Christmas on Main Street (20 page)

H
ave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

“Would you just put the Santa suit on and head over to Ava’s shop, Clint? You damned well know you want to.”

“That beard makes me itch.”

“I meant you know you want to see Ava. The Santa thing is just an excuse to head over there.”

“Dad.” Clint finished drying a wineglass and then whipped the towel over his shoulder. “You need me here at the tavern. As soon as the Christmas walk is over, you’re going to get slammed with thirsty customers.”

“Son, I’ll handle it.”

Clint turned and rested a hip against the sink. “Are you forgetting that I came back to help you so you’ll slow down?”

Pete sat down on a barstool. “I’ve got plenty of hired help and they’ll be here soon enough. I just wanted everybody to have the chance to join in the festivities up on Main Street before their shifts.”

“I mean help for you personally! Stop being so stubborn and let me help run things around here.”

“No need to get so testy.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Clint started pouring peanuts into small bowls lined along the bar. “I didn’t mean to sound like an ass. I’m just worried about you.”

“There’s more to your mood than this. Tell me.”

Clint sighed. His father had always been perceptive. It made him a great bartender. “Ava told me to stay away from her.”

“Well, so what? Don’t do it,” he said.

Clint had to smile. It was just like his father to get straight to the point. They had been so close during Clint’s childhood but had drifted apart after the divorce. The health scare made Clint realize that had to change.

“Um, I don’t plan on becoming a stalker,” Clint stated with a shake of his head. He suddenly needed a beer but didn’t want to drink one in front of his father, who was doing a pretty good job of cutting back.

“Don’t stalk her, Clint. Woo her. Win her over.” There was a bit of a haunted look in his father’s eyes that made Clint wonder if he was thinking of the mistakes he made with Maria, Clint’s mother. “Don’t blow having a second chance,” he said, but instead of his usual booming voice that Pete Sully was known for, his words came out low and gruff. “You might never get another one.”

Clint had to swallow the emotion clogging his throat. “Are we talking about me, Dad?” he asked gently.

“Not entirely.” Pete scrubbed a hand down his face. “I guess my little health scare got me thinking about my life and that I won’t be here forever.” He shrugged. “And Christmas has always been a tough time for me.”

“Because Mom loved the holidays so much?”

“Yeah, and with both of you gone, well . . .”

“Dad, why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“Son, if we sat here all day, I wouldn’t be able to get through the list of things I should have said and things I didn’t do. Pride always got in my damned way. But when my ticker started giving me trouble, well, let’s just say it was an eye opener.” His father cleared his throat in a rare show of emotion. Clint always viewed his father as a big, tough, robust man, but right now he looked older, sadder, and, well, just tired.

“I shouldn’t have stayed away so long,” Clint said, surprised when his voice shook.

“I admit that I was surprised when you decided to live in California. Was it . . . was it because of the divorce?”

Clint toyed with the towel and swallowed hard. He finally inhaled a deep breath and then blew it out. “No, Dad. It was because of guilt. I left you and Mom during a dark time. The tavern was struggling. You two were always fighting. But I was always the glue that seemed to hold you two together, and when I left, it all fell apart.”

“Son, you had to take the scholarship. It was your chance at an education and a baseball career.”

“Yeah, I know.” Clint laughed harshly and then leaned forward with both palms on the bar. “And I
failed
. Didn’t get drafted. I wasn’t good enough. For a long time I was too ashamed to come home a failure, knowing that if I had stayed, you and Mom might have made it.” He didn’t have the heart to mention Ava.

His father looked at him for a long moment, and something happened that Clint has never seen before. . . . His father was crying. He brushed at tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and his big, strong shoulders shook. “Ahhh, Clint. Damn.”

“Here.” Not knowing what else to do, Clint handed his father a few cocktail napkins and watched him blot the tears.

“Trust me. I know all about stubborn pride and the damage it can do. Look, I know you and Ava were young when you broke up and she might harbor some hurt feelings, but, Clint, if there’s something between you two after all these years apart, imagine what could develop when you’re together.”

“I pretty much told her that, but—”

“No buts, Clint. And while we’re at it, let me tell you something else. I’m proud of you. You worked your ever-loving tail off to make it to the major leagues.”

“But I didn’t make it.”

“That’s not the important part.”

Clint lifted his shoulders and let out a sigh. “Thanks, Dad. For a long time I felt as if not making it was a failure, and it kept me from coming home as often as I should. But my journey was really a stepping-stone to coaching. I actually get more satisfaction out of teaching than I got out of playing. I’m looking forward to working for Noah Falcon.”

“You’ll be an asset to the coaching staff. But sit down. There’s more I want to talk to you about. You might want to grab a beer.”

“Okay.” Clint felt his heart thud at the grave sound of his father’s voice. He considered refusing the beer but then decided that he might need it. “You want something?”

“Yeah, I want a bourbon and Coke, but I’ll settle for a Diet Sprite. Can’t even have the Coke because of the caffeine.”

“You’re doing great,” Clint said while he poured the drinks. “You’ve lost weight and already lowered your cholesterol. Give yourself some credit.”

“Whatever . . .” His father waved a dismissive hand but then grinned. “But to be honest, I really do feel better.”

“Seems like honesty is the word of the day,” Clint said carefully. After sliding the soft drink to his father, he came around and sat down on a stool. They had about an hour before people started pouring in after the Christmas open house walk, but the staff would be arriving soon, and he wanted privacy. “Shoot,” Clint said much more calmly than he felt.

“You know how your mother and I met, right?”

Clint took a swig from his mug and then nodded. “She was singing at a honky-tonk in Nashville. You convinced her to come to Cricket Creek to sing here at the tavern.”

“Your mother is a talented woman, Clint. I kept her from pursuing her dream of being a singer-songwriter.”

Clint frowned. “But you got married, had me. I thought she wanted to live here and raise a family.”

“That’s what I wanted.” He tapped a fingertip to his chest. “When I’d catch her writing songs, I’d give her something to do at the tavern. When you came along, I made her feel guilty for doing anything other than raising you.” He sighed. “I told myself I was doing the right thing. I reminded her that she was a wife and a mother. I called her songwriting a pipe dream that she needed to give up.”

“Aw, Dad . . .”

“I know. I know. But once words are spoken, you can’t take them back. But, Clint, in truth, I was afraid that if she became successful, she’d leave me. And it was my damned selfish pride rearing its ugly head. When things got tough around here, Maria wanted to write some songs, try to get published and bring in some money, but dumb-ass me argued with her. I told her she was needed here and not piddling around with her music.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” He laughed harshly. “Is it any wonder that she left me? I should have offered to sell the tavern and move to Nashville. I knew it was what she wanted but would never ask. I didn’t want to give this place up. It had been in the Sully family for sixty years.”

“Dad, that’s understandable.”

“Really? This is a building. She is”—Pete swallowed hard—“was my wife.” He shook his head. “And karma sure came back to bite my ass, didn’t it? Maria makes lots of money doing what she loves. She’s won awards, Clint. I robbed her of that for many years. Stubborn, selfish pride sure is a cold-ass bedmate.” A muscle jumped in his father’s jaw. “All I had to do was support her dream and things would have been so damned different.” He looked into the glass of Sprite and shook his head slowly. “You know that Keith Urban song, ‘Stupid Boy’?”

“Um . . . yeah.”

“That could have been written about me. I fenced her in until she realized that she could leave. And then she was gone.”

“Did you ever tell Mom any of this?”

“Hell no.”

“Maybe you should.” Clint hesitated and then added, “You know she never bad-mouths you. She always just said that you two didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Well, she always did have class. One of the many things I loved about her.”

“You still love her?”

“Yes, and I miss her every day.”

“She might like to hear that.”

“Ahh, Clint, your mother has a nice life. I don’t want to do anything more to screw it up. I’ve done enough harm already.” He pointed at Clint. “But if you still have feelings for Ava, then you should take this shot. If it doesn’t work out, then so be it. But don’t live with regret. Take it from an expert; it sucks. I’m telling ya, woo her.”

Clint tilted his head and grinned. “Woo her, huh? You mean like standing beneath her bedroom window and singing?”

“Hell yeah, if that’s what it takes!” Pete laughed and then clamped a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “But you might start with something simple like chocolate.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Clint said, relieved to see the twinkle back in his father’s eyes.

“So, are you going to head on over there?”

“No. I think I need to give Ava time to adjust to the fact that I’m back. In the meantime, I’ll put a game plan together.”

“Smart thinking.” Pete tapped his temple.

“And, Dad, thanks for talking to me man-to-man.”

“It helped. And you know what?”

“What?” Clint asked and then drained the last of his beer.

“I might have played jolly old Santa every year, but this is the first time in a long while I’m really looking forward to having a merry Christmas. It’s good to have you home.”

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas

Ava helped Ronnie clean up the sparkles and glitter left over from several hours of ornament making with a roomful of rambunctious children. Their Saturday-afternoon Christmas Crafts for Kids workshop gave local parents a few hours to do some shopping around town, knowing their children were supervised and getting the chance to be creative. With only two weeks left before the big day, time was running out. Plus, the kids loved creating presents for their parents and friends.

“Did anyone actually get any glitter on the ornaments?” Ronnie grumbled as she dumped a dustpan full of it into the trash.

Ava laughed. “Good question. Hey, I can finish up here. Why don’t you head on out. I know you’ve got something better to do on a Saturday evening. You just might want to change from your elf costume first—although you do look cute in it.”

“It’s not a costume. I am an elf.” She pointed to her pointed ears. “These are real. I bake cookies in a tree, too.”

Ava laughed. “I believe you.”

“Hey, I’m going over to Sully’s tonight with a bunch of girlfriends. It’s Christmas Carol Karaoke Night. It’s always a riot. Why don’t you come with us?”

“Thanks, but I thought I might head over to make cookies with my mom.”

Ronnie stomped her elf boot, causing the bell on the toe to jingle. “Ava, it’s
Saturday
night. You need to let your hair down and have some fun. Call up some friends.”

“Most of my friends are married with kids.”

“Well, they need to get out too.”

“I don’t want to run into Clint,” Ava admitted. In all honesty, she was disappointed that all she’d seen of him the past two weeks was when she spotted him stopping by at Grammar’s Bakery. Pete had actually been dropping by the shop dressed as Santa.

Ronnie hugged the broomstick to her chest. “I think you do want to run in to him.”

“I do not!”

Ronnie arched one eyebrow. “The man sent you flowers, bourbon balls from Rebecca Ruth, and a cinnamon cake from Grammar’s. I think he’s sending a pretty clear message. You need to call him! And the next thing on the agenda is a kiss. Then you’ll know if there’s still something there.”

Ava caught her bottom lip between her teeth and felt a blush steal into her cheeks.

“What?” Ronnie dropped the broom and didn’t even flinch when it clattered to the floor. “You
kissed
! You’ve kept this juicy little tidbit to yourself! How was it? Amazing?”

Ava nodded glumly.

“Well, why don’t you go after him? I bet today you get an Edible Arrangement or something. What does the man need to do? I don’t get it.”

“Ronnie, it’s obvious that there’s still something there, but I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

Ronnie shrugged. “Well, if you ask me, I’d much rather get hurt than never know.”

“I’m not asking you. Look, my wise little elf, I should never have told you about the kiss. It just sort of slipped out.”

Ronnie put her arms akimbo. “Let me guess—because you can’t stop thinking about the kiss? About him?”

Ava felt heat creep into her cheeks once more.

“Thought so.”

Ava started walking around tossing trash into a big plastic bag. “It takes more than flowers and candy. Why doesn’t he show up?”

“Maybe he wants you to think about him, you know, and miss him.”

“I’ve missed him for fifteen years!” Ava said and then clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Ava,” Ronnie said gently. “You didn’t just tell me anything I hadn’t already figured out. Give this a shot. What is the worst thing that could happen?”

“Like I said, I’ll get my heart handed to me on a silver platter.”

“No. I’m telling you, that’s not the worst thing. Having a shot at happiness and not taking it? You’re made of stronger stuff than that. Besides, Cricket Creek is a small town. Do you seriously think you can avoid him forever?”

Ava groaned.

“What do you have to lose?”

“Um, my heart, my self-esteem, my pride, my store.”

“Your store?”

“I threw that in for good measure.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Okay look, why don’t you come out with me tonight to Sully’s Tavern? Christmas Carol Karaoke Night really is a blast, and if Clint totally ignores you or it goes way wrong, then I’ll shut my piehole once and for all.”

“You promise?”

“Elf’s honor.” Ronnie made a show of crossing her heart. “So you’re coming?”

Ava inhaled a deep breath and then gave her a level look.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Ronnie picked up the broom and handed it to Ava. “I’ll come by and swoop you up at eight. Oh, and wear something sexy!!” She waved her hand over her head as she hurried toward the door.

After Ronnie breezed out the door, Ava stood there in the middle of the room holding on to the broom for support. “Now, how in the world did I just let that happen?”

Ava tidied up the shop, pretty much going through the motions, but her thoughts were hitting all over the map like a pinball in an arcade machine. Excitement, fear, and anger were pinging around in her head until she couldn’t think straight. Ronnie, of course, was right in so many ways, but she was looking at the world through the eyes of a twenty-two-year-old. At that tender age, Prince Charming and the fairy-tale wedding were still somewhere on the horizon and on a Pinterest board. There was . . .
hope
of finding true love and living happily ever after . . . romantic notions that Ava had all but given up on. But were she and Clint still single for a reason? Did he deserve a second chance? Ava closed her eyes and sighed. Hope was being tossed to her like a life preserver in her sea of doubt.

Should she grab it?

Yes! The word rang out in her head like a giant gong. “Well, why not?” she said softly, but her voice sounded loud and clear in the empty shop. “Why the
hell
not.” She picked up a smiling stuffed monkey that had fallen to the floor and hugged it to her chest, reminding herself that this wasn’t about failing but about trying. This wasn’t about getting hurt but finding out and, yes, about grabbing on to and clinging to . . . hope.

She pushed the monkey back and said to it, “Now, for that all-important question! What in the world am I going to wear?”

Ava laughed as she locked the front door and then took the stairs up to her loft two at a time, startling Rosie, who was perched on the sofa, looking out the window. Forgetting to scold Rosie for sitting on the back of the sofa, she said, “I’m going out tonight!”

Of course, all Rosie knew was the word “out”
and bolted for the back door.

“Okay . . . okay!” Ava laughed and opened the door, letting the cold, crisp breeze cool her cheeks and chase away the rest of her doubt. This time of year meant long hours at the shop, but instead of feeling dead on her feet, she suddenly felt energized and ready to go!