ChristmasInHisHeart (2 page)

“Oh I can see the morning rush is upon us.” Shawna grinned as the bell over the front door chimed.

He turned and smiled at Mrs. Mincer, one of Shawna’s best customers, as she scurried through the door, rubbing her leather-gloved hands up and down her cashmere jacket sleeves. Secretly he worried if her teeth chattered any more violently, they might just pop out of her mouth.

He chastised himself for such a thought and nodded in her direction. “Good morning, Mrs. Mincer, you’re out early today.”

She yanked on the middle finger of her glove, removing it from her hand. “Have you felt the crisp refreshing air outside?”

“Indeed I have.” He laughed as she handed him the gloves then laid the soft pink jacket over his outstretched arms.

“It makes me feel alive, I tell you. Makes me want to be imaginative and create things. So I told my Charlie, that’s what I call Mr. Mincer”—she winked at Xander—“I told him I had no choice but to come here. I need supplies to do right by this weather.” The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth came to life as she smiled first at Xander, then Shawna.

“Excellent.” He’d only taken the manager position Shawna offered him a few months ago, but already he knew all about Mrs. Mincer and
her
Charlie. Though he’d never actually seen Charlie, so he had to take Shawna’s word that he really existed.

“Shawna.” Mrs. Mincer bellowed to the woman standing no more than a dozen feet from her. “I need to build a squirrel feeder. With this cold air, I fear they won’t be out and about as much and I want them to have plenty of rations for their time in. Now, nothing too intricate, I’m not looking for fancy just sturdy.”

Xander watched in awe as the two women discussed her options while walking to the back corner of the store. Mrs. Mincer was easily older than his own grandmother, who just celebrated her eighty-second birthday, but the woman moved like she was half that age. She once lectured Xander on the horrors of Botox, exclaiming that she earned each and every one of her laugh lines thanks to her three children and seven grandkids and refused to be shamed into covering them like some of Parkerburg’s hoity-toity society.

He wondered if that hoity-toity society included the same people Dermot had mentioned earlier.

Dermot.

Xander couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as he straightened the impulse-buy bins. Who knew googly eyes and mismatched buttons qualified as impulse buys?

“And why are you so happy this morning?” Shawna hip bumped him before circling around the counter and rummaging underneath on the shelves.

“I’m always happy.”

“Yes, well, that is true, but today you are shiny happy. Ah ha! Found it.” She popped back up, waving a little spiral notebook in her hand.

“Well, I’m glad you found that, because we don’t have nearly enough note paper around here.” Xander nodded sharply, not even trying to hide his humor.

“Don’t be difficult, I’ll call your mother.” Shawna started flipping through the haphazardly chicken-scratched pages. “I put the ordering codes for those pre-made kits in here somewhere. Mrs. Mincer’s new project reminded me I wanted to order some for the endcap on the back aisle. I think the kids would love them as Christmas gifts.”

Xander leaned on the counter and tried to read the pages upside down, which wasn’t hard considering some of them were evidently written upside down. “As long as you don’t plan to try and pawn one off on Mrs. Mincer, imagine her outrage at a pre-made feeder,” he whispered.

Shawna gasped. “Do I possess such nerve?”

“Yeah, you do.” He straightened and wiped his hand over the counter, brushing off nonexistent dust. “So, I’m thinking of grabbing some lunch at
Alimentaire
today, you want me to bring you anything?”

The speed with which Shawna jerked her head up would’ve given a weaker person whiplash. “Xander…”

“What?” He grabbed his coffee mug and downed the now cold liquid in two gulps. “Oh, look at that, I’m empty. Would you like a cup?” He turned before she took him up on his offer and fast-walked toward the office where the little kitchenette was located. It wasn’t much really, a counter with a stainless steel sink, tiny microwave, and coffee maker. Underneath, a mini-fridge nestled between two storage cabinets.

“Don’t think you can dodge me that easily.” She rounded the corner and burst into the room like a woman on a mission. “You’re going over there to see him. Don’t deny it.”

“I deny nothing, and admit to the exact same thing. What’s the big deal? He’s a nice guy.”

A snort was her elegant response. He raised his eyebrow to her while reaching for the coffee pot.

“He’s mean, Xan. You don’t do mean, you do happy.”

“He’s sexy. I
do
do sexy,” Xander countered.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh, so you’re using that head to eat lunch with.”

“Maybe I just want to see if I can make him smile.” Xander sighed.

She shook her head at him. “Just don’t tell him any of your jokes.” Carefully snatching the now full and doctored coffee mug in his hands, she winked. “You want him to laugh with you, not at you.”

“Oh, ha ha,” he grumbled, suppressing the urge to give her back the middle finger salute.

Chapter Two

“Shawna?” Twelve thirty came around and Xander went in search of his best friend, who’d been on the phone non-stop for the past two hours with committees, distributors, and whatnot. This was why she needed his help with her small craft shop.

Back in July, she’d called him, completely flustered. Apparently, the business owners were rallying together to make some major changes in the community—not just their shops—and she was getting so bombarded with everything on top of the day-to-day chores of actually running Craft Time that she feared she’d have to hire someone to help. There were already two full-time and three extremely part-time employees (school kids needing enough hours to keep their gas tanks above the empty line), but none of them were qualified to manage the shop, and she asked if Xander minded coming and spending a week with her to help her interview people.

He liked the idea of taking time off and visiting Shawna, who he hadn’t seen for close to a year at that point. Sure they exchanged emails and phone calls, but it wasn’t the same as sitting with someone and sharing a hot cup of coffee.

In all honesty, Shawna’s call couldn’t have come at a better time. Xander’s corporate job weighed on his good nature. He hated being a number in the system, hated that if he wanted time off, instead of walking into his boss’s office and talking about it, he had to log-on to the company’s employee portal and request the time off electronically. Yearly reviews were handled the same way, he’d do a self evaluation and send it to his manager who in turn would approve or disapprove it, send it to
his
manager, and within a neat week or two the final copy would wind up in Xander’s email with news about his yearly raise. The last two years he got a simple six percent increase, which for the company was phenomenal, but in the grand scheme of things pretty much sucked. Not only the amount of the raise, but the fact that he received it without a word from anyone thanking him on a job well done. Damn it, he was good at his job and deserved kudos once in a while.

While packing and readying himself for his little vacation, a humorous idea popped into his head. He was more than qualified to run a hole-in-the-wall craft store, so wouldn’t it be a hoot if he applied for the position? Of course Xander wasn’t serious, but the cute scenario made him smile as he put his suitcase and messenger bag into the back of his VW GTI.

The four hour drive to Parkerburg flew by, and Xander was stunned that the simple idea of taking the manager position had played in his mind on a loop. Through the hours of nature-filled scenery, during the one rest stop when the coffee attacked his bladder, and while he was caught in a weird form of rush hour traffic on a Sunday…the radio had been turned off and his mind continuously visualized a ridiculously bright-colored smock, a store filled with unlimited neat things to create, and most importantly…lots of happy faces.

When he finally arrived on the doorstep of Craft Time, he’d almost convinced himself to seriously, possibly, maybe, perhaps, consider applying for the job. He stood on a tall peak looking below, on one side it was a sensible and safe walk down a flight of steps with stuffy desks surrounding him and a great three-bedroom condo with all the latest stainless steel appliances and a fifty inch television set, the finish line was clearly marked with that black and white checkered flag and a faceless boring man standing waiting for Xander to join him. But…on the other side was a wild slide with twists and turns, no safety nets or definite answers and a lot of thrill ride screams. The finish line was over the last hill, just out of his sight, but he could swear he heard a gruff sexy voice…

And that was when one Dermot Alasdair ran smack dab into him, almost knocking Xander on his ass. Those large hands immediately shot out and grabbed him by the upper arms, steadying him in a grip that radiated a secure, safe feeling.

Dermot was polite enough, apologizing for not watching where he walked as he quickly let Xander go and continued on, mumbling under his breath in a grouchy manner and still not looking. One glimpse of the at-the-time unknown man’s backside, though, and Xander could forgive him anything. That man had some fine assets, and evidently a reputation considering how everyone seemed to move out of his way.

In that moment, Xander was positive of two things: you never got too old to enjoy a ride down a slide, and he would never move out of Dermot’s way.

“You called?” Shawna hung up her landline phone and stacked the papers neatly in front of her on the desk. “You know, I’m thinking to save a few bucks, I should just do away with this dinosaur.” She gestured to the old style phone with the cradle for the handset across the top of it.

Xander laughed. “You would miss it too much, you love shoving it between your shoulder and ear while talking. Speakerphone and hands-free options just don’t seem to give you the same thrill.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled in agreement. “Yeah, still, sometimes we have to sacrifice for the greater good, right?”

“Ri-i-ight…” Xander walked over to her and bent to kiss her forehead. “I’m heading to lunch now, might be a little longer than the norm. Do you want anything?”

She humphed at him before wheeling her chair to the mini-fridge and pulling out a wrapped sandwich. “Nope, I made us lunch this morning. Meatloaf sandwiches…”

She let the thought trail out in the air as she waved the two sandwiches in his direction. He did love the meatloaf she cooked last night. Hell, he loved all the simple comfort foods she’d been feeding him since he took over her guest bedroom, but being able to sneak a peek at Dermot overruled any comfort food she could chuck at him.

He waggled his finger at her. “Nice try, but I still have to head over there to collect your coffee mug, so I might as well indulge myself in his culinary delights while I’m at it.”

Shawna’s eyes widened, and she sputtered, “Coffee cup? It better not be my favorite one…the one with the…”

“Christmas tree handle and elves making toys on it?” Xander nodded and backed out of the office slowly. “So you see, I’m kinda stuck here. Be back soon.”

***

Stunned to find himself peeking into the dining room at intervals, Dermot nevertheless turned his head every time the discreetly sonorous chime signaled someone had entered the restaurant, if he were completely honest with himself.

“It’s not like there’s anything else to do,” he murmured, turning his back on the dining room when yet another survey showed that despite his statement that morning, Xander had still not appeared for lunch.
Must have been one of those polite conversation things.

Today’s special was proving pretty popular with the diners, though. The creamy sweet potato soup, served with apple and fennel slaw, and a tart pickled beet and goat cheese grilled sandwich were almost gone. He fully intended to add it to the menu for his Thanksgiving special next week, just add some sliced roasted turkey to the sandwich and swap the beets for a cranberry relish… Dermot hummed to himself and made a note in his binder so he could add it to the shopping list and the menu planner.

And he was not disappointed that Xander wouldn’t get to try them. His gaze strayed to the ludicrously cheerful and now sadly empty coffee mug the man had handed him three hours ago. He hated being in anyone’s debt, and a cup of coffee…small as it was…

“Order in!” Macy, the day shift waitress, called out as she pinned the ticket to the board in front of her. “Hey, boss?”

“Yes?” He scanned the ticket, pretending not to care when he saw that it was for the special, just as over seventy percent of the lunch orders had been.

“You think maybe we could get someone to bus tables on the lunch shift? It’s mad out there today.”

And wouldn’t that be neat?
“No,” he growled. “We can handle it, just the two of us.” He had a full staff for the nights, a few college kids waiting tables, a busboy and a dishwasher, but the days just didn't do the business to support the salaries.

“Three,” she prodded. “Chaz is coming back, isn’t he?” His sous chef normally worked six days a week, seven hours a day. Dermot would hate to lose him; he was efficient, eager to learn, and good-spirited.

He stared at her blankly for a second then jerked his gaze back to the sandwich he’d assembled and placed on the grill. The soup and slaw were already made, just had to be plated. “Of course he is. He's got the flu. He's not dying, no matter what he thinks.”

Lunch hadn’t ever been a big success. It paid for itself, and that was about it. Most of his lunch clientele were the local business owners and their employees, and with the community discount he gave them, he had to count most days as a loss.

“Maybe we can hire someone just for the holiday shopping season?” Macy persisted.

The bell chimed, and Macy scurried off to seat the newcomer. Dermot focused on plating up the meal. The upcoming holiday shopping season would hopefully provide enough business to keep him in the black through the end of the year. If he were lucky, it might pad his January coffers enough to make it to the February rush.