The Christmas Compromise

by Susan Hatler

  “I can’t remember!” I laughed so hard, loving the feel of his body against mine. I rolled over, pinning him down, my hands bracing his on either side of his head. Then my breath left my lungs. “Okay, I did have a crush on you. Kind of a big one.”

  Creases formed on either side of his eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up. Then he lifted his head and I lowered mine at the same time. We kissed once before I pulled away. My heart pounded against my chest as I stared down at him, releasing his hands.

  “Did you have a crush on me, Dallas? Is that why you punched my boyfriend at the Falls?”

  His eyes locked with mine. “You deserved better than him.”

  “You didn’t answer my other question.”

  He brushed my cheek with his fingers. “Yes, I had a crush on you.”

  Joy flitted around my heart. “Why didn’t you ever say so?”

  “I wasn’t good enough for you, either.”

  I rested my hands against his shoulders. “I don’t know why you’d think that . . .”

  “Come on,” he shifted, so he was propped up on one elbow and I was next to him. He smoothed my hair back behind my ear. “You deserved way better than me. I was a troublemaker and you were a good girl.”

  “I’m not such a good girl for sneaking around behind my parents’ back with my career change,” I said. And with you, I almost added.

  “You’re still a Reed.”

  “I’m the black sheep beautician.”

  His eyes twinkled. “How could I forget that? I mean, you’re in my shop after all.”

  “Your shop?” Ugh. I opened my mouth to give a retort, but before I could his mouth came down on mine. Then I forgot about the cold snow beneath me, about the fact that I needed him out of my salon, and even the Christmas tree we came to find.

  At that moment there was just us.

  I kissed him with everything in me as his mouth claimed mine. Shivers skittered up and down my spine. My belly did a cartwheel. I opened my mouth and our tongues melted together. I could feel his warmth through every pore in my body. There was no way I could resist this man anymore. I didn’t even want to. Wrapped in his arms and surrounded by the natural beauty all around me, I felt a peace I’d never known. This was the most flawless moment of my life and I never wanted it to end.

  Chapter Eight

  After working all week on the remodel for my salon, I made a point of visiting Ms. King on Friday. I pulled into her driveway and cut the engine off. The tip of the tree I’d brought for her waved downward over the windshield as if saying, “Hello!”

  I hopped out of the SUV, surveying the small tree strapped to my roof that I’d picked up at Tinsel Tree Farm. I unhooked the cords that were securing the tree to the sports rack and then hauled the tree down to the ground. It stood as high as my chest and had full branches. Not too big and not too small. I dragged the tree up the driveway, noticing one of the lace curtains at the front window pull aside. I admired the front door, which was painted a peacock blue that contrasted sharply with the white house, and the door opened an instant later.

  Ms. King stepped out. “Hello, Morgan. What a magnificent tree!”

  “Hello, Ms. King.” I waved enthusiastically at my choir teacher. This woman could always put a smile on my face. “I’m glad you like it.”

  I hauled the tree to her porch and propped it against the house before looking at my beloved mentor. She wore a flowing white top that was cinched around her narrow waist by a wide belt, and slacks in a startling shade of purple. Her silver hair was brushed back, showing off opal earrings, not her birthstone but her favorite stone despite their reputation for being unlucky to those who weren’t born with them as a birthstone. She pooh-poohed such claims.

  She gave me a fast hug and then said, “It’s so good to see you.”

  My reply stuck in my throat as I hugged her back, fighting to get a grip on the emotion that came toppling over me at the feel of her gaunt frame. Eight years ago, she’d been much larger. Now she was so thin I could feel the jutting out wings of her shoulder blades and collarbone.

  Her swollen hands squeezed mine. “What made you bring me a tree?”

  It had broken my heart when I’d heard she had no Christmas tree. She had no kids besides those of us she’d mentored, most of whom thought of her as a second mom. But I wasn’t about to go down that road because I was here to cheer her up, not bring her down.

  So I stepped back and put my hands on my hips. “The tree looked lonely and called to me. Since it didn’t seem to be an ordinary tree, I figured it needed an extraordinary home.”

  Ms. King burst into laughter. Her eyes sparkled. “Well, then. Let’s get the tree into the house and see what we can do to make it happy.”

  “Good plan.” I smiled and brought the tree inside. Her house was a wonderland, filled with shelves crowded with books and trinkets from her travels as well as her collection of fine china—none of it matching but all of it lovingly used. Sometimes she’d set the china during her legendary dinner parties. My gaze lingered on a pink-and-gold cup that sat on a high shelf, exactly where I’d placed it so many years ago.

  We’d known Melody King since we were young, since she helped put on the town Christmas extravaganza every year. Grace had always loved that cup and Ms. King had always let her use it. After Grace had died, I’d put it up high, saying I didn’t want anyone else to use it. Ms. King had patted my shoulder, going along with it. The cup still sat on the high shelf with its delicate gold handle gleaming and the pink flowers around the rim.

  I looked away from that cup and the memories that came along with it. Grace was the last thing I wanted to think about right now. It had been hard enough coming home. I didn’t need to relive painful memories.

  Ms. King clasped her hands together. “My Christmas decorations are in the spare bedroom. Let me get them.”

  She went around the corner and my gaze wandered around the rooms again. The front was an old-fashioned and traditional set up, with the rooms separated from the other. The bay windows at the front of the living room were huge and covered with curtains. Her furniture had come from all over and it showed. There were English sideboards and French chairs, antique and highly delicate, as well as beautifully paneled screens from China and Japan.

  “I found the bulbs,” Ms. King said, as she came back with a tree stand and a wooden box. She set the box on the table, while I got the tree in the holder and closed the vise down on the trunk to make sure the tree stayed in place.

  “There! This works perfectly.” I forced a smile, but couldn’t help noticing her color wasn’t good and her silver hair appeared dryer than usual.

  She smiled, opening the wooden box. “Hmm. . . I have another box of decorations, too. Before I fetch that, how about some coffee and a BLFGT sandwich?”

  “I’d love that.” I grinned, knowing Ms. King’s penchant for serving Southern food. I loved how the South has a way of taking any food and making it Southern. A classic BLT was wonderful. But take off the ripe sliced tomato and put in a few slices of fried green tomato? Then you have a slice of fried heaven. “May I help make them?”

  She dusted her hands together. “Why don’t you slice and toast the bread, and cook the bacon, while I get the tomatoes ready?”

  “Deal.” I followed her into the kitchen, smiling when I saw it hadn’t changed at all. The same chintz curtains hung at the kitchen window, the old table still stood by one wall and the chairs still wore the same cushions, chintz that matched the curtains. “Where do you keep the bread?”

  Ms. King gestured to the pantry and I found a loaf of thick and soft French bread there. I came out of the pantry and she pointed to a cabinet. “The pan for bacon is in there.”

  I opened the cabinet and pulled out the pan. Then took the pack of bacon she had laid out on the counter and opened it, laying the strips out carefully before putting the bacon and the bread in the oven.

  Ms. King battered the tomato slices and dropped them into a fe
w inches of hot oil. I poured us both cups of coffee and then handed one to her. “Tell me what’s going on in your world, Morgan.”

  I sipped the coffee and then cleared my throat. “Well, I came home. That’s certainly new.”

  She laughed. “I see. Or at least I hope I see. Otherwise you’re a figment of my very active imagination. That can’t be good.”

  I had to laugh despite the grimness of the situation. “I’m really here but it’s been a bit surreal. I’m sort of hiding from my folks while I get the salon ready, hoping they’ll approve of my career choice once they see how professional the salon looks. It’s been a lot of work.”

  Ms. King flipped the frying green tomatoes. “Are you going to tell your parents about your change in careers soon?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Define ‘soon.’”

  Ms. King set the spatula aside and sipped her coffee. “You do know you can’t hide from them forever?”

  “I’m not trying to hide forever, just long enough to get the salon fixed in a way they might approve of.” I bent to peer into the oven to see the bacon bubbling nicely and the bread toasting. “I’ve gotten a lot of work done this week.”

  Ms. King checked on the skillet. “How long until you open?”

  “On Monday, December eighteenth. So, ten more days, which is way sooner than my liking. The place has a ways to go. In hindsight, I should’ve had Ruby do a walk-through for me so I could’ve been better prepared. But that is the least of my worries right now.”

  “What do you mean?” Ms. King took the tomatoes out of the pan and set them in a paper towel-lined colander to cool and drain.

  I fidgeted. “There has been a mix up with the business space I rented from Coraline of Coraline’s Classic Beauty Salon. It turns out I’m not the only one she leased the place to.”

  Ms. King paused in the act of sprinkling sea salt across the delicious smelling tomatoes. Her gaze flicked to mine. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I groaned aloud. “Coraline is my landlady and she somehow leased the business space to both me, and to Dallas Parker. Do you remember him?”

  Ms. King set the salt aside and reached for the peppershaker. “I do. He’s pretty unforgettable.” She went to the fridge and pulled out mayo and arugula. “You had a huge crush on him as I recall.”

  I twisted my lips. “Everyone keeps saying that.” I reached for a potholder and carefully pulled the bread and bacon from the oven. I dabbed the top of the bread to make sure it was the proper level of crispiness while retaining its chewy interior. “And, yes, maybe it was true that I had a crush on Dallas. In fact, my feelings for him only seem to have grown.”

  “Well, then . . .” Ms. King set the mayo and lettuce on the counter and wiped her hands. Her knowing tone didn’t sit well with me as I sliced the bread into thick sections while she washed the arugula. Then we layered the sandwiches together. Her eyes danced as she glanced over at me. “What’s the problem with sharing a business space with Dallas?”

  “You know my mom blames him for Grace’s death.” I sighed, finally admitting the truth as we sat down at the table to eat lunch. “I ignored my feelings for Dallas when we were young by avoiding him. Now that we’ve been forced to share the same space? We’ve grown closer than I ever thought possible.”

  I hadn’t planned to fall for someone my mom could never accept, but that was exactly what had happened. I’d fallen for Dallas big time. I didn’t want to hurt my mom. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time until she found out about us.

  Confiding in Ms. King had been comforting. She’d given me a warm smile, squeezed my hand, and said she was sure things would work out the way they were supposed to. It was simply amazing that a woman dying from kidney cancer could be so optimistic. She was that kind of person, though, one who made the world shine more brightly. I felt grateful to have had her in my life and I would miss her when she was gone.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, Dallas and I worked for ten hours straight at our beauty salon slash furniture store. The floors were done, the antacid-orange chairs and tacky old gilt mirrors had been disassembled and donated, the walls were freshly painted, and the sagging old furniture that had sat in the front was now out of there, and the space was clean and shining.

  There was still so much to do, though, and the tree, sitting in a metal holder, was next on our list. I’d taken down the dusty and dirty old blinds and strung lights around the windows but that naked tree wasn’t looking too hot at the moment. I had run out of excuses with my parents to avoid them, but shockingly they hadn’t contacted me all week.

  I wondered if my mom had some Christmas volunteering obligation or if she was biding her time. Because she must’ve heard by now that I was staying with Ruby. But I didn’t want to think about any of that at this moment. We’d already decorated Dallas’s tree at his house, and the one I’d given to Ruby. Now, I wanted to decorate the tree for our businesses’ window.

  Dallas plucked a strand of trim out of one of the shopping bags full of decorations we’d bought earlier today. “What, exactly, is this?” he asked.

  I turned to look at him and my heart gave a soft flutter as I checked him out. He’d shucked the leather jacket. His long-sleeved shirt and jeans clung to his body in an appealing way. One of his eyebrows lifted as he stared at the strand of gold trim suspiciously. A warm feeling of love rolled through me.

  I swallowed hard. “It goes around the tree. You can drape and wrap it and when you run out of that string then put another beside it so the whole strip looks like one piece.”

  A knock sounded on the front door and I jumped. Huh. Hadn’t been expecting anyone. I peeked out the window to see who was there. A small frown creased my forehead. “Um, there’s a delivery guy out there. Did you order something?” I asked.

  Dallas tossed the strand of trim at the tree. It caught and hung on a branch. “Yep. Thought we could use some dinner after our hard work.”

  I smiled. “Aww, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He headed for the door and dealt with the delivery person while I removed the trim so I could get it better situated. The smell of hot and gooey cheese, bacon, and olives hit my nose and I completely forgot about the trim and the tree as Dallas came inside with a pizza.

  My belly rumbled. “That smells amazing.”

  He set the pizza box on a small table we’d set up to hold tools and things. He settled a six-pack of beer beside the box and I eyed the bottles. “The pizza place delivers beer?”

  “It’s actually a craft brewery that makes the best pizza in town. This is their pale ale.”

  “Huh.” I headed for the table. “The place must be new.”

  Dallas twisted the tops off two beers and passed one to me. I took a sip and the chilled liquid hit my throat, tasting like hops and malt. I swallowed. “Refreshing.”

  He lifted the top of the box and I stared down at the wood fired pie with delight. He handed me a paper plate. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” I said, loving that he’d so casually taken care of dinner for us. We helped ourselves to the pizza and then went back to the tree with plates and beers in hand.

  I stared at the tree, imagining how it would look all decorated. “This is going to draw in clients,” I said, then sank my teeth into delicious gooey cheese and tomato sauce.

  Dallas bit into a crispy-crusted slice and nodded. “Glad I talked you into it.”

  “I think you have that backwards.” I gave him a sideways glance and watched him wink at me. Then I bit deep into the pizza again, sighing happily as the flavors of roasted garlic, red pepper, and cheese met my taste buds. I paused before taking another bite. “I was the one who suggested this particular tree.”

  “So you did.” He winked at me, his eyes twinkling and my heart picked up to a rapid pulse. I’d been hoping we could talk about what was happening between us since I wasn’t going to be able to force him out of the salon until Coraline returned Christmas Eve and I wasn’t able to k
eep him out of my heart either.

  It hit me then that we’d been spending so much time together with fun and easy banter—not to mention earth shattering kisses—but I didn’t know much about his time between high school graduation and now. I set my plate down and picked up a box of bulbs then began threading the accompanying hooks through them while Dallas sipped his beer and then began settling the trim end to end to make a nice continuous loop around the bottom of the tree.

  I knelt down beside him and wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “So. . . I have an awkward question for you.”

  “Maybe I can give you an awkward answer.” He turned to me, the corners of his mouth lifting as he brushed his lips over mine. Oh, yum.

  “Have you been dating anyone?” My cheeks heated as I realized how that sounded. “Not that I think you’re dating anyone else right now. I mean, we’re with each other all day long and it’s not like you’ve snuck off to the other room to check your phone or anything.” I rolled my eyes, wishing I could take back everything that had just spewed from my mouth. “The last girl I saw you with was Nina Abbott when she took you to her prom. You came back to town to go with her, so I’m just . . . curious about your love life,” I said, and then took a long swig of beer. “I’m really good at this, aren’t I?”

  He chuckled, playing with the hair beside my cheek. “I’ve dated. Never that seriously, though.”

  “Why not?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I took an ornament from the bag and placed the blue and gold swirled ball on the tree right above the trim. Silence. I peeked over to see him standing there, a bulb resting on one palm.

  He shrugged. “Didn’t date much while I was in the military. After I got out, I met a woman I liked and for a while it was good. But I didn’t see it going anywhere long-term.”