Once Upon a Winter's Heart (6 page)

“So, even though you despise Valentine's Day, you're still going to put up all these decorations?”

“Oh, yeah…” She reached up for another box. “It's a tradition, you know.” She forced a smile.

“Here, let me get that for you.” He stepped in front of her, easily lifting it down from the cabinet.

“Thanks.”

“Well, this is all wrong.” He set the box in her arms then bent down to pick up the larger one from the floor.

“What's all wrong?”

“This bah-humbug attitude over Valentine's Day.”

“I know,” she admitted sheepishly. “And I do feel guilty for being so negative. I know Poppi would be disappointed in me.”

He nodded. “He would definitely not approve.”

She turned away now, walking toward the front of the store. She could hear him following her as she went over in the lounge area. It brought no comfort to her to realize that the lighting out here was much brighter than the back room. But why should she care about what her sister's boyfriend thought of her? She set her box down on the coffee table then turned to peer at him. “Hey, how did you get in here anyway? Do you have a key or something?”

“I leased the office upstairs from Poppi. It's the headquarters for KidsPlay. I normally use the outside exit when I work late.” He set down his box. “I was just getting ready to leave when I heard the noise down here. I knew the store was closed by now, so I thought I better check it out. I came down the interior stairs.”

“Oh…” She picked up a sassy-looking cupid and attempted to straighten its slightly bent bow. “Do you always work this late?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, thanks again for your help.” She made a stiff smile as she tossed the cupid back into the box. “I better get busy or I'll be here all night.” She glanced around, wondering where the ladder might be hiding.

But Lane just stood there and, with a stern-looking expression, folded his arms across his front. “I'm sorry, Emma, but I think an intervention is needed here.” He stepped between her and the boxes, almost as if he was protecting the decorations.

“What?” She frowned at him but then remembered her threatening words about burning everything. “You don't honestly think I'm going to destroy my grandfather's decorations? I was just kidding about setting them on fire.” She forced a laugh. “Don't worry, Lane, I'm not really a pyromaniac. And I won't be torching anything tonight.”

“No, I didn't think you would. But just the same I believe you need an intervention. Especially since you're going about this all wrong.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you do not have the
right spirit
.”

She let out a long sigh.

“And if you can't decorate the bookstore cheerfully, you should not do it at all.”

“I know…I know…” She held up her hands in a helpless gesture. “What can I say?”

He rubbed his chin as if thinking. “You're probably not aware that I helped Poppi decorate for Valentine's Day these past couple of years.”

“Seriously?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “You honestly helped him decorate?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh. Which is precisely why I know you're going about this all wrong, Emma Burcelli.”

“So…what do you recommend?”

“I recommend that you go find the ladder, the Scotch tape, the masking tape, the push pins, thumbtacks, and whatnot. Meanwhile I'll go get what's missing.”

“What's missing?”

He shook his finger at her. “You take care of your list and I'll take care of mine, Miss Burcelli, and we will meet back here.”

It didn't take long to locate tape and pins, but the ladder was another matter. She finally found it tucked behind a shelf in the storage room. She was just dragging it out when she heard music starting to play. That wasn't so unusual when the store was open. But why now? As she emerged into the bookstore, she realized it was Dean Martin. Well, of course—Poppi would approve that. She couldn't help but chuckle as she carried the ladder out to the lounge area. But when she saw Lane standing by the coffee table with a bottle of wine and two glasses—and an opened box of chocolates on the table—she was too stunned to respond.

“I see you found the things on your list,” he said as he filled a glass with red wine.

“What on earth are you doing?” She stared at him in shock.

“This is how it's done.” He handed a filled a glass to her then filled his own and held it up. “Poppi always started with a toast to—”

“No way,” she said. “I helped Poppi decorate all the time and he never did anything like—”

“How old were you the last time you helped your grandfather?”

She considered this. “Well, I was still in high school…eighteen maybe.”

“Uh-huh.” He gave her a knowing look. “I doubt Poppi thought it was appropriate to serve his underage granddaughter wine. But, trust me, this is how Poppi taught me to decorate for Valentine's Day.” He nodded to the comfortable chairs. “Please, take a seat and I'll explain.”

Feeling a bit like Alice through the looking glass, Emma sat down.

“You see, the first time I came down here to help Poppi was on a night much like this. Dark and stormy. Your grandfather brought out a bottle of wine and—”

“Since when did he keep wine at the bookstore?”

“I don't know when he started this tradition…but for book clubs and special events…he always seemed to have a few bottles on hand in the back room.” Lane gave her a tolerant smile. “May I continue?”

“Please, do.”

“So, before we could start decorating, Poppi insisted on pouring us a glass of wine and then he made a toast.” Lane held his glass up. “He said, ‘To Valentine's Day and to true love.'” Now Lane reached over and clinked his glass against hers. “Come on, you have to say it too.”

“To Valentine's Day and to true love?” she echoed with uncertainty. What was going on here? Was this guy for real?

“Very good.” He took a sip and, feeling like she was playing a part in a movie or maybe just dreaming, she followed his example.

“Not bad,” she said as she tried another sip.

Now Lane picked up the box of chocolates and held them out to her. “And this was the next part of the preparation.”

“Seriously?” She stared at the lush-looking treats.

“On your Poppi's honor,” he said with a sincere expression.

She hesitantly reached for a chocolate. Taking a cautious bite, she studied him with curiosity. “You're not pulling my leg?” she asked. “Poppi really gave you wine and chocolates and played Dean Martin for you?”

He laughed. “Yes. He told me that he wanted to put me in a Valentine's state of mind before we decorated. He said if you didn't do it with the right spirit, it would ruin everything.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Yeah…I actually remember him saying that when I was a girl. But I always had the right spirit back then.” She took another sip of wine, savoring it with the flavor of the dark chocolate, suddenly remembering what fun they'd had decorating together. Maybe he had played music.

Lane reached for another chocolate. “Well, the truth is, I was a bit like you when I met Poppi. I wasn't too keen on Valentine's Day either. I suspect that's why he invited me to help him decorate that year.”

“Really? You were a Valentine's Day Scrooge too?” She felt unexpectedly hopeful.

“Yep. I didn't believe in true love anymore…long story, but Poppi got me to tell him about it. And Poppi helped me to deal with it.” He held up his glass again. “Here's to Poppi.”

She clicked her glass against his for a second time. “To Poppi.” And as they sat there in the lounge, listening to Dean Martin, drinking red wine and eating chocolates and talking, she wondered if it was possible that romance still lived after all. Perhaps she'd been wrong to declare it dead.

By the time they finished
decorating, it was nearly eleven o'clock, and Emma thought the bookstore had never looked better. “I don't even know how to thank you,” she told Lane as they put the ladder and empty boxes in the back room. “Nona will be so relieved.”

“I think Poppi would like it too,” Lane said as he flicked off the light switch.

They gathered their coats and turned off the music and lights in the store and were both leaving by the front door when Emma realized that she hadn't had this much fun in ages…maybe years. It was almost like being on a really good date. But even as the thought hit her, it was immediately doused with a heavy load of guilt. Lane was her sister's beau. And because he had been Poppi's good friend, he had come to her aid tonight. That was all there was to it. To imagine anything more wasn't just foolish; it was downright dangerous. And she loved Anne too much to even consider such a thing.

“Be careful out here,” Lane warned as she was locking the door. “There seems to be some ice—” And just like that, he was flat on his back.

“Lane?” she cried out. “Are you okay?”

He chuckled. “Well, other than bruising my manly pride.”

She reached out a hand to pull him up, but as soon as he grasped her hand, her heel slid on the ice and she went down too—right smack on top of him. “Oh, no!” she gasped, trying to extract herself from his arms. “It really is slick out here.” She giggled nervously as she rolled off of him, struggling to get her bearings. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” He laughed. “The rain must've frozen.” He sat up and looked around. “It's a solid sheet of ice.”

They pushed and pulled and slipped and slid, breaking into uncontrollable laughter, as they tried to help each other stand on their feet.

“It's a silver thaw,” Emma said as she held onto the door handle, looking out to a streetlight that was coated in a layer of ice and shimmering magically. “Beautiful…but treacherous.”

“Far too slick to drive.” Lane grasped the side of the building to support himself. “I think we'll have to hoof it.”

“Yes, I guess I better leave my car here,” Emma said. “Nona's house is only a few blocks away.”

“I'll walk you home,” he offered.

“But what about you? How will you get home?”

He smiled. “No worries. I live just down the street from you.”

“Really? You live on Nona's street?”

“In the old McCormick place.”

“Oh, that's a lovely house.”

“Do you think we can make it?” she asked as they took some tentative steps, slipping and nearly falling down again.

“Maybe we should think of it as skating,” he suggested, “not walking.”

“That's a good idea.” She imitated how he was sliding his feet.

After a few more slips and falls, Lane suggested they hold hands and help each other as they cautiously skated and slid along the sidewalk. Under any other circumstances, this could be considered very romantic. But Emma knew that it was simply a matter of necessity. And it was slow going.

“It's hard to believe you and Anne are sisters,” Lane said as they came to the end of their first block. “You seem as different as night and day.”

“Yeah…and Anne would probably be day.” She laughed, trying to sound light. “Because she is usually so sunny and bright and positive.”

“She's definitely upbeat.”

“Whereas I tend to be the realist…or as my mom says the pessimist.”

“Like the Valentine Grinch?” he teased.

“Exactly.” Her feet started to slide and he steadied her.

“Easy does it.”

“Thanks.” She sighed, trying to relax and wishing he hadn't brought up Anne. But then maybe it was for the best. And since he had, she decided to take it to the next level. “So do you know Gerard…Anne's ex?”

“Yeah. He was one of the first people I met in town. He was coaching Tristan's soccer team and doing a great job of it.”

“So you guys were friends then?” Her tone was cautious.

“Sure. Gerard is a good guy.”

“I thought so too. I'm still trying to wrap my head around what went wrong with them.”

Lane tightened his grip on her hand as they stepped from the curb to cross the street. “Be careful, I think this is going to be trickier than the sidewalk.”

After a couple of close calls, they made it across. “Whew.” Emma let out a slow breath. “This is not easy.”

“Maybe we should sing,” Lane suggested.

“Sing?”

“Sure.” And now he launched into the old Dean Martin song “That's Amore.” “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore.…” And now she joined into the lilting tune and was pleasantly surprised to see that the rhythm of the music really did lend itself to skating. “That's amore!”

Before long—and far too soon—they were at Nona's house. Lane guided her along the footpath and safely up the porch steps. “Thank you so much,” she told him happily. “That was actually pretty fun.”

“It was an enjoyable skate,” he said as he released her hand, holding on to the railing as he carefully slid down the steps then turned around. “Thank you for being my partner.” He made an awkward bow that narrowly missed becoming another fall, but fortunately he caught his balance before going down.

“You be careful,” she warned.

“Will do,” he promised as he slowly turned around. “And you get in the house and get warm, Emma.”

“I think I'll stay right here and make sure you make it safely home,” she called out. “I'd hate to find you frozen to the sidewalk with a broken neck in the morning.”

He laughed and then broke into another round of “That's Amore” as he continued skating down the street. Not feeling the least bit cold, she watched with amusement until he turned up the walk to the McCormick house. But as she turned to go into the house, she experienced a confused mixture of sadness and hope.

The next day the sun came out and the ice from the previous night was just a memory…a very baffling memory. But Emma tried to put it behind her as she helped Nona with the household chores during the morning. Finally it was after lunch and Emma had done all she could to be sure Nona was cared for and comfortable.

“I wanted to go set up a Valentine's Day book table,” she explained as she set a mug of tea by Nona's chair. “Just like Poppi used to do.”

“Oh, yes, that is good.” Nona nodded approvingly. “Do not worry about me,
dolce
, I am just fine on my own. You and your mama, you make too much of me. I am not an invalid.”

“I'll only be an hour or so,” Emma promised.

“An hour or three hours…does not matter.” Nona waved her hand. “I am fine,
cara mia
. I will probably just take a nap anyway.”

“I'll be home in time to fix dinner,” Emma assured her. “Wait for me.”

As Emma walked to town, she couldn't believe how little time it took compared to last night, when it had felt like an obstacle course—okay, it was a fun obstacle course. It was funny, the difference a few unexpected elements could make to a journey.

Entering the bookstore, it was fun to see the colorful Valentine's Day decorations suspended from the ceilings and adorning the walls. They really had done a knock-up job last night.

“Emma,” Virginia called out from behind the coffee counter. “You did a wonderful job on the decorations.”

“How did you know I did it?” Emma asked her as she unwound her scarf.

“Lane was down for coffee.” The older woman grinned. “He always gets his coffee here.”

“Aha.” Emma sniffed the coffee-scented air. “And I can understand why. It smells delicious in here.”

“What can I get you?”

Emma ordered a latte. “So…did Lane tell you that he helped me with it?”

“I got that impression.” Virginia rinsed a cup in hot water.

“I doubt I could've done it without him.”

“He's a good guy. Poppi really enjoyed his company.”

“So I gather.” As Emma unbuttoned her coat, she explained today's mission. “I know how Poppi loved having his Valentine's Day table right up front. And I know you and Cindy are probably busy just running this store. Between the back room and the front register and the coffee bar, well, I thought I could help out a little.”

“That's right.” Virginia set her latte on the counter. “I completely forgot about the table.”

“I would thoroughly enjoy putting it together.”

“Bless you, Emma.” Virginia pushed a strand of gray hair away from her glasses. “Poppi would be happy to know that Valentine's Day is in such good hands.”

As Emma sipped the delicious hot coffee, looking around the cheerful bookstore, she wondered if last night had been the final execution of Emma's Valentine's Day Grinch. Because today she felt happy and upbeat and hopeful. And yet at the same time there was a faint shadow of melancholy over her. But that was probably due to missing Poppi—especially being here in the bookstore in the daylight hours. She expected to see him popping around the corner with an armload of new books to be shelved. Or talking to a customer, trying to convey his love of reading and the classics, promising “you're going to love this or I'll give you your money back.” Very few disgruntled customers ever returned books. If they did, they didn't usually come into the store again and that was probably just as well.

Emma perused the shelves, selecting the usual titles that Poppi would pick for the Valentine's Day table. Of course, she would include the Jane Austen books—after all, she and her sister were named after Austen characters. She also picked the Brontë sisters' novels and
The Scarlet Pimpernel
,
Gone with the Wind
, and
Anna Karenina
, which though romantic ended sadly…not unlike real life sometimes. She selected
Rebecca
and
Middlemarch
, and for younger readers she put out
Anne of Green Gables
and
Little Women
. Besides prettily arranging the books on a red table cloth and white paper doilies, she also set out some boxes of chocolates and book accessories that looked festive, and by the time she was done, both Cindy and Virginia came over to praise her work.

“That looks beautiful,” Cindy told her.

“Poppi would be proud,” Virginia proclaimed.

“Thanks,” Emma said. “That was fun. If you don't mind, I'll do another little table over by the coffee lounge.”

“Oh, that's a good idea,” Virginia said. “I even have some mugs you might want to put out.”

Emma was just starting on the coffee lounge table when Tristan came wandering in. With his stocking cap sitting lopsided on his head and his backpack dragging behind him on the floor, he looked a bit bedraggled and weary. Not to mention slightly lost.

“Tristan!” Emma happily went over to hug him. “How
are
you?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“You look tired. Hard day?”

He shrugged again then sniffed loudly.

She reached for a napkin and handed it to him. “For your nose,” she said quietly.

He wiped it then stuffed it into his coat pocket.

“Need a cocoa to warm you up?” she asked.

Now he smiled, nodding eagerly.

“Go put your stuff away,” she said. “I'll order your cocoa. Whipped cream?”

“Yeah,” he called as he hurried over to a table by the window.

She ordered the cocoa then returned to where Tristan was dropping his backpack on the floor by the table. “Mom's gotta work at the gallery late tonight,” he told her as he peeled off his coat. “She told me to come over here.” He glanced around with a sad expression, as if looking for someone. “But Poppi's not here anymore,” he said quietly. “It feels kinda weird.”

“Oh…yeah…” Emma nodded. “Did you used to spend time with Poppi after school?”

“Uh-huh.” Tristan pulled off his hat, leaving his dark hair sticking out like a scarecrow's. “Mr. Steiner—that's the guy who owns the gallery—he don't like having kids around. He's always saying I'll break something. But I never did. So Mom always tells me to go find Poppi.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “But Poppi's gone.”

“Well, I'm here now.” Emma smiled and ruffled his messy hair. “Do you mind spending time with me?”

His brown eyes lit up. “No. What're you doing, Aunt Emma?”

She pointed out the decorations. “I got the Valentine's decorations up last night and today I'm getting the tables set up. Want to help?”

And so, after he finished his cocoa and used the bathroom and washed his hands, Emma put him to work cutting out hearts to decorate the table. By folding the red and pink construction paper like an accordion, they made chains of connected hearts, using them as a border going all around the table. It looked so pretty that they continued making these chains for the coffee counter as well. When they were done, everyone agreed that it was beautiful—and that Poppi would be delighted.