a lot of comments.” He ran a hand down his chin. “Not sure why.”

“You look mysterious. I always liked a man in a beard.” As she grinned, some of the tension fled his body. This woman was safety and happiness. He leaned down to let her kiss his cheek, the scent of her favorite perfume filling his nose.

“I missed you, Grandma.”

“I missed you, too, but nobody is forcing us to miss each other you know.” She led him into the house and shut the door. It had been so long since he’d stepped into this house, and he noted how it looked the same as it had twenty years ago. Antique furniture, butter-yellow walls, and gleaming wood trim. Even the scent—Pine-Sol and cinnamon sticks—took him right back to his childhood.

When he was old enough to ride a bike, he would leave school on Tuesdays and race across town straight up to the back door. The cleaning lady didn’t come on Tuesdays, so his grandmother would have him over for cookies or cake, whatever it was she had around the house. As the years went on, she’d slip him cash, birthday cards, Christmas presents. And never once, in all those years did he question it or wish for more, fearful that he would lose that tiny gift of herself that she extended. It was nice to be back.

“I want you to know that I think what Ted has to say is going to make you very happy. I hope so anyway,” she said.

He turned back to her and smiled. “I’m sure it will be fine, Grandma. I don’t need anything from you.”

“Of course you don’t. But I waited a long time for your grandfather to come to his senses.”

Alex had no idea what she could mean, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. Before he had a chance to respond, she turned and led him down a side hall into his grandfather’s library and office. He’d been in this room only once in his life. Right after he graduated high school, John Coleman had asked him in and proceeded to tell him that Coleman men joined the Marines. Any other military branch “was for pussies” and if Alex wanted to prove himself then he would follow suit after his own father, Brett, John himself, and John’s father. Before that conversation Alex had no interest in any armed forces, but the very next day he’d joined the plain-old “pussyish” army and had never spoken to John Coleman again.